The appearance of Rabbi Leo Jung’s eighteenth volume is a happy and fortunate event that will be warmly welcomed by all to whom the Jewish tradition is dear. Guardians of our Heritage (New York: Bloch Publishing Company, 1958), edited by Dr. Jung, is a significant contribution to a field of Jewish study which has not yet received sufficient attention by Jewish researchers and historians – that of the most recent past of Torah Jewry, from 1724 up to the last day of the year 1953.The structure of the book is in the form of short biographies — mostly, one might say, intellectual profiles — of some of the most out-standing guardians of the Jewish heritage writ-ten, in many cases, by disciples or relatives, and usually by people who were personally ac-quainted with their subjects. There is a ring of authenticity in these essays which will serve to enhance their scholarly value, as well as their readability for the layman.There is a cosmopolitan quality attained in the variety of the subjects. They range from Italian bibliophiles to Lithuanian Roshei Yeshi-bah, from modern German scholars to early American rabbis, and from a founder of Miz-rachi to a stalwart leader of Agudah. The one element that unites the illustrious "Guardians,” subjects of these brief but penetrating biog-raphies, is — their common "Heritage.” They are all champions of the Jewish Torah tradition. Reading through these informative essays about such fundamentally different personalities, who are all, nevertheless, "Guardians” of our "Heri-tage," one becomes aware of the multifaceted character of the heritage itself. Judaism, to judge by its foremost exponents, is decidedly not a monolithic structure which encases its communicants in a rigid ideological pattern.It is this total impression that makes Rabbi Jung's own contribution so felicitously appro-priate. In the introductory essay, entitled "The Rabbis and Freedom of Interpretation," Rabbi Jung points out that while Halakhah (Jewish law) is authorit…

The calendar of the Jew, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch was fond of saying, is his catechism. Each holiday has its special significance and symbolizes some fundamental precept or concept of Judaism. That statement is not only correct but quite important. It is a most valuable insight. Yet every great idea has concomitant risks. The trouble with this system of regular reminders, this annual rhythm of spiritual and historical values, is that we focus only on those special days on which we celebrate specific ideas or events, and then tend conveniently to forget them the rest of the year. The festivals thus are in danger of becoming counterproductive: instead of changing us spiritually one day a year so that we may remember and observe until the year following, it lets us feel that we have discharged our moral obligations with one day, or a few days, of formal pieties and then may ignore it the rest of the time. (This holds true for secular celebrations as well. I have an uneasy feeling that such institutions as Mother's Day and Father's Day are good for the children – it gives them a clear conscience; splendid for the merchants – no elaboration needed; and not necessarily good for Mother or Father! A visit or flowers or gift one day a year is a device for neglect at all other times!) I am reminded of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, in which Alice has a conversation with Humpty Dumpty. The latter, the famous egg, tells Alice that he doesn’t like birthday gifts because they come only once a year. He prefers un-birthday gifts because he celebrates un-birthdays 364 days out of the 365. So it is with our sacred Jewish calendar. Every festival is an “anniversary present” to us from God, from the Torah. Purim is one kind of anniversary, Passover another, and so on. But if we want the Torah’s teachings to be effective, and the calendar indeed to be our catechism, we must retain the lessons throughout the year – as kinds of “un-anniversary” presents. We are about to celebrate Shavuo…

It’s over two decades that Americans found a goal worth striving for: peace of mind. But it proved an elusive prize. So now we practice peace of mindlessness. With all his sophistication, contemporary man has no compunctions about confessing his sins – he is almost too ready to do so. We have all heard them: “I’m too kind for my own good,” “I’m too vulnerable” – and too shy, too forgiving, too generous, too soft, etc. The only sins he won’t confess are those he truly cherishes. Ethical dilemma: what do I say to a man who calls me at 11:45 p.m. about a subject that could easily bear postponement to the morrow, and begins with the question, “I’m not disturbing you, Rabbi, am I?” A gem from C. S. Lewis: “Men are not angered by mere misfortune, but by misfortune conceived as injury.” And one from John W. Gardner: “Don’t let anyone tell you we’re confused. We know the values to which we are being unfaithful. You may ask, ‘What difference does it make that we agree on our values if we aren’t faithful to them?’ I would answer that from the standpoint of therapy it always makes a difference what the patient is suffering from. This patient is not suffering from confusion but from infidelity.” A teacher of mussar: “The beauty of a mentsch is in his mind. The mind of a fool is on his beauty.” G. K. Chesterton: a key has no logic to its shape. Its only logic is, it turns the lock. John Updike: Americans have been conditioned to respect newness, whatever it costs them. Suspect each moment, for it is a thief, tiptoeing away with more than it brings. Question all questions, doubt all doubts.

People are not upset at their own lack of intelligence – they bristle only when others say they are not bright. Eduard Dahlberg: few can annihilate one day without anticipating another which will make them just as wretched. More: all experiences are quite similar – we simply have new names for them and imagine that what happened in the past is quite different from what is occurring now. Still more: when one realizes that his life is worthless, he either commits suicide or travels. Rabbis often brood: does all my talking ever do any good? R. Israel Salanter answered: “People say that mussar (preachment) goes in one ear and out the other. True enough, but meanwhile it goes through your head...” A great teacher of mussar: it is said that every lie must contain a grain of truth if it is to exist. Today, however, people act as if every truth must contain some falsehood if it is to survive. Ernest Becker: the man of knowledge in our time is bowed down under a burden he never imagined he ever would have – the overproduction of truth that cannot be consumed... we are choking on truth... the insignificant fragments (of knowledge) are magnified out of all proportion, while its major and world-historical insights lie around begging for attention. Strange: those who attend services every day rarely complain about the length of the prayers. Those who come early on Shabbat sometimes complain. Those who arrive at 11:00 a.m. or so are more vociferous about the length of the service. But the three-to-five-times-a-year daveners are usually those who complain most. Conclusion: the more you daven, the more you like it – and the less you daven, the less you like it. Eric Hoffer: there is probably an element of malice in the readiness to overestimate people – we are laying up for ourselves the pleasure of later cutting them down to size. More Hoffer: people who bite the hand that feeds them usually lick the boot that kicks them. S. Y. Agnon: when people truly believe, and a man cannot i…

God is not an executive vice president of the cosmos in charge of human happiness. A truly religious person does not wake up in the morning and say to God, “What have You done for me recently?” God is not looking for our votes in an election or popularity contest – He wants our service, not approval. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik: the problem with American Jews is not so much that they are not shomrei Shabbat, but that they are not shomrei erev Shabbat... Authentic religion does not cater to what people want and think they need – it teaches them to want what they really need. George Cavell: if the war didn’t happen to kill you, it was bound to start you thinking. Today we know more than ever before – but we understand less. Rabbi Abraham Isaiah Karelitz (the Chazon Ish): everything is difficult. I have hardly ever come across anything that is easy. Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Ladi once said to a hasid who complained about his economic situation: “You worry always about what you need, but you never seem to worry about others who may be needing you.” The late Abraham E. Rothstein, former president of The Jewish Center: “Friendship can make certain demands, but when it demands a substitute for the teachings of our fathers, on that point there can be no wavering, no compromise.” The above, in the same address to The Center on Yom Kippur 1930: “We older people well remember the days of our youth. We could not help observing how seriously our parents took their faith, how fervent they were. We could not help but observe the many sacrifices they made for it – but it was not all a one-sided affair, because we also noticed what happiness they derived from it. They were happy; we are not. Why? Simply this. They accepted it wholeheartedly, and in times of stress and worry, took all the comfort and solace that our religion so abundantly offers. When in joy, they were so grateful and appreciative to the source whence all good comes. And why are we not happy? Because most of us are ha…

In an era when aging has become a "problem" and the elderly are sometimes abused, it becomes urgent to recall the Torah’s admonition, "You shall rise before the hoary head and honor the presence of the old man (zaken)" (Lev. 19:32). Respect for the aged and the wise (the term zaken comprehends both) – derekh eretz for the elderly – is the sacred duty of every Jew – despite (or because of) youth cultures, nursing home scandals, or a general atmosphere of irreverence and insensitivity. It is of the essence of Judaism.The saintly author of Or ha-Hayyim interprets our verse in a remarkable way. He says that the second half is the result of the first. Thus: "You shall rise before the hoary head." And if you do, then you will be honoring "the presence of the old man," the well-known zaken, namely, Father Abraham. Abraham was known as the zaken: "And Abraham was old, zaken, well stricken in days."Every time that we rise before an elderly person, we are in effect showing respect for Father Abraham. Why is that so? Because, our commentator explains, the Midrash teaches that until the days of Abraham, old age was unknown as a physical phenomenon. People would grow old, very old, but their age would not show on their faces and in their bodies. They simply would live to 120 or 180 and then simply die. It was Abraham who prayed to God for the "hoary head," the signs of age – "so that people might distinguish the father from the son." Since it is Abraham who is responsible for the "hoary head," then whoever honors the hoary head in effect honors Abraham – "the old man."When we show courtesy to a zaken, even if he is empty and has accomplished nothing and is ornery; if we force ourselves to act with filial respect to father and mother even if we dislike them and are filled with resentment; if we do these things, we are honoring the presence of that "old man" Abraham, indicating that he is still alive with us. Then we are honoring Judaism, the faith of Abraham, because we are fol…