Jewish Hungarian Orthodoxy 1032566590, 9781032566597

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Routledge Jewish Studies Series

JEWISH HUNGARIAN ORTHODOXY PIETY AND ZEALOTRY Menachem Keren-Kratz

Jewish Hungarian Orthodoxy

Beginning with the informal establishment of Jewish Orthodoxy by a Hungarian rabbi in the early nineteenth century, this book traces the history and legacy of Jewish Hungarian Orthodoxy over the course of the last 200 years. To date, no single book has provided a comprehensive overview of the history of Hungarian Orthodoxy, a singularly zealous, fundamental, and separatist faction within Jewish circles. This book describes and explains the impact of this strand of Jewish Orthodoxy – developed in Hungary in the second half of the nineteenth century – across the Jewish world. The author traces the development of Hungarian Orthodoxy in the “new” Jewish territories created in the wake of Hungary’s dismantlement following its defeat in World War I. The book also focuses on Hungarian Orthodoxy in the two spheres where it continued to develop after the Holocaust, namely Israel and the United States. The book concludes with a review of Hungarian Orthodoxy’s legacy in contemporary communities worldwide, most of which are known for their radical anti-Zionist and anti-modernistic strands. The book will prove vital reading for students and academics interested in religious fundamentalism, Hungarian history, and Jewish studies generally. Menachem Keren-Kratz is an independent scholar from Israel. He specializes in the history of Jewish Orthodoxy, Haredi society, and Yiddish culture and has published widely on these topics, including around 80 articles. This is his fourth book.

Routledge Jewish Studies Series Series Editor: Oliver Leaman University of Kentucky

Jewish Studies, which are interpreted to cover the disciplines of history, soci­ ology, anthropology, culture, politics, philosophy, theology, religion, as they relate to Jewish affairs. The remit includes texts which have as their primary focus issues, ideas, personalities and events of relevance to Jews, Jewish life and the concepts which have characterised Jewish culture both in the past and today. The series is interested in receiving appropriate scripts or proposals. Israeli Theatre Mizrahi Jews and Self-Representation Naphtaly Shem-Tov The Environment and Literature of Moral Dilemmas From Adam to Michael K David Aberbach Postmodern Love in the Contemporary Jewish Imagination Negotiating Spaces and Identities Efraim Sicher Early Israel Cultic Praxis, God, and the Sôd Hypothesis Alex Shalom Kohav Bialik, the Hebrew Bible and the Literature of Nationalism David Aberbach Contemporary Israeli Haredi Society Profiles, Trends, and Challenges Edited by Kimmy Caplan and Nissim Leon Jewish Hungarian Orthodoxy Piety and Zealotry Menachem Keren-Kratz For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge. com/Routledge-Jewish-Studies-Series/book-series/JEWISH

Jewish Hungarian Orthodoxy Piety and Zealotry

Menachem Keren-Kratz

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 Menachem Keren-Kratz The right of Menachem Keren-Kratz to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data Names: Keren-Kratz, Menachem, 1956- author. Title: Jewish Hungarian orthodoxy : piety and zealotry / Menachem Keren-Kratz. Description: First. | Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, [2023] | Series: Routledge Jewish studies series | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2023027102 (print) | LCCN 2023027103 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032566597 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032566603 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003436676 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Orthodox Judaism‐‐Hungary‐‐History. | Judaism‐‐Hungary‐‐History. Classification: LCC BM376.H8 K47 2023 (print) | LCC BM376.H8 (ebook) | DDC 296.8/3209‐‐dc23/eng/20230626 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023027102 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023027103 ISBN: 978-1-032-56659-7 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-56660-3 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-43667-6 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676 Typeset in Times New Roman by MPS Limited, Dehradun

To my brother Danial and my sister Liora with love and appreciation

Contents

Acknowledgments Introduction Historical Background 1 The Abandonment of the Klal Israel Principle 2 Hungarian Orthodoxy and Modern Europe 3 The Study of Hungarian Orthodoxy 4 My Contribution to the Study of Hungarian Orthodoxy 6 My Publications on Hungarian Orthodoxy 6

xi 1

PART I

Up until World War I 1 Politics, Migration Patterns, and the Formation of Hungarian Jewry An Assortment, Not a Mixture 19 Why Hungary Became the Forerunner of Jewish Orthodoxy 21 Geography and the Separation between the Orthodox and Non-Orthodox Camps 23 2 Extreme Orthodoxy: Hungary’s Singular Religious Strain Between Mainstream and Extreme Orthodoxy 28 The Pious Jews of Maramaros 29 Hatam Sofer’s Path: Ashkenazi Style Orthodoxy 30 Yismah Moshe’s Path: Hasidic Style Orthodoxy 32 Rabbi Moshe Schick: Ashkenazi Ideology in Chust 32 Yitav Lev: Hassidic Ideology in Sighet 34 Comparing the Two Ideologies 35 Ashkenazi Ideology in the Following Generations in Chust 36

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19

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Contents Hasidic Ideology in the Following Generations in Sighet 37 The Convergence of the Ashkenazi and Hasidic Ideologies 39 The Decline of Extreme Orthodoxy in Maramaros 39

3 Jewish Orthodoxy in Hungary before World War I Hungarian Orthodoxy Becomes a Separate Camp 47 Solidifying the Orthodox Camp 48 Religious and Political Conflicts 51 The Internal Politics of the Orthodox Community 52 The Politics of the Orthodox Communities’ Chief Rabbis 55 Zionism: A New Challenge at the Beginning of the Twentieth Century 58 Intra-Orthodox Conflicts in the Early Twentieth Century 60 The Politics of Hungary’s New Orthodox Organizations 62 Reviewing the Formative Years of Hungarian Orthodoxy 63

47

4 Hungarian Orthodoxy and Agudat Israel The Turn of the Twentieth Century: An Era of Jewish Organizations 75 The Fundamental Principles of Agudat Israel 78 Hungarian Orthodoxy and Agudat Israel 80 Agudat Israel and the Hungarian Demand’s Dilemma 81 The Hungarian Demand at the Kattowitz Conference 82

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PART II

The Interwar Period

87

5 Orthodoxy in Interwar Hungary Hungarian Orthodoxy Following World War I 89 The Bureau’s Routine Activity 90 Orthodoxy’s Short-Lived Resurgence 91 On the Eve of World War II 93 The Orthodox Bureau during the Holocaust 93

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6 Hungarian Orthodoxy in Transylvania, Romania Introduction 98 The Establishment of the Transylvanian Orthodox Bureau 99 The Rise of Extreme Orthodoxy 101 The Mainstream’s Reaction: Organized Orthodoxy 103 The Consolidation of Three Orthodox Camps 104 The Religious Communities Law 105

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Contents ix The Extreme Orthodox and the New Law 106 The Orthodox Bureau’s Conference of 1932 107 Reality Overcomes Ideology 108 Luck Plays into the Hands of the Extreme Orthodox 109 7 Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia Introduction 117 The Organization of the Orthodox Jews of Slovakia 117 The Slovakian Orthodox Bureau and Agudat Israel 119 The Slovakian Orthodox Bureau and National Politics 120 Slovakia’s Other Religious Organizations 120 The Slovakian Orthodox Bureau’s Day-to-Day Routine 122 The Holocaust Period in Semi-Independent Slovakia 123 The Orthodox Jews of PKR and Their Failure to Organize 124 The First Attempt to Establish a Separate Orthodox Bureau for PKR 125 The Rabbinical Assembly in Čop 125 PKR’s Orthodoxy and Intra-Jewish, Local, and National Politics 126 Further Attempts to Establish an Independent Bureau in PKR 127 The Emergence of the Orthodox Political Movements 128 National Politics Meets Orthodox Politics for the Last Time 129

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8 Hungarian Orthodoxy in Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy Maintaining the Separatist Tradition in the Smaller Jewish Communities 138 The Orthodox Communities in Burgenland, Austria 139 The Orthodox Communities in Yugoslavia 142 The Orthodox Community in the City of Fiume, Italy 145

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PART III

Hungarian Orthodoxy Outside of Europe 9 The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in America Until the Holocaust 155 American Orthodoxy and the “Slide to the Right” 158 The Expansion of Hungarian Orthodoxy 159 The Satmar Rebbe’s Arrival in America 161 The Satmar Rebbe and the Rise of Extreme Orthodoxy 162

153 155

x

Contents The Organization of Hungarian Extreme Orthodoxy 164 Va-Yoel Moshe: Extreme Orthodoxy’s Canonic Text 165

10 The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel The Ashkenazi Old Yishuv Prior to World War I 173 Eretz Israel after World War I 174 The Rise of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel 175 The Decline of Separatist Hungarian Orthodoxy 177 The Formation of Two Haredi Camps 178 The Consolidation of Israel’s Extreme Orthodox Camp 180 Hungarian Mainstream Orthodoxy 182

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11 Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society Introduction 187 Hungarian Orthodoxy’s Legacy in Contemporary Israel 187 Hungarian Orthodoxy’s Legacy in Contemporary America 193 Hungarian Orthodoxy in Canada, Austria, Belgium, and Great Britain 198 Hungarian Orthodoxy Elsewhere 206

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Conclusion

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Hungarian Orthodoxy, Zionism, and the State of Israel 215 Hungarian Orthodoxy and the Holocaust 220 The Problem with Zealotry 223 Hungarian Orthodoxy and Religious Fundamentalism 225 Final Thoughts 230

Index

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Acknowledgments

This book is the outcome of a concentrated effort of mine that began some 20 years ago. Although quite limited in the early stages, my interest in the phenomenon of Hungarian Orthodoxy only grew with any additional publication of mine, which today amounts to over 30 articles of various sorts. This book, which rests on the knowledge accumulated during the writing of my own works, could not have been written less the numerous books and articles of previous scholars which established not merely the basic terminology and concepts describing the religious life in Hungary and in the Hungarianspeaking territories, but also fundamental ideas such as Orthodoxy, modernism, or zealotry. I consequently wish to thank my spiritual predecessors in the field of the study of Orthodoxy in general and Hungarian Orthodoxy in particular. Among them, I wish to mention Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda Greenwald, Yosef Yitzhak Cohen, Avraham Fuchs, Yitzhak Peri (Friedman), Nathaniel Katzburg, Mordechai Breuer, Michael K. Silber, and particularly Aviezer Ravitzky, Moshe Samet, Yosef Salmon, and Jacob Katz, whose trail-blazing books laid the foundation for the study of Orthodoxy in general and Hungarian Orthodoxy in particular as a separate field of knowledge. I further wish to thank my former teachers, among them Professors Natan Cohen, Gershon Bacon, and David Assaf. I am also in debt to a group of scholars whose works influenced my own perspective or with whom I was able to consult and cooperate on various projects. These include professors Benjamin Brown, Samuel C. Heilman, David N. Myers, David Sorotzkin, Gershon Greenberg, Adam S. Ferziger, Maoz Kahana, Yair Ha-Levi, Attila Gidó, Howard Lupovitch, and Uriel Gellman. I also wish to thank the scholars and laypeople who assisted me either to access materials that I could not have obtained without their help or who shared their knowledge and experiences with me. These include Professor Ira Robinson, Doctors Shlomit Flint Ashery and Steven Lapidus, Mrs. ChayaBathya Markovits, Mrs. Rifka Junger, Mr. Steve Frankel, and many others. Special thanks are due to the editors of the various academic journals who recognized the value of my articles on a relatively remote subject such as

xii Acknowledgments Hungarian Orthodoxy. Among them are Professor Steven T. Katz and Rika Katz of Modern Judaism, Professor Glenda Abramson of the Journal of Modern Jewish Studies, and Professor Ortzion Bartana of Moresht Israel. Special thanks are due to my dear friend and colleague, Professor Motti Inbari, who served as my counselor and mentor during my first years as an independent scholar who lacked the academic support system. This book could not have been written without the support of my close and extended family, all of whom are of Hungarian descent. I dedicate this book to my brother, Daniel, who in his unimaginable achievements serves as a role model for the everlasting quest to challenge myself intellectually, and to my sister, Liora, who is my role model and mentor in all things emotional and on how to become a better parent.

Introduction

Historical Background In most European countries, Christians were, and still are, allowed to choose to which church they wish to belong. Although each country generally has its own official church, other churches, while not always enjoying equal status, are also permitted to function. Jews, by contrast, have always been considered to be a single social and religious entity. Even in modern times, when many adopted Reform Judaism and many others drifted away from a religious lifestyle and became secular, all Jews were still considered to constitute a single social entity. As a result, Jewish communities throughout Europe contained various strands of religiosity. Some were extremely observant, while others were more lenient; some forsook Jewish tradition altogether while others adopted a more modern, reformed type of Judaism; and some embraced Hasidism while others shunned or simply ignored it. Despite their differences, all the Jews living in a particular location were obliged to accept and obey their community’s single political and religious leadership. The only country in Europe in which Jews were free to join one of several types of officially recognized communities was Hungary. The precedent was set in the sixteenth century, when a large area of Hungary was conquered by the Ottoman Empire. Ottoman Jews who immigrated to Hungary enjoyed preferential civil status and were allowed to establish their own communities. This was justified by the fact that they were Sephardi Jews, who followed different religious customs to those of the native Ashkenazi Jews.1 Although only a few Sephardi communities were established, mainly in the large cities and towns, the privilege of choosing whether to belong to a Sephardi or an Ashkenazi community remained in force even after the Ottoman occupation came to an end. A further and more significant development occurred a few years after Hungarian Jews were granted equal civil rights.2 Following this development, in late 1868, a congress was summoned in order to formulate common regulations to be applied to the autonomous Jewish communities and to establish a central council that was to govern all the communities and to represent the Jewish cause vis-à-vis the government.3 Hungary’s more modern, acculturated, DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-1

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Introduction

and reform Jews, known as Neologs, dominated the assembly and sought to pass a set of bylaws that reflected their modern, liberal, and universal values. Fearing the consequences of such religiously non-binding regulations, the more conservative observant Jews, also known as Orthodox, refused to recognize the authority of the congress and walked out of the assembly.4 In theory, the bylaws which the congress adopted should have been binding on all Jews. However, in the early 1870s, the Orthodox leaders appealed to the government, which, owing to certain political considerations, allowed them to establish their own communities. The Orthodox communities’ leaders were furthermore permitted to establish a separate central organization that monitored the local communities on the one hand and acted as their representative body on the other. This organization, titled The Central Bureau of the Autonomous Orthodox Communities in Hungary, functioned up until the Holocaust.5 A group of communities that chose to join neither the Neolog nor the newly established Orthodox organization was allowed to adhere to the pre-congress Hungarian regulations and was called Status Quo.6 The upshot of these developments was that ever since the late nineteenth century, Hungarian Jews could, at least in theory, choose to belong to one of four types of community: The Orthodox, the Neolog, the Status Quo, and the Sephardi.7 The Abandonment of the Klal Israel Principle Throughout the ages, despite having individuals who were lax in their religious conduct, the Jewish community was always regarded, by itself and by others as a cohesive body that was always willing to readmit its deviant members who repented. This was known as the principle of Klal Israel, meaning the People of Israel as a Whole.8 The Orthodox – non-Orthodox separation in Hungary meant that this historical principle was now abandoned in favor of a new one – communal separation. This new concept meant that observant Jews would now abandon the responsibility and obligation to redeem all Jews, including the deviants, and concentrate on self-preservation. Consequently, while saving themselves, they allowed their former brethren to drift away from centuries-old Jewish traditions and to adopt modern ideologies, including secularism and religious reform, and no longer sought to mend their misguided ways. These processes occurred in the major Hungarian-speaking territories; in Hungary itself, but also in Transylvania, Slovakia, and Karpatorus. These large territories, each of which contained a Jewish population of more than 100,000, most of whom belonged to the Orthodox communities, were taken from Hungary following its defeat in World War I and annexed to Romania and Czechoslovakia. A similar process played out among former Hungarian Orthodox Jews living in the territories that were annexed to Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy, where the number of Jews was smaller and

Introduction

3

the proportion of Orthodox Jews among them was lower. In all these territories, former Hungarian Orthodox Jews sought to maintain what they considered their own religious legacy, through the formal separation between the Orthodox and the non-Orthodox communities. The rejection of the Klal Israel principle was particularly evident during the establishment of the first international Orthodox organization, Agudat Israel. Since in most countries Jewish communities catered to all sorts of Jews and maintained the principle of Klal Israel, Agudat Israel also adopted this principle and welcomed all religious Jews, regardless of the way they worshiped and how rigidly they observed the Jewish religious laws (halakha). When the representatives from Great Hungary demanded that Agudat Israel declare itself an Orthodox organization and turn away Jews who belonged to non-Orthodox communities, who were Zionists, or who were lax in their religious conduct, it refused to do so. Consequently, Hungary’s Orthodox leadership decided not to join Agudat Israel and forbade its rabbis from joining it, thus publicly abandoning the principle of Klal Israel even with respect to observant Jews. However, following the dismantling of Hungary after World War I, the Jewish communities in the various ex-Hungarian territories were no longer bound by this prohibition and each was free to decide whether to associate itself with Agudat Israel or not. Yet even those communities that chose to join Agudat Israel maintained their separate Orthodox organizations and refused to merge with the general Jewish bodies. Hungarian Orthodoxy and Modern Europe Hungarian Orthodoxy is a purely Jewish phenomenon and at most numbered one to two hundred thousand observant families, a minute percentage of Europe’s population. Yet the course of its evolution can be fully understood only within the context of the general cultural and political developments in that part of Europe. Jews settled in Europe almost 2,000 years ago. Yet they were invariably regarded as foreigners, invaders, and an inward-looking group. They were moreover discriminated against, persecuted, and heavily taxed, and were on numerous occasions expelled from the cities or the countries in which they had lived for centuries. Since in most cases they were shunned both by the nobility and the church, Jews had no political representation and their religion had no formal status. This situation prevailed during the long Middle Ages, but as Europe entered modernity, the position of its Jews began to change, most markedly from the late eighteenth century onward. Europe’s modernization was brought about by three major social and political trends. First was the rise of enlightened absolutism, when several monarchs allowed their citizens greater freedom to acquire education and to develop new political ideas and ideals, such as those championed in the French revolution: “Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.” Second was the growing awareness among the masses of these modern ideas, which loosened

4

Introduction

their commitment to their political or religious leaders, and induced in them a growing sense of peoplehood and nationalism. The third trend was secularism, expressed both in the diminished authority and power of the church and its institutions and in a rapid decline in the number of people who adhered to a strictly religious lifestyle.9 These trends were reinforced by Europe’s socioeconomic developments. The industrial revolution offered better job opportunities and raised the average socioeconomic status of many citizens which also meant greater economic independence. It likewise generated a rapid development of the transportation system, which, along with the appearance of a modern press, meant that news, knowledge, and ideas could be conveyed to the most remote locations. The process of urbanization drew ever more people from the rural areas into the cities. All these trends impacted the Jews as well.10 Since the late eighteenth century, Jews enjoyed an improved civil status and in time were officially awarded equal civil rights. This eroded the centuries-old social and legal barriers between Jews and gentiles and, while many Jews still regarded themselves primarily as a religious group, others considered themselves members of a social and cultural collective no longer committed to the practice of the Jewish religion. This was particularly true of the Jews who settled in large cities with their anonymous environment, thatno longer felt obliged to adhere to their forefathers’ traditions. One outcome of these processes was that Jews gained greater influence in the political sphere, and one of the first countries to take cognizance of Jewish public opinion was the Habsburg, and later the Austro-Hungarian empire. In the wake of these processes of modernization not only could various Jewish groups differentiate themselves from one another, but they also gained political influence that could be translated into laws and regulations. While these social and political processes played out in many European countries, given the particular circumstances that prevailed in Hungary, its Jewish groups gained the most influence. This eventually resulted in the unprecedented formal separation between Orthodox and non-Orthodox Jews, which became the fundamental principle of Hungarian Orthodoxy. The Study of Hungarian Orthodoxy The history of Hungarian Jewry began to be written only in the second half of the nineteenth century.11 Since many of Hungary’s Orthodox Jews lacked a comprehensive general education or solid academic training, and since many of those who studied in the universities turned to other subjects, the history of Hungarian Jewry was written either by gentiles or by modern, non-observant Jews who regarded Orthodox Judaism as a relic of the past. This trend extended well into the twentieth century. For example, Raphael Patai’s 700-page book, perhaps the most comprehensive academic study of Hungarian Jews written in recent decades, devotes not a single chapter to Hungarian Orthodoxy, even

Introduction

5

though it comprised about half of Hungarian Jewry. The various aspects of Orthodoxy are mentioned in less than 5 percent of the book’s pages.12 The first comprehensive works on Hungarian Orthodoxy were written by non-academic scholars, mainly by Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda Greenwald. He may be regarded as the forefather of Hungarian Orthodoxy’s historiography, and while he lacked formal academic training, his studies are well established, and many scholars consider them credible sources.13 Following the establishment of the State of Israel, other scholars, only some of whom held academic positions, began to write articles on Hungarian Orthodoxy. Some of these appeared in academic or semi-academic journals, while others were included as chapters in Yizkor books, in article collections, or in selfpublished books. The most prominent of these authors are Nathaniel Katzburg and Yosef Yitzhak Cohen.14 Major works on Hungarian Orthodoxy continued to be written by nonacademic authors. Among these are Avraham Fuchs, who, alongside other books, penned two highly informative volumes on Hungary’s yeshivas15; Yitshak Peri (Friedman), who wrote over ten volumes on the history of the Jews of Hungary and Transylvania16; and Yehuda Shpigel, who wrote several books on the Jews of Karpathorus.17 Other such authors have compiled various lexicons that list the biographical details of hundreds of Hungarian rabbis.18 Hungarian Orthodoxy was referenced in several early academic bibliographical articles that appeared in the 1950s and 1960s, written by scholars such as Naftali Ben-Menachem, Moshe Carmilly-Weinberger, and Alexander (Sandor) Scheiber.19 Books and journals written by Hungarian Jews were addressed in the following decades, when two new fields were founded. These were the study of the Holocaust in Hungary, a field that continues to generate new articles and books to this day and was dominated by the works of Randolph L. Braham20; and the study of Hungarian Jewry in the late nineteenth century.21 This latter topic was addressed in numerous articles dedicated to the 1868–9 Jewish congress, during which the separation between Orthodox and nonOrthodox communities was officially recognized by the state.22 The most comprehensive work on this topic is Jacob Katz’s trail-blazing work A House Divided, which was published in 1995.23 This book prompted other scholars to investigate particular events related to the Orthodox – non-Orthodox schism.24 In the twenty-first century, many further scholars of Jewish studies have taken a growing interest in Hungarian Orthodoxy and its unique religious characteristics.25 Special attention was devoted to studies on specific Hungarian rabbis.26 In the 2010s scholars such as Yehuda Hartman and Adam Ferziger took the study of Hungarian Orthodoxy some steps forward by demonstrating its relevance to other topics, such as Orthodoxy’s relationship with the Hungarian people and its authorities, and its impact on Jewish Orthodoxy in general.27 Until recently academic historiography of Hungarian Orthodoxy was confined to two main periods: Its early modern history, which ended in the early 1870s with the formal Orthodox – non-Orthodox separation; and that of Hungary during the interwar years, and particularly the Holocaust period.

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Introduction

This book contributes to filling the gaps by reviewing Hungarian Orthodoxy in other periods and locations, such as in the Hungarian territories that were annexed to other countries following World War I, and by highlighting new aspects of this field. My Contribution to the Study of Hungarian Orthodoxy My interest in Hungarian Jewry began some 20 years ago when I decided to research my family’s roots. I discovered that both my parents, as well as their ancestors for several generations back, lived in a small area named Maramaros, which was first a part of Hungary and was later divided between Romania and Czechoslovakia. This interest led me eventually to complete a Ph.D. in Yiddish literature at Bar-Ilan University in 2009. My dissertation was dedicated to the Jews of Maramaros, their uniquely pious lifestyle, and to the bustling cultural center that developed in that region, despite of its religious character. It was during that period that I discovered the uniqueness of Hungarian Orthodoxy, and particularly that of its most radical wing, which I referred to as Extreme Orthodoxy. Still seeking to expand my knowledge, particularly on Extreme Orthodoxy, in 2013 I completed a second Ph.D. in Jewish history at Tel Aviv University. The dissertation I wrote there was a comprehensive biography of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, the Satmar Rebbe, and the most prominent leader of Extreme Orthodoxy in the twentieth century. Since then, my 2 dissertations were published as books and I have published numerous articles on various aspects of Jewish Orthodoxy; over 30 of them dealt with various aspects of Hungarian Orthodoxy. My Publications on Hungarian Orthodoxy Books

Marmaros-Sighet: Extreme Orthodoxy and Secular-Jewish Cultural Center at the Slopes of the Carpathian Mountains, Dov Sadan Project for Yiddish Studies – The Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 2013. (Hebrew) A book based on my Ph.D. dissertation at Bar-Ilan University. The Zealot: The Satmar Rebbe –Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, Zalman Shazar Center, Jerusalem, 2020 (Hebrew) A book based on my Ph.D. dissertation at Tel Aviv University. Articles In Peer-Reviewed Journals

1. “Hast Thou Escaped and Also Taken Possession? The Responses of the Satmar Rebbe – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – and his Followers to Criticism of his Conduct During and After the Holocaust,” Dapim: Studies on the Holocaust 28 (2) (2014): 97–120.

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This article reviews the Satmar Rebbe’s dubious conduct during the Holocaust, and how he and his Hasidim justified it in hindsight. 2. “Hirsh Leib Gottlieb – A One Man’s Newspaper Empire,” Kesher: Journal of Media and Communications History in Israel and the Jewish World 46 (2014): 58–66 (Hebrew). An article describing the cultural life in Maramaros county. 3. “Marmaros, Hungary – The Cradle of Extreme Orthodoxy,” Modern Judaism 35 (2) (2015): 147–174. This article reviews the establishment of Extreme Orthodoxy in Maramaros. 4. “The Politics of Jewish Orthodoxy: The Case of Hungary 1868–1918,” Modern Judaism 36 (3) (2016): 217–248. This article reviews how Hungarian Orthodoxy developed as an independent Jewish camp following the 1868–1869 schism between the Orthodox and the Non-Orthodox. 5. “The Politics of a Religious Enclave: Orthodox Jews in Interwar Transylvania, Romania,” Modern Judaism 37 (3) (2017): 363–391. This article reviews how the Orthodox Jews of Transylvania, a region which, following World War I, was annexed to Romania, preserved its “Hungarian” characteristics. 6. “Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum—the Satmar Rebbe—and the Rise of Anti-Zionism in American Orthodoxy,” Contemporary Jewry 37 (3) (2017): 457–479. This article reviews how the Satmar Rebbe was able to maintain the concept of Extreme Orthodoxy after the Holocaust and how he implemented it in America. 7. “The Campaign for the Nature of Jewish Orthodoxy: Religious Tolerance versus Uncompromising Extremism in Interwar Czechoslovakia,” Modern Judaism 38 (3) (2018): 328–353. This article reviews how the Orthodox Jews in Slovakia and Carpathian Ruthenia, which following World War I were annexed to newly formed Czechoslovakia, preserved their “Hungarian” outlook, though in a different manner from one another. 8. “Is the Jewish State the Ultimate Evil or a Golden Opportunity? Ideology vs. Politics in the Teachings and Actions of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – the Satmar Rebbe,” Jewish Political Studies Review 29 (1–2) (2018): 5–26. This article shows how the Satmar Rebbe used intra-Jewish politics to advance his own interests as well as to expand the influence of the Extreme Orthodox ideology.

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9. “The rise of the Hungarian leadership of the Old Yishuv in Jerusalem during the Mandate Period,” Moresht Israel 17 (2019): 107–156 (Hebrew). This article reviews how following World War I Hungarian Orthodoxy became a major religious trend in Mandatory Palestine. 10. “Global politics and the shaping of Jewish religious identity: the case of Hungary and Galicia,” Jewish Political Studies Review 30 (3–4) (2019): 100–119. By comparing it to Galicia, this article explains why Hungarian Jewry developed differently than other European Jewries. 11. “Inclusion Versus Exclusion in Intra-Orthodox Politics: Between Agudat Israel and Hungarian Orthodoxy,” Modern Judaism 40 (2) (2020): 195–226. This article reviews the ideological confrontation between Agudat Israel, a non-Zionist Orthodox organization that sought to unite all observant Jews, and Hungarian Orthodoxy for which separatism was a major principle. 12. “Keeping up the separatist tradition: Hungarian Orthodoxy in interwar Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy,” Journal of Modern Jewish Studies 19 (4) (2020): 472–489. This article reviews how the Orthodox communities in three areas which, following World War I, were annexed to other countries, and sought to maintain their “Hungarian” characteristics. 13. “A Shepherd without a flock or a flock without a shepherd? The challenging dilemmas of Hasidic rabbis in Hungary during the Holocaust,” Moreshet 18 (2021): 96–134. In contrast to the Satmar Rebbe’s dubious conduct during the Holocaust period, this article reviews how other Hungarian Hasidic leaders acted during that period. 14. “Jewish education in Maramaros county (Hungary, Romania, Czechoslovakia,” Dor Le-Dor 55 (2021): 183–199 (Hebrew). This article is based on a chapter in my Yiddish studies Ph.D. dissertation. 15. “Reevaluating the role of anti-Zionism in the Satmar Rebbe’s Va-Yoel Moshe,” Da’at 90 (2021): 627–654 (Hebrew). This article reviews the Satmar Rebbe’s book in which he outlines his Extreme Orthodox ideology and reveals how it was used to advance political goals. 16. “Zealotry has Many Faces: The Views and Modes of Operation of Four Hungarian Rabbis,” Moreshet Israel 19 (2) (2021): 321–348 (Hebrew). This article compares the conduct and ideology of four Extreme Orthodox Hungarian rabbis.

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9

17. “Jewish Orthodoxy’s First Rabbinical Conference Held in 1844 in Paks (Bacs), Hungary,” Modern Judaism 41 (3) (2022): 273–293. This article presents the first attempt of Jewish Orthodoxy to unite and act against the modern trends which threaten its existence and the reasons for its failure. 18. “Satmar and Neturei Karta: Jews Against Zionism,” Modern Judaism 43 (1), (2023): 52–76. This article reviews how Hungarian-style Extreme Orthodoxy is manifested today in the thought and activities of its two major groups. 19. “The Battle Over Hasidic Radicalism: The Belz–Munkács Controversy,” Jewish Studies Quarterly 30 (3) (2023): 304-327 (with Uriel Gellman). This article reviews a major controversy which erupted during the interwar period between two radical Hasidic groups. 20. “Va-Yoel Moshe: The Most Anti-Zionist and Anti-Israeli Jewish Text in Modern Times,” Jewish Quarterly Review 113 (3) (2023):479-505. This article reviews the Satmar Rebbe’s ideology and its role in the resurrection of Extreme Orthodoxy after the Holocaust. In Peer-Reviewed Academic Collections

21. “The Newspapers Industry in Maramures: Hungarian, Romanian and Jewish Joint Venture,” in: Representations of Jewish Life in Romanian Literature, edited by Camelia Craciun, Isai, Romania: Al. I. Cuza University Press, 2013, 377–390. Based on my Yiddish studies dissertation, this article reviews the cultural life in Maramaros county. 22. “‘Guarding the Guardians’: Rabbi Yosef Zvi (Maharitz) Dushinsky,” in: The Gdoilim: Leaders Who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry, edited by Benjamin Brawn and Nisim Leon, Van Leer Institute – Magnes Press, Jerusalem, 2017, pp. 337–367. This article provides a short biography of a prominent Hungarian rabbi who headed the Edah Haredit, Mandatory Palestine’s Extreme Orthodox camp. 23. “Redemption and Anti-Redemption in the Writing of Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rebbe following the Holocaust, The Establishment of Israel and the Six Days War,” in: Zionism: Between Normalization and Messianism, edited by Asaf Yedidya and Sigalit Rosmarin, Jerusalem: Efrata College Press, 2021, pp. 109–143. This article reviews the Satmar Rebbes’ eschatological worldview and compares it to that of other religious camps.

10

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In Non-Academic Publications

24. “Libraries in Sighet as a cultural meeting place,” On-line Magazine of the Jewish Librarians Association 24 (2013) (Hebrew). This article reviews some aspects of the cultural life in Sighet, the seat of Maramaros county. 25. “Pashkvilles (Religious Posters): The Catapult’s Stones of the Hasidic Rebbes Wars,” On-line magazine of the Jewish Librarians Association 25 (2013) (Hebrew). This article demonstrates the high levels of animosity involved in a typical intra-Orthodox controversy in a small Hungarian town. 26. “The Satmar Rebbe and the Destruction of Hungarian Jewry,” Tablet Magazine, 16–17 July 2014. This is an adaptation of article no. 1. 27. “The Aliya and Settlement of the Jews from Maramaros, Hungary,” EtMol: Journal for the History of the Land of Israel and the People of Israel 235 (2014): 19–22 (Hebrew). This article reviews the settlement of Maramaros’ Jews in Eretz Israel from the nineteenth century onwards. 28. “The Jewish press in Sighet: History and updates,” On-line Magazine of the Jewish Librarians Association, 29 (2014) (Hebrew). This article is an update to the comprehensive bibliography of the hundreds of religious and secular books that were printed in Maramaros. 29. “The Jews of Maramaros: Exploring Online and Off-line Genealogical Resources,” Avotaynu 31 (3) (2015): 41–42. This article provides genealogical resources for people researching their family roots. 30. “Ha-Hayalim Shel Ha-Rabi Mi-Viznitz: Toldot Ha-Nahal Ha-Haredi,” Et-Mol: Journal for the History of the Land of Israel and the People of Israel 255 (2018): 27–30 (Hebrew). This article reviews the outstanding initiatives suggested by the Viznitzer Rebbe, one of the most prominent Hungarian leaders after the Holocaust. 31. “Kolel Shomrei Ha-Homot,” Segula 113 (2020): 54–66 (Hebrew). This article reviews the 160-year-old Hungarian Jewry’s most important charity organization. 32. “The Surprising Endurance of Va-Yoel Moshe’s Antizionism,” Tradition On-line, March 2021.

Introduction

11

This article is a short adaptation of article no. 15. 33. “Aliyat Koha Shel Ha-Hanhaga Ha-Hungarit Ba-Yeshuv Ha-Yashan BeTekufat Ha-Mandat,” in: Me-Agan Ha-Karpatim Ve-Ad Ha-Yam HaTikhon, edited by Anna Szalai, Budapest: Gondolat Kiadó, 2021, 79–88. This is a short version of item no. 9. 34. “Hashpa’at Rabanei Hungaria Al Hayey Ha-Dat Be-Medinat Israel,” ibid., 440–448. This article reviews the influence of three prominent Hungarian rabbis on Israel’s religious life. Notes 1 Moshe Carmilly-Weinberger, “Spanish (Sephardi) communities in Transylvania and Banat in the 17th–19th centuries,” Studia Judaica 1 (1991): 39–52. 2 Nathaniel Katzburg, “Ha-diyun ha-tsiburi al ha-emantsipatsia ha-yehudit behungaria bishnot ha-arbaim shel ha-mea ha-yud-tet,” Bar Ilan 1 (1963): 282–301; idem, “Milhamtam shel yehudei hungaria lema’an shivyon zekhuyot dati be-shnot ha-90 la-mea ha-19,” Zion 22 (1957): 119–148; Michael K. Silber, Roots of the Schism in Hungarian Jewry. Ph.D. dissertation, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1985 (in Hebrew). 3 Jacob Katz, A House Divided: Orthodoxy and Schism in Nineteenth-Century Central European Jewry, Hanover, NH: Brandeis University Press, 1998. 4 Nathaniel Katzburg, “Ha-kongres ha-yehudi be-hungarya bi-shnat 1869: reshima shel mekorot” (The 1869 Jewish congress in Hungary: A list of sources), Areshet 4 (1966): 22–376. 5 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The politics of Jewish Orthodoxy: The case of Hungary 1968–1918,” Modern Judaism 36 (3) (2016): 217–248. 6 Howard Nathan Lupovitch, “Between Orthodox Judaism and Neology: the origins of the Status Quo movement,” Jewish Social Studies 9 (2) (2003): 123–153. 7 Although almost no “genuine” Sephardi Jews remained in Hungary at the end of the nineteenth century, the legal lacuna was exploited by separatist groups, particularly Hasidic, that claimed their members prayed in a “Sephardi” version of the siddur and were therefore entitled to the privilege of establishing a Sephardi community. 8 Adam S. Ferziger, Exclusion and Hierarchy: Orthodoxy, Nonobservance, and the Emergence of Modern Jewish Identity, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005. 9 Owen Chadwick, The Secularization of the European Mind in the Nineteenth Century, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975. 10 Eliezer Ben-Rafael, Thomas Gergely and Yosef Gorny (eds.), Jewry between Tradition and Secularism: Europe and Israel Compared, Leiden: Brill, 2006. 11 Worte Eines Layen über den Jüdischen Religionsunterricht und über das Rabbinenthum in Ungarn, Pesth: H. Geibel, 1850; Zur Neueren Geschichte der Juden in Ungarn: Beitrag zur Allgemeinen Rechts-, Religions- und Kulturgeschichte, Budapest: L. Aigner, 1874; Bergl Jozsef, A Magyarorszagi Zsidok Tortenete, Kaposvar: Jeiteles H., 1879; idem., Geschichte der Ungarischen Juden, Leipzig: Friedrich, 1879; Julius Laźár, Das Judenthum in seiner Vergangenheit und Gegenwart: Mit Besonderem Hinblick auf Ungarn, Berlin: O. Hentze, 1880; Sámuel Kohn, A Zsidok Tortenete Magyarorszagon, Budapest: Athenaeum, 1884; Nathaniel Katzburg, “Hungarian Jewish Historiography,” in: The Rabbinical

12

12 13

14 15 16 17 18

19

20

21

22 23 24

25

Introduction Seminary of Budapest 1877–1977, edited by Moshe Carmilly-Weinberger, New York: Sepher-Hermon Press, 1986, 215–237. Raphael Patai, The Jews of Hungary: History, Culture, Psychology, Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1996. Haim Blokh, “Ha-Rav Yekuthiel Yehuda Greenwald: Ha’arakha Bimlot Arbaim Shana Le-Avodato Ha-Sifrutit,” in: Letoldot Ha-Reformatsion Ha-Datit BeGermania U-Behungaria, edited by Yekuthial Yehuda Greenwald, Columbus, OH: Tverski Bros., 1948, 3–28. For example: Yosef Yitzhak Cohen, Mekorot Ve-Korot, Jerusalem; Reuvan Mass, 1982; Nathaniel Katzburg, Toldot Ha-Yehudim Be-Hungaria, Jerusalem, 1976. Avraham Fuchs, Yeshivot Hungaria Begedulatan U-Behurbanan, Vols. 1–2, Jerusalem: Hed, 1978–1987. For example: Yitshak Peri (Friedman), Toldot Ha-Yehudim Be-Hungaria, Vols. 1–4, Tel Aviv: Tarbut, 2002; idem., Toldot Ha-Yehudim Be-Transilvania, Vols. 1–4, Holon: Tarbut, 2000–2002. For example: Yehuda Shpigel, Toltot Yisrael Ve-Hitpathut Ha-Hasidut Be-Rusia Ha-Karpatit, Tel Aviv: Y. Shpigel, 1991. For example: Yosef Yitzhak Cohen, Sages of Hungary, 1421–1944, Jerusalem; Makhon Yerushalaim, 1987; idem, Sages of Transylvania: 1630–1944, Jerusalem; Makhon Yerushalaim, 1989 (both in Hebrew); Shlomo Rozman, Rashei Golat Ariel, Vols. 1–3, New York: Mif’al Zikhron Kedoshim, 1975–1983; Yitzhak Shimon Feder, Mishpahot Rabanin In Ungaren, Vols. 1–3, Bnei Brak: Seminar Be’er Yaakov, 1994–1996. For example: Alexander Scheiber, “Kitvei et yehudiyim be-lashon hungarit behungaria,” Kiryat Sefer 32 (1957): 481–494; Moshe Carmilly-Weinberger, Hebrew Poetry in Hungary, New York: World Federation of Hungarian Jews, 1966; Naftali Ben-Menachem, Misafrut Israel Be-Hungarya, Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1958. For example: Randolph L. Braham, The Destruction of Hungarian Jewry: A Documentary Account, New York: Pro Arte, 1963; idem., The Hungarian Labor Service System, 1939–1945, New York: Columbia University Press, 1977; idem., The Politics of Genocide: The Holocaust in Hungary, New York: Columbia University Press, 1981; idem., The Holocaust in Hungary: Fifty Years Later, New York: Columbia University Press. 1997. Nathaniel Katzburg, “Ha-diyun ha-tsiburi al ha-emantsipatsia ha-yehudit behungaria bishnot ha-arbaim shel ha-mea ha-yud-tet,” (The public debate on the emancipation of Hungarian Jews in the 1840s), Bar Ilan 1 (1963): 282–301; Idem, “Milhamtam shel yehudei hungaria lema’an shivyon zekhuyot dati be-shnot ha-90 la-mea ha-19” (Hungarian Jews’ struggle for equal religious rights in the 1890s), Zion 22 (1957): 119–148. Katzburg, “Ha-kongres ha-yehudi.” Katz, A House Divided. Lupovitch, “Between Orthodox Judaism and Neology”; Michael K. Silber, “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy: The Invention of a Tradition,” in: The Uses of Tradition; Jewish Continuity in the Modern Era, edited by Jack Wertheimer, New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992, 23–84. For example: Kinga Frojimovics, Trends of the Jewry in Hungary (Orthodox, Neolog, status quo ante) between 1868/1869–1950, Ph.D. dissertation, Bar Ilan University, 2002; Motti Inbari, “Messianic expectations in Hungarian orthodox theology before and during the Second World War: a comparative study,” Jewish Quarterly Review 107 (4) (2017): 506–530; Adam S. Ferziger, “Hungarian separatist Orthodoxy and the migration of its legacy to America: the GreenwaldHirschenson debate,” Jewish Quarterly Review 105 (2) (2015): 250–283; David Harry Ellenson, “On Conversion and Intermarriage: The Evidence of Nineteenth-

Introduction

13

Century Hungarian Orthodox Rabbinic Writings,” in: Text and Context; Essays in Modern Jewish History and Historiography in Honor of Ismar Schorsch, edited by Eli Lederhendler and Jack Wertheimer, New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 2005, 321–346. 26 For example: Zvi Jonathan Kaplan, “Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum, Zionism, and Hungarian Ultra-Orthodoxy,” Modern Judaism, 24 (2) (2004): 165–178; Maoz Kahana, From the Noda Be-Yehuda to the Chatam Sofer: Halakha and Thought in Their Historical Moment, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2015, (in Hebrew); Shmuel Ha-Cohen Weingarten, “Rabbi Shmuel Binyamin Sofer Ve-Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer: Perakim Ba-Historya Ha-Kulturit Shel Ha-Yehudim Be-Hungaria” (Rabbi Shmuel Binyamin Sofer and Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer: Chapters in the cultural history of Hungarian Jews), Sinai 74 (1974): 75–94; David Sorotzkin, “Binyan Eretz Shel Mata Ve-Churban Eretz Shel Ma’ala: Ha-Rabbi Mi’Satmar Ve-Ha’askola Ha-Ortodoxit Ha-Radikalit,” in: Eretz Israel Ba-Hagut Ha-Yehudit Ba-Mea Ha-Esrim, edited by Aviezer Ravitzky, Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2005, 133–167; Motti Inbari, “Activism Meshichi Be-Po’alo U-Behaguto Shel Ha-Rav Chaim Elazar Shapira Me-Munkatch Bein Shtei Milhamot Olam,” Cathedra 149 (2013): 77–104; Adam Ferziger, “Ha-Kanay Ha-Dati Ke-Posek Halacha: Ha-Rav Chaim Sofer,” in: Religious Radicalism, edited by Meir Litvak and Ora Limor, Jerusalem: Merkaz Zalman Shazar, 2008, 85–112. 27 Howard N. Lupovitch, Jews at the Crossroads: Tradition and Accommodation during the Golden Age of the Hungarian Nobility, 1729–1878, Budapest: Central European University Press, 2007; Ferziger, Exclusion and Hierarchy; Yehuda Hartman, Patriots Without Homeland, Ra’anana: Lamda, 2020 (in Hebrew).

Bibliography Ben-Menachem, Naftali. Misafrut Israel Be-Hungarya. Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1958. Ben-Rafael, Eliezer, Thomas Gergely and Yosef Gorny (eds.). Jewry between Tradition and Secularism: Europe and Israel Compared. Leiden: Brill, 2006. Bergl, Jozsef. A Magyarorszagi Zsidok Tortenete. Kaposvar: Jeiteles H., 1879 Bergl, Jozsef. Geschichte der Ungarischen Juden. Leipzig: Friedrich, 1879. Blokh, Haim. “Ha-Rav Yekuthiel Yehuda Greenwald: Ha’arakha Bimlot Arbaim Shana Le-Avodato Ha-Sifrutit.” In: Greenwald, Yekuthial Yehuda. Letoldot HaReformatsion Ha-Datit Be-Germania U-Behungaria. Columbus, OH: Tverski Bros., 1948, 3–28. Braham, Randolph L. The Destruction of Hungarian Jewry: A Documentary Account. New York, NY: Pro Arte, 1963 Braham, Randolph L. The Holocaust in Hungary: Fifty Years Later. New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 1997. Braham, Randolph L. The Hungarian Labor Service System, 1939–1945. New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 1977. Braham, Randolph L. The Politics of Genocide: The Holocaust in Hungary. New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 1981. Carmilly-Weinberger, Moshe. “Spanish (Sephardi) communities in Transylvania and Banat in the 17th–19th centuries,” Studia Judaica 1 (1991): 39–52. Carmilly-Weinberger, Moshe. Hebrew Poetry in Hungary. New York, NY: World Federation of Hungarian Jews, 1966. Chadwick, Owen. The Secularization of the European Mind in the Nineteenth Century. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975. Cohen, Yosef Yitzhak. Mekorot Ve-Korot. Jerusalem: Reuvan Mass, 1982.

14

Introduction

Cohen, Yosef Yitzhak. Sages of Hungary, 1421–1944. Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalaim, 1987. Cohen, Yosef Yitzhak. Sages of Transylvania: 1630–1944. Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalaim, 1989. Ellenson, David Harry. “On Conversion and Intermarriage: The Evidence of Nineteenth-Century Hungarian Orthodox Rabbinic Writings.” In: Lederhendler, Eli and Jack Wertheimer (eds.). Text and Context; Essays in Modern Jewish History and Historiography in Honor of Ismar Schorsch. New York, NY: Jewish Theological Seminary, 2005, 321–346. Feder, Yitzhak Shimon. Mishpahot Rabanin In Ungaren, Vols. 1-3. Bnei Brak: Seminar Be’er Ya’akov, 1994–1996. Ferziger, Adam S. “Hungarian separatist Orthodoxy and the migration of its legacy to America: the Greenwald-Hirschenson debate.” Jewish Quarterly Review 105 (2) (2015): 250–283. Ferziger, Adam S. Exclusion and Hierarchy: Orthodoxy, Nonobservance, and the Emergence of Modern Jewish Identity. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005. Ferziger, Adam. “Ha-Kanay Ha-Dati Ke-Posek Halacha: Ha-Rav Chaim Sofer.” In: Litvak, Meir and Ora Limor (eds.). Religious Radicalism. Jerusalem: Merkaz Zalman Shazar, 2008, 85–112. Frojimovics, Kinga. Trends of the Jewry in Hungary (Orthodox, Neolog, status quo ante) between 1868/1869–1950. Ph.D. dissertation, Bar Ilan University, 2002. Fuchs, Avraham. Yeshivot Hungaria Begedulatan U-Behurbanan, Vols. 1–2. Jerusalem: Hed, 1978-1987. Hartman, Yehuda. Patriots without Homeland. Ra’anana: Lamda, 2020. Inbari, Motti. “Activism Meshichi Be-Po’alo U-Behaguto Shel Ha-Rav Chaim Elazar Shapira Me-Munkatch Bein Shtei Milhamot Olam.” Cathedra 149 (2013): 77–104. Inbari, Motti. “Messianic expectations in Hungarian orthodox theology before and during the Second World War: a comparative study.” Jewish Quarterly Review 107 (4) (2017): 506–530. Kahana, Maoz. From the Noda Be-Yehuda to the Chatam Sofer: Halakha and Thought in Their Historical Moment. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2015, (in Hebrew). Kaplan, Zvi Jonathan. “Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum, Zionism, and Hungarian UltraOrthodoxy.” Modern Judaism 24 (2) (2004): 165–178. Katz, Jacob. A House Divided: Orthodoxy and Schism in Nineteenth-Century Central European Jewry. Hanover, NH: Brandeis University Press, 1998. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Ha-diyun ha-tsiburi al ha-emantsipatsia ha-yehudit behungaria bishnot ha-arbaim shel ha-mea ha-yud-tet.” Bar Ilan 1 (1963): 282–301. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Ha-kongres ha-yehudi be-hungarya bi-shnat 1869: reshima shel mekorot” (The 1869 Jewish congress in Hungary: A list of sources). Areshet 4 (1966): 22–376. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Hungarian Jewish Historiography.” In: Carmilly-Weinberger, Moshe (ed.). The Rabbinical Seminary of Budapest 1877–1977. New York, NY: Sepher-Hermon Press, 1986, 215–237. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Milhamtam shel yehudei hungaria lema’an shivyon zekhuyot dati be-shnot ha-90 la-mea ha-19” (Hungarian Jews’ struggle for equal religious rights in the 1890s). Zion 22 (1957): 119–148.

Introduction

15

Katzburg, Nathaniel. Toldot Ha-Yehudim Be-Hungaria. Jerusalem, 1976. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “The politics of Jewish Orthodoxy: The case of Hungary 1968–1918.” Modern Judaism 36 (3) (2016): 217–248. Kohn, Sámuel. A Zsidok Tortenete Magyarorszagon. Budapest: Athenaeum, 1884. Laźár, Julius. Das Judenthum in seiner Vergangenheit und Gegenwart: Mit Besonderem Hinblick auf Ungarn. Berlin: O. Hentze, 1880. Lupovitch, Howard N. Jews at the Crossroads: Tradition and Accommodation during the Golden Age of the Hungarian Nobility, 1729–1878. Budapest: Central European University Press, 2007. Lupovitch, Howard Nathan. “Between Orthodox Judaism and Neology: the origins of the Status Quo movement.” Jewish Social Studies 9 (2) (2003): 123–153. Patai, Raphael. The Jews of Hungary: History, Culture, Psychology. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1996. Peri (Friedman), Yitshak. Toldot Ha-Yehudim Be-Hungaria, Vols. 1-4, Tel Aviv: Tarbut, 2002. Peri (Friedman), Yitshak. Toldot Ha-Yehudim Be-Transilvania, Vols. 1-4. Holon: Tarbut, 2000–2002. Rozman, Shlomo. Rashei Golat Ariel, vols. 1-3. New York, NY: Mif’al Zikhron Kedoshim, 1975–1983. Scheiber, Alexander. “Kitvei et yehudiyim be-lashon hungarit be-hungaria.” Kiryat Sefer 32 (1957): 481–494. Shpigel, Yehuda. Toltot Yisrael Ve-Hitpathut Ha-Hasidut Be-Rusia Ha-Karpatit. Tel Aviv: Y. Shpigel, 1991. Silber, Michael K. “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy: The Invention of a Tradition.” In: Wertheimer, Jack (ed.). The Uses of Tradition; Jewish Continuity in the Modern Era. New York, NY: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992, 23–84. Silber, Michael K. Roots of the Schism in Hungarian Jewry. Ph.D. dissertation, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1985 (in Hebrew). Sorotzkin, David. “Binyan Eretz Shel Mata Ve-Churban Eretz Shel Ma’ala: HaRabbi Mi-Satmar Ve-Ha-Askola Ha-Ortodoxit Ha-Radikalit.” In: Ravitzky, Aviezer (ed.). Eretz Israel Ba-Hagut Ha-Yehudit Ba-Mea Ha-Esrim. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2005, 133–167. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. “Rabbi Shmuel Binyamin Sofer Ve-Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer: Perakim Ba-Historya Ha-Kulturit Shel Ha-Yehudim Be-Hungaria” (Rabbi Shmuel Binyamin Sofer and Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer: Chapters in the cultural history of Hungarian Jews). Sinai 74 (1974): 75–94. Worte Eines Layen über den Jüdischen Religionsunterricht und über das Rabbinenthum in Ungarn. Pesth: H. Geibel, 1850. Zur Neueren Geschichte der Juden in Ungarn: Beitrag zur Allgemeinen Rechts-, Religions- und Kulturgeschichte. Budapest: L. Aigner, 1874.

Part I

Up until World War I

1

Politics, Migration Patterns, and the Formation of Hungarian Jewry *

An Assortment, Not a Mixture In a study published in 1918, titled “The Jewish Racial Character,” scholar Sándor Kis claimed that Jews were generally perceived as primitive, uneducated, dirty, withdrawn, and unsociable. Yet, he claimed, Jews were also regarded as the most intelligent among all the races that inhabited Hungary and as being the best educated and most cultured. They were also seen as tractable, flexible, and receptive to innovation.1 Acclaimed JewishHungarian scholar Raphael Patai explained: There was, of course, a basis in reality for these variations in the perception of Jews in Hungarian eyes. As late as the interwar years, Hungarian Jewry actually comprised a great variety of “types,” ranging from the most Orthodox Yiddish-speaking Hassidim, who lived a totally and exclusively Jewish life, to the wholly irreligious “un-Jewish” assimilants, who did everything to hide their Jewish origins and appear as true Magyars.2 Indeed, Hungary was not the only East European country to contain a rich diversity of Jewish groups and lifestyles. However, while in other countries these various groups lived side by side in the same communities, which were evenly spread across the country, in Hungary, the various types of Jews tended to settle in different parts of the country. East European Jewry was, one may say, a well-mixed salad. In Hungary, however, one part of the plate contained mainly tomatoes, another mainly lettuce, and another again mainly onions. This state of affairs, as we shall see, had an enormous impact on the development of Hungarian Jews’ religious lifestyles.3 As in most East European countries, most notably Poland and Lithuania, Jews began to settle in the Kingdom of Hungary from its establishment in the eleventh century, and their numbers grew gradually in the ensuing centuries.

* This chapter is based on my article “Global politics and the shaping of Jewish religious identity: the case of Hungary and Galicia,” Jewish Political Studies Review 30 (3–4) (2019): 100–119.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-3

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Up until World War I

Given the several waves of persecution and expulsion during the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries, the overall number of Jews in the country remained comparatively low. Hungary’s conquest by the Ottoman Empire at the beginning of the sixteenth century set in motion three different trends. The Ashkenazi Jews of the northwestern Hungarian counties, which remained under the rule of the Habsburg monarchs, were accused of collaboration with the invader and consequently experienced a period of persecution. Many of them were eventually forced to emigrate to nearby countries, especially to Poland. The small community of Jews in Transylvania, which enjoyed a measure of autonomy, continued to live in relative peace and became the most dominant group among the Hungarian-speaking Jews. And many oriental (Sephardi) Jews, who followed in the footsteps of the Ottoman expansion, settled in the occupied Hungarian territories. Following the defeat of the Ottoman Empire at the end of the seventeenth century and the restoration of Hungary as an independent state, most of the Sephardic Jews left. The remaining Jews, especially those in Transylvania, were accused of collaborating with the Ottoman enemy and were persecuted and expelled. This left Hungary with only a minute Jewish population, and the first, albeit partial, census of Jews taken in 1725 indicated that less than 10,000 Jews lived in one of Europe’s largest countries.4 This state of affairs changed dramatically during the ensuing decades following political decisions taken by the Habsburg Empire leaders to allow, and even encourage, the return of the Jews. Consequently, by the end of the eighteenth century, the number of Jews had grown tenfold and passed the 100,000 mark. This increase resulted initially from immigration from the German-speaking countries on Hungary’s northwestern borders to a territory the Jews subsequently named “Oberland.”5 This rapid increase in the number of Jews continued throughout the nineteenth century, particularly after new laws, passed around 1840, permitted Jews to settle in most Hungarian towns and made it easier for them to open their own businesses.6 These favorable conditions for Jews remained in place throughout the century. During the nineteenth century, most of the immigrants hailed from Galicia, and many settled in Hungary’s northeastern counties, later known as “Unterland.” Meanwhile, German-speaking Jews, who had at first preferred to settle in territories close to their land of origin, continued their migration toward Budapest – Hungary’s capital – and further to the south. From the beginning of the nineteenth century, the number of Hungarian Jews grew almost ninefold, to pass 900,000 at the beginning of the twentieth century.7 Besides the different countries from which their residents originated, the evolution of the three separate Jewish settlement blocks, in the northwestern Oberland, in the northeastern Unterland, and in Hungary’s capital and southern regions, can be traced to two other factors. The first was the nature of the local population. Hungary’s northwestern regions were inhabited mainly by Germans and Slovaks, and this facilitated the integration of Jews from

Politics, Migration Patterns, and Formation of Hungarian Jewry

21

German-speaking countries. The eastern counties, namely Transylvania, were sparsely populated and were not dominated by any one nationality, which facilitated the absorption of the poorly educated Yiddish-speaking Jews of Galicia. The center and southwest were predominantly Hungarian. This meant that the German-speaking Jews who wished to settle there had already spent sufficient time in the country to acquire its native language. They were willing to leave their German comfort zone, to integrate with Hungarian society and adopt its culture, which had hitherto been unfamiliar to them. To this end, many of them believed, they had to shed their religious customs and traditions and adopt new, namely reformed, ones.8 The second factor was a fairly sizable territory in mid-Hungary, to the east and northeast of Budapest, in which Jews were either not encouraged or not permitted to settle. This created a geographical barrier between the Jews who came from the east and those who migrated from the west. These ongoing processes not only turned Hungary into the third-largest Jewish community in Europe, and the fourth worldwide (America included), but also into a country in which Jews enjoyed equal rights and economic prosperity. This meteoric rise in the number of Jews, their immigration and settlement patterns, and the local government’s attitude toward the Jews, had a profound impact on the nature of Jewish life that developed in Hungary. Above all, it affected the development of Hungary’s special mix of religious lifestyles. In all other East European countries, various lifestyles co-existed in relative peace in most Jewish communities, which were evenly spread across the entire country. This, however, was not the case in Hungary, which was divided into four distinct “Jewish zones.” The northwest was home to most of the non-Hasidic Orthodox Jews, also known as Ashkenazim (Germans), who were relatively wealthy, well-educated, and receptive to modernity, but at the same time rigorously observed the Jewish laws. This region also contained a minority of neo-Orthodox and some Reform communities, known as Neolog. The south, and especially Budapest – Hungary’s capital – was where most of the Neolog and acculturated Jews lived, and where the Orthodox constituted only a small minority. The east, by contrast, was home to the more traditional and anti-modern Orthodox Jews, many of whom adopted Hasidism. In a part of that region, in Maramaros county and its vicinity, an even more zealous society evolved. Extreme Orthodoxy shunned not only the gentile, the reform, and the secular Jewish societies, but also the relatively open-minded mainstream Orthodoxy from the west. This unique group, which imparted to Hungarian Orthodoxy its special flavor, is addressed in the following chapter. Why Hungary Became the Forerunner of Jewish Orthodoxy These unique geographical and social circumstances may throw some light on a basic question pertaining to the origins of Jewish Orthodoxy. If, as most historians agree, the factors that gave rise to Orthodoxy, such as the

22

Up until World War I

Haskalah movement, acculturation, secularization, and religious reforms, emerged primarily in the German-speaking sphere, why were Hungarian rabbis so instrumental in the establishment of this movement? Consider this: Hatam Sofer, whom most scholars consider the forefather of Orthodoxy, served as a rabbi in Hungary. The 1844, Paks rabbinical conference, the first organized attempt to confront the Reform movement, was held in Hungary.9 The more significant Michalovce rabbinical conference was likewise held in Hungary in 1865.10 The momentous separation between Orthodox and nonOrthodox communities following the 1868–1869 national congress also occurred in Hungary.11 And the Hungarian Orthodox Bureau, which is discussed in detail in the coming chapters, served as a role model for Orthodox organizations in other countries. Moreover, unlike the majority of Hungarian rabbis who were firmly opposed to modernistic social trends, most German rabbis responded to these challenges in a more tolerant and compromising manner. Unlike most of their Hungarian counterparts, the German rabbis tolerated many novelties, such as allowing children from religious homes to acquire a broad general education; using German predominantly in religious services and texts and even delivering sermons in that language; adopting a more modern dress code; allowing men to uncover their heads except when studying, praying, and eating; and accepting elements of Western culture while adopting many of its values. These trends eventually crystallized into what is nowadays known as neo-Orthodoxy, which was totally rejected by most East European rabbis, including the Hungarians.12 While in all other European countries, Jews of all sorts lived side by side in the same community, in Hungary, because of the rapid rate of Jewish immigration and because of the Jews’ settlement pattern, the Jewish religious lifestyle in one part of the country differed from that in other parts. Thus, most Reform communities (which in Hungary were known as Neolog) were located in the capital and in the southern parts of the country, and most nonHasidic Orthodox communities were found in the northwest. Most Galician Orthodox style and particularly Hasidic communities were located in the northeast.13 This meant that in Hungary the differences between Orthodox and nonOrthodox were not merely ideological but also bore a geographical aspect. This division further enhanced the perceived dichotomy between “our type of Jews” and “the other Jews.” Consequently, when Hungarian rabbis attacked the Reformed Jews they did so in the knowledge that they enjoyed the overwhelming support not only of their own community members, who by and large shared the same anti-reform sentiments, but also of the neighboring Orthodox communities, which covered a large segment of the country. Unlike their German counterparts, most Hungarian Orthodox rabbis were not obliged to come to terms and compromise with their non-Orthodox congregants, who constituted a minority. They, moreover, were free of concerns regarding their job security or the threat of financial sanctions imposed by the

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community’s more affluent community leaders, who in Germany were generally associated with the acculturated reformist camp. The Hungarian rabbis felt sufficiently confident to adhere to their well-established ways and to openly and fiercely attack those whom they considered deviants and a threat to Jewish tradition.14 Geography and the Separation between the Orthodox and Non-Orthodox Camps One notable outcome of the geographic separation between the major Jewish lifestyles and religious affiliations was the forthright schism between the Orthodox and the Neolog movements. Since the end of the eighteenth century, the Habsburg Empire, and especially its Hungarian wing, went out of its way to welcome Jews, leading to a meteoric rise in their numbers. Demonstrating their gratitude, during the 1848 Spring of Nations, many Jews joined the Hungarian forces that rebelled against the Austrian regime. Consequently, many Hungarian leaders promoted the idea that Jews should be granted rights equal to those of other citizens. The revolt’s failure, however, postponed the implementation of this decision until 1867, and the establishment of the dual Austro-Hungarian Empire.15 Late in 1868, a year after the legislation of the equal-rights law, representatives of all the Jewish communities were summoned to a nationwide congress in Budapest. The congress’ mandate was twofold: First, to formulate a set of regulations by which all the Jewish communities would abide, thereby granting them some degree of autonomy; and second, to form a central organ that would serve both as the governing body of the Jewish communities and at the same time act as their representative body vis-à-vis the national institutions.16 Since by then Hungary’s Jewry was already torn between several distinct lifestyles, and since geographic separation made it easier to establish their ideological borders as well, the clash between the various groups was inevitable. During the congress, these gaps became unbridgeable. At first, the more tolerant Orthodox Jews of the west sought to come to terms with the moderate Neologs in order to maintain Jewish unity. Their efforts, however, were thwarted by the more zealous Orthodox from the east, who declared that any compromise on fundamental principles was tantamount to heresy. Since the Neolog faction enjoyed a majority among the delegates and had no intention of relinquishing their modern and progressive principles, the zealous Orthodox delegates walked out of the conference, followed shortly thereafter by the more tolerant Orthodox from the west. Although in principle the regulations and institutions established during the congress should have been binding upon all Jews, in the early 1870s, the Orthodox leaders petitioned the government to exclude them from the congress’ resolutions. Instead, they asked the government to allow the Orthodox to run their own communities, and to establish a separate governing body.

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What this request implied was a de-facto separation of the Jewish religion into two separate “churches” – the Orthodox and the Neolog – each with its own communities, governing organs, and independent representative body. This was an unprecedented demand, never before contemplated throughout Jewish history, in which the value of Klal Israel, meaning the unity of the Jewish people, was a paramount principle. The unity of the Jewish people and of the Jewish religion was not only a common notion among Jews, but this was also how they were perceived by all their former rulers, worldwide.17 Nevertheless, the Hungarian government, for the first time in Jewish history, sanctioned the formal separation between the Orthodox and the nonOrthodox camps.18 While other factors contributed to the authorities’ approval of the separation between the Orthodox and the Neolog camps, it is quite clear that the geographical separation between them played a major part in establishing them as two separate societies. Both the local and the Jewish press reported regularly on the sorry state of the Jews living in the northeastern counties, where besides a few years of study in a religious institution, the majority of the Jewish children remained uneducated. As a result, many of them failed to find gainful employment and became destitute. Since many of them belonged to Hasidic sects, they stuck to their typical “Jewish” appearance, namely long beards and sidelocks, a long black coat, and a head cover at all times.19 Most Hungarian legislators, who either lived or spent most of their time in Budapest, were familiar with the educated, intellectual, well-to-do, Hungarianproficient, modern-looking Neolog Jews. Both the geographical and behavioral differences between the groups eventually convinced them to accept the idea of two Jewish churches, each representing a separate Jewish society. One represented “our” Jews, who, besides their religion, were very much like all other Magyar citizens, while the “other” catered for the undereducated, indigent, and unacculturated Jews who lived among the Romanian and Ruthenian peasants in the remote rural regions. Once the separation between the Orthodox and the Neolog communities, which in geographical terms meant separation between the Jews of the north and those of the south, became an established fact, a further schism began to emerge. This was the intra-Orthodox rift between the more tolerant Orthodoxy of the west, located primarily in Oberland, and Extreme Orthodoxy, which prevailed in the northeastern counties, also known as Unterland. The confrontation between the two Orthodox groups manifested both within the Orthodox organ, The Central Orthodox Bureau, and within certain Orthodox communities. The outcome was the establishment of not two but four separate types of Jewish community: These were the Neolog and the Orthodox, both of which followed the leadership, regulations, and guidelines of their respective governing bodies; the Status Quo communities, which did not join either of the newly formed political entities and abided by the “old” Hungarian laws; and

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finally, the “Sephardi” communities, which were formed in the late nineteenth century by Extreme Orthodox Hasidic zealots who broke away from the main Orthodox community. To do so, they exploited the precedent of the sanctioning of separate Jewish communities on the one hand, and an obscure regulation that permitted Sephardi Ottoman Jews to maintain their own separate communities. In order to bolster the claim they were affiliated with the original Sephardic Jews and therefore entitled to found their own community, these Hasidic zealots pointed out that they used a prayer book (siddur) arranged in a manner known as “Sephardi,” which differs from that used by the non-Hasidim, which is known as “Ashkenazi.” Notes 1 Raphael Patai, The Jews of Hungary: History, Culture, Psychology, Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1996, 494. 2 Ibid., 495. 3 Jacob Katz, “Yihudah Shel Yahadut Hungaria,” Molad 6 (1974): 193–198. 4 Anat Peri, “Hityashvut Yehudim Be-Hungaria Be-Hasut Ha-Keter Ve-Ha-Tsava Ha-Habsburgim (1686–1747),” Zion 63 (3) (1998): 319–350. 5 Yekuthiel Yehuda Grunwald, “The History of Jewish Settlements in Hungary,” in: Yehudei Hungaria, edited by Moshe E. Gonda, Yitzchak Yosef Cohen, and Yehuda Marton, Jerusalem: Ha-Aguda Le-Heker Toldot Yehudei Hungaria, 1980, 123–130 (in Hebrew). 6 Bernard Mandel, “The economic activity of the Hungarian Jews in the 19th century,” ibid., 28–56 (in Hebrew). 7 It should be noted that these migration patterns were not unique to Jews and that Germans to the west and Ruthenians to the east also followed these paths. 8 Michael K. Silber, “ʽYeshivot Ein Matsuy Be-Kehilatenu Mi-Kama Te’amim Nekhonim’: Bein Hasidim U-Mitnagdin Be-Hungaria,” in: Within Hasidic Circles, edited by Emanuel Etkes et al, Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1999, 75–108; Idem., “Hungary before 1918,” in: The Yivo Encyclopedia of Jews in Eastern Europe, vol. 1, edited by Gershon D. Hundert, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008, 770–782; Joseph Jacobs, “Statistics,” The Jewish Encyclopedia, vol. 11, New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1906, 526–528. 9 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Jewish Orthodoxy’s first Rabbinical conference held in 1844 in Paks (Bacs), Hungary,” Modern Judaism 41 (3) (2022), 273–293. 10 Nathaniel Katzburg, “Psak Beit Din Shel Mihalovitz Taf-Resh-Kaf-Vav,” in: Prakim Be-Toldot Ha-Hevra Ha-Yehudit Biyemei Ha-Beinaim U-Ba’et HaHadasha, edited by Emmanuel Etkes and Yosef Salmon, Jerusalem: Magnes, 1980, 273–286; Meir Hildesheimer, “Rabanei Hungaria Ve-Asefat Mihalovitz,” Kiryat Sefer 63 (3) (1980–81): 941–951. 11 Nathaniel Katzburg, “The Jewish Congress of Hungary, 1868–1869,” in: Hungarian Jewish Studies, vol. 1, edited by Randolph L. Braham, New York, 1969, 1–33; Jacob Katz, A House Divided: Orthodoxy and Schism in NineteenthCentury Central European Jewry, Hanover: Brandeis University Press, 1998. 12 Steven M. Lowenstein, “Old Orthodox and Neo-Orthodox Rabbinic Responses to the Challenges of Modernity in Nineteenth-Century Germany,” in: Jewish Religious Leadership: Image and Reality, vol. 2, edited by Jack Wertheimer, New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 2004, 481–503. 13 Howard Nathan Lupovitch, “Neolog: reforming Judaism in a Hungarian milieu,” Modern Judaism, 40 (3) (2020): 327–354.

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14 Michael K. Silber, “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy: The Invention of a Tradition,” in: The Uses of Tradition: Jewish Continuity in the Modern Era, edited by Jack Wertheimer, New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992, 23–84. 15 Moshe E. Gonda, “The Struggle of the Hungarian Jews for Emancipation,” in: Yehudei Hungaria, edited by Gonda et al.,131–153 (in Hebrew). 16 For a comprehensive review of the congress, its unfolding developments and its outcomes, see: Jacob Katz, A House Divided. 17 Yosef Gorny, “Klal Yisrael: From Halakhah to History,” in: Contemporary Jewries: Convergence and Divergence, edited by Eliezer Ben-Rafael, Yosef Gorny, and Yaacov Ro’i, Leiden: Brill, 2003, 11–22. 18 The establishment of separate Orthodox and non-Orthodox communities was likewise permitted in several cities in Germany, but this was regarded as a local political arrangement rather than as a new concept in the Jewish religion. 19 Ladislau Gyemant, “Projects for the modernization of the Jewish schooling system in Transylvania in mid-19th century,” Studia Judaica 6 (1997): 97–105.

Bibliography Gonda, Moshe E. “The Struggle of the Hungarian Jews for Emancipation.” In: Gonda, Moshe E. et al (eds.). Yehudei Hungaria. Jerusalem: Ha-Aguda Le-Heker Toldot Yehudei Hungaria, 1980, 131–153 (in Hebrew). Gorny, Yosef. “Klal Yisrael: From Halakhah to history.” In: Ben-Rafael, Eliezer, Yosef Gorny and Yaacov Ro’i (eds.). Contemporary Jewries: Convergence and Divergence. Leiden: Brill, 2003, 11–22. Grunwald, Yekuthiel Yehuda. “The History of Jewish Settlements in Hungary.” In: Gonda, Moshe E., Yitzchak Yosef Cohen, and Yehuda Marton (eds.). Yehudei Hungaria. Jerusalem: Ha-Aguda Le-Heker Toldot Yehudei Hungaria, 1980, 123–130 (in Hebrew). Gyemant, Ladislau. “Projects for the modernization of the Jewish schooling system in Transylvania in mid-19th century.” Studia Judaica 6 (1997): 97–105. Hildesheimer, Meir. “Rabanei Hungaria Ve-Asefat Mihalovitz.” Kiryat Sefer 63 (3) (1980–81): 941–951. Jacobs, Joseph. “Statistics,” The Jewish Encyclopedia, vol. 11. New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1906, 526-528. Katz, Jacob. “Yihudah Shel Yahadut Hungaria.” Molad 6 (1974): 193–198. Katz, Jacob. A House Divided: Orthodoxy and Schism in Nineteenth-Century Central European Jewry. Hanover: Brandeis University Press, 1998. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Psak Beit Din Shel Mihalovitz Taf-Resh-Kaf-Vav.” In: Etkes, Emmanuel and Yosef Salmon (eds.). Prakim Be-Toldot Ha-Hevra Ha-Yehudit Biyemei Ha-Beinaim U-Ba’et Ha-Hadasha. Jerusalem: Magnes, 1980, 273–286. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “The Jewish Congress of Hungary, 1868-1869.” In: Braham, Randolph L. (ed.). Hungarian Jewish Studies, vol. 1. New York 1969, 1–33. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Jewish Orthodoxy’s first Rabbinical conference held in 1844 in Paks (Bacs), Hungary.” Modern Judaism 41 (3) (2022), 273–293. Lowenstein, Steven M. “Old Orthodox and Neo-Orthodox Rabbinic Responses to the Challenges of Modernity in Nineteenth-Century Germany.” In: Wertheimer, Jack (ed.). Jewish Religious Leadership: Image and Reality, vol. 2. New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 2004, 481–503.

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Lupovitch, Howard Nathan. “Neolog: reforming Judaism in a Hungarian milieu.” Modern Judaism, 40 (3) (2020): 327–354. Mandel, Bernard “The Economic Activity of the Hungarian Jews in the 19th Century,” In: Gonda, Moshe E., Yitzchak Yosef Cohen, and Yehuda Marton (eds.). Yehudei Hungaria. Jerusalem: Ha-Aguda Le-Heker Toldot Yehudei Hungaria, 1980, 28–56 (in Hebrew). Patai, Raphael. The Jews of Hungary: History, Culture, Psychology. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1996. Peri, Anat. “Hityashvut Yehudim Be-Hungaria Be-Hasut Ha-Keter Ve-Ha-Tsava HaHabsburgim (1686–1747).” Zion 63 (3) (1998): 319–350. Silber, Michael K. “Hungary before 1918.” In: Hundert, Gershon D. (ed.). The Yivo Encyclopedia of Jews in Eastern Europe, vol. 1. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008, 770–782. Silber, Michael K. “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy: The Invention of a Tradition.” In: Wertheimer, Jack (ed.). The Uses of Tradition: Jewish Continuity in the Modern Era. New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992, 23–84. Silber, Michael K. “ʽYeshivot Ein Matsuy Be-Kehilatenu Mi-Kama Te’amim Nekhonim’: Bein Hasidim U-Mitnagdin Be-Hungaria.” In: Etkes, Emanuel et al (eds.). Within Hasidic Circles . Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1999, 75–108.

2

Extreme Orthodoxy * Hungary’s Singular Religious Strain

Between Mainstream and Extreme Orthodoxy Jewish Orthodoxy, which will henceforth also be termed mainstream Orthodoxy, evolved in central Europe, mainly in Hungary, Galicia, and the Germanspeaking countries, in the early nineteenth century. Several decades later, a particular strain of Orthodoxy sprang up in Maramaros, a northeastern Hungarian county, and became known as Extreme Orthodoxy. It was this unique strain, and particularly its relationship with both mainstream Orthodoxy and non-Orthodox Jews, that lent Hungarian Orthodoxy its unique flavor. Many scholars concur that one of the basic characteristics of Orthodoxy is conscious seclusion from the non-Orthodox world, creating a model of social behavior that the academic literature describes as a cultural enclave.1 Thus, Extreme Orthodoxy, which disassociates itself not only from non-Orthodox society but also from mainstream Orthodoxy, may be characterized as an enclave within an enclave. An extreme form of Orthodoxy was established in accordance with basic principles laid down by two Hungarian rabbis at the turn of the nineteenth century: Rabbi Moshe Sofer (1762–1839, author of the responsa collection Hatam Sofer and himself known by that title, as he will be referred to here) and Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum (1758–1841, author of Yismah Moshe, and will henceforth be referred to by that name). Although Hatam Sofer is the more renowned of the two, it is Yismah Moshe’s ideology that remains highly significant in the Satmar Hasidic court, one of the strongest and most influential Hasidic groups in the post-Holocaust era and the leading force of Extreme Orthodoxy in that period.2 The religious concepts, ideologies, and rulings of these two great Hungarian sages, each followed by a thread of successors, inspired the foundation of Extreme Orthodoxy. Over a period of about 100 years, beginning in Maramaros in the 1860s, Extreme Orthodoxy evolved from an unorganized religious phenomenon into a well-organized established social movement.

* This chapter is based on my article “Marmaros, Hungary – The cradle of Extreme Orthodoxy,” Modern Judaism 35 (2) (2015): 147–174.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-4

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Let us now consider the term Extreme Orthodoxy. Scholars of Jewish history and thought have referred to the most radical religious Jewish groups by various names. Among these are ultra-Orthodox, zealots, extremists, fundamentalists, radicals, and combinations of these terms. As in my other publications, in this book, I shall use the term “Extreme Orthodoxy” to steer clear of the judgmental nature of some of the other terms or the ambiguity they convey. Furthermore, the term Extreme Orthodoxy has a Hebrew equivalent, kitzoni. This term corresponds to the way these radical groups consider themselves, namely as the only “true Jews,” not merely as “better” Jews. For example, the term ultra-Orthodoxy is at times used in academic literature to describe the entire Haredi society, and on other occasions to label only its most extremist groups. Samuel Heilman, Kimmy Caplan, and Emanuel Sivan have used ultra-Orthodoxy in the former sense,3 while Michael Silber and Moshe Samet have used it in the latter one.4 Eliezer Goldman, David Sorotzkin, and Motti Inbari employ the terms radical, radical-Orthodoxy, and even radical ultra-Orthodoxy.5 Solomon Poll used the term ultrareligious6; Shalom Rosenberg and Charles Liebman speak of extreme Orthodoxy7; and Menachem Friedman, Gideon Aran, and Adam Ferziger prefer the terms zealous or religious zealotry.8 Although the difficulties associated with this blurred terminology were addressed by scholars such as Yosef Salmon, Michael Silber, and Shalom Rosenberg, no attempt has thus far been made to settle them.9 The Pious Jews of Maramaros Located on the southern slopes of the Carpathian Mountains near the border with Galicia, this area was covered by large forests and had several rivers. Aside from small areas near the riverbanks, its land was ill suited for agriculture and therefore sparsely populated. Jewish settlement in Maramaros began in the mid-seventeenth century with the arrival of refugees who fled the 1648–1649 pogroms in the Russian Empire. During its first hundred years, the Jewish settlement was sparse, but by the mid-nineteenth century, more Jews had settled there and community life began to flourish. Religious and spiritual life in the region was greatly influenced by the new mystical movement that spread in the mid-eighteenth century in nearby Galicia, namely Hasidism. The Ba’al Shem Tov (1700–1760), founder of the Hasidic movement, regularly traveled to the Carpathian Mountains, not far from his hometown. On several occasions, he visited Maramaros and was impressed by its wild beauty. According to a long-standing Hasidic tradition, he appointed his disciple, Rabbi Yaakov Kopel of Kolomea (?–1787), to “become the guardian of this beautiful garden.”10 This legacy, which was passed on from generation to generation, established the spiritual claim to Maramaros by Rabbi Kopel’s successors – the Hasidic rabbis of Kosov and later also of Viznitz (Vijniţa).11 Rabbi Kopel’s son – Rabbi Menachem Mendel Hager (1768–1825) of Kosov – traveled from village to village, preaching and

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establishing basic religious institutions. Through his charismatic personality, he transformed Maramaros into what would later be described as “the cradle of Hasidism.” Rabbi Mendel’s influence was such that many Jewish villagers throughout Maramaros adopted the Kosov Hasidic lifestyle. However, the majority of the more educated and financially established Jews in Sighet (Máramarossziget, Sighetu Marmatiei), the county’s seat, and in some of the larger towns and villages, did not take to Hasidism. By the mid-nineteenth century, Maramaros had become a center for Hasidic activity. Its Jewish population grew, and religious institutions operated in many villages and towns. The steady immigration of Jewish scholars from nearby Galicia strengthened traditional education and ritual observance.12 It was during this period that Maramaros became an exclusively Orthodox region with almost no exceptions. From the indigent Jewish farmers who worked the fields, through the Jewish merchants and traders, and up to the Jewish businessmen and industrialists, all, be they Hassidic or Ashkenazi, strictly observed the halakha (set of Jewish religious laws). While modern ideas such as religious reforms, emancipation, and the introduction of general education captured most of Hungarian Jewry, not one rabbi or reformist institution operated in Maramaros.13 Since the Jewish community did not tolerate even the slightest religious compromise, the only option for a few rich families that wished to adopt a more modern lifestyle was to convert to Christianity. This unique strictly observant surrounding turned Maramaros into the ideal environment for the rise of Extreme Orthodoxy. An extreme form of Orthodoxy was established in accordance with basic principles laid down by two Hungarian rabbis at the turn of the nineteenth century: Rabbi Moshe Sofer (1762–1839, author of the responsa collection Hatam Sofer and himself known by that title, as he will be referred to here) and Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum (1758–1841, author of Yismah Moshe, and will henceforth be referred to by that name). Although Hatam Sofer is the more renowned of the two, it is Yismah Moshe’s ideology that remains highly significant in the Satmar Hasidic court, one of the strongest and most influential Hasidic groups in the post-Holocaust era and the leading force of Extreme Orthodoxy in that period.14 The religious concepts, ideologies, and rulings of these two great Hungarian sages, each followed by a thread of successors, inspired the foundation of Extreme Orthodoxy. Over a period of about 100 years, beginning in Maramaros in the 1860s, Extreme Orthodoxy evolved from an unorganized religious phenomenon into a well-organized established social movement. Hatam Sofer’s Path: Ashkenazi Style Orthodoxy Hatam Sofer was born in Germany to a rabbinical Ashkenazi family.15 He attended traditional educational institutions but also studied science and

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foreign languages.16 In 1798, he moved to Hungary after being invited to serve as chief rabbi in Mattersdorf.17 Five years later he was ordained as chief rabbi of Pressburg,18 one of the largest and most important Jewish centers of that period. Both Mattersdorf and Pressburg lay in Oberland, Hungary’s northwestern region. In 1806, Hatam Sofer established the first great yeshiva in Hungary. It was second in size and importance only to the yeshiva in Volozhin (Wołożyn), Lithuania (then part of the Russian Empire), which was founded four years earlier. From that time onward, he reinforced his position and led the campaign opposing any form of modernization of Jewish tradition.19 Some scholars have argued that Hatam Sofer was the first rabbi to realize the danger of assimilation that might follow in the wake of the religious reforms.20 Others defined him as the forefather of Orthodoxy, not only as its leading ideologist but also as its main activist.21 Beginning with the Hamburg Temple Debate in 1819, he dedicated his life to curbing all forms of change and reform.22 At the time of his death, in 1839, he was already recognized as one of the most prominent rabbinical figures of his generation, and his students occupied many top rabbinical positions throughout Hungary. Many rabbinical scholars today perceive Hatam Sofer as an extremist and ultra-conservative rabbi. However, academic scholars have pointed out that on several occasions he realized that some aspects of Jewish life should in fact be modified to accommodate the changes that had occurred over time.23 His own education included not only religious studies but also languages, science, and philosophy, and he himself wrote poetry and prose. His objection to general studies was not fundamental, but stemmed from his apprehension of the possible consequences were general education being removed from the control of the rabbis. He supported the idea of Jewish settlement in Palestine (Yishuv Eretz Israel) and planned to move there himself.24 Although he appreciated the benefits that Jews could reap from gaining equal civil rights, he feared that, in the long run, this process might lead to yet more religious reforms and assimilation. Aware of the fragile situation that traditional Judaism was facing, he did his best to solidify the Orthodox front, cooperating with many rabbinic leaders, some of whom were Hasidim, while others held more moderate views than his own. At some point in his life, Hatam Sofer began to perceive himself not only as a local community leader but also as a leader of the Jewish public in general (Klal Israel), and this calling led him along a different path. This transformation explains the seeming two faces of his ideology. In the years prior to his involvement in the Orthodox leadership, his religious rulings applied only to a specific community and were relatively moderate. However, once he realized he was conceived to be a rabbi of great influence (Posek HaDor), his rulings became increasingly stricter. These contrasting positions explain his influence both on the development of mainstream Orthodoxy and also on that of Extreme Orthodoxy.25 The two most familiar tenets of Hatam Sofer’s ideology were the principle of anti-modernity, which he summarized in the saying: “Everything new is

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forbidden by the Torah” (Ha-Hadash Asur Min Ha-Torah); and the principle of seclusion and segregation. This view stemmed from his conviction that extraordinary circumstances demand drastic measures, and when it came to religious reforms, the most extreme measure of excommunication must be employed, even at the risk of dividing the Jewish people. Hatam Sofer’s will, which was published in the late 1860s along with detailed annotations by Rabbi Akiva Yosef Schlesinger (1837–1922), further stressed the more extreme elements of his ideology.26 Yismah Moshe’s Path: Hasidic Style Orthodoxy Like Hatam Sofer, Yismah Moshe was not born in Hungary but settled there later in life.27 He, too, was born into an Ashkenazi family and became a Hasid only after his marriage. After accepting the rabbinical seat at Ujhel (Sátoraljaújhely) in 1808, he began acting like a Hasidic rabbi, despite some public opposition.28 Yismah Moshe lacked a general education, and in his writings he disregarded this issue as if it had no relevance to Jewish life. Although in principle he supported the idea of settlement of Palestine (Yishuv Eretz Israel), he never intended to migrate there himself. When his son-in-law Rabbi Arye Leyb Lifshitz of Vishnitsa (Nowy Wiśnicz) (1766–1845) planned to settle there, he convinced him to change his mind.29 Despite being a Hasid, Yismah Moshe cooperated with Ashkenazi rabbis such as Rabbi Moshe (Mahara”m) Schick (1807–1879) of Chust (Huszt) and Rabbi Moshe Mintz (1750–1831), Budapest’s chief rabbi, in the struggle against modernism and was respected by both. He maintained a good relationship with Hatam Sofer and other prominent rabbis and was recognized as one of the great Hasidic rabbis of his time. His public status was such that he dared to confront Hatam Sofer regarding the money collected for Kolel Ungarn the charitable organization for the Hungarian Jews in Palestine, and was able to increase the share allocated to the Hasidim.30 Although known to be a fierce campaigner against reform, he preferred to look after the good of his own community, and, unlike the Hatam Sofer, he did not consider himself a leader of Hungarian Orthodoxy in general. Rabbi Moshe Schick: Ashkenazi Ideology in Chust Most Jews who settled in the western provinces of Hungary during the nineteenth century were Ashkenazis who emigrated from German-speaking countries such as Bohemia, Moravia, or Silesia. Many of them had acquired general education and were proficient in several languages. Their appearance and cultural interests resembled those of non-Jews and they were usually part of the middle or upper socio-economic strata. These Jews usually held moderate religious views and their rabbis adapted their positions accordingly. Hatam Sofer’s descendants came to be known as the “royal” rabbinical dynasty of Hungary. Several of them continued to hold the rabbinic seat in

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Pressburg and headed its great yeshiva, while others took rabbinical positions in western Hungary and western Galicia. In accordance with the religious atmosphere of these regions, none of them adopted the more radical aspects of their forefathers’ views. The more radical, exclusive, and rigorous aspects of Hatam Sofer’s teachings, from which his descendants strayed, were adopted by Rabbi Moshe Schick, one of his favorite students.31 Rabbi Schick was born and raised in an Ashkenazi family, acquired a general education of sorts, and mastered the German language. He studied in the Pressburg Yeshiva, and during 1833–1857 served as the chief rabbi of Jergin (Szergeny). After Hatam Sofer’s death in 1839, he became known all over Hungary as a fierce opponent of modernity and religious reform. Rabbi Schick soon realized that only in Maramaros, the most Orthodox part of Hungary, could he continue to develop the extreme form of Orthodoxy founded by his illustrious teacher. In 1861, he accepted an invitation to serve as chief rabbi of Chust, the second-largest town of Maramaros. During his time in Chust, Rabbi Schick imposed strict religious regulations, and, although he was an Ashkenazi he maintained good relations with the Hasidic rabbis and communities of the region. Since he himself had gained a general education, he did not object to this in principle. However, he did not advise his followers to include general studies in their children’s curriculum, fearing this may eventually weaken Orthodoxy.32 He also supported the idea of settlement in Palestine and, like Hatam Sofer, was appointed local president of Kolel Ungaren. Rabbi Schick positioned himself as one of the leaders of Hungarian Orthodoxy and led the ongoing struggle against religious reforms. Attempting to establish a broad Orthodox front, he was tolerant toward other Orthodox rabbis who introduced minor changes, such as preaching in languages other than Hebrew or Yiddish. Therefore, he refused to sign the Kol Kore, a public declaration issued after the Mihalovitz (Nagymihály, Michalovce) rabbinical gathering in 1865,33 declaring that some of its resolutions were too drastic.34 In time, however, he came to terms with the position of most of the 72 rabbis who signed the declaration and endorsed it with only minor reservations.35 During the early stages of the Jewish communities’ congress in 1868–1869, Rabbi Schick did not play a prominent role within the Orthodox leadership, yet subsequently his presence was increasingly felt.36 Eventually he was one of the few leaders that not only took the dramatic decision to leave the congress, but also persuaded others to do the same. Following the congress, he was appointed one of the leaders of the Orthodox organization Shomrey Ha-Dat (Keepers of the Faith), later known as The Central Orthodox Bureau of Hungary.37 In this capacity, he continued Hatam Sofer’s legacy by combining his two principles: Overlooking differences when it came to the unity of Orthodoxy, and complete segregation from reformists. In order to promote these principles, he ruled that joining the Orthodox Bureau was a religious obligation and therefore mandatory for all observant Jews. Those who refused to join the Bureau, he declared, were as bad as the

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reformists.38 This landmark decision meant that to be a “true Jew” one must not only observe the halakha, but must also join the “correct” political organization, which in this case was the Orthodox Bureau. Rabbi Schick issued this ruling despite knowing full well that several communities with a majority of observant members had refused to join the Bureau. Some found the regulations too stringent, while others considered them too lenient.39 Yitav Lev: Hassidic Ideology in Sighet In view of the small number of Hasidim who followed him in Ujhel, Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, the Yismah Moshe, was concerned about the future of his Hasidic legacy. Considering the religious atmosphere in Maramaros, he requested that his son, Rabbi Eliezer Nissan Teitelbaum (1786–1855), be ordained chief rabbi of Sighet. There, Yismah Moshe believed, he had a better chance of creating a sustainable Hasidic court. Although considered to be a great scholar, Rabbi Eliezer lacked his father’s leadership capabilities and political instincts. He accepted the post in 1834, but, following incessant harassment by his opponents from the dominant Hasidic court of Kosov, he was driven out of town after only six years of service. The true bearer of Yismah Moshe’s legacy was his grandson, Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda Teitelbaum (1808–1883, author of Yitav Lev, as he shall be referred to henceforth).40 He was educated by his grandfather, who prepared him for leadership both as a community leader and as a Hasidic Rabbi. Yitav Lev succeeded his grandfather in Ujhel, but after a few years in office he, too, was expelled from town after insisting on acting as a Hasidic rabbi, thereby violating a previous understanding with the community. In 1858, at the age of 50 and after serving as chief rabbi in several other communities, he accepted the rabbinical seat of Sighet, the same town from which his father had been driven away. Once he secured the position, he and his descendants held it until the Holocaust, for more than 80 years. Yitav Lev had only a religious education and had never been exposed to general studies or learned a foreign language. His anti-modernistic views were such that soon after his ordination he ordered the closure of the Jewish school that had operated in Sighet for over 50 years. He also condemned members of his community for sending their children to public schools in which general studies were taught. Yitav Lev introduced strict standards regarding religious behavior, especially regarding women’s modesty. He also held extreme views concerning the idea of settlement in Palestine. When Rabbi Akiva Yosef Schlesinger visited Sighet on his way to Palestine, in which he planned to establish an ultra-Orthodox agricultural settlement, Yitav Lev accused him of heresy and tried to force him to abandon his voyage.41 Although highly regarded by other prominent rabbis of his generation, with whom he sought to maintain good relations, he never saw himself as a leader of Hungarian Orthodoxy and concentrated on furthering the good of his own community. Free of domestic problems with reformists, he struggled to

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position his own Hasidic court in an already crowded Hasidic environment. His court was different from most Hasidic courts in three main respects: A strong emphasis on scholarship and study; religious zealotry and intolerance toward those who failed to adhere to strict religious standards; and its untypical political involvement in the local Orthodox community. The fact that the Teitelbaum dynasty endured for so many generations after Yitav Lev’s death attests to his success both as a religious leader and as a wily politician. Yitav Lev’s ideological legacy demanded total seclusion and focusing on the good of his close community, rather than accepting any compromise for the sake of Orthodoxy in general. In this spirit, although he adamantly opposed modernity and religious reforms, he took no official part in the 1868–1869 congress and restricted himself to behind-the-scenes activity.42 After the congress, Rabbi Moshe Schick worked relentlessly to solidify the Central Bureau, asking all Orthodox communities to join it. Yet Yitav Lev was among the few rabbis who refused to do so, claiming that were he to accept these all-encompassing Orthodox regulations, this would jeopardize the religious standards of his own community. In spite of appeals made by prominent rabbis and the risk to the Orthodox camp’s solidarity, Yitav Lev did not waver, almost until his death.43 Comparing the Two Ideologies Both Rabbi Schick and Yitav Lev continued to adhere to the ideologies of their predecessors, Hatam Sofer and Yismah Moshe, respectively, and both believed that Maramaros was the most effective location in which to further them. Although both ideologies represented the extreme form of Orthodoxy, they differed in several respects. On the one hand was the view of Rabbi Schick of Chust. He was an Ashkenazi Rabbi who was somewhat tolerant of general education and the use of foreign languages, and favored the idea of Jewish settlement in Palestine. He regarded his leadership role from a broad Orthodox perspective and adopted two basic and complementary strategies: A no-tolerance policy toward reformists, yet a willingness to compromise with other Orthodox groups and ideologies, even those that embraced certain minor modern elements. He took an active role in the establishment and the leadership of the Central Bureau, influencing Orthodoxy from within by representing the more conservative and less tolerant religious ideologies. On the other hand was Yitav Lev from nearby Sighet. He was a Hasid who was altogether intolerant of general education and uncompromisingly rejected the idea of Jewish settlement in Palestine. His leadership style focused on the small but trusted community of his own followers. He operated behind the scenes to further its interests and never took on any official leadership role. He led his community in a very conservative style, disregarding the inevitable changes that occurred over time even when faced with public pressure. He refused to include his community in the Central Orthodox Bureau, which he considered too lenient, and laid down the principle of

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second-degree seclusion, which meant keeping his distance even from mainstream Orthodoxy. Unlike Rabbi Schick, Yitav Lev did whatever he could to make sure his rabbinical seat would be passed on to his son. This pattern of transferal of the rabbinical position constituted yet another difference between the two ideologies. Hasidic tradition demanded rabbinical succession within the family, while the Ashkenazi tradition preferred appointing the most qualified successor for the job. Although the two leaders held contrasting views on many crucial matters, there was no personal rivalry between them, and both appreciated and respected the other. It appears that they realized that their views complemented each other’s and that neither of them had stepped beyond the boundaries of Extreme Orthodoxy. Rabbi Schick died in 1879 and Yitav Lev in 1883, both having led their communities for over 20 years. Following their death, their successors, both in Chust and in Sighet, needed to make several amendments to their predecessors’ ideologies and accept certain compromises in order to preserve and even develop Extreme Orthodoxy in the generations to come. Ashkenazi Ideology in the Following Generations in Chust The fact that Chust’s Jewish community was mostly Ashkenazi meant the rabbinical seat was not transferred from father to son and that candidates were chosen according to their scholastic merits. After Rabbi Moshe Schick’s death in 1879, the community found it difficult to find a chief rabbi of the same stature. In 1882 it chose Rabbi Amram Blum (1834–1907), who for many years had served as chief rabbi in Màd. He was considered one of the great rabbis of Hungary,44 and was 1 of the 72 rabbis that attended the Mihalovitz gathering.45 In spite of his experience, greatness in Torah, and his ultra-conservative views, he left his position after only two years, having failed to meet the expectations of the leaders of the community.46 Rabbi Blum was succeeded by Rabbi Yoel Zvi Roth (?–1893), former chief rabbi of Berezna (Nagyberezna), who also took part in the Mihalovitz gathering.47 He occupied the rabbinical seat until his death, but although he too was considered a great rabbinical scholar, he did not rise to the level of Rabbi Moshe Schick as a popular leader of Orthodoxy. Both rabbis held extreme religious views regarding modernity, and both adhered to the principle of seclusion but lacked the charisma and passion of Rabbi Schick. All this changed when Rabbi Moshe Greenwald (1842–1910), former chief rabbi of Kisvárda (Kleinwardein), was ordained as chief rabbi of Chust in 1893.48 Rabbi Moshe was previously invited to Chust after the resignation of Rabbi Amram Blum in 1884, but declined the post at that time. Shortly after his appointment, it became clear that he was a true leader of Hungarian Orthodoxy, much like Rabbi Schick had been. Although he was an Ashkenazi, he was influenced by several Hasidic rabbis, such as Yitav Lev of Sighet. Together with Yitav Lev’s son, Rabbi Hananya Yom-Tov Lipa Teitelbaum (1836–1904) of Sighet and Rabbi Amram Blum of Oyfalu

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(Berettyóùjfalu), the former chief rabbi of Chust, he led a fierce campaign against modernism and reform.49 In 1901 he, along with several other rabbis, reaffirmed and republished the Mihalovitz gathering resolutions as part of a campaign to reinforce Orthodoxy.50 His opinions regarding general education were similar to those of Rabbi Schick, although his objection was more practical than ideological. He thus permitted adults who had studied for some years in a Yeshiva and were firm in their faith to acquire some general knowledge and learn foreign languages.51 During his time in Chust, the Zionist movement began its activity, to which he strongly objected, arguing that Zionism was influenced by religious reforms and by the Enlightenment (Haskalah).52 He spoke in public against the religious-Zionist Ha-Mizrahi movement and was the first rabbi in Hungary to issue a public statement condemning and banning it.53 Although he was not a Hasid, he became very close to Hasidism and advised his students to adopt certain Hasidic principles. He furthermore cooperated with the Rabbi of Sighet and supported Kolel Maramaros.54 In his will, he referred to Rabbi Schick as the founder of Orthodoxy and declared himself to be his ideological successor.55 Contrary to Ashkenazi tradition, Rabbi Moshe Greenwald’s son, Rabbi Avraham Yosef (?–1927), succeeded him as rabbi of Chust. He, too, fought against modern ideas and cooperated with the rabbi of Sighet on these matters.56 However, he left office in 1921, admitting his failure as head of the Yeshiva.57 The next rabbi to hold the prestigious rabbinical seat of Chust was Rabbi Yosef Zvi Dushinsky (1867–1948), previously chief rabbi of Galanta.58 His life and status as one of the great and most influential leaders of Extreme Orthodoxy will be discussed in Chapter 10, dedicated to Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel. Hasidic Ideology in the Following Generations in Sighet Aware of the Jewish politics in Sighet, the elderly Yitav Lev recommended to his followers that they appoint his son, Rabbi Hananya Yom-Tov Lipa Teitelbaum, as his successor.59 Behind the scenes, he formulated the community’s regulations to enable it to join the Central Orthodox Bureau. Although he had previously objected to joining the Bureau, which he considered was too lenient, he now decided to take this step to ensure its support for his son’s appointment. When these facts became known to members of the Kahana family, the richest and most influential Ashkenazi family in Sighet, they adamantly opposed the nomination of Rabbi Lipa. Instead, they demanded to appoint an Ashkenazi rabbi who would better represent their religious lifestyle. After failing to block Rabbi Lipa’s ordination as chief rabbi, the Kahana family decided to establish a separate community, referred to as “The Sephardi congregation.”60 In response, Rabbi Lipa declared a ban (Herem) on the new congregation. The two parties sought the support of prominent

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Up until World War I

rabbis and the dispute between the two communities soon spiraled out of control.61 A few years later, the public and rabbinical support for the Sephardi community dwindled and it was reunited with the main community. During the course of this highly publicized controversy, Rabbi Lipa exercised his no-tolerance policy toward anybody who defied his radical religious rulings. It was during that confrontation that Extreme Orthodoxy demonstrated its no-holds-barred policy when dealing with ideological confrontations. This meant that even verbal and physical violence could be employed in order to achieve its goals. Reaffirming his public stature, Rabbi Lipa became known for his relentless fight against modern education, even when supervised by the rabbis, and against any change to the dress code of men and especially of women. He was also one of the first rabbis to reject Zionism openly and totally, harassing every person in his community suspected of taking part in any sort of Zionist activity.62 After years spent solidifying his own community, he decided to break with the family’s tradition and took an active part in the leadership of Hungarian Orthodoxy. His triumph over the strong Ashkenazi camp in Sighet made Rabbi Lipa the unofficial leader of the entire Hasidic community in Hungary. This enabled him to win election to the executive committee of the Orthodox Bureau as its representative.63 Encouraged by his successes, he focused his efforts on introducing strict religious standards to the Bureau itself and to several Orthodox congregations in Hungary. In 1903, alongside Rabbi Moshe Greenwald of Chust, he initiated and chaired an important rabbinical gathering in Budapest.64 During that meeting, he threatened the Orthodox Bureau by calling for the establishment of a rival, mainly Hasidic, and less compromising Orthodox organization. This political pressure served to reinforce the Hasidic party within the Bureau and further affirmed Rabbi Lipa’s status as leader of Extreme Orthodoxy in Hungary.65 His son, Rabbi Haim Zvi Teitelbaum (1880–1926), succeeded him as chief rabbi after his death in 1904, and he too was regarded as the leader of the Hasidic party within the leadership of the Orthodox Bureau.66 Like his father, he also engaged in a rabbinical dispute that involved numerous rabbis of Hungary and Galicia.67 This controversy pertained to the control of the funds collected by Kolel Ungarn. His rival, Rabbi Israel Hager (1860–1936), the leader of the Viznitz Hasidic court, had many followers in Maramaros’ villages. He maintained a different Hasidic style than that of Sighet, and the clash between the two courts represented the ideological rift between the more tolerant approach of Viznitz and the extreme stand taken by Sighet. After long and tedious debates that lasted several years, Rabbi Haim Zvi prevailed, and he too established his position as leader of Extreme Orthodoxy in Hungary. Although he fell short of his father’s public status, he too was a relentless fighter against modernity, Zionism, the settlement of Palestine, and religious reforms.68 He fiercely opposed the religious-Zionist Mizrahi movement, and

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even the activities of the new international Orthodox organization Agudat Israel, which was established in 1912.69 He took part in several rabbinical gatherings at which he signed anti-Zionist manifestos.70 Following his sudden death in 1926 at the age of 46 he was succeeded by his 14-year-old son, Yekuthiel Yehuda (1912–1944, also known as Zalman Leib). The Convergence of the Ashkenazi and Hasidic Ideologies A comparison of the evolution of the two schools of thought shows that the ideological gap between them diminished. Several topics on which they had previously disagreed, now found mutually acceptable solutions. Such was the case with general education, which was now regarded, at least from a practical perspective, as mistaken, even by the successors of the Ashkenazi tradition. Since the early manifestations of Zionism at the end of the nineteenth century, the movement was perceived to be a major threat to Orthodoxy, both in practical and ideological terms. It rapidly became the main target of attacks by both Ashkenazi and Hasidic Extreme Orthodox leaders, resulting, inter alia, in a fierce campaign against the idea of Jewish settlement in Palestine. At the same time, both camps continued to ban Agudat Israel, condemning it for promoting Haredi settlement in Palestine, and thereby engaging in “quasi-Zionist” activity. In later generations, Hasidic rabbis began to assume active roles in the Orthodox Bureau leadership. This approach ran contrary to that of Yismah Moshe and Yitav Lev, who focused on their own communities and left the Orthodox leadership to the Ashkenazi rabbis. After the death of Rabbi Moshe Greenwald, his son was appointed to succeed him. However, owing to his failure, this Hasidic pattern of succession was discontinued. We may therefore conclude that during this period the ideological gap between Hasidim and Ashkenazim in Maramaros narrowed. Although each group maintained its own ritual characteristics, their leaders respected each other and cooperated on matters of mutual interest. The Decline of Extreme Orthodoxy in Maramaros Following its defeat in World War I, the former Greater Hungary was disassembled and divided into several countries. Maramaros County was torn from Hungary. Its southern region, which included Sighet, was annexed to Romania, while the northern area, which included Chust, was incorporated into the newly formed Czechoslovakia. The two new governments of the former Maramaros did not display the same tolerant spirit that the former regime had shown toward the Orthodox population and its unique lifestyle. Immediately after the war, the political and religious leaders of the two parts of Maramaros faced several difficulties, first of which was a deep economic recession. This was followed by anti-Jewish regulations and antiSemitic attacks on the Jewish population. Once public order was restored, the

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Up until World War I

rabbis were forced to address the uncompromising demand on the part of the authorities that Jewish children attend public schools or that general studies be included in the curricula of Jewish religious schools. In their new countries, the chief rabbis could no longer invoke the authority and support of the Hungarian Central Orthodox Bureau and needed to establish smaller local Orthodox organization. To compound their problems, they had to contend with Zionism, which before World War I was an abstract and impractical idea for most of Maramaros’ Jews. After the war, following the Balfour declaration and the establishment of the British Mandate in Palestine, Zionist organizations quickly opened branches in the former Maramaros territories in both Romania and Czechoslovakia. Many Orthodox Jews embraced both the Zionist ideology and the prospect of migrating to Palestine. These social and political processes culminated in the collapse of the almost utopian Extreme Orthodox society of Maramaros. Modernization, general education, and Zionism began to crack open the walls of rabbinical authority and unquestioning religious obedience. By the mid-1930s, after more than 70 years, the divided Maramaros began to lose its status as the main bastion of Extreme Orthodoxy. Nevertheless, two rabbis, an Ashkenazi and a Hasid, took hold of Maramaros’ Extreme Orthodox legacy and disseminated it to the rest of the Jewish world, where it still flourishes. These two rabbis, Rabbi Dushinsky of Chust and Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, originally from Sighet and later the Rabbi of Satmar, are discussed in the following chapters. Notes 1 Emmanuel Sivan, “The Enclave Culture,” in Fundamentalism Comprehended, edited by M. Marty, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, pp. 11–68. 2 Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum of Satmar (1887–1979) often referred to Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, his great-grandfather, as one of his main sources of inspiration. 3 Emmanuel Sivan, Kimmy Caplan (eds.), Hish’talvut Belo Temiah (Integration without Assimilation), Jerusalem: Ha-Kibuts Ha-Meuhad and Van-Leer Institute, 2003, 225–226; Samuel Heilman, Defenders of the Faith, New York: Schoken, 1992, 11–12. 4 Michel K. Silber, “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy: The Invention of a Tradition,” in: The Uses of Tradition, edited by Jack Wertheimer, New York, 1993, 23–84; Moshe Samet, Chapters in the History of Orthodoxy, Jerusalem: Dinur Center and Carmel Publishing, 2005, 30–31 (in Hebrew). 5 Eliezer Goldman, Dani Statman and Avi Sagi (eds.), Mechkarim Ve-Iunim: Hagut Yehudit Be-Avar U-Bahove (Research and Study: Jewish Thought in Past and Present), Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1997; Aviezer Ravitzky, Messianism, Zionism, and Jewish Religious Radicalism, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996; David Sorotzkin, “Binyan Eretz Shel Mata Ve-Churban Eretz Shel Ma’ala: HaRabbi Mi-Satmar Ve-Ha’askola Ha-Ortodoxit Ha-Radikalit,” in: Eretz Israel BaHagut Ha-Yehudit Ba-Mea Ha-Esrim, edited by Aviezer Ravitzky, Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2005, 133–167; Motti Inbari, “Activism Meshichi Be-Po’alo U-Behaguto Shel Ha-Rav Haim Elazar Shapira Me-Munkatch Bein Shtei Milhamot Olam,” Cathedra, 149 (2013): 77–104.

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6 Salomon Poll, The Hassidic Community of Williamsburg, New York: Schocken Books, 1969, 3. 7 Shalom Rosenberg, “Masoret Ve-Ortodoxia,” in: Orthodox Judaism: New Perspectives, edited by Yosef Salmon, Aviezer Ravitzky, and Adam Ferziger, Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2006, 70 (in Hebrew); Meir Litvak, Ora Limor (eds.), Religious Radicalism, Jerusalem: Merkaz Zalman Shazar, 2008, 27 (in Hebrew); Motti Inbari, “The modesty campaigns of Rabbi Amram Blau and the Neturei Karta Movement, 1938–1974,” Israel Studies 17 (1) (2012): 105–129. 8 Menachem Friedman, “Religious Zealotry in Israeli Society,” in: On Ethnic and Religious Diversity in Israel, edited by Solomon Poll and Ernest Krausz, Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University, 1975, 91–111; Gideon Aran, “Kanaut Datit: Hebetim Sotsiologim,” in: Shilton Ha-Ha’ok Be-Hevra Mekutevet, edited by Eyal Yinon, Jerusalem: Ha-Mahon Ha-Israeli Le-Demokratia, 1999, 63; Adam Ferziger, “HaKanay Ha-Dati Ke-Posek Halacha: Ha-Rav Haim Sofer,” in: Religious Radicalism, edited by Litvak, 85. 9 Yosef Salmon, “Ha-Ortodoxia Ha-Yehudit Be-Mizrach Eiropa: Kavim LeAli’yata,” Salmon et al, Orthodox Judaism, 367, Footnote 2; Silber, “The emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy,” 299–300, Footnote 4; Rosenberg, “Masoret VeOrtodoxia,” 75. 10 Yitzchak Yosef Cohen, “Darkei Ha-Hadira Shel Ha-Hasidut Le-Hungaria,” in: Yehudei Hungaria, edited by Moshe E. Gonda, Yitzchak Yosef Cohen, and Yehuda Marton, Jerusalem, 1980, 58; Yitzchak Alfasi, Tiferet She-Ba-Malkhut, Tel Aviv 1961, 17. 11 On the Kossov and Viznitz Dynasties: Yitzchak Alfasi, Tiferet She-Bamalkhut. 12 On Maramaros as a Haredi center: Menachem Keren-Kratz, Maramaros-Sziget: Extreme Orthodoxy and Secular Jewish Culture at the Foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, Jerusalem: The Dov Sadan Publishing Project and Leyvik House, 2013, 60–85; Yekutiel Yehuda Greenwald, “Maramaros,” in: Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut BeTransylvania, edited by Zvi Yakov Abraham, Brooklyn, 1951, 121–129. 13 Ibid, 121. 14 Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum of Satmar (1887–1979) often referred to Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, his great-grandfather, as one of his main sources of inspiration. 15 In this book, I use the term “Ashkenazi” not in its modern sense, but in the sense it was used in Hungary in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Then, Ashkenazi meant a Haredi Jew of central European descent. These Jews usually had some general education; they spoke several languages, and their appearance was not noticeably Jewish. They were not Hasidim, but at the same time, they did not adopt the Lithuanian Mitnagdim’s anti-Hassidic stance. Most of them, including the rabbis, would nowadays be termed Modern Orthodox. 16 On Hatam Sofer: Eliezer Katz, Ha-Hatam Sofer, Jerusalem 1960; Jacob Katz, “Kavim Le-Biographia Shel Ha-Hatam Sofer,” in: Mechkarim Be-Kabala UBetoldot Ha-Datot Mugashim Le-Gershom Shalom, Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1968, 115–148; Samet, Chapters, 310–318; Yosef Yuhoshua Appel, “Yachas Rabenu Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Hashpa’ato Klapei Ma’asim, Inyanim, Ume’oraot Nisgavim Behayei Ha-Klal Ve-Haprat,” Udim 14–15 (1990): 11–61. 17 A town in western Hungary. 18 An important town in western Hungary on the border with Moravia, which was Hungary’s capital until 1784 and continued to be the meeting place of the Hungarian Diet until the mid-nineteenth century. 19 Meir Hildesheimer, “The attitude of the Hatam Sofer toward Moses Mendelssohn,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 60 (1994): 141–187. 20 Katz, Ha-Hatam Sofer, 85. 21 Samet, Chapters, 19.

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22 The first debate between Orthodoxy and Reformists regarding the novelties of the reform temple in Hamburg. See: Samet, Chapters, 228–305; Jacob Katz, Halacha in Straits: Obstacles to Orthodoxy at its Inception, Jerusalem Magnes press, 43–72. 23 Aaron Schreiber, “The Hatam Sofer’s nuanced attitude to secular learning, maskilim and reformers,” Torah U’Mada 11 (2002–2003): 123–173; Meir Hildesheimer, “The German language and secular studies: Attitudes towards them in the thought of the Hatam Sofer and his disciples,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 62 (1996): 129–163. 24 Shmuel Weingarten Ha-Cohen, Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Talmidav: Yahasam Le-Eretz Israel, Jerusalem 1945. 25 Maoz Kahana, From the Noda Be-Yehuda to the Hatam Sofer: Halakha and Thought in Their Historical Moment, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2015 (in Hebrew). 26 Akiva Yosef Shlesinger, Sefer Lev Ha-Ivri, Ungvár 1864. 27 On Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum: Avraham Yitzchak Bromberg, Ha-Admo”r Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum Me-Oyhal, Migedolei Ha-Hasidut, vol. 8, Jerusalem 1959; Yosef Moshe Sofer, Ha-Gaon Ha-Kadosh Ba’al Yismah Moshe, Jerusalem 1984. 28 Katz, The Unhealed Breach, 71; Bromberg, Ha’Admo”r Rabbi Moshe, 52. 29 Yitzchak Alfasi, Ha-Hasidut Ve-Shivat Zion, Tel Aviv 1986, 14, note 75. 30 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Kolel Shomrei Ha-Homot,” Segula 113 (2020): 54–66; Ben Zion Dienburg, “Me-Arkhiyono Shel Ha-Hacham Bashi R’ Haim Avraham Gagin,” Zion 4 (1930): 65. 31 On Rabbi Moshe Schick as spiritual successor of Hatam Sofer: Katz, The Unhealed Breach, 60; Grennwald, Le-Toldot Ha-Reformatsion, 11–13; Yitzchak Yosef Cohen, Hakhmei Hungaria, Jerusalem 1997, 165. 32 Avraham Fuchs, Yeshivot Hungaria Begedulatan U-Be-Hurbanan, vol. 1, Jerusalem 1979, 481. 33 This rabbinical gathering addressed the subject of religious reforms and was subsequently considered a milestone in the making of orthodoxy. The nine (or ten) resolutions adopted during the gathering marked the boundaries between Orthodoxy and the reform movement. 34 On this gathering: Nathaniel Katzburg, “Psak Beit Din Shel Mihalovitz Taf-ReshKaf-Vav” in: Prakim Be-Toldot Ha-Hevra Ha-Yehudit Biyemei Ha-Beinaim UBa’et Ha-Hadasha, edited by Emmanuel Etkes and Yosef Salmon, Jerusalem 1980, 273–286; Meir Hildesheimer, “Rabanei Hungaria Ve-Asefat Mihalovitz,” Kiryat Sefer 63 (3) (1980–81): 941–951. 35 Greenwald, Letoldot Ha-Reformatsion, 83. 36 On the congress and on Rabbi Schick’s role: Nathaniel Katzburg, “The Jewish Congress of Hungary, 1868–1869,” in: Hungarian Jewish Studies, vol. 1, edited by Randolph L. Braham, New York: World Federation of Hungarian Jews, 1969, 1–33; Katz, The Unhealed Breach; Ben-Zion Yakobovitz, Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 1, Bnei Brak 1989, 71–126. 37 Katz, The Unhealed Breach, 175–174, 187; Mordechay Zvi Prager, Toldot Ha-Gaon Maharam Schik, bound with: Moshe Schick, Mahara”m Schik on Avot, Jerusalem 2004 (first edition, Paks 1890), 161. 38 Katz, The Unhealed Breach, 224, 233. 39 Howard Nathan Lupovitch, “Between Orthodox Judaism and Neology: The origins of the Status Quo Movement,” Jewish Social Studies 9 (2) (2003): 123–153. 40 On Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda as the successor of Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum: Efraim Dov Ashkenazi, Sefer Ha-Gaon Ha-Kadosh Ba’al Yismah Moshe, Brooklyn 1984, 385–386. 41 Hilel Mordechay Eliezer Shlesinger, Sefer Torat Yehiel, Jerusalem 1971, 21; Yoel Teitelbaum, Va-Yoel Moshe, Brooklyn 1961, 313.

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47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

59 60

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62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70

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Yakobovitz, Zekhor Yemot, vol. 1, 84–84 note 3, 205. Katz, The Unhealed Breach, 216. Cohen, Hakhmei Hungaria, 423. Yakobovitz, Zekhor Yemot, vol. 2, 89. Shlomo Yaacov Gross, Yitzchak Yosef Cohen (eds.), Sefer Marmaros, Tel-Aviv 1983, 245; Shmuel Ha-Cohen Weingarten, “Le-Korot Ha-Yehudim BeKarpatorus,” in: Karpathorus: Encyclopedia Shel Galuyot, vol. 7, edited by Yehuda Erez, Jerusalem and Tel Aviv 1959, 44. Yakobovitz, Zekhor Yemot, vol. 1, 89. On Rabbi Moshe Greenwald: Moshe Yehuda Katz, Toldot Arugat Ha-Bosem, Brooklyn 1979. Yakobovitz, Zekhor Yemot, vol. 2, 321–322. Ibid, 2, 391–393. Katz, Toldot Arugat Ha-Bosem, 117. Shlomo Yaacov Gelbman, Moshian Shel Israel, vol. 3, New York 1992, 371. Zvi Yacov Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 95–96. Joel Rubin, Dov Yoel Shahn, Sefer Yad Yekutiel, Brooklyn 2004, 216. Shimon Ofman, Gabriel Haim Zvi Noyfeld (eds.), Beit Yosef Lehava: Toldot Maharitz, Jerusalem 1993, 68. Gelbman, Moshian Shel Israel, vol. 3, 376. Gross and Cohen, Sefer Marmaros, 247. On Rabbi Dushinsky: Ofman, Beit Yosef Lehava; Moshe Mordechay Dushinsky, Od Yosef Hay, Jerusalem 1950; Menachem Keren-Kratz, “‘Guarding the Guardians’: Rabbi Yosef Zvi (Maharitz) Dushinsky,” in: Gdoilim: Leaders Who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry, edited by Benjamin Braun and Nisim Leon, Van Leer Institute – Magnes Press, Jerusalem, 337–367. On Rabbi Hananya: Shlomo Yaacov Gelbman, Der Heiliger Kdushat Yom Tov, Kiryat Joel 2001. The option to establish separate “Sephardi” communities stemmed from an ancient regulation concerning the right of Sephardi Jews (i.e., oriental Jews who came to Hungary during the Ottoman occupation) to independent and autonomous communities. On the Sighet controversy: Yehuda Shpigel, Toltot Yisrael Ve-Hitpathut Ha-Hasidut Be-Rusia Ha-Karpatit (no place or year of publication noted), 133–171; Gelbman, Moshian Shel Yisrael, vol. 3, 286–303. See also the books published by the two Sighet communities: by the Orthodox community: Michtav Galui Im Sefer Milchemet Mitzva, Sighet 1889; by the Sephardi community: Kontres Ohev Mishpat, Lemberg 1887. Gelbman, Moshian Shel Yisrael, vol. 3, 238–185. Gelbman, Moshian Shel Yisrael, vol. 3, 147. Yakobovitz, Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 2, 392. Gelbman, Moshian Shel Yisrael, vol. 3, 322–329. Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 135. On this controversy: Shpigel, Toldot Yisrael, 171–174. Gelbman, Moshian Shel Yisrael, vol. 3, 375–379. Moshe Goldshtein, Sefer Tikun Olam, Munkács 1936, 166. Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 100.

Bibliography Alfasi, Yitzchak. Ha-Hasidut Ve-Shivat Zion. Tel Aviv, 1986. Alfasi, Yitzchak. Tiferet She-Ba-Malkhut, Tel Aviv, 1961.

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Appel, Yosef Yuhoshua. “Yachas Rabenu Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Hashpa’ato Klapei Ma’asim, Inyanim, Ume’oraot Nisgavim Behayei Ha-Klal Ve-Haprat.” Udim 14–15 (1990): 11–61. Aran, Gideon. “Kanaut Datit: Hebetim Sotsiologim.” in: Yinon, Eyal (ed.). Shilton Ha-Ha’ok Be-Hevra Mekutevet. Jerusalem: Ha-Mahon Ha-Israeli Le-Demokratia, 1999. Ashkenazi, Efraim Dov. Sefer Ha-Gaon Ha-Kadosh Ba’al Yismah Moshe. Brooklyn, 1984. Bromberg, Avraham Yitzchak. Ha-Admo”r Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum Me-Oyhal. Migedolei Ha-Hasidut, vol. 8, Jerusalem, 1959. Cohen, Yitzchak Yosef. “Darkei Ha-Hadira Shel Ha-Hasidut Le-Hungaria.” In: Gonda, Moshe E., Cohen, Yitzchak Yosef and Yehuda Marton (eds.). Yehudei Hungaria. Jerusalem, 1980. Cohen, Yitzchak Yosef. Hakhmei Hungaria. Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalayim, 1997. Dienburg, Ben-Zion. “Me-Arkhiyono Shel Ha-Hacham Bashi R’ Haim Avraham Gagin.” Zion 4 (1930): 65–71. Dushinsky, Moshe Mordechai. Od Yosef Hay. Jerusalem, 1950. Ferziger, Adam. “Ha-Kanay Ha-Dati Ke-Posek Halacha: Ha-Rav Haim Sofer.” In Litvak, Meir and Ora Limor (eds.). Religious Radicalism. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2008, 85–112. Friedman, Menachem. “Religious Zealotry in Israeli Society.” In: Poll, Solomon and Ernest Krausz (eds.). On Ethnic and Religious Diversity in Israel. Ramat Gan: BarIlan University, 1975, 91–111. Fuchs, Avraham. Yeshivot Hungaria Begedulatan U-Be-Hurbanan, vol. 1–2. Jerusalem, 1979–1987. Gelbman, Shlomo Yaacov. Moshian Shel Israel, vol. 3. New York, 1992. Gelbman, Shlomo Yaacov. Der Heiliger Kdushat Yom Tov. Kiryat Joel, 2001. Goldman, Eliezer, Dani Statman and Avi Sagi (eds.). Mechkarim Ve-Iunim: Hagut Yehudit Be-Avar U-Bahove (Research and Study: Jewish Thought in Past and Present). Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1997. Greenwald, Yekuthial Yehuda. Letoldot Ha-Reformatsion Ha-Datit Be-Germania UBehungaria. Columbus: Tverski Bros., 1948. Greenwald, Yekutiel Yehuda. “Maramaros.” In: Abraham, Zvi Yakov (ed.). LeKorot Ha-Yahadut Be-Transylvania. Brooklyn, 1951, 121–129. Gross, Shlomo Yaacov and Yitzchak Yosef Cohen (eds.). Sefer Marmaros. Tel-Aviv, 1983. Heilman, Samuel. Defenders of the Faith. New York: Schoken, 1992. Hildesheimer, Meir. “Rabanei Hungaria Ve-Asefat Mihalovitz.” Kiryat Sefer 63 (3) (1980–81): 941–951. Hildesheimer, Meir. “The attitude of the Hatam Sofer toward Moses Mendelssohn.” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 60 (1994): 141–187. Hildesheimer, Meir. “The German language and secular studies: Attitudes towards them in the thought of the Hatam Sofer and his disciples.” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 62 (1996): 129–163. Inbari, Motti. “Activism Meshichi Be-Po’alo U-Behaguto Shel Ha-Rav Haim Elazar Shapira Me-Munkatch Bein Shtei Milhamot Olam.” Cathedra, 149 (2013): 77–104. Inbari, Motti. “The modesty campaigns of Rabbi Amram Blau and the Neturei Karta Movement, 1938-1974.” Israel Studies 17 (1) (2012): 105–129.

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Kahana, Maoz. From the Noda Be-Yehuda to the Hatam Sofer: Halakha and Thought in Their Historical Moment. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2015. Katz, Eliezer. Ha-Hatam Sofer. Jerusalem, 1960. Katz, Jacob. “Kavim Le-Biographia Shel Ha-Hatam Sofer.” In: Mechkarim BeKabala U-Betoldot Ha-Datot Mugashim Le-Gershom Shalom. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1968, 115–148. Katz, Jacob. Halacha in Straits: Obstacles to Orthodoxy at Its Inception. Jerusalem Magnes Press, 1992. Katz, Moshe Yehuda. Toldot Arugat Ha-Bosem. Brooklyn, 1979. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Psak Beit Din Shel Mihalovitz Taf-Resh-Kaf-Vav.” In: Etkes, Emmanuel and Yosef Salmon (eds.). Prakim Be-Toldot Ha-Hevra Ha-Yehudit Biyemei Ha-Beinaim U-Ba’et Ha-Hadasha. Jerusalem: Magnes, 1980, 273–286. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “The Jewish Congress of Hungary, 1868-1869.” In: Braham, Randolph L. (ed.). Hungarian Jewish Studies, vol. 1. New York: World Federation of Hungarian Jews, 1969, 1–33. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “‘Guarding the Guardians’: Rabbi Yosef Zvi (Maharitz) Dushinsky.” In: Braun, Benjamin and Nisim Leon (eds.). Gdoilim: Leaders Who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry. Jerusalem: Van Leer Institute – Magnes Press, 337–367. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Kolel Shomrei Ha-Homot.” Segula 113 (2020): 54–66. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. Maramaros-Sziget: Extreme Orthodoxy and Secular Jewish Culture at the Foothills of the Carpathian Mountains. Jerusalem: The Dov Sadan Publishing Project and Leyvik House, 2013. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Marmaros, Hungary – The cradle of Extreme Orthodoxy.” Modern Judaism 35 (2) (2015): 147–174. Kontres Ohev Mishpat. Lemberg, 1887. Litvak, Meir and Ora Limor (eds.). Religious Radicalism. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2008. Lupovitch, Howard Nathan. “Between Orthodox Judaism and Neology: The origins of the Status Quo Movement.” Jewish Social Studies 9 (2) (2003): 123–153. Michtav Galui Im Sefer Milchemet Mitzva. Sighet, 1889. Ofman, Shimon and Gabriel Haim Zvi Noyfeld (eds.). Beit Yosef Lehava: Toldot Maharitz. Jerusalem, 1993. Poll, Salomon. The Hassidic Community of Williamsburg. New York: Schocken Books, 1969. Prager, Mordechai Zvi. Toldot Ha-Gaon Maharam Schik, bound with: Moshe Schick, Mahara”m Schik on Avot, Jerusalem, 2004 first edition, Paks 1890. Ravitzky, Aviezer. Messianism, Zionism, and Jewish Religious Radicalism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996. Rosenberg, Shalom. “Masoret Ve-Ortodoxia.” In: Salmon, Yosef, Aviezer Ravitzky, and Adam Ferziger (eds.). Orthodox Judaism: New Perspectives. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2006, 55–78. Rubin, Joel and Dov Yoel Shahn. Sefer Yad Yekutiel. Brooklyn, 2004. Salmon, Yosef. “Ha-Ortodoxia Ha-Yehudit Be-Mizrach Eiropa: Kavim Le-Ali’yata.” In: Salmon, Yosef, Aviezer Ravitzky, and Adam Ferziger (eds.). Orthodox Judaism: New Perspectives. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2006, 367–380. Samet, Moshe. Chapters in the History of Orthodoxy. Jerusalem: Dinur Center and Carmel Publishing, 2005.

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Schreiber, Aaron. “The Hatam Sofer’s nuanced attitude to secular learning, maskilim and reformers.” Torah U’Mada 11 (2002–2003): 123–173. Shlesinger, Akiva Yosef. Sefer Lev Ha-Ivri. Ungvár, 1864. Shlesinger, Hilel Mordechay Eliezer. Sefer Torat Yehiel. Jerusalem, 1971. Shpigel, Yehuda. Toltot Yisrael Ve-Hitpathut Ha-Hasidut Be-Rusia Ha-Karpatit (no place or year of publication noted). Silber, Michel K. “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy: The Invention of a Tradition.” In: Wertheimer, Jack (ed.). The Uses of Tradition. New York, 1993, 23–84. Sivan, Emmanuel and Kimmy Caplan (eds.). Hish’talvut Belo Temiah (Integration without Assimilation). Jerusalem: Ha-Kibuts Ha-Meuhad and Van-Leer Institute, 2003. Sivan, Emmanuel. “The Enclave Culture.” In: Marty, Martin E. and R. Scott Appleby (eds.). Fundamentalism Comprehended. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 11–68. Sofer, Yosef Moshe. Ha-Gaon Ha-Kadosh Ba’al Yismah Moshe. Jerusalem, 1984. Sorotzkin, David. “Binyan Eretz Shel Mata Ve-Churban Eretz Shel Ma’ala: HaRabbi Mi-Satmar Ve-Ha’askola Ha-Ortodoxit Ha-Radikalit.” In: Ravitzky, Aviezer (ed.). Eretz Israel Ba-Hagut Ha-Yehudit Ba-Mea Ha-Esrim. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2005, 133–167. Teitelbaum, Yoel. Va-Yoel Moshe. Brooklyn: S. Deutch, 1959. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. “Le-Korot Ha-Yehudim Be-Karpatorus.” In: Erez, Yehuda (ed.). Karpathorus: Encyclopedia Shel Galuyot, vol. 7. Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, 1959, 17–88. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Talmidav: Yachasam Le-Eretz Israel. Jerusalem, 1945. Yakobovitz, Ben-Zion. Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 1. Bnei Brak, 1989.

3

Jewish Orthodoxy in Hungary before World War I *

Hungarian Orthodoxy Becomes a Separate Camp As in other parts of Europe, the tension between the Orthodox and the reform groups in Hungary first arose in the early nineteenth century. It was triggered especially following the pro-Reform activities of Rabbi Aharon Chorin (1766–1844) of Arad.1 The two leading rabbis at the time did their best to fight the Reform movement but were unable to stop its proliferation. These were Rabbi Moshe Sofer, better known as Hatam Sofer, of Pressburg (later: Bratislava), and Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, also known as Yismah Moshe of Ujhal (Sátoraljaújhely). It was through their struggle that the abstract concept of Orthodoxy, which at the time was still a vague notion of resistance to religious reforms and to modernity, crystallized.2 The Neolog leaders embraced modern political practices and established a network of institutions in all the major cities. They also published newspapers that promoted their ideas and created a sense of collective identity. The Orthodox rabbis, who refrained from any collective nationwide cooperation, operated only within their own communities. Consequently, the Neolog movement was able to expand for several decades without encountering any significant opposition. Following the first general assembly of Reform leaders that took place in 1844 in Braunschweig, Germany, several Hungarian rabbis could no longer ignore the growing influence of this movement.3 Later that year, a rabbinical convention that was summoned in the town of Paks, Hungary sought to establish a unified Orthodox front. Since the very concept of rabbinical assembly was considered revolutionary, and since many rabbis lacked the political insight to appreciate the possible effect of such a meeting, only a small number of them attended. Of those who did, only a handful was considered to be among the leading Orthodox authorities.4 In the wake of this failure, no further attempt was made to summon a rabbinical convention over

* This chapter is based on my article “The politics of Jewish Orthodoxy: The case of Hungary 1868–1918,” Modern Judaism 36 (3) (2016): 217–248.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-5

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the following 20 years. Facing no significant resistance, the Neolog movement in Hungary continued to flourish, and by the early 1860s, it could boast more members than could the Orthodox communities. It was only in November 1865 that Rabbi Hilel Lichtenstein (1815–1891) of Szikszó managed to organize a rabbinical convention in the town of Nagymihály (later, Michalovce). 72 rabbis, including the most renowned figures, attended the meeting, and the resolutions it passed clearly outlined the major principles that separated the Orthodox from the Neolog.5 In retrospect, one can establish that this was organized Orthodoxy’s first effective event. In the wake of certain social and political processes that have been widely discussed in academia, the Hungarian government decided to grant equal civil rights to Jews.6 One outcome of this decision was that Jews were now allowed to administer their own communities according to their faith and tradition. To that end, they needed to establish a central organization that would supervise the Jewish communities’ conduct, and at the same time represent the collective Jewish interest vis-à-vis the authorities. In late 1868, a congress was summoned at which elected delegates from all over Hungary were to formulate regulations that would be binding on all the Jewish communities.7 Prior to the congress, the Orthodox leaders, many of whom had participated in the Nagymihály convention, established a nationwide organization named Shomrei Ha-Dat (Keepers of the Faith), which was charged with formulating and representing the Orthodox worldview.8 As the congress began, it transpired that the more established and experienced Neolog party wielded greater political power and that the regulations they sought to impose were too modern and too religiously lenient to be acceptable to Orthodoxy. Unable to reach common ground, the Orthodox rabbis walked out of the congress, leaving the Neolog delegates to formulate the regulations which, in theory, were to become obligatory for all Jewish communities.9 Following a petition lodged in 1871 by several prominent Orthodox rabbis, Hungary’s Minister of Religious Affairs decided to permit the Orthodox communities to draw up their own regulations.10 He then recognized Shomrei Ha-Dat as an independent organization that represented solely the Orthodox communities. In 1905, the organization adopted its formal title “The Central Bureau of the Autonomous Orthodox communities in Hungary.” To eliminate confusion, from this point onward I will address this organization as “The Orthodox Bureau” or simply as the “Bureau.” A few communities that had joined neither the Neolog nor the Orthodox organizations were allowed to operate according to the previous Hungarian laws and were known as Status Quo communities.11 Solidifying the Orthodox Camp The partial autonomy the Orthodox communities gained in Hungary, and the right to supervise and represent a population of several hundred thousand that was defined not only by nationality but by their religious conduct, was a

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unique event that had no parallel in Jewish history. This degree of autonomy, and the separation from the non-Orthodox communities, allowed the rabbis to dictate the behavior of their community members and to impose sanctions against those who deviated from it. The fact that both the Orthodox Bureau and the local Jewish councils had statutory jurisdiction allowed them even to enforce certain elements of the religious way of life upon the non-observant members of the community.12 In order to gain recognition as a statutory body, the Orthodox Bureau’s leaders formulated a set of binding regulations that were published in the form of a booklet.13 Its first section describes the historical process that led to the establishment of Shomrei Ha-Dat and its semi-autonomous status. The following chapter sets out the regulations of the Bureau itself and determines that all the communities that wish to join it must accept the halakhic ruling of the Shulhan Arukh, the canonic compilation of Jewish laws (halakha).14 Next, the meaning of certain terms, such as “a rabbi” or “the traditional education system,” was defined. Other chapters detailed the administrative structure of the Bureau and the way its principal functionaries were nominated and elected, and the following section dealt with the judicial autonomy of the Bureau to rule on internal issues such as conflicts either within or between Orthodox communities. Another section addressed the internal regulations of the communities that joined the Bureau. It set out the way in which a Jewish council’s members should be elected, defined their authority, and provided guidelines for the operation of local education systems. It furthermore addressed the limited sovereignty each community enjoyed to modify the regulations according to its specific needs. The general structure of the Bureau was as follows: Representatives from all the Orthodox communities elected 100 delegates, of which 40 were rabbis, who composed the National Committee. This committee elected a Central Committee of 15, of which 5 were rabbis. However, for all practical purposes, the organization was led by an Executive Committee of five headed by the Bureau’s president. In addition to the elected officials, the Bureau employed a permanent staff that included a general manager, an administrator, and a treasurer. The Central Committee convened every couple of months according to need, while the National Committee gathered each year to receive the Committee’s annual report. A general election was held every six years. The fact that the Orthodox Bureau, although theoretically supervised by the rabbis, was in practice led by political activists who were elected by members of their communities turned out to be the key to its success. During its early years, great efforts were exerted by the Bureau’s officials to encourage communities to join it. The Orthodox leaders feared that should the Bureau fail to gain sufficient public support, the Neolog leaders may join forces with the more tolerant Orthodox rabbis to demand the unification of the three Jewish currents. In order to reinforce the Bureau, and to encourage additional communities to join, its president, businessman Yitzhak Reich (1821–1896), founded a weekly Hebrew magazine titled Shevet Ahim.15

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Unlike the Magyar Zsidó, which was issued by Shomrei Ha-Dat in Budapest between 1867 and 1870 and was written in Hungarian and German, Shevet Ahim, which appeared between 1871 and 1880, was written in Hebrew. It served several purposes: To crystallize Hungarian Orthodoxy and to disseminate its worldview; to confront and challenge the non-Orthodox camp; and to publicize and coordinate various social and political activities both at the national and the local levels. By virtue of this endeavor, as well as by other promotional initiatives, a few years after its establishment, the Bureau represented around 200 Orthodox communities. While some Status Quo communities, namely those which had joined neither the Orthodox nor the Neolog organizations, shunned the Bureau because they considered it to be too religiously demanding, other communities, such as that of Sighet, refused to join because their rabbis felt it was too lenient and modern. This accusation threatened the Bureau’s authority.16 Consequently, on top of the public struggles against the Neolog organization, the Bureau also confronted communities whose rabbis refused to enlist them with the Orthodox Bureau even though most of their members led a fully observant lifestyle.17 The first general assembly of the Orthodox Bureau after its establishment was held in June 1880 and was attended by more than 150 rabbis and several hundred delegates. It dealt with the dispute with the Neolog movement and especially its quest to establish a rabbinical seminary that would ordain the movement’s own rabbis.18 It also deliberated on the means by which the Bureau would gain a permanent status as the representative body of Hungary’s Orthodox Jewry.19 A short while later, representatives of both the Neolog and the Orthodox organizations met with the Minister of Education to discuss the future of the Jewish schooling system. The Orthodox demanded the right to run their own institutions and protested the intention to recognize graduates of the Neolog rabbinical seminary as rabbis.20 Following complaints about the management of the civil registries, for which the communities’ clerics were responsible, the Minister of Religion and Education, Ágoston Trefort (1817–1888), introduced new regulations. In the early 1880s, it was stipulated that to be eligible to administer the civil records a rabbi must hold Hungarian citizenship and prove he had completed four years of high school studies.21 This meant that many Orthodox rabbis who did not meet these criteria lost the allowance the government paid them for performing this task. It was furthermore decided that in each location only the rabbi of the largest community would manage the civil registry, which in many cases meant the rabbi of the Neolog community.22 During the 1880s, the Hungarian parliament debated several legislative proposals aimed at encouraging Jews to integrate into Hungarian society. One suggestion, which was eventually discarded, demanded that only those who had studied for six years in a recognized school may be admitted to a Yeshiva.23 A law passed in 1884 permitted mixed marriages between Jews and Gentiles.24 Yet another regulation allowed Jews to send their own delegate to

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the House of Representatives. However, the request that the Orthodox be allotted their own delegate, as if they were a separate religion, was rejected.25 All the above-mentioned regulatory amendments were articulated in June 1888 in what became known as the Trefort decree. A few elements in it threatened the partial autonomy of the Orthodox party, but Trefort’s death a few months later enabled the Orthodox leaders to introduce some changes that led to the final acceptance of a milder version of the decree.26 The implementation of some of the governmental decisions in the mid1880s, and the dismissal of several rabbis who failed to meet the official requirements, led to public criticism directed against the Bureau’s president.27 The bluntest critic was Rabbi Haim Sofer (1821–1886), Chief Rabbi of the Orthodox community of Budapest. He criticized the decision to allow Orthodox laymen, rather than the rabbis, to lead the Bureau.28 This initially muted criticism became public in 1885 when he published a memorandum that listed all the Bureau’s shortcomings.29 Religious and Political Conflicts The Bureau’s general assembly held in Pressburg in early 1890 dealt with modifying some of its regulations, affirmed the ideological gap between Orthodoxy and Neology, and expanded the authority and the jurisdiction of the Bureau.30 A little while later, following a speech delivered in parliament by a Neolog representative, Jacob Gabel from Nagyvárad (Oradea, Großwardein) published a booklet in Hungarian in which, for the first time, he enumerated the principles of Orthodoxy as opposed to those of Neology.31 In 1891 the Bureau published its own magazine, Zsidò Hiradò, which was written only in Hungarian. It reviewed the Bureau’s activities, its attitudes toward other religious groups, the dialog it conducted with the Hungarian authorities, and carried news from various Jewish communities both in Hungary and across the world. In order to block the Unification Initiative that was promoted by the Neolog leaders since the 1890s, the Bureau published a petition signed by 250 rabbis stating that the Orthodox and the Neolog movements were practically two separate religions that had nothing in common with each other.32 At the same time Orthodox leaders failed to challenge the Reception Decree, which was to place the Jewish religion on an equal footing with all other official religions.33 In 1895, the government amended some regulations pertaining to civil records and approved changes to the Trefort decree that resulted in the recognition of Judaism as an official religion. These changes meant that the Jewish religion now enjoyed a higher political status and was eligible for greater governmental funding, but they also facilitated mixed marriages between Jews and Christian as well as the religious conversion that sometimes ensued.34 The new regulations also dealt with conflicts that erupted between primary Jewish communities and groups that established secondary communities in order to join different religious currents. They likewise set the minimal

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requirements that all public representatives and officials, including the rabbis, had to meet. Although it did not go as far as unifying the two camps, the cooperation between the Orthodox and the Neolog delegates on various issues of common interest gained them some achievements.35 Besides its constant confrontation with the Neolog party, the Orthodox Bureau experienced its own internal political controversies, particularly with its Extreme Orthodox camp’s leaders. Following its former president’s death in 1896, the Orthodox Bureau elected Rabbi Arye Leib Lifshitz (?–1904) of Stanów to succeed him.36 The Hasidic party, led by Rabbi Hananya YomTov Lipa Teitelbaum of Sighet, considered him a fierce opponent of Hasidism and complained that his religious worldview was too lenient. In 1898, Rabbi Lipa convened a rabbinical assembly in Érmihályfalva (Valea lui Mihai). Addressing a few dozen rabbis who attended the meeting, he accused the current leadership of the Bureau of failure to address the decline both in religious observance and in the status of the rabbis.37 He furthermore warned that should the Bureau reject the demands of the Hasidic party, many Hasidic communities would leave it and establish their own organization.38 The crisis between the Ashkenazi and the Hasidic parties within the Bureau dragged on for several years. Seeking to resolve the conflict, the Bureau’s general assembly of 1903 appointed a vice president who represented the Hasidic party and its more rigid outlook.39 During the initial decades after its establishment, the Bureau addressed many issues, including the following: Public calls for greater observance and modesty as well as closer control of kashrut40; challenging the Neolog and the Status Quo communities and organizations41; winning official recognition for the Bureau and defining its authority; resolving controversies both within specific communities and between different communities; recruiting suitable candidates for positions such as rabbis, shohtim (ritual slaughterers), melamdim (teachers) and hazanim (cantors); opposing official recognition of the graduates of the Neolog rabbinical seminary42; fighting anti-Semitism and especially the 1882–1883 blood-libel of Tiszaeszlár43; fighting legislation that impinged on Jewish tradition, such as introducing changes to the procedures of ritual slaughtering and circumcision for humanitarian or medical reasons; and waging a struggle to pass legislation that would allow Jews who kept their stores closed during the Sabbath to open them on Sundays.44 Although it did not achieve all its goals, the Bureau succeeded in strengthening the Hungarian Orthodox camp at a time when similar bodies in other countries were experiencing a moral and religious decline.45 The Internal Politics of the Orthodox Community The local community was the basic form of organized Jewish life. Although it administered its affairs in much the same way as communities of other religions, the partial autonomy that Orthodox Jews in Hungary were granted in the mid-nineteenth century shaped its particular characteristics. Each

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Orthodox community was obliged to operate according to a set of regulations subject to approval by the local Jewish council, the Orthodox Bureau, and the governmental authority.46 Jewish community members were divided into three categories: The socioeconomic elite that held various public positions and headed the community’s institutions; the general public, whose taxes financed the community’s activities; and the poor and the women, who did not have the right to vote or be elected to any public position. The council numbered 15–35 delegates and was headed by the Head of the Community (rosh ha-kahal). Both the council and its head were elected every few years according to the community’s regulations.47 The council was authorized to enforce its decisions and to punish miscreants, either by imposing social sanctions, for example by not calling someone to the Torah reading, or by civil means such as imposing fines and even incarceration. In many cases, members of the Jewish council were also involved in the local municipal council, either by serving as delegates or by influencing it from the outside as external advisors or as providers of various services. Every community member had to pay taxes. Some of these were levied directly and were set for the entire year, while others were collected indirectly for services rendered, such as kosher slaughtering, using the mikveh (ritual bath), allocating a better burial plot, or obtaining a seat in the synagogue. In return, community members were provided with religious services such as the use of the Beth Midrash and the mikveh, consultation with the local rabbi, burial in the Jewish cemetery, and officiating over weddings and divorces. Members also benefited from other services, such as matzos for Passover, kosher supervision of food products, and a rabbinical court that ruled on both business and domestic issues.48 Any changes to community taxes were always accompanied by stormy discussions and caused great controversy. The community’s Jewish council maintained its principal institutions, which included the central Beth Midrash, The Talmud Torah (religious school) for the poor who could not afford a private melamed (teacher of Torah); the kosher slaughterhouse, the mikveh; the Beth Din (rabbinical court); and the Jewish cemetery. It also hired professional employees to operate these bodies. Many Jewish communities also ran social organizations that supported various causes. These included assistance for poor children, orphanages for boys and girls, nursing homes for the elderly, collecting clothes for the poor, helping poor mothers after birth, assisting poor couples to marry, and visiting sick people. In addition, community members established various scholastic associations at which they were given regular lessons in the Talmud and the Mishnah or would recite Psalms.49 These were all voluntary organizations that operated according to set regulations and held general assemblies at which the management reviewed its activity. The minutes of these meetings were frequently recorded in a special protocol book. Members of these organizations

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committed themselves to a monthly donation, but all members of the community were invited to participate in the activities offered by these bodies. At times of crisis, the community leaders would establish ad hoc organizations. For example, in the late nineteenth century, special associations assisted refugees who fled the pogroms in the Ukraine and others assisted victims of the cholera epidemic.50 In the larger towns some of the voluntary organizations were so popular that they even erected their own synagogue and Beth Midrash. In such places, praying in a certain synagogue constituted a statement of identity as one could choose to pray either in a Hasidic, a nonHasidic, or a Zionist Beth Midrash. One could also choose to pray in a synagogue run by the merchants, the laborers, or the local intelligentsia. Most of these social organizations elected a leadership, which turned them into quasi-political associations. Every Jew who resided in a particular territory, be it a city, a town, or a village, was obliged to register with one of the religious communities, either the Orthodox, Neolog, or the Status Quo. Each location was allowed to have only one community of each Jewish current.51 The smaller places could generally afford to administer only one community, which meant that in some cases, non-observant Jews belonged to an Orthodox community, and in other cases, fully observant Jews officially belonged to a Neolog or Status Quo community. As a result, non-observant Jews were sometimes elected as delegates to an Orthodox community’s council. In other instances, observant Jews who belonged to a Neolog community had to pay taxes but could not make use of some of the services it provided. This created tension between the various Jewish groups that could have been solved by establishing a separate community. However, since such a step would have reduced the community’s income, the decision to establish an additional community was always accompanied by fierce public debate. Furthermore, in order to limit the number of splits, the Trefort decree of the 1880s stipulated that any new secondary community must compensate the main community for its loss of income for the first five years. This condition rendered the establishment of additional communities almost impossible for Jews living in small locations. In towns in which most of the Jews were observant, the Orthodox community served Jews of various religious lifestyles. This accommodation sometimes sparked significant controversy as to the ways the community, and especially its council, should operate. Such conflicts generally erupted between Ashkenazi and Hasidic groups or between various Hasidic groups. This anomaly also raised the question as to which rabbi would better represent the religious and social values of the community. Such a controversy broke out in the Orthodox community of Sighet, seat of the Hungarian county of Maramaros. Following the 1868–1869 congress, Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda Teitelbaum, also known as Yitav Lev, the town’s chief rabbi, maintained that the Orthodox Bureau was headed by excessively lenient rabbis who endorsed modern modes of dress, secular education, and

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the study of non-Jewish languages. Consequently, despite repeated requests, he refused to allow his community to join the Bureau, claiming that this would lower its religious standards.52 His attitude toward modernity and secular education, as well as his contempt for non-Hasidic yeshivas, aggravated his adversaries. These were headed by members of the powerful Kahana family, descendants of one of Sighet’s former Ashkenazi chief rabbis, who were not only considered among the town’s richest people but were also known as scholars who led a pious way of life.53 In the 1880s, toward the end of his life, Yitav Lev sought to appoint his son, Rabbi Hanania Yom-Tov Lipa as his successor. Fearing the Kahana family would oppose the nomination, Yitav Lev finally introduced new regulations that would enable his community to join the Orthodox Bureau. This turned out to be an astute political move, since despite the Kahana family’s opposition, the Bureau’s officials supported Rabbi Lipa’s nomination, which enabled him to succeed his father as the town’s chief rabbi. After all the appeals made by the Kahana family were dismissed and Rabbi Lipa’s nomination finalized, a group of Ashkenazi Jews, headed by the Kahana family, declared that it wished to withdraw from the main community and to establish a separate “Sephardic” community. They justified their move by offering precisely the same reasons that Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda had given throughout the years in which he had refused to join the Orthodox Bureau. Although a local episode to begin with, this controversy soon engulfed many rabbis from both Hungary and nearby Galicia and gave rise to fierce debates in numerous communities.54 This dispute involved multiple hearings at the Orthodox Bureau’s rabbinical court and within the civil legal system as well as the use of bribery, slander, threats, and even physical violence. Eventually, by engaging in several political maneuvers that won the support of the region’s most influential rabbis, Rabbi Teitelbaum’s camp emerged victorious and the separate community activists waived their claim to independence.55 The Politics of the Orthodox Communities’ Chief Rabbis An Orthodox rabbi is a Jewish scholar who was ordained by other recognized rabbis after they verified that not only had he gained a profound knowledge of the Talmud and of the Halakha’s textbooks, but also adhered to a highly observant and conservative lifestyle. A rabbi who excelled in his studies and became known for his scholastic and moral virtues, especially if he descended from a rabbinical family, might be appointed as a community’s chief rabbi. As such, he was considered to occupy a special public and halakhic status and was known as Mara De-Atra (master of the place). By and large, chief rabbis gained the respect of most community members, who regarded them not only as scholars of Talmud and Halakha but also as figures of high moral and spiritual stature.56

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In Hungary, the process of ordaining a rabbi, the election of a chief rabbi, his job description, and his rights and authority were all defined by the Orthodox Bureau’s regulations. The Bureau’s approval of the nomination generally finalized the process and confirmed that the elected rabbi was an official cleric. Once a rabbi was elected, he signed a contract with the local Jewish council. It specified the terms of his employment, his salary, and other benefits to which he was entitled, as well as his commitments. The services the rabbi provided included the following: Supervising the kashrut of meat and other food products; monitoring the operation of Jewish institutions such as the mikveh, the cemetery, the Talmud Torah school, and the Eruv (a symbolic perimeter that facilitated the carrying of objects during the Sabbath); officiating at religious ceremonies such as weddings, divorces, funerals, and circumcisions; teaching at the local Beth Midrash or yeshiva; holding audiences and ruling on halakhic questions; chairing the local rabbinical court; and offering informal consultation on issues such as business, matchmaking, and familial disputes. Since a chief rabbi was an official clergyman, in many cases, he was also responsible for keeping the civil registries, for which he received a small governmental allowance.57 Although he was paid both by the local community and by the government, the rabbi’s income was usually low and often did not suffice for his family’s needs. Some rabbis ran a small yeshiva and charged tuition fees, and in other cases, the rabbi’s wife was awarded the concession to sell yeast, needed to bake bread and challah. Some Hasidic rabbis would receive donations from their followers who came to seek their advice or blessing. Nonetheless, many Hungarian chief rabbis were quite indigent and were forced to seek assistance from wealthy members of the community.58 They were, moreover, highly dependent on the community officers who controlled their salary.59 Despite the low pay and the long working hours, the position of chief rabbi was sought after for several reasons: The prestige associated with becoming an appreciated spiritual leader, especially for those born into a rabbinic lineage; being a chief rabbi allowed one to earn a living without having to perform physical labor or to become a trader; in many cases, a chief rabbi was nominated for life, and this ensured he would be provided for in his old age; through his position, a chief rabbi could arrange gainful employment for his sons and sons-in-law and assist his daughters to find a respectable match; a chief rabbi was exempt from military service60; when a rabbi passed away, one of his sons or sons-in-law was likely to succeed him, and his widow was eligible for a small allowance from the community.61 The election of a new chief rabbi was usually accompanied by power struggles between the community’s various camps. These struggles stemmed from several reasons: Since a chief rabbi was appointed for several years and even for life, he was expected to promote the worldview of those who had supported his nomination for a very long period. If, for example, a rabbi was elected by the votes of the more modern members of the community, he was

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expected to be more receptive to general education, modern appearance, and the use of foreign languages during non-religious cultural activity. If, on the other hand, a rabbi was elected by the more conservative members, he would generally take an anti-modern stand. In other cases, specific Hasidic groups would seek to appoint a candidate who either belonged to their own court or who adopted a favorable attitude toward Hasidism. The Ashkenazim, on the other hand, preferred a nonHasidic or even an anti-Hasidic chief rabbi. Occasionally the council’s officers would choose to nominate a “weak” candidate who could be easily maneuvered rather than a “strong” and independent individual who may threaten their authority. A chief rabbi also served as head of the rabbinical court. This played into the hands of businessmen who would support a particular candidate in the hope that he would show them consideration should they need to appear before him in court.62 The process of electing a rabbi could be influenced in several ways: By manipulating the members of the community’s council that approved the candidate; by altering the community’s regulations in a way that would impact either the number or the social composition of the eligible voters; by eliminating a specific candidate by informing the authorities that he failed to meet the official requirements or that he supported subversive antigovernmental activity; by establishing alliances among various political groups in support of an agreed candidate; through the use of propaganda, slander, threats, social boycotting, and even physical violence against candidates or community officers. As a result, the process of electing a new chief rabbi sometimes dragged on for several years and was frequently accompanied by foul play. In certain instances, matters got out of hand and the local police and justice system had to intervene.63 Even after his election, a chief rabbi was not immune from attack by council officers or by local Jewish groups that disliked his rulings. The chief rabbi frequently, and sometimes unwillingly, stood at the forefront of clashes between rival social and ideological groups, such as those between Hasidim and non-Hasidim, modernists and anti-modernists, or Zionists and antiZionists. In certain cases, the rabbi became embroiled in wrangling with the community’s shohtim, merchants or food dealers and manufacturers, since his rulings on kashrut affected their businesses. On occasion, during the course of such disputes, the chief rabbi was harassed to such a degree that he himself asked to quit his office.64 On the other hand, if the rabbi handled such quarrels successfully, this would indicate his political stability and his ability to gain the support of community officers or of other prominent rabbis. In other words, for a chief rabbi to gain public recognition, he needed to demonstrate personal and political skills such as rhetorical ability, persuasiveness, and the capacity to absorb personal attacks. Only a handful of chief rabbis who possessed such a mental makeup were able to subdue any opposition that questioned their authority.

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An example of this type of political wrangling is provided by the events that took place in the rabbinical seat of Cluj (Kolozsvár, Klausenburg, ClujNapoca), one of the largest towns in the district of Transylvania. In 1851, Rabbi Hillel Lichtenstein was appointed its chief rabbi. Soon thereafter, a quarrel broke out between him and Rabbi Israel Avraham Friedman (?-1879), chief rabbi of Gyulafehérvár (Carlsburg, Alba Iulia), who also served as chief rabbi of the entire district. Rabbi Lichtenstein accused Rabbi Friedman of being overly lenient and of adopting modern characteristics.65 These allegations led to the dismissal of Rabbi Lichtenstein from office, but this did not deter him from leveling the same accusations at his successor, Rabbi Shraga Feish Fishman (1825–1881).66 These constant public attacks resulted in Rabbi Fishman’s resignation after only two years in office. Rabbi Lichtenstein continued his attacks on Cluj’s next chief rabbi – Rabbi Avraham Glasner (1825–1877) – for his moderate stance and for sometimes delivering his sermons in German, a language that many of the local Jews understood better than Hebrew or Yiddish.67 Following Rabbi Avraham’s death in 1877, he was succeeded by his son – Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Glasner (1856–1925).68 A group of more modern and educated Jews (maskilim) considered him too conservative and, in 1881, established an independent community that later joined the Neolog organization. Several years later, the town’s Hasidic community accused Rabbi Glasner of delivering excessively lenient rulings and entangled him in a series of halachic controversies.69 This conflict escalated after Rabbi Glasner publicly declared his support for Zionism and especially after 1902, when he became one of the prominent leaders of the religious-Zionist party – Ha-Mizrahi. The Hasidim of Cluj and from nearby locations continued to harass him until he migrated to Palestine in the early 1920s. Zionism: A New Challenge at the Beginning of the Twentieth Century During the nineteenth century, thousands of Orthodox Jews migrated from Hungary to Palestine. They founded their own religious and social institutions and established new settlements outside the traditional Jewish concentrations.70 Therefore, when in the 1880s the pre-Zionist Hovevei Zion movement proposed the idea of Yishuv Eretz Israel, meaning the organized settlement of the Land of Israel, this was welcomed among many Orthodox Jews in Hungary.71 After the Zionist movement was established in the latter years of the nineteenth century, and especially at the beginning of the twentieth century, the Zionist idea was well received even among the more Orthodox communities.72 During that period, while most Hungarian rabbis simply ignored Zionism,73 it was the Neolog leaders who condemned it for what they maintained was disloyalty to their homeland – Hungary.74 At the beginning of the twentieth century, the Orthodox Bureau, which at that time represented about half a million Jews who belonged to some 300 major and 1,000 minor communities, tended to ignore Zionism.75 Its first

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twentieth-century assembly, held in Budapest in 1902, did not discuss Zionism, nor did the next two meetings convened in 1903.76 The only Orthodox rabbis to openly condemn Zionism were a few Extreme Orthodox rabbis, such as Rabbi Hananya Yom-Tov Lipa Teitelbaum of Sighet.77 One of the rabbis who publicly supported Zionism was Rabbi David Zvi Katzburg (1856–1936), editor of the popular Orthodox journal Tel Talpiot. He referred to the religious-Zionist party – Ha-Mizrahi – as “a group of pious God-fearing Hasidim and Torah scholars.”78 The establishment of the religious-Zionist movement – Ha-Mizrahi – in 1902 was likewise ignored by almost all Hungarian rabbis. The following year it announced that it would hold its first international assembly in the Hungarian town of Pressburg (Pozsony, Bratislava) in 1904.79 This indicated that Ha-Mizrahi not only considered Hungary a territory in which it had already gained substantial support, but also marked its intention to expand its political activity there. This, however, was unacceptable to the Extreme Orthodox rabbis, who rejected the new religious ideology as well as the incursion of an unfamiliar, non-Hungarian, Orthodox organization that threatened to undermine the Bureau. Prior to the assembly some 50 Extreme Orthodox rabbis, headed by Rabbi Moshe Greenwald of Chust, signed a public petition condemning Zionism, Ha-Mizrahi movement, and its intended assembly.80 This act marked the establishment of the anti-Zionist Hungarian front that exists to this day under the leadership of the rabbis of the Satmar Hasidic court.81 The ideological and political conflict between mainstream and Extreme Orthodox rabbis was well demonstrated by the behavior of Rabbi Simcha Bunem Sofer (1843–1907, named after his book Shevet Sofer), Pressburg’s Chief Rabbi. He was the grandson of Hatam Sofer, once Hungary’s most influential rabbi, who supported the idea of Yishuv Eretz Israel by Orthodox Jews.82 Rabbi Simcha Bunem, one of the most esteemed leaders of mainstream Orthodoxy, headed Hungary’s most prestigious Ashkenazi yeshiva and was a leading officer of the Orthodox Bureau. This made him one of the most influential rabbis of his generation. Clearly, Ha-Mizrahi would not have convened its assembly in Pressburg in 1904 had he not given his blessing beforehand. However, following the petition initiated by Rabbi Greenwald, Rabbi Sofer realized he had made a tactical mistake and feared that the Extreme Orthodox anti-Zionist rabbis would exploit this event to embarrass him by portraying him as overly lenient, just as they had smeared the abovementioned Rabbi Glasner of Cluj. Consequently, Rabbi Sofer apologized and explained that he was out of town when the decision to host the assembly was taken and that he did not intend to speak at its opening ceremony.83 During the first decade of the twentieth century, two of the fiercest antiZionist campaigners, Rabbi Teitelbaum of Sighet and Rabbi Greenwald of Chust, died. This allowed the more tolerant Orthodox camp, whose adherents either supported Zionism or at least sponsored Haredi settlement in Palestine,

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to gain ground. The Orthodox Bureau’s president, Arye Leib Lifshitz, also passed away at this time and was succeeded by Avraham Frankel (1859–1937), a successful businessman who was elected by a large majority.84 Thousands of participants, as well as 200 rabbis and many journalists, attended the Bureau’s general assembly in 1905. Although it held protracted debates on the fate of Jewish Orthodoxy, the question of Zionism, or even Ha-Mizrahi, was never discussed.85 Ignoring the “Zionist question” was one of the political means Frankel employed to stabilize the Bureau. To that end, he also enhanced the status and representation of non-rabbinical delegates, both within the communities and in the Bureau. He tended to ignore cases in which non-observant Jews were elected as representatives of Orthodox communities. In 1906, Frankel furthermore ordered the closure of the Bureau’s magazine, Zsidò Hiradò. These actions, so he believed, would encourage the Bureau’s leaders to concentrate on practical matters rather than engaging in unnecessary ideological controversies.86 Several non-Zionist rabbis realized that if they failed to address the ideological issues and the practical needs of Orthodox Jews, many would join the religious-Zionist movement Ha-Mizrahi. Consequently, local organizations began supporting the settlement of Orthodox Jews in Palestine on condition that it not be organized through the Zionist organizations.87 Such initiatives were sponsored by prominent rabbis such as Rabbi Yeshaya Zilberstein (1857–1930) of Vác (Waitzen). He was one of the more influential rabbis at the time and the publisher of the above-mentioned Orthodox journal Tel Talpiot, which publicly supported the Yishuv Eretz Israel movement.88 Two of the Bureau’s high-ranking officials, its president Frankel and Rabbi Yacov Kopel Reich (1829–1938) – chief rabbi of Budapest’s Orthodox community – supported the movement and initiated tours to Palestine, tailored especially to Orthodox travelers.89 In addition, the Orthodox newspaper Va-Yalket Yosef published articles by pro-Zionist rabbis, the most prominent of whom was Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Ha-Cohen Kook (1865–1935), who at the time served as Jaffa and Palestine’s new colonies’ chief rabbi.90 Other Orthodox newspapers also encouraged the settlement of Haredi Jews in Palestine,91 and a public decree signed by the Bureau’s officials called on its public to support the existing Haredi settlers by purchasing etrogim (citrons) grown in Palestine.92 Intra-Orthodox Conflicts in the Early Twentieth Century Under Frankel’s leadership, the Orthodox communities’ organization, which until then had operated under a temporary license, gained full formal recognition and changed its name to The Central Bureau of the Autonomous Orthodox Communities.93 It formulated an expanded version of its regulations and spelled out its judicial authority to rule in conflicts that occurred both within a specific community and between communities. It also reaffirmed the

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order that made the religious rulings and customs of the Shulhan Arukh binding on all individuals and communities.94 The autonomous status of the Orthodox Bureau alongside its authorization to act as a supreme court in internal Jewish and Orthodox affairs, prompted a rise in intra-Orthodox controversies on which rabbinical courts were required to judge not according to the principles of the civil law but according to the Jewish halakha. Below the surface, political considerations and power struggles played a crucial role in its verdicts. An example of such conflicts was the controversy between the Sighet Rebbe and the Viznitz Rebbe regarding the control of funds gathered in Hungary for Kolel Maramaros. A Kolel is a charitable fund designed to collect money in a specific area – a country, a region, or a city – and to distribute it to Orthodox Jews from that area who resided in Palestine. (Today, this term has another meaning – A Yeshiva for married men.) The tension between the Hasidic court of Sighet, namely the followers of the Teitelbaum family’s rabbis, on the one hand, and the court of Viznitz on the other, arose almost a century ago. Maramaros county, the battleground between the two camps, was informally divided into two Hasidic regions. Sighet and its surrounding, in which Teitelbaum’s Hasidim were more dominant, and the county’s southern part, in which the Viznitz Hasidim were the majority. Despite the partition was not absolute and the tension between the two courts erupted from time to time in specific locations, peace was maintained for most of the time. Since its establishment in the mid-nineteenth century, the funds gathered for Kolel Maramaros were supervised by the heads of the Viznitz Hasidic court. Although most of their Hasidim lived in Maramaros, Hungary, the town Vijniţa, in which the Viznitz Rebbes lived and from which they led the local community, was located in Bukovina, Austria, and therefore was not under the jurisdiction of the Hungarian Orthodox Bureau. The controversy erupted in 1908, a few years after the death of Rabbi Lipa, Sighet’s former chief rabbi, who was considered Hungary’s undisputed Hasidic leader. He was succeeded by his son – Rabbi Haim Zvi Teitelbaum (1880–1926) – who was eager to prove he was as strong a leader as his late father. To this end, he needed a worthy opponent on the one hand and sufficient political leverage to ensure his victory on the other hand. The Sighet Rebbe’s Hasidim in Palestine complained that they did not receive a proportionate cut of the funds that were gathered for the Kolel, and asked Rabbi Haim Zvi to intervene on their behalf. Rabbi Haim Zvi accused Rabbi Israel Hager (1860–1936), the Viznitz Rebbe who headed the Kolel, of discriminating against the Sighet Hasidim. He further accused him of appointing Rabbi Shmuel Benjamin Danzig (1875–1944) as the Kolel’s representative in Sighet. Although he had graduated from the prestigious Pressburg yeshiva, Rabbi Danzig acted as the chief rabbi of the modern community in Sighet. This, in fact, was the same Status Quo community that was established by Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda, Rabbi Haim

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Zvi’s grandfather. Nevertheless, in the eyes of the Sighet Hasidim, leading a modern community was a sufficient excuse to totally disqualify Rabbi Danzig and his followers. To humiliate both Rabbi Danzig and Rabbi Hager, Rabbi Haim Zvi banned the shohet of the modern community, who was a Viznitz Hasid, and declared the halakhic rulings made by Rabbi Danzig invalid.95 The Viznitz Rebbe assembled a supporting camp that included Rabbi Yosef Meir Weiss (1838–1909), head of the Hasidic court in the village of Spinka (Săpânţa, Szaplonca), located not far from Sighet. This relatively new and popular Hasidic court was also attacked by the Teitelbaum’s rabbis because it had undermined their hegemony in the region. The two sides, Sighet and Viznitz, published posters and booklets in which they slandered each other.96 Following a drawn out public feud a rabbinical court was summoned by the Orthodox Bureau, and its chief judge, Rabbi Moshe Greenwald of Chust, decided that Rabbi Hager would remain president of the Kolel but that funds that were raised in Sighet and its adjacent villages be distributed by Rabbi Teitelbaum’s representatives in Palestine.97 The Viznitz Rebbe’s political defeat led to yet another attack on him. A few years later, Rabbi Zvi Hirsh Shapira (1850–1913) of Munkács, Hungary, decided to break away from Kolel Galicia, another Kolel that the Viznitz Rebbe headed, and to establish his own charitable organization named Kolel Munkács and the Ten Districts. Rabbi Hager of Viznitz challenged the new Kolel, but as in the previous case, the dispute ended with the Orthodox Bureau recognizing the new Kolel.98 These two episodes made it clear that the Hungarian Bureau tended to support its members during intra-Orthodox conflicts. When Rabbi Israel Hager was forced to leave Vijniţa during World War I, this was probably one of the considerations that eventually led him to choose to settle in Oradea (Nagyvárad, Großwardein), Hungary, rather than to move to another town in Galicia or Poland.99 The Politics of Hungary’s New Orthodox Organizations The first decade of the twentieth century witnessed the establishment of several additional Haredi organizations in Hungary. These were founded in various locations, differed in their goals, and bore names such as Agudat Yereim, Agudat Haredim, Agudat Ha-Rabanim, or Histadrut Haredim.100 Some of these organizations catered only to the rabbis or community officers, while others addressed the Orthodox public in general; some operated in specific locations while others sought to operate on a national scale; some engaged in promoting specific religious activities, such as keeping the Sabbath or studying the Talmud, while others addressed the overall maintenance of the Orthodox lifestyle.101 One of the more meaningful organizations that operated in Hungary during the second decade of the twentieth century was Mahzikei Ha-Dat (Holders of

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the Faith).102 It was established by Rabbi Ze’ev Kahana (1854–1940) of Csorna, who also published a magazine that bore the same name.103 This organization became popular in Hungary’s western and southern provinces, where the Orthodox communities were predominantly Ashkenazi and held more moderate views compared to those in the eastern parts of the country.104 The leading figure in this organization was Rabbi Eliezer Deutch (1850–1916) of Bonyhád, who promoted the organization through the magazine Va-Yalket Yosef, published by his son-in-law. Mahzikei Ha-Dat was established in 1910 as a local organization, rapidly expanded to other nearby locations, and sought to establish additional branches in regions farther afield.105 It engaged in activities that the Orthodox Bureau had neglected, such as finding employment for religious professionals like hazanim (cantors), melamdim (teachers), shohtim (ritual slaughterers), and rabbis; raising the governmental allowance for rabbis; establishing fixed criteria to ordain new rabbis; and setting out standard regulations for electing a community’s chief rabbi. Mahzikei Ha-Dat also supported the settlement of Orthodox Jews in Palestine and cooperated with Moriah, a similar organization that operated in Germany.106 The organization also acted in order to enhance the religious life of individuals: It encouraged checking the parchments of teffilin and mezuzahs and replaced those that were found to be damaged or incorrectly written; supervising the kashrut of the wine and alcoholic beverages industry; gathering funds to support yeshiva students; and assisting Jewish recruits to the Hungarian Army.107 Reviewing the Formative Years of Hungarian Orthodoxy Following the 1868–1869 congress, Hungarian Orthodox Jews enjoyed the right to administer their communal life separately from non-Orthodox communities. The Orthodox Bureau was the first and one of the most successful Orthodox organizations that ever existed. As demonstrated in the following chapters, the right to determine their separate way of life was so significant for Orthodox Jews that they went to great lengths to maintain this unique arrangement, even in the face of the great difficulties they encountered following World War I. The Orthodox Bureau continued to operate in the interwar period, not only in the now far smaller interwar Hungary, but also in the former Hungarian territories that were annexed to other countries, in which it set up independent local bureaus. These territories included Transylvania (Romania), Slovakia, and Carpathian Ruthenia (Czechoslovakia). Other separate Orthodox organizations were established in Burgenland (Austria), Yugoslavia, and even in a single community in Italy. Although the general notion of Jewish Orthodoxy evolved around the turn of the nineteenth century, it was the Hungarian Orthodox Bureau that lent it its contemporary meaning and transformed it from an abstract ideology into a

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political and social entity. This, however, would not have occurred had it not been for the unique public atmosphere that prevailed in mid-nineteenth-century Hungary, which facilitated the establishment of an organization that catered for the specific needs of Orthodox Jews. These particular circumstances allowed them to establish their own communities and to conduct them in accordance with their own concept of the Jewish halakha. Thus, for the first time in modern Jewish history, rabbis not only filled the role of spiritual and moral counselors, but also became actively involved in ongoing political life. It was the rabbis who decided that the Orthodox delegates should walk out of the 1868–1869 congress, and they were the ones who lobbied for the establishment of a separate Orthodox organization. The rabbis formulated the principles underlying the Orthodox Bureau’s regulations and the stands taken by each community’s chief rabbi determined if it was deemed eligible to join the Bureau. The rabbis traced the ideological boundaries that separated the righteous Orthodox from non-Orthodox deviants, and the Bureau’s rabbinical court possessed the supreme authority to rule in disputes that concerned the religious conduct of a specific community, religious group, or individual that belonged to the Orthodox Bureau. Neither the fact that the Bureau catered for halakha-observing Jews nor the involvement of rabbis in its leadership made it immune from experiencing all the hardships of a secular political organization. Tension between groups that maintained various religious lifestyles as well as personal rivalries played a major role in the conduct of many Orthodox communities as well as in that of the Bureau’s leadership. Flying in the face of halakhic principles, many Orthodox leaders commonly resorted to slander, fraud, forgery, informing on others to the authorities, and even physical abuse. These rabbis, unsurprisingly, often justified such wrongful acts by halakhic rulings. Both the unparalleled achievements and the embarrassing weaknesses of the Hungarian Orthodox Bureau were taken into consideration when other Orthodox organizations were established in other countries, such as Germany, Galicia, or the Russian Empire. When, for example, the leaders of Agudat Israel came to decide on its structure and its leadership, they looked to the Orthodox Bureau’s precedent, adopted some of its principles, and rejected others. This is discussed at length in the following chapter. In addition, when former leaders of Hungarian Orthodoxy emigrated to far-off locations such as Jerusalem or New York, they continued to promote the idea of Orthodoxy as a political movement. Consequently, and even unwittingly, post-Holocaust Orthodoxy has been greatly influenced by precedents that were set many decades earlier. This was the case with Satmar’s anti-Zionist, isolationist Extreme Orthodoxy, which can be traced back many generations; this was also the case when rival Haredi fractions published separate magazines in which one party slandered the other; and the same is true of intra-Haredi controversies that dragged on for years in rabbinical courts until a “sinful” civil court was called upon to make the final decision.

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Notes 1 Moshe Pelli, “Milhamto Ha-Ra’ayonit Ve-Ha-Hilkhatit Shel Ha-Rav Aharon Chorin Be’ad Reforma” (Rabbi Aharon Chorin’s ideological and halachic battle for religious reforms), Hebrew Union College Annual 39 (1968): 63–79. 2 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Maramaros, Hungary – The cradle of Extreme Orthodoxy,” Modern Judaism 35 (2) (2015): 147–174. 3 Jacob Katz, “Pulmus Ha-Heikhal Be-Hamburg Ve-Aseifat Braunschweig: Avnei Derekh Be-Hitpathut Ha-Ortodoxia” (The Hamburg Temple Debate and the Braunschweig Assembly: Milestones in the Development of Jewish Orthodoxy), Idem, Halacha in Straits: Obstacles to Orthodoxy at Its Inception, Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1992, 43–72. 4 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Jewish Orthodoxy’s first Rabbinical conference held in 1844 in Paks (Bacs), Hungary,” Modern Judaism, 41 (3) (2022): 273–293; Allgemeine Zeitung des Judentums, September 23, 1844, 548–551; Simha Bunem David Sofer, Mazkeret Paks, vol. 1, Jerusalem, 1962, 110–116; Yekutiel Yehuda Greenwald, Le-Palgot Israel Be-Hungarya (Jewish Controversies in Hungary), Deva, 1929, 34–38; Yosef Yitzhak Cohen, Hakhmei Hungaria (The Sages of Hungary), Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalayim, 1997, 65. 5 Meir Hildesheimer, “Rabanei Hungaria Ve-Asefat Mikhalovitz” (The Hungarian rabbis and the Nagymihály assembly), Kiryat Sefer 63 (3) (1990–1991): 941–951; Nathaniel Katzburg, “Psak Ha-Din Shel Mikhalovitz Taf-Resh-Kaf-Vav” (The Nagymihály Assembly’s Resolutions 1866), in: Studies in the History of Jewish Society, edited by Emmanuel Etkes and Yosef Salmon, Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1980, 273–286 (in Hebrew). 6 Nathaniel Katzburg, “Ha-Diyun Ha-Tziburi Al Ha-Emantzipatziya Ha-Yehudit Be-Hungaria Bishnot Ha-Arbaim Shel Ha-Mea Ha-Yud-Tet,” (The public debate on the emancipation of Hungarian Jews in the 1840s), Bar Ilan,1 (1963): 282–301; Idem, “Milhamtam Shel Yehudei Hungaria Lema’an Shivyon Zekhuyot Dati Bishnot Ha-90 La-Mea Ha-19” (Hungarian Jews’ struggle for equal religious rights in the 1890s), Zion 22 (1957): 119–148; Michael K. Silber, “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy: The Invention of a Tradition,” in: The Uses of Tradition; Jewish Continuity in the Modern Era, edited by Jack Wertheimer, New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992, 23–84. 7 Nathaniel Katzburg, “Ha-Kongres Ha-Yehudi Be-Hungarya Bishnat 1869: Reshima Shel Mekorot” (The 1869 Jewish congress in Hungary: A list of sources), Areshet 4 (1966): 22–376. 8 Jacob Katz, The Unhealed Breach, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 1995, 96–107 (in Hebrew). 9 Ha-Magid, August 12, 1868, 2; Ibid, October 6, 1869, 2; Katz, The Unhealed Breach, 137–168; Nathaniel Katzburg, “The Jewish Congress of Hungary 1868–9,” in: Hungarian Jewish Studies, vol. 2, edited by Randolph L. Braham, New York: World Federation of Hungarian Jews, 1969, 1–33. From the Haredi perspective: Ben Zion Yakobovitz, Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 1, Bnei Brak, 1986, 103–215. 10 Das Traditionelle Judentuhum, November 30, 1871, 457–458; Ha-Magid, December 6, 1871, 2. 11 Shmuel Ha-Cohen Weingarten, “Ha-Shelila She-Beshitat Ha-Perud BeUngaria,” in: Areshet, edited by Yitzhak Werfel, Jerusalem, 1944, 432–438; Katz, The Unhealed Breach, 204–213; Howard Nathan Lupovitch, “Between Orthodox Judaism and Neology: the origins of the Status Quo movement,” Jewish Social Studies 9 (2) (2003): 123–153. 12 Shimom A. Zusman-Sofer, “Al Irgun Ha-Yahadut Ha-Haredit Be-Hungaria,” Ha-Ma’ayan 4 (2) (1964): 4–7.

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13 Organizatians-Shtatut Fir Di Autonome Yidish Orthodoxe Raligionsgenomensshaft Ungarens Und Zibenbirgenem, Ofen (Budapest), 1870; Shevet Ahim, March 23, 1872, 2; Ibid., April 4, 1872, 2. 14 Accepting the Shulhan Arukh as the supreme halachic authority was one of the key issues on which the Orthodox and the Neolog movements differed during the 1868–1869 congress deliberations. 15 On the Jewish-Hungarian press see: Andreàs Zima, “Cult or spirit?: Integration strategies and history of memory in Jewish groups in Hungary at the turn of the 19th century,” Acta Ethnographica Hungarica 53 (2) (2008): 243–262. 16 Shevet Ahim, September 27, 1872, 1; Zvi Yaacov Abraham, Le-Korot HaYahadut Be-Transylvania (Jewish History in Transylvania), vol. 1, New York, 1951, 73–74. 17 Shevet Ahim, April, April 4, 1872, 1; ibid., May 9, 1872, 1; ibid., May 16, 1872, 2; ibid., May 30, 1872, 1. 18 On the seminar see: Avraham Naftali Zvi Roth, “Beit Ha-Midrash Le-Rabanim Be-Hungaria,” in: Mosadot Torah Be-Eyropa Be-Binyanam U-Behurbanam, edited by Shmuel Kalman Mirsky, New York: Ogen, 1956, 635–654. 19 Although in practice the Bureau was viewed by the Ministry of Religion as a representative of the Orthodox Jews, it actually operated for many years under the status of a Temporary Executive Committee. The legislative processes required for its full recognition were halted owing to the Neolog movement’s objection. 20 Ivri Anokhi, May 28, 1880, 274–275; ibid., June 18, 1880, 299–300; Mahzikei HaDat, June 4, 1880, 1; Shevet Ahim, June 9, 1880, 1; ibid., June 23, 1880, 1–2; ibid., July 7, 1880, 1. 21 This demand was submitted many decades earlier but was never implemented. See: Haim Gertner, The Rabbi and the City: The Rabbinate in Galicia and Its Encounter with Modernity, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2013 (in Hebrew), 13. 22 Ivri Anokhi, November 2, 1883, 26; ibid., December 21, 1883, 2; ibid., September 5, 1884, 233–234; ibid., January 15, 1886, 131–132; ibid., August 17, 1888, 354–355; Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 81. 23 Ivri Anokhi, December 21, 1883, 82–83; ibid., November 14, 1884, 42–43. 24 Ivri Anokhi, December 14, 1883, 75; ibid., February 8, 1884, 144–145. 25 Ivri Anokhi, December 5, 1884, 69–71; ibid., March 6, 1885, 171–172. 26 Mahzikei Ha-Dat, June 21, 1888, 1–2; ibid., July 5, 1888, 1–2; ibid., July 17, 1888, 4; ibid., September 2, 1888, 5–6; ibid., October 4, 1888, 7; ibid., October 18, 1888, 5; Avigdor Dagan (ed.), The Jews of Czechoslovakia: Historical Studies and Surveys, vol. 1, Philadelphia: The Society for the History of Czechoslovakian Jews, 1968, 276, 287. 27 Ivri Anokhi, January 8, 1886, 124–125; ibid., May 7, 1886, 251; ibid., May 28, 1886, 275; ibid., January 25, 1899, 149. 28 Adam S. Ferziger, “Religious zealotry and religious law: rethinking conflict and coexistence,” Journal of Religion 84 (1) (2004): 44–77; Nathaniel Katzburg, “HaHanhaga Ha-Merkazit Shel Ha-Kehilot Be-Hungaria 1870–1939” (The central leadership of the Jewish communities in Hungary), Zion 50 (1985): 379–395. 29 Haim Sofer, K”N Sofer, in Yosef Zvi Sofer, Toldot Sofrim, London, 1963, 145–156 (clause 129). 30 Egyenlöseg, January 12, 1890, 2; ibid., January 19, 1890, 1; ibid., June 6, 1890, 8; Ivri Anokhi, February 21, 1890, 2. 31 Mahzikei Ha-Dat, April 3, 1890, 3–4; Jacab Gabel & Asbóth János, A Lelkiismereti Szabadsag es a Magyarhoni Zsidok Szervezese: Nyilt Valasz Ullmann Sandor Orszaggyulesi Kepviselo a Kepviselohaz 1890. evi, februar 1-en Tartott Ulesen

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33

34

35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

44 45 46 47 48 49 50

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Elmondott Beszedere, Budapest, 1890. Gabel headed the Jewish school in Oradea and edited several Orthodox newspapers including the Zsidò Hiradò. Egyenlöseg, February 23, 1890, 3; ibid., May 23, 1890, 3; ibid., February 5, 1892, 4; ibid., February 19, 1892, 5; ibid., March 4, 1892, 4; ibid., April 1, 1892, 1; Zsidò Hiradò, January 8, 1891, 17–19; Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, October 26, 1894, 2–3; ibid., May 3, 1895, 5–6; ibid., June 8, 1895, 6; Mahzikei Ha-Dat, February 1, 1895, 1–2; ibid., April 4, 1895, 6; ibid., July 12, 1895, 6. Zsidò Hiradò, March 17, 1892, 1–2; Mahzikei Ha-Dat, July 21, 1892, 6; ibid., October 11, 1894, 1; ibid., April 4, 1895, 6; Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, October 26, 1894, 1–4; ibid., February 8, 1895, 3; ibid., May 3, 1895, 5–6; Egyenlöseg, June 1, 1894, 4; Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 82–83. Allgemeine Judische Zeitung, August 28, 1895, 1; ibid., March 19, 1896, 1–2; Tel Talpiyot, Tishrei 5,655 (1895), 9–10; ibid., Tishrei 15, 5,655 (1895), 9–10; Zsidò Hiradò, August 22, 1895, 1–2; ibid., March 12, 1896, 1–2; ibid., March 19, 1896, 1–2; Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 82. Ha-Magid, January 9, 1896, 15; ibid., February 6, 1896, 45–46; ibid., February 20, 1896, 63–64; ibid., April 16, 1896, 123; ibid., July 3, 1896, 178; ibid., September 17, 1899, 320. Mahzikei Ha-Dat, November 13, 1896, 6–7; Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, December 4, 1896, 5; Judaica, October 1934, 8–10. Tel Talpiyot, letter 10, 5,658 (1898), 83. Allgemeine Judische Zeitung, November 11, 1898, 1–2; ibid., November 15, 1898, 1–2; ibid., November 16, 1898, 1; Mahzikei Ha-Dat, November 18, 1898, 2–3; ibid., December 2, 1898, 6. Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, February 5, 1902, 5; ibid., February 20, 1903, 3. Shevet Ahim, January 11, 1876, 1. Shevet Ahim, April 17, 1877, 1. Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 76. Esther Miron, “Alilat Ha-dam Tizsaeszler, Teguvot Ve-Hashlakhot Be-Hungaria U-Mehutza La” (The Reactions and Implications of the Tiszaeszlár Blood-Libel in Hungary and in Other Locations), in: The Jews in Hungary: Historical Researches, edited by Moshe Eliyahu Gonda, Yosef Yitzhak Cohen and Yehuda Marton, Tel Aviv: The Association for the Research of the History of Hungarian Jewry, 1980, 154–174 (in Hebrew); Nathaniel Katzburg, Anti-Semitism in Hungary 1867–1944, Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1969, 42–60 (in Hebrew). Mahzikei Ha-Dat, April 27, 1900, 2; Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, February 16, 1906, 6; ibid., July 5, 1907, 5. Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The decline of Orthodoxy around the turn of the 20th century as reported in Galicia’s Haredi Newspapers,” Kesher 49 (2016): 126–142 (in Hebrew). See for example Kontres Ohev Mishpat, Lvov, 1887, 95b–104b (Sighet’s Jewish community’s regulations). Bela Vago, “Ha-Yehudim Ba-Behirot Be-Romania Bein Shtei Milhamot Olam” (The Jews during the election campaigns between the two World Wars), Toladot 3–4 (1973): 3–12. See, for example: Shemaya Avni, “Toldot Ha-Kehila Ha-Yehudit Be-Strimtere” (The Jewish community of Strimture), Toladot 7 (1974): 11–13. Yaacov Geller, “Havurot kedoshot Be-Romania” (Holy social societies in Romania), Sinai 95 (1984): 276–278; Sefer Zikhron David Ve-Sefer Torat Nishmat Adam, Oradea 1937 (Regulations of the Mishna society of Wilhowitz). Ivri Anokhi, October 13, 1886, 22; Shlomo Yaacov Gross and Yosef Yitzhak Cohen (eds.), The Marmaros Book: In Memory of a Hundred and Sixty Jewish Communities, Tel Aviv, 1983, 20 (in Hebrew).

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51 Ha-Magid, June 14, 1871, 3. There were very few exceptions to this rule. For example, the town Galánta had two Orthodox communities. 52 Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 86–87; David Schon, Shoharei Ha-Shem BeHarei Ha-Karpatim, Jerusalem: Shem, 2005, 148–149. 53 Ibid., 189–205. 54 On this controversy see Yehuda Shpigel, Toldot Israel Ve-Hitpathut Ha-Hasidut Be-Rusya Ha-Karpatit (History of the Jews and the Hasidic Movement in Carpathian Ruthenia), Tel Aviv, 1991, 131–174; Yekuthiel Yehuda Greenwald, Matzevet Kodesh, New York, 1952, 53–60; Yakobowitz, Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 2 (1989), 250–271; Mikhtav Galui Im Sefer Milhemet Mitzva, Sighet, 1888; Ohev Mishpat; Herman Sternberger, Interessanter bericht uber die Theilung in der jüd, Gemeinde zu Marm.-Sziget, Sighet, 1887. 55 Schon, Shoharei Ha-Shem, 282–283. The controversy ended when Galicia’s most prominent rabbis disqualified the slaughterer of the Sephardi community. 56 Gertner, The Rabbi and the City. 57 The official duties of a community’s chief rabbi were detailed in the 1868–9 Congress regulations. 58 For example: Aharon Sorasky, Lapid Ha-Esh, vol.1, Bnei Brak, 1987, 96; Asher Anshil Miler, Olamo Shel Aba, Jerusalem 1984, 142, 491; Schon, Shoharei HaShem, 78, 118. For further cases see Menachem Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rabbi (1887–1979): A Biography, Ph.D. dissertation, Tel Aviv University, 2013, 31, notes 26–27. 59 This explains why many of Hungary’s chief rabbis did not manage to publish their scholastic manuscripts during their lifetime. On the Rabbis’ poor working conditions see: Mordechai Zalkin, Rabbi and Community in the Pale, Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2017. 60 Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 140. 61 Yosef Yitzhak Cohen, Hahmei Transylvania, Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalayim, 1989, 17–23. The deceased chief rabbi’s position was transmitted in the following ways: to his son or son-in-law; as a dowry for a rabbi who married his widow or daughter; or to a rabbi who was appointed by him. 62 Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, 31–32. 63 For example: Israel Pollak, Be-Tekufa So’eret, Jerusalem, 1988, 13; Schon, Shoharei Ha-Shem, 215–217; Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, 137–147. 64 For example: Cohen, Hahmei Transylvania, 153–157; Transilvanishe Yiddish Zeitung, August 31, 1935, 3; Schon, Shoharei Ha-Shem, 288–296. 65 He used to preach in Hungarian and published the periodical Az Izraelita, also written in Hungarian. 66 Zvi Hirsh Heller, Sefer Beit Hillel, Budapest 1938, 9. 67 Cohen, Hahmei Transylvania, 152; Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 83–84. 68 Nathaniel Katzburg, “Le-Shitato Ha-Toranit Ve-Haleumit Shel Ha-Rav MemShin Glasner” (Rabbi Glasner’s Religious and National Concepts), in: Sefer Zikaron Le-Yahadut Cluj- Kolozsvár, edited by Moshe Carmilli-Weinberger, New York, 1970, 48–59; David Glasner, “Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Glasner: The Dor Revi’i,” Tradition, 32 (1) (1998): 40–56; Yoav Sorek, Ha-Rav Moshe Shmuel Glasner: Ha-Mored Me-Bifnim Ba-Ortodoksia Ha-Hungarit, Ph.D. dissertation, Ben Gurion University, 2020. 69 See the booklets rabbi Glasner published to defend his halachic rulings: Moshe Shmuel Glasner, Hakor Davar, Munkacs, 1901; idem, Or Bahir, Kolozsvár 1906; idem, Matza Shemura, Pressburg, 1910; idem, Halacha Le-Ma’ase, Munkacs 1912. 70 Shmuel Ha-Cohen Weinberger, Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Talmidav: Yahasam LeEretz Israel (Ha-Hatam Sofer and His Disciples: Their Attitude Toward the Land

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72

73 74 75 76 77

78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85

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of Israel), Jerusalem, 1945; idem, Be-Shevah Yishuv Ha-Aretz: Igrot Gedolim (Supporting the Settlement of the Holy Land: Sages’ Letters), Jerusalem, 1987; Yekuthiel Yehuda Greenwald, “Rabanei Ungaria She-Alu Le-Eretz Israel” (Hungarian rabbis that immigrated to the Land of Israel), Sinai 26 (1950): 222–225; Yehuda Raab (Ben-Ezer), Ha-Telem Ha-Rishon: Zikhronot 1862–1930 (The first furrow: Memoirs 1862–1930), Jerusalem 1988. The Haredi leadership in Galicia advised the refugees from the pogroms that occurred in the 1880s in Russia and Ukraine to settle in Palestine rather than migrate to America. See: Mahzikei Ha-Dat, May 15, 1882, 3; ibid., June 9, 1882, 2–3. Judische Zeitung, February 2, 1922, 5. Zion, one of the first Zionist newspapers, was published between 1900–1906 in Sighet, seat of Maramaros, Hungary’s most Orthodox county. It was followed by another newspaper, Ahavat Zion, which was published in 1908. On these newspapers see: Menachem Keren-Kratz, Maramaros-Sziget: Extreme Orthodoxy and Secular Jewish Culture at the Foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, Jerusalem: The Dov Sadan Publishing Project and Leyvik House, 2013, 215–220. Yekuthiel Zvi Zehavi, Mi-Hitbolelut Le-Tsionut: Mekor Tsionuto Shel Herzl (From Assimilation to Zionism: The Sources of Herzel’s Zionism), Jerusalem: Ha-Sifriya Ha-Tsionit, 1973, 259, 264–265. Ibid., 267–270; Egyenlöseg, February 19, 1899, 7; ibid., June 25, 1899, 3; ibid., April 9, 1913, 1–3. Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 93–94. The number of members belonging to these communities is only an estimate. Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, December 5, 1902, 5; ibid., February 6, 1903, 5; ibid., February 20, 1903, 3; ibid., July 17, 1903, 6; ibid., July 31, 1903, 6; Mahzikei HaDat, May 8, 1903, 3. Naftali Ben-Menachem, Mi-Safrut Israel Be-Ungaria (Jewish Literature in Hungary), Jerusalem, 1958, 85; idem, “Tseror Igrot Zion” (A bundle of letters from Palestine), Sinai 24 (1949): 342–343; Tel Talpiot, Tamuz 5,658 (1898), 84 (in which Rabbi Lipa wrote: “Nothing good will ever come to the people of Israel of these sinners and heretics [meaning the Zionists] … It is absolutely forbidden to join this sect that is headed by agnostics and heretics … ”; ibid., Av 5,658 (1898), 87; Mahzikei Ha-Dat, July 24, 1903, 3–4. Tel Talpiot, Sivan 15, 5,664 (1904), 157–160. See also Moshe Arye Roth, Der Zionismus vom Standpunkte der Jüdischen Orthodoxie, Nagytapolcsány, 1904. Mahzikei Ha-Dat, August 12, 1904, 2–3; ibid., August 19, 1904, 1–2; ibid., September 2, 1904, 1–2; Egyenlöseg, April 18, 1904, 5; Yekuthiel Zvi Zehavi, MeHa-Hatam Sofer Ve-Ad Herzel, Jerusalem, 1966, 334–347. Mahzikei Ha-Dat, August 12, 1904, 2–3; ibid., August 19, 1904, 1–4. Yehuda Friedlander, The Thoughts and Deeds of Zionist and Anti-Zionist Rabbis in Hungary: From the First Zionist Congress in 1897 until the 1950s, Ph.D. Dissertation, Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University, 2007 (in Hebrew). Ha-Cohen Weinberger, Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Talmidav. Tel Talpiot, Av 1, 5,664 (1904), 187–189; ibid., Av 15, 5,664 (1904), 199–200; ibid., Elul 1, 5,664 (1904), 207–208; Zehavi, Me-Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Ad Herzel, 340–341. Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, November 4, 1904, 5; ibid., November 18, 1904, 6. He maintained this position until 1934. Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, June 16, 1903, 3; Mahzikei Ha-Dat, March 17, 1905, 3–5; ibid., March 24, 1905, 4; ibid., March 31, 1905, 4; Va-Yalket Yosef, Adar Bet 13, 5,665 (1905), 43a–44a.

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86 Tel Talpiyot, Adar Alef, 5,665 (1905), 106–108; Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, July 7, 1905, 3; ibid., January 19, 1906, 6. 87 For example: Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, June 16, 1905, 6; Mahzikei Ha-Dat, July 14, 1905, 2; ibid., February 8, 1907, 2–3; ibid., December 13, 1907, 6; ibid., August 12, 1910, 6. 88 Va-Yalket Yosef, Shevat 15, 5,670 (1910), 27a–27b; Moriah, February 19, 1911, 3. 89 Mahzikei Ha-Dat, October 4, 1907, 5; ibid., February 11, 1910, 6; Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, December 8, 1905, 6; Moriah, November 29, 1910, 2; ibid., March 3, 1911, 3; Ben-Menachem, Mi-Safrut Israel, 9–49. 90 For example: Va-Yalket Yosef, Tamuz 15, 5,664 (1904), 62a; ibid., Nissan 14, 5,665 (1905), 53a; ibid, Sivan 15, 5,665 (1905), 67a–68b. 91 Tel Talpiyot, Iyar 15, 5,665 (1905), 143–144; ibid, Elul 15, 5,667 (1907), 199–200; Va-Yalket Yosef, Heshvan 1, 5,67 (1913), 12a–12b. 92 Va-Yalket Yosef, Elul 29, 5,668 (1908), Special supplement: Kuntres Pri Hadar; ibid., Elul 1, 5,668 (1908), 80a–80b; ibid., Elul 15, 5,668 (1908), 72a. 93 Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 71, 92–93. 94 Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, February 20, 1903, 2; ibid., February 23, 1906, 6; Mahzikei Ha-Dat, March 11, 1898, 5; ibid., January 19, 1906, 2–3; Abraham, Le-Korot HaYahadut, 95. 95 Greenwald, Matzevet Kodesh, 64–65. 96 Broadside: El AHB”I (Aheinu Benei Israel) Rodfei Tsdaka Va-Hesed […] UBerosham Ha-Rabbanim […] Be-Mahoz Marmoresh U-Medinat Ungaren (To our charitable brethren the sons of Israel […] headed by the rabbis […] of Maramaros county and the land of Hungary), Sighet, 1908; Broadside: Hen Yatsa Ale Nidpeset Me-Viznitsa, Sighet, 1908. 97 Psak Din Me-Ha-Rabanim … Be-Inyan Maot Resh-Mem-Bet-Ayin-He-Nun (Rabbi Meir Ba’al Ha-Nes) … Be-Kolel Marmoresh, Sighet, 1909; Heshbon (Bilants) Mahoz Siget Kaf-Daled (24) Mekomot … Mi-Ma’ot Resh-Mem-BetAyin-He-Nun (Rabbi Meir Ba’al Ha-Nes), Sighet, 1909. 98 Heshbon Mi-Ma’ot Resh-Mem-Bet-Ayin-He-Nun (Rabbi Meir Ba’al Ha-Nes) Daled-Alef-He-Kuf (De-Eretz Ha-Kodesh) Mi-Kolel Munkatch Ve-Asara Betsirken, Munkacs, 1910; Sefer Beit Shlomo, Irshava, 1928, 69b; Haim Elazar Shapira, Igrot Shafirin, Jerusalem, 1998, 315–321 (clauses 198–201); Shpigel Toldot Israel, 174–178; Shmuel Ha-Cohen Weingarten, “Munkatch,” in: Arim Ve-Imahot Be-Israel, vol. 1, edited by Yehuda Leib Ha-Cohen Fishman, Jerusalem, 1946, 358–359. 99 After World War I, both Nagyvárad and Maramaros county became part of Transylvania District, which was annexed to Romania. Nagyvárad was consequently named Oradea. 100 For example: Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat, August 28, 1903, 1–2; ibid., March 6, 1907, 3–4; ibid., March 28, 1907, 1–2; ibid., January 8, 1909, 1–2; Mahzikei Ha-Dat, November 22, 1901, 1–2; ibid., December 12, 1904, 2; ibid., April 12, 1907, 1–2; ibid., May 22, 1908, 2–3; ibid., January 15, 1909, 3–4; ibid., August 12, 1910, 6; ibid., May 17, 1912, 1–2; Yaacov Rosenheim, Zikhronot (Memoirs), Tel Aviv, 1957, 79–98. 101 For example: Mahzikei Ha-Dat, October 27, 1899, 3–4; ibid., May 10, 1901, 2–3. 102 An organization by the same name operated in Galicia since the late 1870s. It published the newspapers Mahzikei Ha-Dat and Kol Mahzikei Ha-Dat. 103 Mahzikei Ha-Dat, August 12, 1910, 6; Mahzikei Ha-Dat: Organ Fir Beshtrebungen Der Ungarlandishen Mahzikei Ha-Dat Fereine, Nitra-Czarna, Nissan Taf-Resh-Ayin-Alef (1911), 1–3; Yakobowitz, Zekhor Yemot Olam, 421–431.

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104 Shtatuten Des Mahzikei Ha-Dat Fere’ains: Der Komitat Sharash, Abboi, Sefesh, Borshad Und Zemplen, Kosice, 1910. 105 Va-Yalket Yosef, Nissan 1, 5,670 (1910), 45b; ibid., Nissan 15, 5,671 (1911), 50a–50b; ibid., Sivan 1, 5,671 (1911), 69a–71b; Moriah, April 9, 1913, 3. 106 Va-Yalket Yosef, Tevet 5, 5,672 (1912), 25a–26a; ibid., Nissan 1, 5,672 (1912), 46b; ibid., Iyar 15, 5,672 (1912), 63a; ibid., Heshvan 1, 5,673 (1913), 12a–12b; Meir Lerner, Hadar Ha-Carmel, vol. 1, London 1971, 20–32. 107 Va-Yalket Yosef, Adar Bet 1, 5,673 (1913), 50a–51b; ibid., Av 1, 5,673 (1913), 84a–84b; ibid., Kislev 15, 5,674 (1914), 22a–22b.

Bibliography Abraham, Zvi Yaacov. Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut Be-Transylvania (Jewish History in Transylvania), vol. 1. New York, 1951. Avni, Shemaya. “Toldot Ha-Kehila Ha-Yehudit Be-Strimtere” (The Jewish community of Strimture). Toladot 7 (1974): 11–13. Ben-Menachem, Naftali. “Tseror Igrot Zion” (A bundle of letters from Palestine). Sinai 24 (1949): 342–343. Ben-Menachem, Naftali. Mi-Safrut Israel Be-Ungaria (Jewish Literature in Hungary). Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1958. Cohen, Yosef Yitzhak. Hahmei Transylvania. Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalayim, 1989. Cohen, Yosef Yitzhak. Hakhmei Hungaria (The Sages of Hungary). Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalayim, 1997. Dagan, Avigdor (ed.). The Jews of Czechoslovakia: Historical Studies and Surveys, vol. 1. Philadelphia: The Society for the History of Czechoslovakian Jews, 1968. Ferziger, Adam S. “Religious zealotry and religious law: rethinking conflict and coexistence.” Journal of Religion 84 (1) (2004): 44–77. Friedlander, Yehuda. The Thoughts and Deeds of Zionist and anti-Zionist Rabbis in Hungary: From the First Zionist Congress in 1897 until the 1950s. Ph.D. Dissertation, Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University, 2007. Gabel, Jacab and Asbóth János. A Lelkiismereti Szabadsag es a Magyarhoni Zsidok Szervezese: Nyilt Valasz Ullmann Sandor Orszaggyulesi Kepviselo a Kepviselohaz 1890. evi, februar 1-en Tartott Ulesen Elmondott Beszedere. Budapest, 1890. Geller, Yaacov. “Havurot kedoshot Be-Romania” (Holy social societies in Romania). Sinai 95 (1984): 276–278. Gertner, Haim. The Rabbi and the City: The Rabbinate in Galicia and Its Encounter with Modernity. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2013. Glasner, David. “Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Glasner: The Dor Revi’i.” Tradition, 32 (1) (1998): 40–56. Glasner, Moshe Shmuel. Hakor Davar, Munkacs, 1901. Glasner, Moshe Shmuel. Halacha Le-Ma’ase. Munkacs, 1912. Glasner, Moshe Shmuel. Matza Shemura. Pressburg, 1910. Glasner, Moshe Shmuel. Or Bahir. Kolozsvár, 1906. Greenwald, Yekuthiel Yehuda. “Rabanei Ungaria She-Alu Le-Eretz Israel” (Hungarian rabbis that immigrated to the Land of Israel) Sinai 26 (1950): 222–225. Greenwald, Yekuthiel Yehuda. Matzevet Kodesh. New York, 1952. Greenwald, Yekuthiel Yehuda. Le-Palgot Israel Be-Hungarya (Jewish Controversies in Hungary). Deva, 1929.

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Gross, Shlomo Yaacov and Yosef Yitzhak Cohen (eds.). The Marmaros Book: In Memory of a Hundred and Sixty Jewish Communities. Tel Aviv, 1983. Heller, Zvi Hirsh. Sefer Beit Hillel. Budapest, 1938. Heshbon (Bilants) Mahoz Siget Kaf-Daled (24) Mekomot … Mi-Ma’ot Resh-MemBet-Ayin-He-Nun (Rabbi Meir Ba’al Ha-Nes). Sighet, 1909. Heshbon Mi-Ma’ot Resh-Mem-Bet-Ayin-He-Nun (Rabbi Meir Ba’al Ha-Nes) DaledAlef-He-Kuf (De-Eretz Ha-Kodesh) Mi-Kolel Munkatch Ve-Asara Betsirken. Munkacs, 1910. Hildesheimer, Meir. “Rabanei Hungaria Ve-Asefat Mikhalovitz” (The Hungarian rabbis and the Nagymihály assembly). Kiryat Sefer 63 (3) (1990-1991): 941–951. Katz, Jacob, The Unhealed Breach. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 1995. Katz, Jacob. “Pulmus Ha-Heikhal Be-Hamburg Ve-Aseifat Braunschweig: Avnei Derekh Be-Hitpathut Ha-Ortodoxia” (The Hamburg Temple Debate and the Braunschweig Assembly: Milestones in the Development of Jewish Orthodoxy). In: Katz, Jacob. Halacha in Straits: Obstacles to Orthodoxy at Its Inception. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1992, 43–72. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Ha-Diyun Ha-Tziburi Al Ha-Emantzipatziya Ha-Yehudit BeHungaria Bishnot Ha-Arbaim Shel Ha-Mea Ha-Yud-Tet,” (The public debate on the emancipation of Hungarian Jews in the 1840s). Bar Ilan, 1 (1963): 282–301. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Ha-Hanhaga Ha-Merkazit Shel Ha-Kehilot Be-Hungaria 1870-1939” (The central leadership of the Jewish communities in Hungary). Zion 50 (1985): 379–395. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Ha-Kongres Ha-Yehudi Be-Hungarya Bishnat 1869: Reshima Shel Mekorot” (The 1869 Jewish congress in Hungary: A list of sources). Areshet 4 (1966): 22–376. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Le-Shitato Ha-Toranit Ve-Haleumit Shel Ha-Rav Mem-Shin Glasner” (Rabbi Glasner’s Religious and National Concepts). In: CarmilliWeinberger, Moshe (ed.). Sefer Zikaron Le-Yahadut Cluj- Kolozsvár. New York, 1970, 48–59. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Milhamtam Shel Yehudei Hungaria Lema’an Shivyon Zekhuyot Dati Bishnot Ha-90 La-Mea Ha-19” (Hungarian Jews’ struggle for equal religious rights in the 1890s). Zion 22 (1957): 119–148. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “Psak Ha-Din Shel Mikhalovitz Taf-Resh-Kaf-Vav” (The Nagymihály Assembly’s Resolutions 1866). In: Etkes, Emmanuel and Yosef Salmon (eds.). Studies in the History of Jewish Society. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1980, 273–286. Katzburg, Nathaniel. “The Jewish Congress of Hungary 1868-9.” In: Braham, Randolph L. (ed.). Hungarian Jewish Studies, vol. 2. New-York: World Federation of Hungarian Jews, 1969, 1–33. Katzburg, Nathaniel. Anti-Semitism in Hungary 1867-1944. Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1969. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Jewish Orthodoxy’s first Rabbinical conference held in 1844 in Paks (Bacs), Hungary.” Modern Judaism, 41 (3) (2022): 273–293. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Maramaros, Hungary – The cradle of Extreme Orthodoxy.” Modern Judaism 35 (2) (2015): 147–174. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “The Decline of Orthodoxy around the turn of the 20th century as reported in Galicia’s Haredi Newspapers.” Kesher 49 (2016): 126–142 (in Hebrew).

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Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “The politics of Jewish Orthodoxy: The case of Hungary 1868-1918,” Modern Judaism 36 (3) (2016): 217–248. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. Maramaros-Sziget: Extreme Orthodoxy and Secular Jewish Culture at the Foothills of the Carpathian Mountains. Jerusalem: The Dov Sadan Publishing Project and Leyvik House, 2013. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rabbi (1887-1979): A Biography. Ph.D. dissertation, Tel Aviv University, 2013. Kontres Ohev Mishpat. Lvov, 1887. Lerner Meir. Hadar Ha-Carmel, vol. 1. London, 1971. Lupovitch, Howard Nathan. “Between Orthodox Judaism and Neology: the origins of the Status Quo movement.” Jewish Social Studies 9 (2) (2003): 123–153. Mikhtav Galui Im Sefer Milhemet Mitzva. Sighet, 1888. Miler, Asher Anshil. Olamo Shel Aba. Jerusalem, 1984. Miron, Esther. “Alilat Ha-Dam Tizsaeszler, Teguvot Ve-Hashlakhot Be-Hungaria UMehutza La” (The Reactions and Implications of the Tiszaeszlár Blood-Libel in Hungary and in Other Locations). In: Gonda, Moshe Eliyahu, Yosef Yitzhak Cohen and Yehuda Marton (eds.). The Jews in Hungary: Historical Research. Tel Aviv: The Association for the Research of the History of Hungarian Jewry, 1980, 154–174. Ohev Mishpat. Levov, 1887. Organizatians-Shtatut Fir Di Autonome Yidish Orthodoxe Raligionsgenomensshaft Ungarens Und Zibenbirgenem, Ofen (Budapest), 1870. Pelli, Moshe. “Milhamto Ha-Ra’ayonit Ve-Ha-Hilkhatit Shel Ha-Rav Aharon Chorin Be’ad Reforma” (Rabbi Aharon Chorin’s ideological and halachic battle for religious reforms). Hebrew Union College Annual 39 (1968): 63–79. Pollak, Israel. Be-Tekufa So’eret. Jerusalem, 1988. Psak Din Me-Ha-Rabanim … Be-Inyan Maot Resh-Mem-Bet-Ayin-He-Nun (Rabbi Meir Ba’al Ha-Nes) …Be-Kolel Marmoresh. Sighet, 1909. Raab (Ben-Ezer), Yehuda. Ha-Telem Ha-Rishon: Zikhronot 1862-1930 (The First Furrow: Memoirs 1862-1930). Jerusalem, 1988. Rosenheim, Yaacov. Zikhronot (Memoirs). Tel Aviv: Netsah, 1957. Roth, Avraham Naftali Zvi. “Beit Ha-Midrash Le-Rabanim Be-Hungaria.” In: Mirsky, Shmuel Kalman. Mosadot Torah Be-Eyropa Be-Binyanam U-Behurbanam. New York: Ogen, 1956, 635–654. Roth, Moshe Arye. Der Zionismus vom Standpunkte der Jüdischen Orthodoxie. Nagytapolcsány, 1904. Schon, David. Shoharei Ha-Shem Be-Harei Ha-Karpatim. Jerusalem: Shem, 2005. Sefer Beit Shlomo. Irshava, 1928. Sefer Zikhron David Ve-Sefer Torat Nishmat Adam, Oradea, 1937. Shapira, Haim Elazar. Igrot Shafirin. Jerusalem, 1998. Shpigel, Yehuda. Toldot Israel Ve-Hitpathut Ha-Hasidut Be-Rusya Ha-Karpatit (History of the Jews and the Hasidic Movement in Carpathian Ruthenia). Tel Aviv, 1991. Shtatuten Des Mahzikei Ha-Dat Fere’ains: Der Komitat Sharash, Abboi, Sefesh, Borshad Und Zemplen. Kosice, 1910. Silber, Michael K. “The Emergence of Ultra-Orthodoxy: The Invention of a Tradition.” In: Wertheimer, Jack (ed.). The Uses of Tradition; Jewish Continuity in the Modern Era. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992, 23–84.

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Sofer, Haim. K”N Sofer, in Yosef Zvi Sofer, Toldot Sofrim. London, 1963. Sofer, Simha Bunem David. Mazkeret Paks, vol. 1. Jerusalem, 1962. Sorasky, Aharon. Lapid Ha-Esh, vol.1, Bnei Brak, 1987. Sorek, Yoav. Ha-Rav Moshe Shmuel Glasner: Ha-Mored Me-Bifnim Ba-Ortodoksia Ha-Hungarit. Ph. D. dissertation, Ben Gurion University, 2020. Sternberger, Herman. Interessanter bericht uber die Theilung in der jüd, Gemeinde zu Marm.-Sziget. Sighet, 1887. Vago, Bela. “Ha-Yehudim Ba-Behirot Be-Romania Bein Shtei Milhamot Olam” (The Jews during the election campaigns between the two World Wars). Toladot 3-4 (1973): 3–12. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. ”Munkatch.” In: Fishman, Yehuda Leib Ha-Cohen (ed.). Arim Ve-Imahot Be-Israel, vol. 1. Jerusalem: Mosad Ha-Rav Kook, 1946, 358–359. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. “Ha-Shelila She-Beshitat Ha-Perud Be-Ungaria.” In: Werfel, Yitzhak (ed.). Areshet, Jerusalem, 1944, 432–438. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Talmidav: Yahasam Le-Eretz Israel (Ha-Hatam Sofer and His Disciples: Their Attitude Toward the Land of Israel). Jerusalem, 1945. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. Be-Shevah Yishuv Ha-Aretz: Igrot Gedolim (Supporting the Settlement of the Holy Land: Sages’ Letters). Jerusalem, 1987. Yakobovitz, Ben-Zion. Zekhor Yemot Olam, vosl. 1-2. Bnei Brak, 1986-1989. Zalkin, Mordechai. Rabbi and Community in the Pale. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2017. Zehavi, Yekuthiel Zvi. Me-Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Ad Herzel, Jerusalem: Ha-Sifriya HaTsionit, 1966. Zehavi, Yekuthiel Zvi. Mi-Hitbolelut Le-Tsionut: Mekor Tsionuto Shel Herzl (From Assimilation to Zionism: The Sources of Herzel’s Zionism). Jerusalem: Ha-Sifriya Ha-Tsionit, 1973. Zima, Andreàs. “Cult or spirit?: Integration strategies and history of memory in Jewish groups in Hungary at the turn of the 19th century.” Acta Ethnographica Hungarica 53 (2) (2008): 243–262. Zusman-Sofer, Shimom A. “Al Irgun Ha-Yahadut Ha-Haredit Be-Hungaria.” HaMa’ayan 4 (2) (1964): 4–7.

4

Hungarian Orthodoxy and Agudat Israel *

The Turn of the Twentieth Century: An Era of Jewish Organizations The foundation of the Orthodox Bureau in Hungary in the early 1870s and its successful operation thereafter prompted rabbis and religious leaders in other countries to establish Orthodox organizations of their own. First, a number of rabbis in Germany established independent Orthodox communities and organizations, but these were local initiatives that did not grow into a national Orthodox movement such as that in Hungary.1 In the late 1870s, Galician rabbis established Mahazikei Ha-Dat, an Orthodox organization that challenged the modern Jewish organization Shomer Israel. Although it developed into a social movement, and even a political party, Mahazikei Ha-Dat failed to become a significant Orthodox force.2 Most of the world’s Jews who lived in the Russian Empire, which up until World War I included the territories of Poland, Latvia, Lithuania, Belarus, and Ukraine, encountered such severe existential hardship that they first attempted to establish an Orthodox body only at the beginning of the twentieth century. From a Jewish perspective, this was a pivotal period. It began with the 1881 pogroms that took place in southern Russia and boosted the Jewish national movement and the first “Zionist” immigration wave (aliyah) to Eretz Israel.3 Further hardship continued to drive millions of Jews away from Europe to America and to other countries.4 These demographic changes, which coincided with powerful social trends of acculturation, secularization, and religious reforms, led Orthodox Judaism to the brink of catastrophe. Up until the end of the eighteenth century, with few exceptions, most European Jews maintained a traditional lifestyle. A century later, millions of Jews who emigrated to other countries forsook their former religious lifestyle, and many of those who remained in Europe did the same. As a result, from constituting the dominant Jewish group, strictly

* This chapter is based on my article “Inclusion versus exclusion in intra-Orthodox politics: Between Agudat Israel and Hungarian Orthodoxy,” Modern Judaism 40 (2) (2020): 195–226.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-6

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observant Jews became a small and powerless minority. To add to their woes, the Zionist movement was founded in 1897. Zionism not only sought a solution to “the problem of the Jews” by settling them in a land where they would be physically secure, but also confronted “the problem of Jewishness.” Since Jews were abandoning their religious tradition in growing numbers, Zionism sought to equip them with an alternative national identity and a Jewish secular culture that would keep them united as a people. These transformations progressively eroded what was by then merely the remnants of the once great Orthodox Jewry. By the turn of the century, it became clear that were Orthodox Jewry to continue to adhere to its old ways, it was bound to disappear altogether.5 In 1882, a local anti-modernist, anti-Maskilic rabbinical assembly that convened in Galicia attracted a record attendance. However, when the driving force behind the initiative, Rabbi Shimon Sofer, became ill and died in 1883, it made no further impact.6 In 1885, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch of Frankfurt, Germany, invited rabbis from various countries to discuss how to address the challenges that Orthodoxy faced.7 His proposal failed to generate the international response he had expected and remained a local German initiative.8 Events began to move faster after the turn of the twentieth century. In 1901, Rabbi Eliyahu Akiva Rabinovich of Poltava, in the Russian Empire, launched an Orthodox monthly publication titled Ha-Peles. This was the first time that an Eastern European rabbi had employed the mass media to promote debate on the fate of Orthodoxy.9 Previous Orthodox newspapers were of a local character and focused on domestic issues. That same year, having corresponded with many prominent rabbis, Rabbi Aharon Mendel Cohen, chief rabbi of the Ashkenazi community in Cairo, Egypt, proposed that they all attend a rabbinical convention. His initiative was promoted by several Orthodox newspapers, most important of which was the Galician Mahazikei Ha-Dat.10 Shortly thereafter, a further group of Orthodox rabbis and activists, who took note of the growth of the Zionist movement, decided to establish a religious-Zionist movement. Founded in 1902, Ha-Mizrahi was the first international Orthodox organization and rapidly set up branches in many countries.11 In the same year, Orthodox rabbis in the United States convened and established Agudat Ha-Rabanim, an organization that would dominate American Orthodoxy for the coming decades.12 These developments prompted the mainstream Orthodox rabbis to form their own organization, and two rabbinical conferences were planned to be held in 1903 in Galicia. Although many rabbis acquiesced with the notion that only joint action could ameliorate the sorrowful state of Orthodox society, others took issue with such tradition-breaching initiatives. This opposition resulted in the cancellation of the convention of local Galician rabbis, and in the poor attendance at the international conference initiated by Rabbi Cohen, which failed to produce any meaningful result.13 Ha-Mizrahi,

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on the other hand, held its first international conference in Pressburg, Hungary, in 1904. That year also marked the beginning of the second aliyah to Eretz Israel. This wave of immigration, which comprised primarily nonreligious Zionists, brought about a fundamental change in the social structure of the Jewish population there and led to a sharp decline in the influence of the Old Yishuv, made up of the more traditional elements among the Jewish settlers.14 By this juncture, the majority of rabbis realized that they had to act together, and the question was not “if” but rather “when, where, and how.” Although the first attempt to establish an Orthodox movement – Mahazikei Ha-Dat in the Russian Empire between 1901 and 1903 – ended in failure, in 1908, a group of rabbis established Knesset Israel. This short-lived body not only constituted the first Orthodox party in the Russian Empire, but marked an important milestone on the road to establishing an international Orthodox movement.15 In 1907, several Orthodox rabbis in Germany decided to revive the moribund organization that Rabbi Hirsh had formed in 1885. Rabbi Yaacov Rosenheim, one of the organization’s leaders, set up a number of committees aimed at boosting its activity. A year later, he decided to expand its scope and approached Rabbi Haim Ozer Grodzinski of Vilnius (1863–1940), a leading Lithuanian rabbi. Encouraged by his response, Rabbi Rosenheim approached other rabbis, and in 1909 he convened a rabbinical assembly in Bad Homburg, near Frankfurt, in Germany.16 The location was not chosen randomly. This was the town where Rabbi Yitshak Ha-Levi, one of the more original Jewish thinkers of his time, lived. He was not only a well-known historian, but also a prominent Orthodox scholar at Volozhin, the renowned Lithuanian yeshiva. Since he had once lived in Pressburg, Hungary, he was well acquainted with the three major strands of Orthodox Judaism: The Lithuanian, the Hungarian, and the German. Ha-Levi’s broad perspective and ideas combined with Rosenheim’s political acumen to lay the foundation for the establishment of an international Orthodox movement.17 Implementation of the Bad Homburg conference’s resolutions, however, was impeded by inner controversies and the initial enthusiasm soon evaporated. At this point, the Orthodox leaders had a stroke of luck. Encouraged by their success and by the lack of opposition, the secular Zionist leaders decided at their tenth conference in 1911 to act not only on the diplomatic front to further the settlement of Jews in a safe country, but also to launch a modern secular Jewish cultural program that would replace Judaism’s old and obsolete religious identity.18 This move induced many religious Jews who were Ha-Mizrahi’s members and leaders to leave the Zionist organization and seek a new home. A conference in Frankfurt, Germany, held that same year, laid the ground for the foundation of Agudat Israel in the following year.19

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The Fundamental Principles of Agudat Israel Agudat Israel was founded in Kattowitz, Germany (subsequently Katowice, Poland), in 1912. Its establishment was the outcome of a lengthy process of contemplation and planning led primarily by German rabbis such as Rabbi Yaacov Rosenheim and Rabbi Pinhas Cohen. Rosenheim recalls the event as follows: No movement bursts full bloom on the world scene; the idea germinates for a period of time and as the need grows it blossoms into reality. Kattowitz, in this sense, was the climax of stirrings in various countries, in reaction to the growing need felt within Eastern European Jewry as well as in the West, for a unified force which would represent Torah Jewry.20 Since Judaism had lacked a central spiritual institution for many centuries, it was a religion that had acquired different forms in its various locations. Thus, what was inconceivable in one community was standard practice in another, and vice versa. For example, Orthodox Jews and even prominent rabbis in Germany covered their heads only during meals and when they prayed. Hasidic rabbis in Poland began their morning prayer long after the time set by non-Hasidic rabbis had passed. Observant Dutch Jews waited only one hour between eating meat and dairy products, contrary to the obligatory six-hour interval commonly observed in many other Jewish societies. Sephardic Jews ate rice and legumes during Passover while Ashkenazi Jews considered it leaven and shunned it altogether. Such differences became even more pronounced in the wake of inner disputes between Hasidim and non-Hasidim, modernist and traditionalist rabbis, pro-Zionists and anti-Zionists, and between Sephardi and Ashkenazi Jewries. Further disagreements were common between various communities, geographic areas, and Jews who lived in different countries. Consequently, the major challenge facing Agudat Israel was how to establish an organization that would promote religious observance, when the very meaning of this objective was under dispute. Solving this issue was key to the organization’s success and this was no easy task, as the failure of previous attempts demonstrated. Had Agudat Israel comprised only the more lenient and modernist Orthodox factions, such as German Orthodoxy and the ZionistOrthodox groups, it would have been labeled as too willing to compromise and condemned by the more conservative groups, namely the anti-Zionists and the anti-modern elements. On the other hand, had the movement comprised only ultra-conservative groups it would have set such rigid religious demands as to exclude many observant Jews, particularly those living in western Europe and in America. As early as 1911, Rosenheim quoted Rabbi Ernest Weill, who wrote: The international organization cannot be an extended version of HaMizrahi, or of [the German Orthodox] Moriyah, or of the [German]

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Orthodox Union. Such organizations should all unite into one block […] The union’s constitution will be democratic and it will be open to everybody. It is inconceivable, not theoretically and not practically, that joining the union will depend on one’s observance. The union can object Zionism, but this is not a mandatory clause […] the major problem is that all those involved should disregard the separating factors and concentrate on the common road leading to the common target […] Differences, which are not fundamental, were often perceived as life and death subjects. The question is: will people learn to respect the supreme target? Will horizons broaden? Tolerance and cooperation is required, and both are possible.21 At the outset, Rosenheim sought to reconcile what he considered Europe’s two major camps: “Both orthodoxies came to the realization that they needed each other, that they complemented one another; German Orthodoxy needed the warmth, and the fullness of Eastern European Jewish life, which in turn needed the organizational skill and modern techniques developed by German Orthodoxy.”22 The first step toward achieving a broad consensus was to set very modest goals. Rosenheim proclaimed that the newly established body was “to address the problems facing the Jewish people in the spirit of Torah.”23 He added that a more detailed plan would be formulated at an international assembly, Ha-Kenesia Ha-Gedolah, to be held two years hence. By then the movement was to establish local branches that would elect their leaders and their representatives to the assembly. During the period between the Kattowitz conference and the outbreak of World War I, owing to which the first international conference was postponed until 1923, the movement worked out its organizational infrastructure. It would allow local rabbis and rabbinical organizations some degree of autonomy, yet would oblige them to accept certain fundamental principles. This was in fact the delicate balance on which the entire organization rested. It is no wonder that Rosenheim, who proceeded so cautiously, allowed each follower to interpret his words in their own way: Neither tribal-racial or national consciousness, nor abstract religious creed, but God’s Torah […] must become again the vital principle, the collective all-pervading will of the Jewish people, which as an organism in Agudat Israel will again for the first time after thousands of years reawaken to the realization of its true national object […] Only our great Torah sages […] can carry out the unifying function of Agudat Israel […] The Diaspora has with differentiating force made it infinitely hard to restore the unifying function. Differentiation has immeasurably intensified spiritual research and the religious soul life generally – it has in various territorial groups who are at home in most diverse cultural environments created nuances and modes of learning and thinking and has intensified

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Up until World War I these to a high pitch often of wonderfully refined perfection. But the time has really come to pour this, that was grown to such spiritual independence, into the broad river-bed of a unified Rabbinical spiritual life.24

Rosenheim sketched the movement’s future, as he carefully set out the principles while appearing to allow for some flexibility: The idea of organic relationship […] may also be considered at this point as a guide to the Agudah’s object. Each territorial organization of Agudat Israel should be an organism in miniature, conscious of its distinctive character and of its subordination to the living whole […] Equipped with its own organs, its territorial rabbinical councils and its elected central body, each country […] will preserve its historical traditions […] The collectivity lives only through the wealth of its members. It rejoices at this wealth as it should do, so long as its consciousness of unity which has its roots in the Torah fills all these organisms […] the organization in each country stands to the whole in the same organic relationship as the single congregation or community […] to the country.25 In Rosenheim’s view, the world’s Orthodox Jewry comprised four major groups: Eastern European non-Hasidic Jews (also known as Mithnagdim or Lithuanians), western European Jews, Hasidic Jews, and Hungarian Jews.26 Rabbi Grodzinski and many leading eastern European rabbis who supported Agudat Israel represented the majority of the first camp. Rosenheim and the other German rabbis represented the second. Rabbi Avraham Mordechai Alter (1866–1948), leader of the Gur Hasidim, the largest Hasidic court, along with other Hasidic leaders represented a significant section of the Hasidic group. The only major Orthodox group that lacked adequate representation on the team preparing for the establishment of Agudat Israel was the Hungarian one. Hungarian Orthodoxy and Agudat Israel Once the agreement of prominent rabbis who represented the first three Orthodox groups had been secured, it was time to negotiate with the Hungarian leaders. Unlike most other traditionalist Jewish societies, Hungarian Jews already had their own Orthodox organization, namely the Central Orthodox Bureau. The basis for its foundation was the clear-cut, state approved separation between Orthodox and non-Orthodox Jews in the country. The Bureau distanced itself from the Status Quo communities, whose members conducted themselves in a totally observant manner yet refused to join it. These communities were regarded as religiously flawed and their rabbis and other employees, such as shohtim (ritual slaughterers) and melamdim (Teachers of Torah), were considered unworthy and were mistrusted.

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This presented Hungarian Orthodoxy with an acute dilemma. In line with Agudat Israel’s inclusive policy, every observant Jew was permitted and even encouraged to join the organization. This meant that if Agudat Israel were to operate in Hungary, observant Jews who belonged to the Neolog or the Status Quo communities would be invited to join it. Agudat Israel would then become an alternative to the Orthodox Bureau, and Jews from non-Orthodox communities would be granted the same status in it as Jews belonging to the separate Orthodox communities. To avoid such an outcome, the Hungarian leaders demanded that with respect to the Jews of Hungary and Germany, where there was a formal separation between Orthodox and non-Orthodox communities, only those belonging to the official Orthodox communities would be admitted to Agudat Israel. This came to be known as “the Hungarian demand,” which was first raised, and rejected, at the Bad Homburg conference in 1909.27 Although many Hungarian rabbis were unwilling to compromise on this demand, others believed that a more moderate approach would best serve the interests of Hungarian Orthodoxy. By the end of the nineteenth century, Hungarian Orthodoxy was subject to the same social processes that had eroded traditional Jewry in the rest of Europe. Although the Orthodox Bureau took some measures to confront the problem, it was primarily a political organization and lacked the capacity to undertake large-scale educational or social endeavors such as those that Agudat Israel was planning to launch. Several Orthodox organizations sought to stem the ongoing process of erosion, but they operated locally and failed to coalesce into a national movement.28 This vacuum was filled by the Ha-Mizrahi movement. It offered Orthodox youngsters modern schools, new ideological and cultural horizons, and a choice of newspapers that disseminated a modern version of Orthodoxy supported by several prominent Hungarian rabbis.29 By confronting these hardships Agudat Israel could have become the dominant player in the field. It was on course to become an international movement, able to raise funds and act both at the educational and social levels. Furthermore, it had no intention of interfering with the political and judicial activities of the Orthodox Bureau on the one hand, nor to promote Zionist ideology on the other. As had previously been the case in the history of Jewish Orthodoxy, fear of change proved the decisive factor, and the majority of Hungarian rabbis, led by the zealous Extreme Orthodox wing, felt that they should adhere to the official demand of the Orthodox Bureau and its separatist ideology. Agudat Israel and the Hungarian Demand’s Dilemma The “Hungarian demand” pertaining to the status of observant Jews who were not members of an Orthodox community constituted a political issue within German Orthodoxy as well. Rosenheim and most other German

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leaders who favored a more inclusive stance could not accede to the demand on the international front without accepting them at the local German Orthodox level as well. They consequently had no choice but to reject the Hungarian demand. Hungarian Orthodoxy, however, presented Agudat Israel’s other leaders with a far tougher political dilemma. On the one hand, by accepting the demand they would acquire hundreds of thousands of Hungarian members, who, unlike their counterparts elsewhere, had previous experience of an Orthodox organization and realized its importance and the need to support it financially. Furthermore, since Orthodox Hungarians were already organized in separate communities, Agudat Israel would most likely find it far easier to set up its infrastructure there than in the mixed communities in other countries. Moreover, since several Hungarian rabbis were renowned Torah scholars, co-opting them into Agudat Israel would significantly boost the organization’s reputation, and head off opposition on their part. On the other hand, accepting the demand had its downside. First, it would set a precedent for similar demands on the part of religious groups from other countries. These might include limiting the admission of Zionists or welleducated Jews (maskilim), or setting religious standards, such as strict modesty rules for women, that were unacceptable to some Observant societies. Other groups might demand the imposition of restrictions on certain religious factions, such as rival Hasidic groups, or to limit the admission of Jews living in countries in which religious standards were relatively lax, such as the United States. The complexity of these ideological and practical dilemmas culminated during Agudat Israel’s foundational event at which the Hungarian demand surfaced in all its complexity. The Hungarian Demand at the Kattowitz Conference Several months prior to the Kattowitz conference, the Central Orthodox Bureau convened one of its general assemblies. Among other items on the agenda, the 300 delegates discussed the forthcoming Agudat Israel conference and decided to dispatch a modest delegation to it.30 Of the 228 participants at the Kattowitz conference only four came from Hungary, none of whom was a rabbi.31 In his address to the conference, Rosenheim set forth Agudat Israel’s principal ideas and stipulated three major principles: It would become a popular and democratic organization; would be guided by a council of sages rather than by a single Orthodox concept; and would maintain the autonomy of local institutions in each country.32 One of the first delegates to respond was Dr. Yaacov Schechter of Budapest, who affirmed the Hungarian rabbis’ commitment to Agudat Israel but insisted that in places where separate Orthodox communities existed, only their members should be admitted to Agudat Israel. And in general, only individuals who were known to be fully observant Jews should be admitted. His speech elicited both support and vocal opposition.33

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Rabbi Ze’ev Reich of Baden, Austria, was born and raised in Hungary and was the brother of Rabbi Koppel Reich, Hungary’s most senior Orthodox leader. He spoke of the need to amend Agudat Israel’s regulations so that it could cater to the special needs of Hungarian Orthodoxy, which, he reminded listeners, numbered 600,000 observant Jews. The final Hungarian speaker, Yaakov Gabel, called on the conference to define Agudat Israel not as an organization that represented Loyal Torah Jewry (Vertreter der thoratreuen Judenheit) but as a movement that represented Committed Orthodox Jewry (Strengglaeubig orthodox). Rosenheim proposed an ad hoc compromise that would place the word Orthodox in parenthesis. Eventually a different title, The Organization of Traditionally Observant Judaism (Vertreter der Traditionell gesetzestreuen Judentum), was accepted by all the delegates, including the Hungarians.34 Following the conference Rosenheim and several other activists commenced an ongoing dialog with Hungarian Orthodox officials and rabbis.35 These contacts ranged from private meetings at which political considerations and personal benefits were discussed in confidence, to public debates held in the pages of German and Hungarian Jewish newspapers. At the same time, Agudat Israel began to establish its first branches in Eastern Europe and in Eretz Israel.36 It also prepared for its first international conference, due to convene in 1914 in Bad Homburg.37 The movement’s international and local activities and the preparations for the conference were regularly reviewed in its newly founded monthly periodical Ha-Derekh. Several other countries followed Germany in establishing national Agudat Israel organizations, the most important of which was Poland, where the organization’s most prominent leader was Rabbi Avraham Mordechai Alter, leader of the Gur Hasidic court, the largest Hasidic group in Europe.38 Agudat Israel postponed its decision on the Hungarian demand, which would also determine its attitude toward Jews who were less observant, partly modernist, or Zionists, until the upcoming 1914 international conference in Bad Homburg. Given the intensity of the debate, and the relative political power wielded by the rival parties, it is unlikely that the fledgling organization would have survived the clash had matters come to a head at that time. Once again, Agudat Israel was saved by a “miracle.” World War I broke out and turned the entire world upside down. Notes 1 Mordechai Breuer, Modernity within Tradition: The Social History of Orthodox Jewry in Imperial Germany, New York: Columbia University Press, 1992. 2 Rachel Manekin, “Politika Ve-Ortodoxia: Hamikre Shel Galitsia” (Politics and Orthodoxy: The Galicia Case), in: Orthodox Judaism: New Perspectives, edited by Yosef Salmon, Aviezer Ravitzky, and Adam Ferziger, Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2006, 447–469; Idem., “Politics, religion, and national identity: the Galician Jewish vote in the 1873 parliamentary elections,” Polin 12 (1999): 100–119.

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3 Yaacov Shavit, “The ‘glorious century’ or the ‘cursed century’: Fin de-Siecle Europe and the emergence of Modern Jewish Nationalism,” Journal of Contemporary History 26 (3–4) (1991): 553–574; Michael Stanislawski, Zionism and the Fin de Siècle: Cosmopolitanism and Nationalism from Nordau to Jabotinsky, Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001. 4 Samuel A. B. Joseph, Jewish Immigration to the United States, from 1881 to 1910, New York: Arno Press, 1914. 5 Aviezer Ravitzky, Messianism, Zionism, and Jewish Religious Radicalism, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996. 6 Rachel Manekin, The Jews of Galicia and the Austrian Constitution: The Beginning of Modern Jewish Politics, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2015, 207–253 (in Hebrew). 7 Mahazikei Ha-Dat, October 8, 1885, 1. 8 Alan L. Mittleman, The Politics of Torah: The Jewish Political Tradition and the Founding of Agudat Israel, Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996, 104–117; Matthias Morgenstern, From Frankfurt to Jerusalem: Isaac Breuer and the History of the Secession Dispute in Modern Jewish Orthodoxy, Leiden: Brill, 2002, 41–43. 9 Yosef Salmon, “Rabbi Eliyahu Akiva Rabinovich of Poltava, harbinger of Jewish Orthodoxy in imperial Russia,” Shvut 11 (27) (2002–2003): 27–39; Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Ha-Peles: An Orthodox newspaper and its struggle with the challenges of modern spirits of the early 20th century,” Kesher 54 (2020): 43–75 (in Hebrew). 10 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The decline of Orthodoxy around the turn of the 20th Century as reported in Galicia’s Haredi newspapers,” Kesher 49 (2016): 126–142 (in Hebrew). 11 Yehuda Leib Ha-Kohen Fischman, Sefer Ha-Mizrahi, Jerusalem: Mosad Ha-Rav Kook, 1946, 7–52 (in Hebrew). 12 Sefer Ha-Yovel Shel Agudat Ha-Rabanim Ha-Ortodoxim De-Artsot Ha-Brit VeKanada, New York, 1928; Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The Haredization of American Orthodoxy in the early twentieth century,” Tradition 54 (1) (2022):13–45. 13 Gershon C. Bacon, “The Rabbinical Conference in Kraków (1903) and the Beginnings of Organized Orthodox Jewry,” in: Let the Old Make Way for the New: Studies in the Social and Cultural History of Eastern European Jewry, Presented to Immanuel Etkes, vol. 2, edited by David Assaf and Ada Rapoport-Albert, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2009, 199–225 (in Hebrew). 14 Mordechai Naor (ed.), Ha-Aliyah Ha-Shenia: 1903–1914, Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 1988, (in Hebrew); Gur Alroey, Immigrants: Jewish Immigration to Palestine in the Early Twentieth Century, Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2004, (in Hebrew). 15 Vladimir Levin, “Knesset Israel: The first Orthodox political party in the Russian Empire,” Zion 76 (1) (2011): 29–62 (in Hebrew). 16 Yaakov Rosenheim, Zikhronot (Memoirs), Bnei Brak: Netzah, 1979, 76–86; Yitzhak Breuer, Darki (My Way), Jerusalem, 1986, 23. 17 Mittleman, The Politics, 117–119; Morgenstern, From Frankfurt, 54–55; Rosenheim, Zikhronot, 87–90. 18 Rosenheim, Zikhronot, 107–115. 19 Mittleman, The Politics, 119–123; Rosenheim, Zikhronot, 116–124. 20 Yaakov Rosenheim, Memorial Anthology, New York: Orthodox Library, 1968, 1. 21 Ibid., 94–95. 22 Ibid., 5. 23 Ibid., 8. 24 Ibid., 102–103. 25 Ibid., 103.

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26 Rosenheim, Zikhronot, 152. 27 Kol Mahazikei Ha-Dat, January 1, 1909 (special supplement on the conference). 28 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The politics of Jewish Orthodoxy: The case of Hungary 1868–1918,” Modern Judaism 36 (3) (2016): 217–248. 29 Zvi Y. Zehavi, Me-Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Ad Hertsel, Jerusalem: Ha-Sifriya HaTsionit, 1966. 30 Ha-Modia, December 1, 1912, 141. 31 Rosenheim, Zikhronot, 132–135. 32 Morgenstern, From Frankfurt, 55–60; Rosenheim, Zikhronot, 151. 33 Mittleman, The Politics, 123–134; Rosenheim, Zikhronot, 153–154. 34 Rosenheim, Zikhronot, 161–164; Ha-Modia, July 19, 1912, 606–607; ibid., August 23, 1912, 701–706; ibid., September 11, 1912, 751–754; ibid., November 8, 1912, 66–67; Moriah, November 25, 1912, 2–3; Kol Mahazikei Ha-Dat, August 16, 1912, 2–3; ibid., November 1, 1912, 2–3; Mahazikei Ha-Dat, November 29, 1912, 4–5. 35 Rosenheim, Zikhronot, 173–180. 36 Kol Mahazikei Ha-Dat, January 1, 1914, 4–7; ibid., May 1, 1914, 3–4; ibid., May 8, 1–2; ibid., June 16, 1914, 1–2; ibid., June 26, 1914, 1–2; ibid., July 3, 1914, 1–3. 37 Kol Mahazikei Ha-Dat, July 17, 1914, 4–5. 38 Gershon C. Bacon, The Politics of Tradition: Agudat Yisrael in Poland, 1916–1939, Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1996.

Bibliography Alroey, Gur. Immigrants: Jewish Immigration to Palestine in the Early Twentieth Century. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2004. Bacon, Gershon C. The Politics of Tradition: Agudat Yisrael in Poland, 1916–1939. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1996. Bacon, Gershon C. “The Rabbinical Conference in Kraków (1903) and the Beginnings of Organized Orthodox Jewry.” In: Assaf, David and Ada Rapoport-Albert (eds.). Let the Old Make Way for the New: Studies in the Social and Cultural History of Eastern European Jewry, Presented to Immanuel Etkes, vol. 2. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar center, 2009, 199–225. Breuer, Mordechai. Modernity within Tradition: The Social History of Orthodox Jewry in Imperial Germany. New York: Columbia University Press, 1992. Breuer, Yitzhak. Darki (My Way). Jerusalem, 1986. Fischman, Yehuda Leib Ha-Kohen. Sefer Ha-Mizrahi. Jerusalem: Mosad Ha-Rav Kook, 1946. Joseph, Samuel A. B. Jewish Immigration to the United States, from 1881 to 1910. New York: Arno Press, 1914. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Ha-Peles: An Orthodox newspaper and its struggle with the challenges of modern spirits of the early 20th century.” Kesher 54 (2020): 43–75. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Inclusion versus exclusion in intra-Orthodox politics: Between Agudat Israel and Hungarian Orthodoxy.” Modern Judaism 40 (2) (2020): 195–226. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “The decline of Orthodoxy around the turn of the 20th century as reported in Galicia’s Haredi newspapers.” Kesher 49 (2016): 126–142. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “The Haredization of American Orthodoxy in the early twentieth century.” Tradition 54 (1) (2022):13–45. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “The politics of Jewish Orthodoxy: The case of Hungary 1868-1918.” Modern Judaism 36 (3) (2016): 217–248.

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Levin, Vladimir. “Knesset Israel: The first Orthodox political party in the Russian Empire.” Zion 76 (1) (2011): 29–62. Manekin, Rachel. “Politics, religion, and national identity: the Galician Jewish vote in the 1873 parliamentary elections.” Polin 12 (1999): 100–119. Manekin, Rachel. “Politika Ve-Ortodoxia: Hamikre Shel Galitsia” (Politics and Orthodoxy: The Galicia Case) In: Salmon, Yosef, Aviezer Ravitzky, and Adam Ferziger (eds.). Orthodox Judaism: New Perspectives. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2006, 447–469 Manekin, Rachel. The Jews of Galicia and the Austrian Constitution: The Beginning of Modern Jewish Politics. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar center, 2015. Mittleman, Alan L. The Politics of Torah: The Jewish Political Tradition and the Founding of Agudat Israel. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996. Morgenstern, Matthias. From Frankfurt to Jerusalem: Isaac Breuer and the History of the Secession Dispute in Modern Jewish Orthodoxy. Leiden: Brill, 2002. Naor, Mordechai (ed.). Ha-Aliyah Ha-Shenia: 1903–1914. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 1988. Ravitzky, Aviezer. Messianism, Zionism, and Jewish Religious Radicalism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996. Rosenheim, Yaakov. Memorial Anthology. New York: Orthodox Library, 1968. Rosenheim, Yaakov. Zikhronot (Memoirs). Bnei Brak: Netzah, 1979. Salmon, Yosef. “Rabbi Eliyahu Akiva Rabinovich of Poltava, harbinger of Jewish Orthodoxy in imperial Russia.” Shvut 11 (27) (2002-2003). Sefer Ha-Yovel Shel Agudat Ha-Rabanim Ha-Ortodoxim De-Artsot Ha-Brit VeKanada. New York, 1928. Shavit, Yaacov. “The ‘glorious century’ or the ‘cursed century’: Fin de-Siecle Europe and the emergence of Modern Jewish Nationalism.” Journal of Contemporary History 26 (3-4) (1991): 553–574. Stanislawski, Michael. Zionism and the Fin de Siècle: Cosmopolitanism and Nationalism from Nordau to Jabotinsky. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001. Zehavi, Zvi Y. Me-Ha-Hatam Sofer Ve-Ad Hertsel. Jerusalem: Ha-Sifriya Ha-Tsionit, 1966.

Part II

The Interwar Period

5

Orthodoxy in Interwar Hungary

Hungarian Orthodoxy Following World War I Before the war, Jews were only one of several minorities that lived in Hungary, such as Slovaks, Germans, Romanian, Croats, and Ruthenians. Having to deal with so many minorities the government adopted a progressive and tolerant attitude toward all the minorities, including the Jews. After the war and the annexation of the territories in which these minorities lived to other countries, Jews remained Hungary’s largest minority. This unleashed a powerful wave of antisemitism that had been building for several decades but was kept in check by the former government.1 The first government established after the war in 1919 was Communist and it immediately took action against privately owned businesses, thereby depriving many Jews of their livelihoods. The fall of this government, which was headed by Béla Kun, the son of a converted Jew, within a few months did not benefit the Jews. Over the next two decades, Jews continued to live under the dark shadow cast by various antisemitic organizations, which were represented at all levels of the national and municipal administration as well as in the army, press, academia, and the world of culture.2 The Hungarian Central Bureau’s first meeting after the war convened in mid-1921 and was chaired by Avraham Frenkel and Rabbi Kopel Reich, Budapest’s chief Orthodox rabbi. Under the pressure of the Extreme Orthodox rabbis, one of its first actions was to reaffirm the historic ban on Agudat Israel and to outlaw its activities in Hungary.3 Following Agudat Israel’s first international conference (Kenesia Gedola) held in Vienna in 1923, it decided to renew negotiations with Hungarian Orthodox leaders in the hope of integrating the Bureau with the movement.4 These attempts, however, were thwarted by several Hungarian rabbis, and the Orthodox leaders who convened in November 1923 declared that they would not allow any cooperation with Agudat Israel: Since we have heard […] that many are mistaken in their understanding of the intention and purpose of the resolution adopted regarding association with the movement of Agudat Israel […] therefore we need to clarify in an DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-8

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The Interwar Period explicit manner that will leave no doubt that the decision of the general assembly specifically stipulates that according to the leadership of the Central Bureau of the Orthodox in this country, no private person, nor any group, nor any community, neither a group as a whole nor any individual is permitted to join Agudat Israel or to pay its dues as one of its associates.5

Of the hundreds of yeshivas that had operated in Greater Hungary, only 54 of the relatively smaller and less important ones remained in interwar Hungary. Compared to the largest yeshivas in Slovakia, PKR, and Transylvania, each of which contained more than 400 students, interwar Hungary’s leading yeshivas each enrolled only 200 students. A total of some 2,800 students were enrolled in Hungary’s yeshivas, a significantly lower number than that in the other Hungarian territories, indicating above all else that interwar Hungary was no longer a central force within Hungarian Orthodoxy.6 The Bureau’s Routine Activity Given that the number of Orthodox communities in Hungary after the war was far smaller than before, and since the bureau’s political influence had dwindled, there was not much it could do for the Orthodox communities, which, like all other communities in the country, labored under the economic crisis the war had created. Seeking to increase its influence, the Bureau began publishing a weekly newspaper titled Zsidó Újság, which appeared from 1925 up until the Holocaust. This publication, which was written almost entirely in Hungarian, reflected the relatively moderate character of Orthodoxy in interwar Hungary. Apart from dealing with issues related to the Orthodox lifestyle, such as maintaining the kashrut laws and regulations,7 the paper also carried general news items and refrained from attacking other Jewish groups such as the religious Zionists or Agudat Israel. At this time, the bureau also turned toward political activity, and after considerable effort on its part Rabbi Kopel Reich, the chief rabbi of the Orthodox community of Budapest since 1889, was elected as the representative of Orthodox Judaism to the Hungarian senate.8 This significant achievement prompted the Bureau to further action and in early January 1927 it launched its first general conference after the war. A few weeks later the Bureau’s Executive Committee convened and issued revised guidelines on religious matters as well as a pamphlet titled Torat Beit Ya’acov (the expression “Beit Ya’acov,” literally “the home of Jacob,” refers to Jewish women). Written in Hungarian, this publication contained a set of religious laws that related to women in particular.9 In the ensuing years, the Hungarian government issued a series of laws that regulated the activities of the various religious bureaus, among them the Orthodox Bureau, which became eligible to receive significant government funding.10 As Hungarian Orthodoxy began to regain some of its former power and influence, other Orthodox organizations likewise resumed their activities. In

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October 1925, Rabbi Ephraim Fischel Sussman-Sofer (1867–1942), Rabbi Kopel Reich’s son-in-law and his successor as head of Budapest’s Orthodox community, convened the first postwar conference of Mahazikei Ha-Dat (Keepers of the Religion). Soon thereafter, the organization issued a public call to join it.11 A further Orthodox initiative was the establishment of Tomkhei Yeshivot (supporters of the yeshivas). In the face of the ongoing economic crisis, this body proposed that instead of each yeshiva raising funds independently, they should run a joint fundraising project supported by the Orthodox Bureau. Since each yeshiva paid a commission to the functionary who raised funds for it, now that this task was undertaken by the local communities the yeshiva could keep a larger share for itself. This body, which was located in the town of Raab (Győr), operated up until the Holocaust and served as a model for similar organizations in other former Hungarian territories.12 Orthodoxy’s Short-Lived Resurgence Since, after the war, Orthodoxy in Hungary was freed from many of its extremist rabbis, it could openly sponsor a more tolerant religious lifestyle. This enticed a few communities that belonged to the Status Quo camp to join the Orthodox Bureau. However, a few of the more radical rabbis who remained in Hungary objected to this move. Responding to the request of the Status Quo community of Vác (Weitzen), Rabbi Mordechai Winkler (1844–1932) of Mad (Nagymad) wrote as follows: As I have said time and again, during the [rabbinical] gathering and to individuals […] one should not join with the people of Status Quo (God forbid) […] since everyone knows that this creates a grave danger in all matters of religion and piety […] and also because I have seen that in places [where] they did not obey the words of the old sages, there were many wrongdoings within such [newly established Orthodox] communities.13 In 1930, some six years after the previous elections, the Orthodox Bureau held a general election both for delegates to the Board of Representatives and to the Executive Committee. A year later, confronted with the severe and persistent global economic crisis, the bureau’s leaders considered whether they should encourage further cooperation between the Orthodox and Neolog camps. For example, in each of the locations in which both an Orthodox and a Neolog community operated, each ran its own kosher slaughterhouse. Now, it was proposed that in such locations the Orthodox functionaries should supervise the slaughter for both communities. This would not only reduce costs, but also allow the Neolog Jews to benefit from a halakhically superior level of kosher meat, while at the same time allowing the Orthodox community to increase its income.14

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However, when the bureau’s rabbis consulted other rabbis outside of Hungary, they ruled that these benefits, namely relieving the economic burden on the Orthodox communities, did not justify such close cooperation with nonOrthodox communities.15 In response, the Neolog Bureau renewed its lobbying to enforce the unification of all Jewish currents in Hungary, and for several years the Orthodox Bureau was obliged to act to repel this initiative.16 At the Bureau’s conference held in 1934, Avraham Frankel declared that owing to his advanced age and medical condition, he was stepping down from the Bureau’s presidency. The assembly immediately elected his son-in-law Shmuel Frankel-Kahana (1889–1970) to succeed him.17 The delegates furthermore ratified the decision not to cooperate with the Neolog authorities and introduced a number of changes to the bureau’s regulations. The most important of these was that, unlike in the past, a person who desecrated the Sabbath in public was barred from being elected a member of an Orthodox community council. At another rabbinical assembly held that year, the delegates passed a resolution decreeing that in order to maintain a high spiritual standard and to prevent newly ordained rabbis from serving in the nonOrthodox communities, every ordination of a yeshiva student as a rabbi must be approved by the Central Bureau.18 Despite the bureau’s official ban on Agudat Israel, the two bodies quietly cooperated throughout the interwar period. In 1920, Agudat Israel’s international center in Zurich announced that Avraham Frankel, the Bureau’s president, would act as its representative in Hungary.19 In 1924, at Agudat Israel’s national conference held in Pressburg, Slovakia, the Hungarian Bureau was represented by Rabbi Ephraim Fischel Sussman-Sofer, Budapest’s chief rabbi. The Orthodox journal Tel Talpiot furthermore deliberated whether the ban on Agudat Israel should be lifted.20 In order to circumvent the formal ban, Agudat Israel helped to establish several branches of Tiferet Bahurim, an Orthodox youth organization that enabled working young men who did not attend a yeshiva to study the Talmud in their free time. Since the study of the daf yomi (the daily study of a Talmud double-page) was identified with Agudat Israel, the thousands of students at Tiferet Bahurim studied only a single page each day. In return, they received a modest stipend as well as assistance in obtaining certificates for aliyah to Palestine.21 Since the mid-1930s, following the appointment of Rabbi Yosef Zvi Dushinsky of Chust (Huszt), PKR as chief rabbi of Jerusalem’s Eda Haredit and as the rabbi of Agudat Israel in Palestine, he openly supported the movement’s activities in Hungary. With his support, Rabbi SussmanSofer, Budapest’s chief rabbi, allowed the movement to operate openly in the city.22 Nevertheless, at its conference in 1936, the bureau was still reluctant to rescind the ban on Agudat Israel, but turned a blind eye to its activity in several cities. In Budapest, for example, Agudat Israel opened a center that promoted the settlement of Orthodox Jews in Palestine, yet unlike in other countries this branch was named The Yishuv so as to play

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down its connection with the banned movement and thus avoid the wrath of the extremists.23 On the Eve of World War II By the latter years of the 1930s, antisemitic utterances were no longer confined to individual citizens but had become part of a policy adopted by certain government institutions. The Orthodox, who were clearly recognizable as Jews, suffered more than the non-observant Jews.24 The Orthodox Bureau’s conference held in March 1937 addressed the rise in anti-Semitism in Europe and in Hungary in particular. The conference further discussed specific issues such as providing for the special needs of Jewish soldiers; exempting students at religious schools from writing on the Sabbath; and the demand to stun cattle before slaughtering the animal. Although this call was based on moral grounds, the stunning of an animal rendered it non-kosher.25 The bureau’s central committee convened once again at the end of that year and discussed further issues, such as Agudat Israel’s request that, given the grave situation, it be permitted to operate in more Hungarian communities; the establishment of community educational institutions; and raising the salaries of the Orthodox community’s employees.26 Several significant geopolitical events took place in 1938, among them the Munich Agreement and the First Vienna Award, following which the southern part of Slovakia and PKR were annexed to Hungary. In the same year, the government launched an operation to locate Jewish immigrants and refugees who did not hold residency certificates in order to deport them. It furthermore began to pass a series of laws aimed at its Jewish citizens. Fearing that additional anti-Jewish laws were imminent, the Orthodox and the Neolog councils decided to cooperate openly with each other.27 The Orthodox Bureau also focused on raising funds for yeshivas in dire financial circumstances and continued its discussion about joining Agudat Israel.28 Following the Second Vienna Arbitration in September 1940, the northern part of Transylvania was annexed to Hungary, and in November of that year, Romania, Hungary, and Slovakia joined the Axis Powers. At the same time, the Hungarian government enacted further anti-Jewish decrees, limiting the number of Jewish representatives in parliament; obliging Jewish merchants to open their stores on the Sabbath; and ordering the closure of all Jewish newspapers apart from one which was published by the Neolog Bureau and one by the Orthodox.29 The Orthodox Bureau during the Holocaust Following the annexation of PKR, the southern part of Slovakia, and northern Transylvania to Hungary, their local Orthodox Bureaus ceased to function and the Orthodox communities in these territories were once again subject to the Hungarian Bureau. During the interwar period, each of the

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bureaus had developed in a way that suited the needs of the Orthodox Jews in that specific location. Forcing them back into one body created three major problems. First, during the interwar period and contrary to the other bureaus, the Hungarian Bureau adopted a more tolerant and accommodating attitude toward other Jewish groups. Second, each of the bureaus had adopted its unique religious format. For example, the Slovak Bureau identified itself with Agudat Israel, while the other bureaus opposed it; and the bureaus of PKR and Transylvania adopted a far stricter religious position than did their Hungarian and Slovak counterparts. And third, the leaders of the bureaus in the annexed territories were not eligible to participate in the Hungarian Bureau’s decision-making forums. Consequently, their leaders sought ways through which they could continue to lead their communities along the lines they had set out in the past. Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum of Satmar, for example, sought but failed to establish a separate bureau for the Orthodox communities of Northern Transylvania.30 He then proposed that the Hungarian Bureau declare a general election. Given that the Orthodox populations in both Transylvania and PKR were relatively large, he hoped that many more conservative rabbis would be elected, thereby increasing the representation of Extreme Orthodoxy in the united Hungarian Bureau. This proposal was likewise rejected on the grounds that the previous elections to the bureau had been held in 1937 and the next elections were due to be held only six years thereafter. Eventually, several rabbis who represented the annexed territories were granted observer status and participated in making some of the Bureau’s decisions. By 1943, six years after the bureau’s last elections, the state of conflict prevented the holding of a general election and the bureau’s leadership remained in place up until the Holocaust.31 By the end of the 1930s, both because of government restrictions on Jews to travel and to convene, and because of countless internal controversies, the bureau’s activity diminished. It became by and large paralyzed and was unable to prepare the Orthodox communities for what lay ahead.32 Unable to act on the Orthodox front, several Orthodox leaders began to cooperate with the heads of other Jewish organizations in order to jointly oppose the anti-Jewish decrees.33 During the war years, the bureau convened several times to discuss the situation and focused mainly on launching fundraising campaigns for the benefit of the victims of the war, particularly the refugees who had fled Germany, Austria, and occupied Poland.34 As nationwide aid organizations, such as the Hungarian Jewish Aid Bureau (MIPI = Magyar Izraeliták Pártfogó Irodája) and the National Hungarian Jewish Relief Action (OMZSA = Országos Magyar Zsidó Segítő Akció)35 began to operate, the barriers between the religious streams were removed and they cooperated in almost all fields.36 The dire times led Agudat Israel to put pressure on the Hungarian Bureau to recognize its authority and join it. Agudat Israel’s leaders argued that the

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movement’s members in America were loath to donate to an organization such as the Hungarian Bureau, which banned them.37 Although some of the more conservative rabbis remained steadfast in their opposition to rescinding the historic ban on Agudat Israel, Tse’irei Agudat Israel, the movement’s youth organization, began to operate in several locations under different names.38 At the same time, leaders of Ha-Mizrahi invited the bureau’s officials to initiate a joint rescue operation. Yet owing to the intransigence of the Extreme Orthodox rabbis, led by Rabbi Teitelbaum of Satmar, the initiative failed to materialize and the Orthodox Jews were left without a rescue program.39 A further initiative on the part of Orthodox rabbis to cooperate with the Zionist organizations in order to lay down an infrastructure that would serve to rescue Jews when the time came was likewise thwarted by the extremist rabbis.40 Given the Hungarian Bureau’s impotence, local rabbis and leaders, particularly those linked to the Budapest Orthodox community, took steps to prepare for the worst. These included the Budapest community’s leaders Pinhas (Philip) Freudiger (1900–1976) and Haim Roth (?–1990), who participated in various rescue operations, including the financing of Kasztner’s rescue train.41 Some of the bureau’s leaders also initiated independent rescue operations,42 and Shmuel Kahana-Frankel, the bureau’s president, represented the Orthodox camp on the general Jewish Council (Judenrat), which the Hungarian and German authorities set up in early 1944.43 A great many Hungarian Jews perished during the Holocaust. Since the Orthodox Bureau’s leaders dared not disobey the Extreme Orthodox rabbis, their community was the least prepared Jewish group. Unlike other groups, which set up underground movements that enabled many Jews to escape, or built hidden shelters in which their members were able to hide, most of the Orthodox rabbis simply asked their followers to pray and repent. As a result, a large proportion of the hundreds of thousands of Hungarian Jews who were deported to the extermination camps were non-Zionist Orthodox Jews. Notes 1 Yekuthiel Yehuda Greenwald, Toyzent Yar Iddish Leben In Ungaren, New York, 1945, 146; Kinga Frojimovics, “Who were they?: Characteristics of the religious streams within Hungarian Jewry on the eve of the community’s extermination,” Yad Vashem Studies 35 (1) (2007): 143–177. 2 For example: Haynt, November 2, 1921, 2; ibid., November 15, 1921, 2; ibid., June 13, 1922, 2; ibid., August 29, 1922, 2; Nathaniel Katzburg, Antisemitism in Hungary: 1867–1914, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 1969, 106–130 (in Hebrew). 3 Jüdische Presse, June 10, 1921, 153; ibid., July 1, 1921, 169–170; ibid., July 15, 1921, 18. 4 Jüdische Presse, November 16, 1923, 361; ibid., November 23, 1923, 370; ibid., January 4, 1924, 4. 5 Moshe Goldstein, Sefer Tikun Olam, Munkács, 1936, 88–94.

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6 Greenwald, Toyzent Yar, 147; Shmuel Ha-Cohen Weingarten, Ha-Yeshivot BeHungaria: Divrei Yemeyhen U-Be’ayoteihen, Jerusalem; Kiryat Sefer, 1976, 84–93; Avraham Fuchs, Yeshivot Hungaria Begedulatan U-Behurbanan, vols. 1–2, Jerusalem: Hed, 1978–1987. 7 Norbert Gleszer, “Orthodox Kosher Mass Culture?: Food industry, hospitality industry, children’s holidays and open-air baths in the weekly paper of Orthodox Jewry in Hungary 1925–1944,” Acta Ethnographica Hungarica 53 (2) (2008): 217–242. 8 Jüdische Presse, January 14, 1927, 14–17; Zsidó Ujsag, January 7, 1927, 1; ibid., February 4, 1927, 3. 9 Zsidó Ujsag, December 10, 1926, 1, 6; ibid., December 17, 1926, 1–2; ibid., January 7, 1927, 1; ibid., January 17, 1927, 2; Daily News Bulletin / Jewish Telegraphic Agency (JTA), December 20, 1926, 2. 10 JTA, March 29, 1928. 3; ibid., June 22, 1928, 3; ibid., April 17, 1929, 1 11 Zsidó Ujsag, October 23, 1925, 4–5; ibid., November 20, 1925, 1–3; ibid., December 19, 1925, 1–2; ibid., January 1, 1926, 3–4. 12 Apirion, Tevet 5,685 (1925), 92–93; Zsidó Ujsag, October 12, 1928, 15 (and in the ensuing issues). 13 Zsidó Ujsag, January 31, 1930, 9. 14 Zsidó Ujsag, May 9, 1930, 1–2; ibid., June 5, 1930, 1. 15 Yosef Zvi Dushinsky, Shot Moharitz, vol. 1, Jerusalem 1975, 54a–54b; Haim Elazar Shapira, Darkei Haim Ve-Shalom, Munkács, 1940, 339–340. 16 Zsidó Ujsag, February 1, 1935, 1–3; ibid., March 1, 1935, 1–2; ibid., March 8, 1935, 1–2; ibid., March 29, 1935, 1–2; JTA, July 16, 1934, 5; Zehava Schwartz, HaKehila Ha-Ortodoksit Be-Hungaria 1939–1945, MA Thesis, Bar-Ilan University, Ramat Gan, 1990, 23–25. 17 Judaica, October 1934, 29–30. 18 Zsidó Ujsag, May 18, 1934, 1–3; ibid., July 12, 1935, 1–2; ibid., August 16, 1935, 1–2; ibid., August 23, 1935, 1–2; ibid., September 6, 1935, 2–3; ibid., September 13, 1935, 1. 19 Ha-Derekh, Heshvan 5,680 (1920), 22. 20 Tel Talpiot, 5 Shevat, 5,684 (1924), 45–47. 21 Darkenu, 8 Tishrei, 5,695 (1935), 10. 22 Darkenu, 29 Kislev, 5,695 (1935), 22; ibid., 14 Tevet, 5,695 )1935), 18; Hoemesz, August 23, 1935, 11. 23 Zsidó Ujsag, December 23, 1935, 8; ibid., January 1, 1936, 2; Goldstein, Tikun Olam, 106–112. 24 Katzburg, Antisemitism in Hungary, 131–135; Davar, June 25, 1935, 1; ibid., September 5, 1935, 6. 25 Zsidó Ujsag, June 19, 1936, 1–2; ibid., March 12, 1937, 6–8; JTA, April 11, 1938, 2. 26 Zsidó Ujsag, December 24, 1937, 1–3. 27 Orthodox Zsidó Ujsag, January 20, 1939, 3–4; ibid., February 1, 1939, 1–2; Haynt, December 28, 1938, 2; Schwartz, Ha-Kehila Ha-Ortodoksit, 23–25; Katzburg, Antisemitism in Hungary, 131–161; Israel Gutman, Bela Vago and Livia Rotkirchen, Hanhagat Yehudei Hungaria Be-Mivhan Ha-Shoah, Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1976, 23–25. 28 Orthodox Zsidó Ujsag, May 20, 1939, 2–3; ibid., August 20, 1939, 1–2. 29 Orthodox Zsidó Ujsag, October 16, 1940, 1–2; JTA, August 14, 1941, 1; Katzburg, Antisemitism in Hungary, 162–173. 30 Shlomo Ya’acov Gelbman, Moshian Shel Israel, vol. 7, Kiryas Joel, 2002, 209. 31 Menachem Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rabbi (1887–1979): A Biography, Ph.D. dissertation, Tel Aviv University, 2013, 190–191. 32 Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 198. 33 Orthodox Zsidó Ujsag, November 22, 1940, 3; Gelbman, Moshian Shel Israel, vol. 7, 210–212.

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34 Orthodox Zsidó Ujsag, September 16, 1938, 6–7; ibid., February 20, 1939, 5; ibid., March 10, 1940, 2; ibid., September 10, 1940, 1–3; ibid., November 22, 1940, 6. 35 MIPI = Magyar Izraeliták Pártfogó Irodája; OMZSA = Országos Magyar Zsidó Segítő Akció. 36 Orthodox Zsidó Ujsag, October 27, 1939, 1; ibid., May 30, 1941, 3; Schwartz, HaKehila Ha-Ortodoksit, 42–47. 37 Ya’acov Gelbman, Moshian Shel Israel, vol. 7, 211–214, 226–228; ibid., vol. 9, 9. 38 Orthodox Zsidó Ujsag, August 20, 1939, 1; ibid., February 20, 1940, 3. 39 Nathanael Katzburg, “Haredim Ve-Tsionim Be-Hungaria Betsel Ha-Shoah,” Shragai 3 (1989): 271–273. 40 Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 198; Yehuda S. Frankel, Ha-Mizrahi Be-Hungaria UManhigeyha, Petach Tikva, 2001, 27–29. 41 Shlomo Roth, Der Vaundlikher Klal Tuer, New York, 2007. 42 Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 196–197, 200–207. 43 Randolph L. Braham, “The role of the Jewish Council in Hungary: a tentative assessment,” Yad Vashem Studies 10 (1974): 69–109.

Bibliography Braham, Randolph L. “The role of the Jewish Council in Hungary: a tentative assessment.” Yad Vashem Studies 10 (1974): 69–109. Dushinsky, Yosef Zvi. Shot Moharitz, vol. 1. Jerusalem, 1975. Frankel, Yehuda S. Ha-Mizrahi Be-Hungaria U-Manhigeyha. Petach Tikva, 2001. Frojimovics, Kinga. “Who were they?: Characteristics of the religious streams within Hungarian Jewry on the eve of the community’s extermination.” Yad Vashem Studies 35 (1) (2007): 143–177. Fuchs, Avraham. Yeshivot Hungaria Begedulatan U-Behurbanan, vols. 1-2. Jerusalem: Hed, 1978-1987. Gelbman, Shlomo Ya’acov. Moshian Shel Israel, vol. 7. Kiryas Joel, 2002. Gleszer, Norbert. “Orthodox Kosher Mass Culture?: Food industry, hospitality industry, children’s holidays and open-air baths in the weekly paper of Orthodox Jewry in Hungary 1925–1944.” Acta Ethnographica Hungarica 53 (2) (2008): 217–242. Goldstein, Moshe. Sefer Tikun Olam. Munkács, 1936. Greenwald, Yekuthiel Yehuda. Toyzent Yar Iddish Leben In Ungaren, New York, 1945. Gutman, Israel, Bela Vago and Livia Rotkirchen. Hanhagat Yehudei Hungaria BeMivhan Ha-Shoah. Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1976. Katzburg, Nathanael. “Haredim Ve-Tsionim Be-Hungaria Betsel Ha-Shoah.” Shragai 3 (1989): 271–273. Katzburg, Nathaniel. Antisemitism in Hungary: 1867–1914. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 1969. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rabbi (1887–1979): A Biography. Ph.D. dissertation, Tel Aviv University, 2013. Roth, Shlomo. Der Vaundlikher Klal Tuer. New York, 2007. Schwartz, Zehava. Ha-Kehila Ha-Ortodoksit Be-Hungaria 1939–1945. M.A. Thesis, Bar-Ilan University, Ramat Gan, 1990. Shapira, Haim Elazar. Darkei Haim Ve-Shalom, Munkács, 1940. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. Ha-Yeshivot Be-Hungaria: Divrei Yemeyhen UBe’ayoteihen. Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1976.

6

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Transylvania, Romania *

Introduction World War I ended with the defeat of the Central Alliance to which Hungary belonged and it consequently lost about two-thirds of its former territory, which was annexed to other countries. Orthodox Jews in these territories now found themselves in new countries that did not recognize the separation of Jews according to their religious affiliation. The Paris Peace Conference of 1919 laid down the political and humanitarian guidelines by which the victorious countries were to rule their new territories. On the strength of this agreement, and particularly the Minority Treaties associated with it, the representatives of the Orthodox Jews and their communities applied to the different governments to grant them the same degree of autonomy they had previously enjoyed. Consequently, separate Orthodox organizations of one sort or another were formed in the former Hungarian territories that now belonged to Romania, Czechoslovakia, Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy. Of Transylvania’s 190,000 Jews, some 150,000 belonged to the autonomous Orthodox communities.1 Compared to the number of Orthodox Jews in post-Trianon Hungary and in the territories annexed to other countries, Transylvania had far more Orthodox than non-Orthodox communities and had more yeshivas and yeshiva students. Although Hungary’s Orthodox Bureau continued to operate after the war, because it catered to a far smaller number of Orthodox Jews, it lost most of its prestige and influence. This led the Orthodox leaders of Transylvania to consider themselves the “true” spiritual successors of the original “Hungarian Orthodoxy” and its values. Prior to World War I, Romania, to which Transylvania was annexed along with Bessarabia and Bukovina, had never been recognized as a Torah center. Until then, its 260,000 Jews had established only a few yeshivas and only a handful of Romanian rabbis were recognized beyond its boundaries. Although they clung to their Jewish identity, most Romanian Jews chose to

* This chapter is based on my article “The Politics of a Religious Enclave: Orthodox Jews in Interwar Transylvania, Romania,” Modern Judaism 37 (3) (2017): 363–391.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-9

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adopt the cultural rather that the religious components of Judaism.2 This was manifested, for example, in the fact that prior to World War I, Hasidism barely existed in that country.3 Given this rather lax attitude toward religion, Romanian Jewry never sought to separate its more observant members from those who were less observant, and never established separate Orthodox communities or organizations. This attitude presented a major threat to the separatist “Hungarian” legacy of the Orthodox Jews of Transylvania. However, the Alba Iulia (Karlsburg, Gyulafehérvár) decree, which was issued in December 1918 and settled the annexation of Transylvania to Romania, stipulated that the region would enjoy partial autonomy that would extend to religious matters. While such an institution had never before existed in Romania, several Transylvanian rabbis initiated the establishment of a local Orthodox Bureau, which all former Orthodox communities were invited to join. This, they believed, would enable them to perpetuate the most important element of their religious identity – the formal and practical separation of the Orthodox and the non-Orthodox communities. The Establishment of the Transylvanian Orthodox Bureau A preliminary meeting was held in Oradea (Oradea-Mare, Nagyvárad, Großwardein) in June 1920, at which the participants discussed the manner in which the general assembly would be conducted as well as the system to elect delegates.4 Once the communities had elected their delegates, the general assembly was held two months later, also in Oradea. Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Ullman, the non-Hasidic and broadly educated chief rabbi of Bistrița (Bistritz), was elected the Bureau’s president. In accordance with those of the Hungarian Bureau, the Transylvanian Bureau’s regulations stipulated that the general forum should comprise 30 laymen and 20 rabbis, who amounted to half the number of representatives in Greater Hungary’s Orthodox Bureau. They, in turn, would elect a central committee of 15 delegates and an executive committee of five rabbis to supervise the implementation of the Bureau’s policy. It was also decided that the Bureau’s offices should be located near its president’s residence in Bistrița, where it would employ a small professional staff.5 Seeking to perpetuate Hungarian Orthodoxy’s hard line, the Transylvanian Bureau took a clearly anti-Zionist stand from the very beginning. The first speech at the assembly was delivered by Rabbi Yisakhar Ber Kahan of Sfântu Gheorghe (Erdőszentgyörgyi), who, being the eldest rabbi, served as the meeting’s chair. Its main theme was not one of unity and reconciliation nor of confrontation with the non-Orthodox Jews and their organization, but rather an attack on the Orthodox religious-Zionist movement Ha-Mizrahi.6 The objection of the Orthodox in Oradea to Ha-Mizrahi intensified when two of the Zionist movement’s local leaders were elected to lead the Jewish community after the former non-Zionist Orthodox leader passed away.7

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At the meeting, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, who at the time resided in Irshava, Czechoslovakia, represented his brother Rabbi Haim Zvi Teitelbaum of Sighet. Rabbi Yoel, later known as the Satmar Rebbe, joined in the anti-Zionist attack and called upon his audience to denounce the rabbis who, seeking to support the settlement of Haredi farmers, encouraged the purchase of etrogim (ceremonial citrus fruits) imported from Palestine – the Holy land.8 The assembly ended with the publication of an anti-Zionist memorandum signed by a dozen rabbis: We forbid, in the strictest terms and in any circumstances, to join the company of the Zionists or religious-Zionists, or to assist their organizations in any manner; neither by money nor by word, neither their Keren Kayemet (the Jewish National Fund) nor their shekel (the Zionist fundraising plan); or, God forbid, to [send children] to study in their schools […] because these groups are evil and they are even worse than the Neolog […] and there is no practical difference between the secular Zionists and the religious Zionists […].9 Another anti-Zionist memorandum was published following the next rabbinical assembly, which convened in Dés in late June 1921.10 In early 1922, Romania’s minister of education and religion held a meeting with the country’s rabbis and its Jewish leaders. One of the topics they discussed was the demand to recognize the separate status of the Orthodox organization in Transylvania. The Transylvanian rabbis proposed that Orthodox communities be established throughout Romania, but this idea was overruled by the rest of the participants. The minister eventually accepted the Transylvanian rabbis’ claim that the Jewish tradition in the region was different from that which existed in other parts of Romania. He consequently sanctioned the continuing separation between Orthodox and non-Orthodox communities and recognized the Transylvanian Orthodox Bureau as the central organ of the Orthodox communities. These understandings, however, were formally approved only a few years later with the legislation of the “Religious Communities Act.”11 Despite its temporary status, the Bureau’s delegates convened in various forums every couple of months to deal with ongoing issues.12 This formal recognition allowed Transylvania’s Orthodox Jews to administer their public affairs just as they had done during their Hungarian period. The major difference was that while in Hungary, the Orthodox formed a minority among the Jews – in Transylvania, they constituted a majority. This meant that, from a Jewish perspective, Transylvania had become a cultural and religious enclave, which, to a large degree, was dominated by Orthodox Jews and their rabbis. This resulted in the establishment of one of the most prolific Torah centers in Jewish history. Hundreds of rabbis and Hasidic rebbes resided in Transylvania and even the smallest communities had employed their own chief rabbi.13 Almost all children were sent to the heder and later to the many

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Transylvania, Romania 101 yeshivas which operated in the region.14 The region also boasted many authors of religious books.15 On the other hand, since Orthodoxy did not face any immediate external threat within this protected enclave, the internal ideological gaps among its several camps widened. This, as we shall see, would have major consequences. The Rise of Extreme Orthodoxy Prior to World War I, Extreme Orthodoxy had constituted only a small group among Hungarian Orthodoxy, which was dominated by its mainstream leadership, namely the more tolerant Ashkenazi modern-oriented Orthodoxy. This, however, was not the case in post–World War I Transylvania, were Extreme Orthodoxy made up a far larger portion of the Orthodox population and the Orthodox constituted a majority among the region’s Jews. Seeking to fulfill their separatist agenda, Extreme Orthodox leaders sought to differentiate themselves and their followers from the more lenient mainstream Orthodoxy, thereby creating a social framework of an enclave within an enclave. The first significant challenge to mainstream Ashkenazi Orthodoxy took place in the early 1920s in Cluj-Napoca (Kolozsvár, Klausenburg), one of Transylvania’s major cities. Its chief rabbi, Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Glasner (1856–1925), was long known for his support of the Zionist cause and as the spiritual leader of the local branch of Ha-Mizrahi, the religious-Zionist movement.16 Although he led a well-established and recognized Orthodox community, in 1922 a group of zealous Hasidim decided to defy his authority and to found an independent community.17 They justified their move by claiming that the main community was Orthodox only in title, but since its members were Zionists, they, the “true Orthodox,” had a religious obligation to break with the “sinners.” In response, the main community issued a public declaration that read as follows: This holy community [of Cluj] has been attacked by them [the rebellious Hasidim] just as a pack of wild wolves attacks a herd of sheep, and they called us by the obscene name of Zionists […] as well as other foul terms, and they seek to stop us from taking any part in God’s land as if we were a sinful community, God forbid. Indeed, some individuals have donated funds toward the settlement of the Holy Land, as the Zionists do, but isn’t this the same as in other prominent communities such as Satmar, Sighet, Oradea, Baia Mare and Bistrița […] which also have such individuals? […] and this group of sixty people who call themselves Sephardi […] they slandered us […] by telling the government’s ministers that the leaders of the [main] community are dissidents, rebels and Bolsheviks […].18 Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, who at the time still served as the chief rabbi of Irshava, Czechoslovakia, had already acquired a reputation of a religious

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zealot and of a firm advocate of Extreme Orthodox separatist ideology. Although he never lived in Cluj, and did not intend to do so, he was ordained as the separatist community’s chief rabbi. Through his religious authority, tenacity, and political connections, he helped to establish the separate community’s autonomous status.19 The newly established Transylvanian Bureau found itself in an awkward situation in the midst of this controversy. On the one hand, it was loath to openly support the stand of Cluj’s Zionist rabbi, but on the other hand, it feared that by allowing the split it would encourage other zealous groups to establish separatist communities in other places. This, eventually, could lead to the total collapse of the entire Orthodox communal system. The Cluj controversy, which ballooned and impacted communities even beyond the borders of Transylvania, raged for more than a decade. While some rabbis supported the extremists’ demand to separate, many others sought to keep the Orthodox camp united. The controversy quickly deteriorated into legal action on both sides, mutual slandering, reports of wrongdoing to the authorities, and even blatant physical violence. In many instances, it took the police and the local judicial system to restrain the combatants, only for matters to flare up again quite soon.20 The ideological and political conflicts between the Orthodox camps damaged their mutual interests. The economic depression of the late 1920s resulted in a sharp decrease in donations to the yeshivas, which struggled to survive. Furthermore, the banning of Agudat Israel by most of Transylvania’s rabbis meant that they did not participate in nor benefit from Keren Ha-Torah (the Torah foundation), an international fundraising initiative aimed at supporting the struggling Orthodox education system. Following the success of Supporters of the Yeshivas (tomkhei yeshivot), a body established in 1925 by the post-Trianon Hungarian Bureau to support its yeshivas, a similar organization was founded in Transylvania in 1929. This organization was initially embraced by all Orthodox leaders. Shortly thereafter, the Extreme Orthodox camp, led by Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, who by then had moved to Transylvania and taken up position as chief rabbi of Carei (Nagykároly, Krule), refused to accept the authority of the organization’s more tolerant leadership. This very soon led to the organization’s collapse.21 After the 1868–1869 congress, several communities, while they conducted themselves in the traditional observant manner, refrained from joining the Hungarian Orthodox Bureau. They thus continued to be regulated according to the former Hungarian law and were subsequently known as the Status Quo communities. After World War I, when Hungarian law was no longer relevant, they had no legal basis for their independent existence in Romania, and some of the more conservative of these communities sought to join the Transylvanian Orthodox Bureau. Although the admission of additional communities could have strengthened the Bureau, extremist rabbis rejected their request and refused to forgive them for their past “sin.”22

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Transylvania, Romania 103 These examples typify dozens of conflicts and controversies that erupted between mainstream and Extreme Orthodox leaders and communities.23 They demonstrate Extreme Orthodoxy’s growing power after World War I and its quest to impose its reclusive and intolerant lifestyle. The ongoing restlessness and constant inner political battles jeopardized the unity of Orthodox society and limited its potential achievements. The Mainstream’s Reaction: Organized Orthodoxy Prior to World War I, the Hungarian Orthodox Bureau routinely accused the two Orthodox political movements – Ha-Mizrahi, the religious-Zionist movement, and Agudat Israel, the non-Zionist movement – of being overly lenient and prone to compromise, and managed to curb their activity in Hungary. During World War I, Palestine was conquered by Great Britain. The mandate it was given by the League of Nations included its commitment to implement the Balfour Declaration of 1917, which supported the establishment of “a national home” for the Jewish people. Following these new circumstances, the Zionist movements as well as Agudat Israel, which was also committed to the settlement of Jews in Palestine, gained tremendous public support. This, alongside the Transylvanian Bureau’s lack of any formal authority to block them, enabled the two religious movement to open their first branches in the region. The first to establish a foothold was Ha-Mizrahi, which had gained some support even before the war and enjoyed the backing of rabbis such as Rabbi Glasner of Cluj. During the 1920s it managed to recruit many Orthodox youngsters who were appalled by the controversies and the aggressive conduct of their political and spiritual leaders. Rebelling against the old school, they joined a movement that offered them not only a national identity to be proud of but also a potential future in the Holy Land.24 This extraordinary transition was symbolized by the fact that Ha-Mizrahi’s located its central office in Sighet, which prior to World War I was known as one of the most conservative and anti-Zionist communities. The movement’s success was so rapid that in 1929 it managed to organize a regional conference attended by several thousand Jews from dozens of towns and villages. Despite their efforts, neither the town’s rabbis nor the Orthodox Bureau were able to block the event.25 Regardless of its ideological objection to Zionism, Agudat Israel supported the settlement of Orthodox Jews in Palestine. It moreover tolerated the teaching of some general studies and the use of Hebrew and foreign languages in its educational institutions, and cooperated with the modern-oriented rabbis of Germany. This, in the eyes of many Hungarian rabbis and some of the leaders of the Orthodox Bureau, meant that the movement was too lenient and too willing to compromise and should thus be banned. After World War I, the movement tried once again to gain a foothold in Transylvania, where it enjoyed considerable public support that now, given

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the different circumstances, could be exploited.26 This attempt was likewise opposed both by the Hasidim, especially those influenced by the Sighet court,27 and by several non-Hasidic Ashkenazi rabbis.28 Despite the opposition, Agudat Israel began its operation in Oradea, where it was supported by the town’s chief rabbi – Rabbi Benjamin Fuchs (1877–1936). He was joined by Rabbi Israel Hager– leader of the Viznitz Hasidic court, which had many followers in Transylvania– who moved to the town during the war. The collaboration between these two influential rabbis led to the spread of the movement to other parts of Transylvania.29 The proliferation of Ha-Mizrahi in the region propelled even the most zealous leaders, such as Rabbi Haim Zvi Teitelbaum of Sighet, to cooperate with Agudat Israel – the only movement that had the potential to muster significant opposition.30 In a compromise more or less forced upon them, several Transylvanian rabbis permitted Agudat Israel’s youth wing to operate in their territory, which at least prevented the young from joining HaMizrahi’s youth movement.31 Following the untimely death of Rabbi Haim Zvi of Sighet in 1926, his young son and successor, Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda, also known as Zalman Leib, likewise turned a blind eye when Agudat Israel’s youth wing began operating in his town in the early 1930s.32 The Consolidation of Three Orthodox Camps The above-mentioned social and political processes resulted in the establishment of three unofficial but socially distinct Orthodox camps. The first and the largest was still that of the non-Hasidic Jews, which was also called Ashkenazi. They held a more tolerant and modern worldview, adopted a more modern appearance, acquired general education, spoke several languages and gave their children a broad education. While some of them joined Agudat Israel, many others preferred Ha-Mizrahi’s religious-Zionist orientation. Only a small number of them shunned both movements. Since this was the largest camp, it also controlled the Orthodox Bureau, which, contrary to its formal position, turned a blind eye to the two religious movements’ activity.33 The Extreme Orthodox camp, led by the Teitelbaum family rabbis, objected to everything modern. Although it was still smaller, its members’ conviction and zealotry, as well as their provocative acts, kept them in the public eye. This group comprised mainly Sighet Hasidim, who objected to the inclusion of general studies in their children’s curriculum, to all “modern” changes, to new fashions in clothing and appearance, to Ha-Mizrahi’s nationalistic ideas, and even to Agudat Israel. They even shunned other Hasidic courts that did not comply with their principles. Extreme Orthodoxy also included a small group of Ashkenazi laymen and rabbis. The third and smallest camp included the moderate Hasidim and especially those which belonged to the Viznitz and Spinka courts. Although their rabbis opposed any move toward modernity as well, they supported Agudat Israel

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Transylvania, Romania 105 and the settlement of Jews in Palestine. With the blessing of the Viznitz Rebbe, who was assisted by his son – Rabbi Menachem Mendel Hager (1885–1941) of Vişeu de Sus (Felsővisó, Oyber Visho) – the movement established several branches in Maramaros county, where Agudat Israel had previously encountered the greatest opposition.34 Faced with a common opponent, namely Extreme Orthodoxy, these Hasidim cooperated with the Ashkenazi rabbis and gained some influence in the Orthodox bureau.35 This confluence of interests eventually led to the spread of both Agudat Israel and Ha-Mizrahi to other locations in Transylvania. Both movements established their own formal and informal education system, both for boys and for girls and published their own magazines,36 and both set up training farms for Orthodox candidates prior to their migration to Palestine.37 By the mid-1930s, the Orthodox Bureau realized that its formal objection to Agudat Israel was futile and acknowledged the movement, which many of its members had already joined. The only figure who continued to attack both HaMizrahi and Agudat Israel, albeit largely to no avail, was Extreme Orthodoxy’s leader – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum.38 The Religious Communities Law In 1926, the process leading up to the legislation of Romania’s new Religious Communities Law entered its final stages. As in many other European countries, the law required all citizens to register with a local religious community. This was not only to provide them with various religious services and to keep vital records, but also to maintain a religiously appropriate education system and social support net for the needy. The new law acknowledged the autonomous status of the Orthodox communities in Transylvania and recognized the Orthodox Bureau as their governing and representative body. It emphasized every citizen’s right to exercise their religious belief, but prohibited the imposition of religious standards on those who did not wish to abide by them. In addition, it drew a clear line between religious institutions and political organizations. This meant that political parties were not allowed to espouse religious ideologies, and that religious institutions were not permitted to host political activities. The major clauses of the law stipulated the following: limiting the number of Jewish communities in a particular location (permitting no more than one Orthodox, one Neolog, and one Status Quo grouping); empowering the community to enforce the collection of taxes and fight tax evasion; and acknowledging the unique elevated status of the community’s rabbis by, for example, exempting them from military service.39 Although the religious communities were to administer their own education systems, they were required to meet the government’s minimal standards and students were required to take state exams.40 The law clearly stated that the ultimate responsibility for all religious communities lay in the hands of the Ministry of Religion and Minorities. This

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meant that the minister and his non-Jewish officials were authorized to inspect the Bureau and the communities’ regulations prior to their approval, and to supervise their lawful execution thereafter.41 Given that Romania’s administration was at the time notoriously corrupt and that governments remained in office for only a matter of months before they were replaced, it was fairly easy to bypass the Bureau and to influence its decisions by manipulating and even bribing the ministry’s officials.42 The Extreme Orthodox and the New Law In many locations, and especially in villages and small towns, either because of the size of the Jewish population or because of its religious composition, there was room for only one type of Jewish community. Consequently, in places where only an Orthodox community existed, it was required to tend to the needs of the secular and the non-Orthodox members, and in places where only a Neolog or a Status Quo community operated, it had to cater to the Orthodox Jews’ needs. This generated tension between the Orthodox and the nonOrthodox and, in some cases, the establishment of separate communities benefited both parties. In several of the largest Orthodox communities, groups of Extreme Orthodox Jews felt that the religious standards applied were not sufficiently strict and sought to establish their own separatist communities. For the existing Orthodox leadership, the establishment of an additional Orthodox community, which was usually referred to as “Sephardi,” was devastating. It not only portrayed them as overly compromising and lenient, but also deprived them of tax-paying members, which had dire financial implications. Consequently, once deliberations on the new Religious Communities Law got under way, some twenty of the largest Orthodox communities petitioned the minister to forbid the establishment of separatist Orthodox communities.43 The Extreme Orthodox leaders naturally objected to this idea, and were supported by the Neolog camp’s leaders, who gained political capital from any schism in the Orthodox camp. Eventually, after three years of negotiations, the coalition of the Neolog and the Extreme Orthodox leaders managed to repeal the prohibition on separate communities. The revised law stipulated that a rabbinical court may authorize the establishment of a separate community, subject to approval by the Orthodox Bureau.44 Once this amendment was passed, Extreme Orthodox leaders initiated a series of requests for the formation of separate communities, and at the same time sought to gain greater influence in the Bureau. This prompted bitter controversies among Transylvania’s Orthodox communities, the most turbulent and enduring of which concerned the appointment of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum as Satmar’s chief rabbi. The controversy erupted in 1928, shortly after the law’s amendment and following the death of Satmar’s chief rabbi – Rabbi David Eliezer Greenwald (1867–1928). Immediately thereafter, and without proper consultation, a few

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Transylvania, Romania 107 of Rabbi Yoel’s disciples proclaimed him as Satmar’s next chief rabbi and, employing some cunning ruses, managed to pass a community council resolution to that effect. This appointment, however, was not welcomed by most of the town’s Jews, since Rabbi Yoel had already acquired the reputation of an intolerant and arrogant zealot. The fierce controversy between Rabbi Yoel’s supporters and opponents took the form of slander, deception, and verbal and physical violence on the part of both sides, and the Bureau was forced to intervene.45 In January 1930, the Orthodox Bureau assembled at Dej (Dés). Among other issues, the participants also addressed the Satmar rabbinate controversy, which had entered its third year, and proposed a compromise solution.46 Since Satmar’s Orthodox community rejected the compromise, and having a new legal option available to them, Rabbi Yoel’s supporters exploited this opportunity and threaten to establish a separate community:47 It is by now public knowledge that the official leaders of our community (i.e., Satmar) refuse to accept the rabbinical court’s verdict […] and these men are sinners in their hearts […] and now we see that we have no choice but to part with them and to become a separate community, and “what does the weed have to do with the wheat” and us with those evildoers […] and we have decided to take the necessary steps […] and we have the full support of the Gaon and righteous chief rabbi of Carei [meaning Rabbi Yoel] and he should become our leader.48 While, thanks to the efforts of the Orthodox Bureau, no such separate community was ever established, the mere threat served as a political lever to subdue opposition to Rabbi Yoel’s eventual nomination a few years later. The Orthodox Bureau’s Conference of 1932 The ongoing controversy between the Extreme Orthodox and the other two Orthodox factions reached one of its peaks during the Bureau’s next general assembly. The meeting was convened following the departure of its president, Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Ullman, and the need to appoint a successor. Prior to the general assembly, a preparatory committee gathered in Valea lui Mihai (Érmihályfalva) to discuss the procedure for the election as well as the conference budget and its schedule. The committee members also discussed the potential candidates and the posts that the Hasidic party would be allocated.49 The general assembly convened in Dej on February 1932. The speakers acknowledged that, for various reasons, the Bureau’s public status had recently been eroded and that its finances had dwindled. They further asserted that its only chance of recovery lay in electing a president who had the personality and the capacity to unite its various camps and to salvage it from the crisis it was currently experiencing.50

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The question as to who that individual might be plunged Transylvanian Orthodoxy into acute controversy. On the one hand, there was Rabbi Benjamin Fuchs of Oradea, who represented Transylvanian Orthodoxy’s non-Hasidic, more open-minded and more tolerant mainstream camp. For many years, he had been one of the Bureau’s most dependable members and was an avowed supporter of Agudat Israel. In the other corner stood Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, who represented the complete opposite. The leader of the Extreme Orthodox camp, he was a Hasid, opposed Agudat Israel, rejected modernity, and was extremely intolerable toward those who thought differently from him. The election campaign was waged on several fronts: attempts to persuade the local authorities to approve this or that candidate; appealing to Jewish public opinion by means of street posters and distributing slanderous letters; manipulating the Jewish press into supporting or denigrating one of the candidates; and lobbying among rabbis and other leaders of public opinion. The parties eventually agreed upon a compromise candidate, and Rabbi Ben-Zion Wesel (1864–1938) of Turda was unanimously declared the next Bureau’s president. Haim Freund, a businessman from Satmar and a firm supporter of Rabbi Yoel, was elected as vice president and representative of the Hasidic party.51 Following his election, Rabbi Wesel sought to unite the Orthodox camps and to curb the destructive influence of the Extreme Orthodox party. To that end, he established an Orthodox Hungarian weekly magazine titled Hoemesz (lit. The Truth). It reported on ongoing issues related to Transylvanian Orthodoxy while laying out the Bureau’s stand on these issues. It likewise refuted the allegations made by the Neolog leaders, who gloated at the controversies that beset the Orthodox communities. Reality Overcomes Ideology The global economic crisis of the late 1920s and early 1930s acutely impacted Romania’s poorest population, which resided in the northern counties of Transylvania.52 This led to a series of antisemitic attacks on Jews, the worst of which was the torching of hundreds of Jews’ houses in the town of Borsa in Maramaros county in 1930 by a group of Romanian nationalist students.53 The global economic depression and the rise in antisemitism drove Jews to seek refuge in other countries. Following the Immigration Act of 1924, which placed strict restrictions on Jewish immigration to the USA, many considered migrating to Palestine, where the economic situation was improving.54 It didn’t take the Orthodox leaders long to realize that should they fail to respond to this demand, many Jews would turn to the Zionist immigration offices. Several rabbis who had previously frowned upon settlement in Palestine now had a change of heart.55 The figure who led this change of direction was Rabbi Avraham Yisakhar Dov Isakson of Poienile de Sub

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Transylvania, Romania 109 Munte (Havasmező). He was supported by other rabbis, several of whom were leading members of the Bureau.56 After a series of local gatherings, in early 1933 more than a thousand Orthodox men convened in Sighet to discuss the issue of migration to Palestine. The meeting was attended by the Bureau’s representatives and even by rabbis who had previously spoken out against Zionism, against Agudat Israel, and against organized migration.57 Even Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, the fiercest opponent to Zionism, could no longer ignore the general public’s demands. Seeking to enhance his public image, which had suffered during the Satmar rabbinate campaign, he sent a letter of support for the initiative: Regarding what was reported to me, that a large audience of righteous and God fearing Jews have assembled for the purpose of settling in the Holy Land, and living there off the fruits of their fields and the grapes of their vineyards, don’t refuse the blessing of a lesser person [like myself], as from the depth of my heart I fully and wholly wish thee that God – Blessed be his name – should guide you along the right way and through you will demonstrate his greatness, and we shall all witness the kindness of God there.58 The initiative resulted in the migration of a few dozen families to Palestine, but this trend was halted due to Hitler’s rise to power in 1933 and the massive wave of emigrants from Germany who used up all the immigration quotas.59 Emigration from Transylvania resumed two years later following a growing demand for experienced farmers, resulting in hundreds of Orthodox Jews, mainly from Maramaros and PKR, settling in Palestine.60 Besides supporting those who wished to immigrate to Palestine by helping them to obtain certificates and emigration permits, the Bureau, under the leadership of Rabbi Wesel, had to address a variety of challenges linked to the spread of antisemitism and discrimination against Jewish, and especially the Orthodox, communities. Following are examples of the topics on the Bureaus’ agenda: rescinding the obligation placed on Jewish schoolchildren to write on the Sabbath; exempting the communities from paying tax on the sale of matzos and matzah flour, which served as a main source of their income; granting Jewish soldiers a furlough during the high-holidays; exempting the Jewish community councils from having to pay postage on their letters; blocking governmental regulations that offended the Jews, such as the obligation to open some businesses on the Sabbath; raising the government budget for the Orthodox communities; and rescheduling the local “market day” from the Sabbath to a weekday. To help tackle these acute challenges, the Bureau even sought to appoint its own Orthodox delegate to the Romanian Senate.61 Luck Plays into the Hands of the Extreme Orthodox In order to deal with the abundance of external challenges, the Bureau was compelled to settle some of the ongoing inner disputes by applying pressure

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on the parties involved. This was how the controversy in Satmar was eventually resolved, leading to the appointment of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum as the town’s chief rabbi in 1934. Since one of his tasks was to collect and transfer funds from his relatively large and influential community to the Bureau, he gained some leverage on the Bureau’s leadership and sought to become a part of it.62 To that end, he visited communities far and wide, where he promoted his candidacy among the laymen and courted the leaders.63 Under Rabbi Wesel’s leadership, the Bureau had revived its finances and improved its public image as well.64 It furthermore regained its position as the principal authority entrusted with handling disputes that erupted either within or between Orthodox communities.65 In view of these accomplishments attributed to the incumbent leadership, in early 1936, it appeared that Rabbi Yoel had only a very slim chance of gaining significant influence at the upcoming general assembly scheduled for the end of that year. All this, however, was about to change, as within a short period two of the most powerful figures in the Bureau’s leadership departed. The first was Rabbi Benjamin Fuchs of Oradea, who passed away in March 1936, and the second was Rabbi Israel Hager – The Viznitz Rebbe – who died two months later. These two figures were the leaders of two of the three camps of Transylvanian Orthodoxy, and both opposed the Extreme Orthodox camp’s ideology. Their death energized the Extreme Orthodox camp and drove it to seek greater political power. In a bid to foil this attempt, the more tolerant Hasidic camp brought out a new newspaper titled Transilvanishe Yidishe Tseitung. It warned the public of catastrophic results should the Extreme Orthodox camp gain control of the Bureau. As part of its campaign it went so far as to compare Rabbi Yoel and the Extreme Orthodox ideology he represented to Hitler and his antisemitic policy.66 Rabbi Yoel’s followers responded by founding their own newspaper, in which they refuted their opponents’ claims.67 The Bureau’s general assembly, attended by 300 delegates, was held in late December 1936 and was chaired by the old and frail Rabbi Wesel. It addressed various issues, such as: increasing the economic support for rabbis; the training of Jewish teachers; seeking government permission for Jews to pray on trains while wearing tefillin and talith; calling for mandatory consultation with the Bureau prior to any change in legislation which might affect the Jews; the appointment of an Orthodox delegate in the national parliament; and promoting a law banning the publication of antisemitic newspapers.68 During the assembly, following some deft political moves and despite the opposition of many of the participants, Rabbi Yoel was elected to the central rabbinical committee, which meant that he was now part of the Bureau’s supreme leadership.69 Prior to his appointment at Satmar, Rabbi Yoel served as chief rabbi in the town of Carei. When he accepted the office at Satmar, he sought to appoint one of his followers as his successor, a move that most of the town’s Jews

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Transylvania, Romania 111 opposed. This dragged Carei into an exceptionally stormy controversy that was reflected in the posters that the parties published: Oh you Jews, keepers of the Torah […] A disaster has descended upon our holy Torah, and if the historical Titus has departed, here is a new one – Yoel – who seeks to extinguish the holy Torah and the holy communities by using his Edomite troops […] come and behold how this man of hate dresses [his words] with his lies […] and uses the Torah to undermine the community in all the towns in which the oppressor Yoel assumes by force the throne […] and [while] in all other towns it is unthinkable to be bullied into accepting a rabbi, how can we sit still and watch our country’s Jewish leadership subdued by such a bullying gangster […].70 As part of his counter–attack, Rabbi Yoel succeeded in preventing Carei’s delegates from participating in the Bureau’s assembly. They, in response, appealed to the minister, who, in March 1937 accepted their claims and nullified the elections.71 At its subsequent meetings, the Bureau reaffirmed the former results. It also discussed the ongoing internal controversies, which persisted despite a surge of antisemitic incidents that the authorities either supported or ignored.72 The Bureau’s last assembly before the Holocaust was held in Cluj in early February 1939, by when Rabbi Yoel’s position as one of its top leaders was an established fact.73 The Second Vienna Arbitration, signed in late August 1940, returned the northern part of Transylvania, which was populated by a majority of Hungarians, to Hungary. While the Transylvanian Bureau ceased its activity following the annexation, the Hungarian Bureau remained active almost up until the Holocaust. In order to represent the various territories that were annexed to Hungary during that period, the Bureau appointed several observers, foremost among them being Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, who represented Transylvania. This episode is addressed in the book’s previous chapter. Notes 1 Pinkas Ha-Kehilot: Romania, Vol. 2, Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1980, p. 8; Zvi Yaakov Abraham (ed.), Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut Be-Transylvania, Brooklyn, 1951, Vol. 1, p. 137. 2 Lucian-Ze’ev Hershkowitz, “Ha-yeshuv ha-yehudi be-romania ad milhemet haolam ha-rishona” (Romanian Jewry until WWI), in Romanian Jewry and the Revival of Israel, (ed.) Paltiel Segal, vol. 1, Tel Aviv, 1992, pp. 17–33. 3 Yishak Alfasi, Ha-Hasidut Be-Romania, Tel Aviv, 1973. Hasidism was brought to Romania only after the territories of Transylvania, Bukovina, and Bessarabia were annexed to in after World War I. 4 Yizhak Peri, Toldot Ha-Yehudim Be-Transylvania Ba-Meot Ha-18 Ve-Ha-19, vol. 1, Tel Aviv, 2000, 154. 5 Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 133–134. 6 Yisakhar Ber Kahan, Shav Lakhem Mashkimei Kum, Bistrița, 1921.

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Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 141. Gelbman, Moshian Shel Israel, vol. 4, Kiryas Joel, 1992, 410. Gelbman, Moshian, vol. 4, 413. Új Kelet, June 24, 1921, 2; ibid., June 28, 1921, 1–2; Jüdische Presse, July 1, 1921, 169–170; Yekuthiel Zvi Zehavi, Biyemei Matsor U-Matsok: Ha-Tsionut BeTransilvania, Be-Slovakia Uve-Rusia Ha-Karpatit Ba-Shanim 1918–1948, Jerusalem: Mosad Ha-Rav Kook, 1992, 17–18. Ben Zion Yakobovitz, Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 3, Bnei Barak, 1987, 117–120; Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 130. Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 135–136; Új Kelet, February 25, 1922, 1; ibid., March 8, 1922, 5; ibid., June 23, 1922, 2; ibid., November 6, 1923, 1; ibid., May 26, 1924, 2; ibid., December 14, 1924, 1; ibid., August 24, 1925, 1; ibid., October 16, 1925, 2; ibid., May 31, 1928, 6; ibid., July 14, 1929, 4; Jüdische Presse, July 7, 1922, 156; ibid., July 27, 1923, 214; ibid., November 16, 1923, 364; ibid., December 21, 1923, 404; ibid., February 29, 1924, 64; ibid., February 27, 1925, 52; Zsidó Újság, May 27, 1927, 2; ibid., December 14, 1930, 5; ibid., December 25, 1930, 6. Yosef Yitzhak Cohen, Hahmei Transilvania, Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalaim, 1989. Avraham Fuchs, Yeshivot Hungaria Be-Gedulatan U-Vehurbanan, vol. 1, Jerusalem, 1979, 317–460, 508–557; Ibid., vol. 2, Jerusalem, 1987, 217–307. Yosef Yitzhak Cohen, “Ha-defus ha-ivri be-transilvanya” Kiryat Sefer 33 (3) (1958): 386–403; Ibid., 34 (4) (1959): 499–512; Ibid., 35 (1) (1960): 98–108; Ibid., 37 (3) (1962): 249–265. David Glasner, “Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Glasner, the ‘Dor Revi’i’,” Tradition 32 (1) (1997): 40–56. Cluj had also a separate and prosperous Neolog community. On the controversy, see: Mordechai Sheher, Ha-Ir Kloizenberg Ve-Kehiloteiha, Brooklyn, 2012 (in Yiddish); Zehavi, Biyemei Matsor, 24–25; Menachem Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rebbe (1887–1979): A Biography, PhD dissertation, (Tel Aviv University, 2013), 71–74 (in Hebrew). Broadside, The Israeli National Library collection, Sig. 18 L 94, (in Hebrew). After he was appointed as Carei’s chief rabbi in 1926, Rabbi Yoel appointed Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda Halberstam – his late brother’s son-in-law – as his successor in Cluj. Benjamin Brown, “ʽKe-haravot le-guf ha-adama:’ hitnagdutam shel rabanei mizrah Eiropa le-ra’ayon ha-kehilot ha-nifradot,” In: Yosef Da’at: Studies in Modern Jewish History in Honor of Yosef Salmon, edited by Yossi Goldstein, Be’er Sheva: University of Be’er Sheva Press, 2010, 215–244. Beit Va’ad Le-Hahamim, Av-Elul, 5,688 (1928), 161; Ha-Yeshiva, Heshvan, 5,689 (1929), 5; ibid, Kislev, 5,689 (1929), 2; ibid., Tevet, 5,689 (1929), 1; Ha-Orah, Sivan, 5,689 (1929), 2–5; ibid., Tamuz, 5,689 (1929), 9–10; Zsidó Élet, April 25, 1929, 1–25; Új Kelet, April 3, 1929, 5; ibid., April 6, 1929, 6. On this controversy, see: Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 118–120. Jüdische Presse, March 10, 1922, 59; ibid., December 21, 1923, 404; Otzar HaHaim, 5,686 (1926), 81–85; Yoel Teitelbaum, Igerot Maharit, Kiryas Joel, 2001, 252–254; Gelbman, Moshian, vol. 3, 276. A copy of the call to reject Carei’s Status Quo community’s request to join the Orthodox Bureau; Abraham, Le-Korot HaYahadut, 137–138. Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 109–118. Shlomo Zimroni, Yovel Ha-Hamishim Le-Hamizrahi: Toldot Tenuat Ha-Mizrahi Be-Transilvania, Jerusalem, 1952; Zehavi, Biyemei Matzor, 1–11. Uj Kelet, July 26, 1929, 4; ibid., August 22, 1929, 2; ibid., August 23, 1929, 2; ibid., August 28, 1929, 5.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Transylvania, Romania 113 26 Jüdische Presse, October 22, 1920, 2; ibid., July 1, 1921, 170; ibid., July 15, 1921, 180. 27 Yosef Fund, Separation or Participation: Agudat Israel Confronting Zionism and the State of Israel, Jerusalem: Magnes, 1999, (in Hebrew), 65–66; Ha-Tsfiira, August 5, 1920, 3; Jüdische Presse, January 4, 1924, 2; Ha-Bahur, Iyar, 5,688 (1928), 15; ibid., Sivan, 5,688 (1928), 1; Otzar Ha-Haim, 5,690 (1930), 71–72; Zvi Grossman (ed.), Sefer Zikaron Le-Yahadut Großwardein – Oradea – Nagyvárad Ve-Haseviva, Tel Aviv 1984, 391–392. 28 Shlomo Zalman Ehrenreich, Sefer Igerot Lehem Shelomo: Osef Igerot UMikhtavim, Brooklyn, 1994, 292–299. 29 Jüdische Presse, December 12, 1924, 322; ibid., May 28, 1925, 148; ibid., April 30, 1926, 133; Apirion, Shevat, 5,684 (1924), 84. 30 Jüdische Presse, December 11, 1925, 331; ibid., January 29, 1926, 31. 31 Jüdische Presse, February 29, 1924, 65; ibid., May 8, 1925, 124; Grossman, Sefer Zikaron, 196–197. 32 Marmarosh-Sziget, April 1967, 14. 33 Jüdische Presse, May 30, 1933, 3; ibid., July 21, 1933, 3. 34 Jüdische Presse, May 28, 1925, 148; ibid., July 24, 1925, 199. 35 On the balance of power between the Hasidic courts in the region, see: Marcin Wodziński, “Space and spirit: On boundaries, hierarchies and leadership in Hasidism,” Journal of Historical Geography 53 (2016): 63–74. 36 Ha-Mizrahi’s magazines were titled Darkenu (Sighet, 1931–1934) and Az Út – HaDerekh (Vișeu de Sus, 1935–1936) while Agudat Israel’s magazine was also titled Darkenu (Cernăuţi, 1934–1937). 37 Jüdische Presse, June 24, 1932, 2; Dos Yudishe Vort, February 23, 1935, 2; ibid., May 3, 1935, 3; ibid., June 14, 1935, 4; Darkenu, 23 Adar Bet, 5,695 (1935), 16; ibid., 7 Elul, 5,695 (1935), 16; ibid., 21 Elul, 5,695 (1935), 17; ibid., 28 Elul, 5,695 (1935), 16. 38 Gelbman, Moshian, vol. 5, 256–263; ibid., vol. 6, 302–305; ibid., vol. 7, 88–91, 104; Jüdische Presse, April 5, 1935, 2; Transilvanishe Yidishe Tseitung, January 17, 1936, 2. 39 Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, vol. 1, 130–131; Peri, Toldot Ha-Yehudim, vol. 1, 134. 40 Jüdische Presse, January 1, 1926, 3–4. 41 Jüdische Presse, April 2, 1928, 93; ibid., June 1, 1928, 1–2; ibid., September 21, 1928, 248. 42 Some 30 different governments ruled Romania between 1920–1940. 43 Ha-Tsfira, July 16, 1928, 3; Jüdische Presse, August 9, 1929, 1. 44 Ha-Tsfira, April 13, 1928, 3; Jüdische Presse, August 2, 1929, 2; ibid., January 17, 1930, 1; Kol Israel, August 2, 1929, 3. 45 On this episode, see Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 97–109, 137–142. 46 Új Kelet, January 8, 1930, 4. 47 Beit Va’ad Le-Hahamim, Tamuz 5,690 (1930), 5; Új Kelet, June 3, 1930, 5; ibid., March 11, 1930, 2; ibid., April 5, 1930, 2. 48 Broadside, private collection, 30×X22 cm., undated, signed by “Kat Ha-Yere’im Dekehal Ortodoksim,” (in Hebrew). 49 Zsidó Újság, August 28, 1931, 6–7. 50 On the meeting, see Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 123–124; Abraham, Le-Korot HaYahadut, vol. 1, 145–146; Nepnuk, December 4, 1931, 1; ibid., December 18, 1931, 1; ibid., December 25, 1931, 1; ibid., January 15, 1932, 2; ibid., January 22, 1932, 2; ibid., February 12, 1932, 1; Zsidó Újság, January 22, 1932, 5; Új Kelet, January 17, 1932, 4; ibid., February 17, 1932, 4; Beit Va’ad Le-Hahamim, Shevat-Adar 5,692 (1932), 1–3; Ha-Hed, Adar, 5,691 (1931), 10.

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51 Nepnuk, February 19, 1932, 1; ibid., February 26, 1932, 1–2; ibid., March 4, 1932, 1–2; Új Kelet, December 29, 1931, 3; ibid., January 17, 1932, 4; ibid., February 24, 1932, 4; ibid., February 25, 1932, 4; Zsidó Újság, February 26, 1932, 3; ibid., March 4, 1932, 7; Kol Israel, March 24, 1932, 3; Yidishe Prese (Yiddish), February 26, 1932, 3; ibid., March 4, 1932, 1. 52 On this episode: Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 125–127; Yidishe Shtime, July 24, 1931, 2; Ibid., November 20, 1931, 2; Yidishe Prese (Yiddish), November 6, 1931, 1; Darkenu, Nisan 5,692 (1932), 3; Nepnuk, November 6, 1931, 4. 53 Új Kelet, May 8, 1930, 1–3 (and in the following issues: reports of the antisemitic actions in Borsha and in other places). 54 Yidishe Shtime, April 1, 1931, 1; Ibid., February 13, 1931, 1; Ibid., August 19, 1932, 2. 55 Two broadsides, The Israeli National Library, Sig. 2001 L 71, Oyfruf: Merkaz Kevutsat Yehudei Marmarosh Le-Hityashvut Be-Erets Israel (in Hebrew and Yiddish). Both undated, bearing the signature of Rabbi Wesel, which indicates they were published after 1932; Marmaros-Zsiget, April 1967, 6; ibid., December 1968, 1–2. 56 Yidishe Prese (Yiddish), July 16, 1932, 2; Uj Kor, May 27, 1932, 4. 57 Yidishe Prese (Yiddish), January 20, 1933, 1; ibid., January 27, 1933, 1; Új Kelet, January 18, 1933, 3; ibid., February 16, 1933, 3; Nepnuk, January 27, 1933, 3; ibid., February 24, 1933, 3; Ha-Hed, Tevet 5,693 (1933), 15; ibid., Shevat, 5,693 (1933), 15; ibid., Adar, 5,693 (1933), 12; ibid., Nisan, 5,693 (1933), 11; Zehavi, Biyemei Matsor, 56. 58 Yidishe Prese (Yiddish), January 13, 1933, 1. 59 Ha-Hed, Iyar, 5,693 (1933), 13; ibid., Nisan, 5,693 (1933), 12. 60 Nepnuk, February 22, 1935, 10; Uj Kor, March 26, 1935, 1; Dos Yudishe Folksblat, April 5, 1935, 1; Ha-Hed, Tishrei 5,695 (1935), 5; ibid., Sivan, 5,695 (1935), 3; ibid., Heshvan, 5,697 (1937), 7–9; Transilvanishe Yidishe Tseitung, May 31, 1935, 2; Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The Aliya and Settlement of the Jews from Maramaros, Hungary,” Et-Mol: Journal for the History of the Land of Israel and the People of Israel, 235 (2014): 19–22 (in Hebrew). 61 Új Kelet, May 19, 1933, 6; Jüdische Presse, July 12, 1935, 3. 62 Nepnuk, July 13, 1934, 2; ibid., August 3, 1934, 5; Transilvanishe Yidishe Tseitung, September 27, 1935, 2. 63 Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 160, footnote 512. 64 Jüdische Presse, July 12, 1935, 3. 65 Zsidó Újság, May 30, 1933, 6 (the Bureau’s president settled the disputes in Bistriţa, Hunyad, Târgu Lăpuș, Seini and Krásna, while those in Jibou, Negrești, Gherla, Vișeu de Sus and Năsăud remained unresolved); Abraham, Le-Korot HaYahadut, vol. 1, 146–147. The period of Rabbi Wesel’s presidency is described as the “golden era” of Transylvanian Orthodoxy. 66 Transilvanishe Yidishe Tseitung, October 16, 1936, 1; ibid., October 22, 1936, 1; ibid., November 6, 1936, 1; ibid., December 4, 1936, 1; ibid., December 25, 1936, 1; Uj Kor, December 23, 1936, 1. 67 This newspaper was titled Ortodoxishe Tseitung, and it appears that none of its issues have survived. On the paper, see: Oyfgang, March-April, 1935, 23; Beit Va’ad Le-Hahamim, Tevet-Shvat 5,695 (1935), 17. 68 Jüdische Presse, January 15, 1937, 4; Leket Shoshana, Kislev, 5, 697 (1937), 18a. 69 Új Kelet, December 29, 1936, 8; Ibid., December 30, 1936, 5; Ibid., January 11, 1937, 2; Hoemesz, November 27, 1936, 1; Ibid., January 1, 1937, 1–2; Dos Yudishe Vort, January 1, 1937, 1; Ibid., January 8, 1937, 3; Nepnuk, January 1, 1937, 1–2. 70 Broadside, JTS archive, Box 5(03), Sig. ARC 01–1974 (in Hebrew).

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Transylvania, Romania 115 71 Jüdische Presse, March 13, 1937, 4; ibid., March 19, 1937, 3; ibid., May 28, 1937, 4; Leket Shoshana, Av 5,697 (1937), 63a – 64a. On the controversy, see Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Pashkvilles (Religious Posters): The Catapult Stones of the Hasidic Rebbes’ Wars,” On-line magazine of the Jewish Librarians Association, 25 (2013) (in Hebrew). 72 Új Kelet, July 1, 1937, 4; Hoemesz, May 20, 1938, 6–7; Nepnuk, May 20, 1938, 2; Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, vol. 1, 150–151. 73 Hoemesz, February 10, 1939, 5–7; Orthodox Zsidó Újság, February 20, 1939, 5; Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut, 151–152.

Bibliography Abraham, Zvi Yaakov (ed.). Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut Be-Transylvania. Brooklyn, 1951. Alfasi, Yishak. Ha-Hasidut Be-Romania. Tel Aviv, 1973. Ancel, Jean and Theodore Lavi (eds.). Pinkas Ha-Kehilot: Romania, vol. 2, Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1980. Brown, Benjamin. “ʽKe-haravot le-guf ha-adama:’ hitnagdutam shel rabanei mizrah Eiropa le-ra’ayon ha-kehilot ha-nifradot.” In: Goldstein, Yossi (ed.). Yosef Da’at: Studies in Modern Jewish History in Honor of Yosef Salmon. Be’er Sheva: University of Be’er Sheva Press, 2010, 215–244. Cohen, Yosef Yitzhak. “Ha-defus ha-ivri be-transilvanya.” Kiryat Sefer 33 (3) (1958): 386–403; Ibid., 34 (4) (1959): 499-512; Ibid., 35 (1) (1960): 98-108; Ibid., 37 (3) (1962): 249-265. Cohen, Yosef Yitzhak. Hahmei Transilvania. Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalaim, 1989. Ehrenreich, Shlomo Zalman. Sefer Igerot Lehem Shelomo: Osef Igerot U-Mikhtavim. Brooklyn, 1994. Fuchs, Avraham. Yeshivot Hungaria Be-Gedulatan U-Vehurbanan, vols. 1–2. Jerusalem, 1979–1987. Fund, Yosef. Separation or Participation: Agudat Israel Confronting Zionism and the State of Israel. Jerusalem: Magnes, 1999. Gelbman, Shlomo Yaacov. Moshian Shel Israel, vol. 4. Kiryas Joel, 1992. Glasner, David. “Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Glasner, the ‘Dor Revi’i’.” Tradition 32 (1) (1997): 40–56. Grossman, Zvi (ed.). Sefer Zikaron Le-Yahadut Großwardein – Oradea – Nagyvárad Ve-Haseviva. Tel Aviv: Irgun Yotsei Grosverdein Be-Israel, 1984. Hershkowitz, Lucian-Ze’ev. “Ha-yeshuv ha-yehudi be-romania ad milhemet ha-olam ha-rishona” (Romanian Jewry until WWI). In: Segal, Paltiel (ed.). Romanian Jewry and the Revival of Israel, vol. 1. Tel Aviv: Shevet Yehudei Romania, 1992, 17–33. Kahan, Yisakhar Ber. Shav Lakhem Mashkimei Kum. Bistrița, 1921. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Pashkvilles (Religious Posters): The Catapult Stones of the Hasidic Rebbes’ Wars,” On-line magazine of the Jewish Librarians Association, 25 (2013), https://did.li/aITNf. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “The Aliya and Settlement of the Jews from Maramaros, Hungary.” Et-Mol: Journal for the History of the Land of Israel and the People of Israel, 235 (2014): 19–22. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rebbe (1887—1979): A Biography. PhD dissertation, (Tel Aviv University, 2013), 71–74 (in Hebrew).

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Peri (Friedman), Yizhak. Toldot Ha-Yehudim Be-Transylvania Ba-Meot Ha-18 VeHa-19, vol. 1. Tel Aviv, 2000. Sheher, Mordechai. Ha-Ir Kloizenberg Ve-Kehiloteiha. Brooklyn, 2012. Teitelbaum, Yoel. Igerot Maharit, Kiryas Joel, 2001. Wodziński, Marcin. “Space and spirit: On boundaries, hierarchies and leadership in Hasidism.” Journal of Historical Geography 53 (2016): 63–74. Yakobovitz, Ben-Zion. Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 3. Bnei Barak, 1987. Zehavi, Yekuthiel Zvi. Biyemei Matsor U-Matsok: Ha-Tsionut Be-Transilvania, BeSlovakia Uve-Rusia Ha-Karpatit Ba-Shanim 1918–1948. Jerusalem: Mosad Ha-Rav Kook, 1992. Zimroni, Shlomo. Yovel Ha-Hamishim Le-Hamizrahi: Toldot Tenuat Ha-Mizrahi BeTransilvania. Jerusalem, 1952.

7

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia *

Introduction Following Hungary’s dismantling after World War I, some two-thirds of its territory was annexed to other countries. One of these countries was the newly established state of Czechoslovakia, which received two large chunks of former Hungary. The first and larger territory was Slovakia, which comprised parts of several of Hungary’s former western counties. It was populated mainly by ethnic Slovaks. The second was named Carpathian Ruthenia (henceforth: PKR), which consisted of parts of the former northeastern counties.1 It was populated mainly by ethnic Ruthenians. Although both territories were incorporated into Czechoslovakia, owing to certain ethnic, political, and demographic circumstances each of these districts retained some degree of autonomy. From a Jewish perspective, this resulted in a unique situation. Most of the Jews in the two adjacent districts were Orthodox, as were their communities. However, while in Slovakia most Jews and their rabbis belonged to the more tolerant and modern-oriented camp, many of the Jews and the rabbis in PKR belonged to Extreme Orthodoxy. This gave rise to an intra-Orthodox conflict over religious identity that lasted up until the Holocaust. While the Orthodox leadership of Slovakia sought to cooperate with the more tolerant leaders, both in other countries and in PKR, and to curb the zealous rabbis’ intolerance and hostility, the latter fought back, albeit with little success, to maintain their extremist and separatist identity. The Organization of the Orthodox Jews of Slovakia The settlement of Jews in Hungary’s northwestern counties, which later became known as Slovakia, preceded the arrival of Jews to most other Hungarian territories. This resulted in a more homogenous Jewish society

* This chapter is based on my article “The Campaign for the Nature of Jewish Orthodoxy: Religious Tolerance versus Uncompromising Extremism in Interwar Czechoslovakia,” Modern Judaism 38 (3) (2018): 328–353.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-10

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and a well-balanced Orthodox leadership that was led by great sages.2 The region’s most prominent Orthodox leader was Rabbi Moshe Sofer, generally considered the forefather of the concept of Jewish Orthodoxy, and best known for his book Hatam Sofer.3 He and his descendants held the position of chief rabbi of the Hungarian city of Pozsony, better known by the Jews as Pressburg. This was one of Hungary’s major cities, and after the region was incorporated into Czechoslovakia the city was renamed Bratislava and served as the capital of Slovakia. Most Orthodox Jews in that region belonged to what was previously described as mainstream Orthodoxy. This means that they were non-Hasidic Jews who kept an open mind regarding modernism and general education. This was also reflected in their appearance and social and economic success, which led to closer relations with their non-Jewish neighbors and their European culture, and facilitated their involvement in the public service, the national press, the business world, and even in local politics. The establishment of Czechoslovakia after World War I constituted an attempt to address the minorities problem, which had generated political instability in Europe. As the new government set about establishing its own rules and regulations, it decided that with respect to the Jewish minority, it would retain the religious laws that had been in force before the war. This meant that in the former Hungarian territories, Jews would not only enjoy religious autonomy, as did all other minorities, but also that the previous Orthodox, Neolog and Status-Quo communities could each maintain their separate legal and bureaucratic status. Unlike in Hungary, in which the Orthodox formed a minority among the Jews, the vast majority of the Jews living in the two annexed districts, Slovakia and PKR, were Orthodox. About 120,000 of Slovakia’s 150,000 Jews belonged to the Orthodox communities, which comprised some twothirds of the district’s Jewish communities. In PKR, where only one formal non-Orthodox community existed, most of the district’s 105,000 Jews belonged to an Orthodox community.4 The moderate and fairly liberal approach of the Orthodox society in Slovakia and its leadership was well reflected in the pages of its representative weekly journal Die Jüdische Presse. This was a joint publication of the Austrian and the Czechoslovakian Orthodox communities and appeared throughout the interwar period.5 This German language journal carried news of current events from around the globe and from the four corners of the Jewish world. It also reported, rather critically but fairly, on events and activities of non-Orthodox organizations and movements such as the Zionist congresses, the Mizrahi movement’s assemblies, and the Neolog leadership’s gatherings.6 Another example of the newspaper’s moderate approach was its coverage of issues related to women. From time to time it included a separate “Ladies section,” and since the paper’s major advertiser was a manufacturer of women’s wigs, it often carried illustrations of women in its advertisements. On

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia 119 some occasions, articles about Jewish women and girls even included real images.7 In general, the newspaper focused its attention on the non-Hasidic leadership, and only rarely reported on the Hasidic, and more zealous, rabbis. The Slovakian Orthodox Bureau and Agudat Israel Slovakia’s Orthodox Bureau was established in Poprád in April 1919, soon after World War I ended, and was officially recognized in April 1920.8 It was headed by Rabbi Kalman Weber of Pistyan (Piešťany) and Rabbi Shimon Hirshler of Bratislava.9 Its spiritual leaders were Rabbi Akiva Sofer, Bratislava’s chief rabbi and a descendent of Hatam Sofer, and Rabbi Shmuel David Unger of Trnava (Tyrnau).10 The Bureau’s general council comprised 25 rabbis and 40 political (lay) leaders, who elected the Bureau’s president, vice president, and the various committees. Agudat Israel was an international Orthodox Organization which was established in 1912. Despite numerous requests and internal debates, the Hungarian Orthodox Bureau, influenced by its Extreme Orthodox wing, refused to recognize it and forbade its rabbis to join it. Consequently, Hungary was the only European country to ban the organization outright, despite the fact that it represented Orthodox Jews from many other countries around the globe. After World War I, many of the more tolerant rabbis from Slovakia who no longer had to contend with their more zealous counterparts, were finally able to manifest their orientation and to establish a local branch of Agudat Israel. In April 1920, just a year after the establishment of the Slovakian Bureau, Agudat Israel held its first international conference in Bratislava, the district’s capital.11 This event reflected the close link between Agudat Israel and the Slovakian Bureau, which in practice functioned as its local branch.12 In fact, many rabbis from Slovakia held positions both in the Bureau and in the local branches of Agudat Israel.13 Yaacov Yoel Brown, Agudat Israel’s secretary in Slovakia, was appointed editor of the Jüdische Presse, and used his influence to promote the movement’s agenda. Considering the longstanding objection to Agudat Israel, this newfound cooperation caused resentment among other Hungarian rabbis, both in post–World War I Hungary and in the Hungarian territories annexed to other countries. The most prominent opponent of Agudat Israel was Rabbi Haim Elazar Shapira of Munkács, one of PKR’s leading rabbis, who is featured at length in the second section of this chapter.14 The Slovakian Bureau’s first general assembly convened in November 1920. The assembly drafted its regulations, reviewed its activities and future plans, and sought to win governmental approval for its operation.15 The general assembly met every six years, as did the Hungarian Bureau, and smaller forums convened every few months on an ad hoc basis.16 After the war, political complications delayed the decision on the final status of PKR and it was officially annexed only in March 1920. Because

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PKR’s rabbis were late to organize, the Slovakian Bureau was authorized to cater to the religious needs of its roughly 100,000 Jews, most of whom belonged to Orthodox communities. This decision, and the fact that most of the Jewish communities in Slovakia were Orthodox, rendered the Slovakian Bureau far more influential than the bureau that had functioned in Hungary before the war. Because it represented the majority of the Jewish population, the Slovakian Orthodox Bureau became closely involved in local and national politics. The Slovakian Orthodox Bureau and National Politics In 1919, the National Council of Czechoslovakian Jews decided to establish the Jewish Party.17 A year later, it gained the support of 80,000 Jews in the parliamentary elections.18 The Slovakian Bureau, headed by Rabbi Weber, expressed its objection to the concept of Jewish nationality and its political party.19 Prior to the next general elections, which were due in April 1925, the Bureau decided to support a non-Zionist Jewish party that was to represent the views of the Orthodox Jews.20 This party, titled the Jewish Economic Party, was headed by Rabbi Yosef Yonah Zvi Ha-Levi Horowitz of Hunsdorf (Huncovce, Hunfalva) and other Bureau activists such as Azriel Pappenheim of Bratislava. The party won 16,000 votes and accomplished its chief mission, namely to diminish the power of the Jewish party, which was regarded as Zionist. The Bureau leaders’ decision to enter the political field drew criticism from’some of the Orthodox rabbis, while its decision to act independently, and thereby against the shared Jewish interest, was criticized by Zionist leaders.21 Prior to the next election campaign, the leader of the Jewish Party, Dr. Emil Margolis, accused some of the Bureau’s rabbis of having embezzled funds received from abroad. He furthermore revealed that in return for its support of the non-Jewish parties, the Bureau’s leaders had been illegally rewarded by them. In response, the Bureau sued Margolis for libel, but during the trial he proved his allegations and was acquitted.22 Following the public scandal that ensued, the Bureau decided that it would not enter its own party in the following elections, in October 1929 and in May 1935. The only political activity the Bureau undertook during these elections was to persuade Orthodox Jews not to vote for any party that cooperated with the Jewish Party.23 Slovakia’s Other Religious Organizations During the early postwar years, the Slovakian Neolog and Status Quo Bureaus did not present a threat to the far larger Orthodox Bureau, which felt so secure that it declined the requests of a few Status Quo communities that sought to join it.24 Toward the end of the 1920s the two non-Orthodox

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia 121 organizations decided to merge.25 They named the joint Bureau Jeshurun and declared that although many of their members were not observant, their communities would henceforth follow the laws of traditional halakha as stipulated in the canonic book Shulhan Arukh. The Orthodox Bureau attacked this initiative, arguing that it would mislead the general public into thinking that the new non-orthodox organization was in fact Orthodox.26 Shortly after the establishment of Jeshurun, it turned out that political rivalry among its leaders meant that it could pose no threat to the Orthodox Bureau and its united rabbinical leadership, and the attacks against it ceased. The Orthodox Bureau’s main ideological challenge emanated from the Zionist ideas that captivated many of Slovakia’s Jews. The various Zionist movements, among them the religious-Zionist Ha-Mizrahi, established local branches in many Slovakian towns.27 They promoted a Jewish national identity, established Hebrew schools, and initiated pioneering projects that trained and prepared youngsters to settle in Palestine. Although the Orthodox press reported on the activities of the Zionist movements, since many of those who joined them were observant Jews, it refrained from criticizing them too sharply. The Bureau’s spokesmen generally turned a blind eye and confined themselves to theological analysis, in which they pointed to the differences between Zionist ideology and that was promoted by Agudat Israel.28 In order to deal with the challenge the Zionist movements presented, Orthodox leaders, paradoxically, replicated many of their activities. They established local branches that catered to young Orthodox boys and girls and ran their own primary schools based on Orthodox principles. In much the same way as the Zionist movements, they too conducted fundraising campaigns on behalf of Orthodox Jews who wished to settle in Palestine, and worked relentlessly to obtain as many immigration certificates as possible. In the early 1920s, again modeling itself on the Zionist mode of operation, Agudat Israel purchased land in Palestine on which it intended to build a village for Orthodox settlers from Czechoslovakia, mainly from Slovakia. In the second half of the 1930s, it even set up training farms in which prospective settlers were taught agriculture and prepared for their new life in Palestine.29 Apart from the Orthodox Bureau, there were other organizations that catered to the religious Jews of Slovakia. In the late 1920s, Rabbi Yosef Meir Tiegerman of Nové Zámky (Érsekújvár, Neuhäusel) established a short-lived organization named Mahazikei Ha-Dat (keepers of the faith).30 A further organization, named Tomkhei Yeshivot (supporters of the yeshivot), was established in the early 1930s by Rabbi Moshe Asher Eckstein of Sered (Szered). It was headed by Yakov Herzog of Nové Zámky and functioned much like its Hungarian counterpart until the Holocaust.31 Agudat Israel’s girls’ educational network, titled Beit Yaakov, also began operation during this period.32

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The fact that most Jewish communities in Slovakia were Orthodox and recognized the authority of the Bureau was manifested in a far lower incidence of intra-Orthodox debates and rivalries than in any other area within the former Hungarian territories.33 Nonetheless, controversies did arise whenever, seeking to establish a separate community, a group of Extreme Orthodox Jews would join the Neolog Bureau.34 On the other hand, when some religious members of the Neolog community broke away from it and established their own Orthodox community, they were cordially invited to join the Orthodox Bureau.35 The Slovakian Orthodox Bureau’s Day-to-Day Routine Despite their significance, ideological debates were secondary to the Bureau’s ongoing activities, which focused on maintaining the Orthodox way of life in Slovakia. The organization sought to gain formal state recognition of rabbis as clerical officers, which would entitle them to a financial supplement to their salary and exempt them from military service. It likewise sought formal recognition of certain yeshivas as rabbinical educational institutes, which would entitle them to government funding.36 The Bureau furthermore endeavored to improve service conditions of Jewish troops by supplying them with kosher food and lobbying the authorities to allow them time off during the Jewish holy days. The Bureau supervised the manufacturing of kosher food products, the harvesting of wheat for matzos, as well as kosher restaurants in medical institutions, health spas, and recreational resorts that were not affiliated to a local Jewish community or a local rabbi.37 It furthermore conducted an ongoing campaign to rescind local labor laws that stipulated Sunday as a rest day. Complying with these laws meant that observant Jews were forced to close their businesses from Friday afternoon till Monday morning, which caused them significant loss of income.38 In their effort to promote such issues, the Bureau’s officials regularly met with political figures, many of whom, much like Czechoslovakia’s admired President Tomáš Masaryk, were sympathetic toward the Jewish minority.39 The death of the Bureau’s president, Rabbi Kalman Weber, in late 1931, significantly impacted its future course.40 Until the next general meeting was summoned, the Bureau was headed by its vice-president, David Ehrenfeld of Šurany, and by Rabbi Akiva Sofer, Bratislava’s chief rabbi.41 The man chosen to replace Rabbi Weber was Isidor (Azriel) Pappenheim, one of Bratislava’s community leaders. He was the son of Wolf Pappenheim, one of Vienna’s Orthodox community’s leaders and a major figure in Agudat Israel’s leadership.42 Isidor Pappenheim was known for his rigid personality and lacked the charisma and political shrewdness of his predecessor. His time in office witnessed a rise in the incidence of controversies that erupted both within and between communities.43 Pappenheim himself became embroiled in disputes

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia 123 over the leadership of Bratislava’s Orthodox community, which were settled only through the intervention of the local authorities.44 Pappenheim’s inflexible leadership was slow to respond to the ongoing social and ideological challenges. Consequently, the Zionist organizations, and especially Beitar, gained greater influence and succeeded to enroll many Orthodox youngsters.45 The Holocaust Period in Semi-Independent Slovakia The Munich Agreement signed in September 1938 by the major European powers stipulated that Czechoslovakia was to transfer parts of its territory known as the Sudetenland to Germany. Soon thereafter, in October 1938, Slovakia declared itself an autonomous political entity. A month later, the First Vienna Arbitration determined that Slovakia’s southern border area, most of whose inhabitants were of Hungarian descent, should be annexed to Hungary along with its 50,000 Jews. In wake of these developments the Jewish organizations, headed by the leaders of the Jewish party, established the Association of the Jewish Communities of Slovakia.46 The Orthodox leaders, namely the heads of the Bureau and of Agudat Israel, suspected that alongside its overt political activity, the new organization would also engage in illegal activity by preparing undercover rescue facilities and routes. Consequently, they refused to join the new organization and continued to function directly vis-à-vis the government. In July 1940, the authorities ordered the establishment of a Jewish council (Judenrat, or Ústredne židov), which was to act upon their orders. This task was given to the submissive Orthodox leadership, which appointed six of its ten members to form the council. The Orthodox leadership’s incompetence spurred other Jewish leaders to’devise rescue schemes, the most effective of which were put into place by’Mrs. Gizi Fleishman, a Zionist leader; Rabbi Avraham Aba Frieder, the chief rabbi of the Yeshurun non-Orthodox communities; and Rabbi Michael Dov Weissmandel, Rabbi Shmuel David Unger’s son-in-law, an Orthodox rabbi. These three established what they termed the Work Group, which assisted both Jewish refugees from Poland as well as many local Jews who survived the Holocaust.47 Once they joined the Jewish council, the other Orthodox leaders became irrelevant and the influence of the Slovakian Bureau waned. In late 1942, some two-thirds of the roughly 90,000 Jews who remained in Slovakia following the annexation of its southern part to Hungary, were sent to the concentration camps. The efforts of the Work Group, which negotiated and bribed top Nazi officials, halted these deportations. The Group, and particularly Rabbi Weissmandel, played an essential role in raising the awareness of the world of the atrocities in the concentration camps, particularly Auschwitz. Rabbi Weissmandel also played a crucial role in the international rescue activities aimed at saving the Hungarian Jewry from the gruesome fate which awaited them. In September 1944, despite the Work

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Group and international efforts, most Slovakian Jews who survived the 1942 deportations were also sent to the concentration camps. The Orthodox Jews of PKR and Their Failure to Organize PKR was formed by a merger of parts of four previously northeastern Hungarian counties, the largest of which was the northern part of Maramaros. Prior to World War I, Maramaros was known as the epicenter of the most extremist form of Jewish Orthodoxy.48 Orthodox extremists were also to be found in the nearby counties, the best known of which was Rabbi Haim Elazar Shapira of Munkács in Bereg county. The Orthodox in both Slovakia and PKR had once belonged to the same Orthodox Bureau of Hungary and adhered to the same religious standards. After World War I both belonged to the same country, Czechoslovakia, and were subject to the same legal system and local regulations. Both districts were governed by semi-autonomous authorities that were fairly accommodating to the Jewish cause. In both districts, the Orthodox formed a majority among the Jews and most Jews, even the non-Orthodox, by and large respected and obeyed the local rabbis. In Slovakia, however, the Orthodox were quick to regroup and establish a sustainable organization, which facilitated a continuation of the pre–World War I religious lifestyle. In PKR, however, many Orthodox leaders held a far more zealous and uncompromising worldview. Unable to overcome their differences and tolerate other worldviews, they were swept up into a whirlpool of constant controversy. They were consequently unable to establish a united and independent social and religious leadership, and as a result, they continued to be monitored from the outside. Most of PKR’s citizens were Ruthenian (Ukrainians), which meant that their national identity differed from that of the Slovaks and the Czechs, who formed a majority in the other three districts of Czechoslovakia. Owing to political differences and following prolonged negotiations, the annexation of PKR was completed only in mid-1920, after the Ruthenian leaders were promised political, religious, and cultural autonomy. In PKR, Jews comprised a staggering 10–15 percent of the total population, a far higher percentage than in any of the surrounding territories. These roughly 105,000 Jews were an amalgamation of various ideological groups. Although almost all of them belonged to Orthodox communities, a few were secular and others were Extreme Orthodox. Some were enthusiastic Zionists while others shunned the movement altogether. Some among the non-Zionists advocated a Jewish-Czechoslovakian nationalism, while others steadfastly supported the non-Jewish parties. From a religious perspective, some supported the Religious-Zionist ideas expressed by Ha-Mizrahi movement, while others allied themselves to Agudat Israel. The extremists, most of whom were Hasidic Jews, considered both movements equally sinful.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia 125 The First Attempt to Establish a Separate Orthodox Bureau for PKR Having no organization of their own, PKR’s Orthodox communities functioned under the jurisdiction of the Slovakian Bureau. The communities’ leaders and the zealous rabbis who refused to be governed by an external body that did not represent their extremist views, sought to establish their own independent local Bureau. In 1921, soon after the annexation was formally declared, and in line with the principle of the district’s autonomy, they announced the establishment of PKR’s own Orthodox Bureau.49 The Slovakian Bureau’s leaders, who were loath to relinquish their political power, objected to this initiative. In this, they were supported by PKR’s Zionist and Religious-Zionist leaders, who were well aware of the power wielded by the zealous and anti-Zionist rabbis led by Rabbi Shapira of Munkács. They maintained that were the rabbis to have their way, women and non-observant Jews would be denied their democratic right to vote in the elections for the communities’ institutions.50 This concerted opposition, along with political considerations that guided the Czechoslovak government, culminated in the failure of this first attempt to found an independent body, and the Orthodox communities of PKR remained under the jurisdiction of the Slovakian Bureau. The Rabbinical Assembly in Čop As the tension between the Slovakian rabbis who favored Agudat Israel and PKR’s rabbis who shunned it escalated, Rabbi Shapira of Munkács summoned a rabbinical assembly. This gathering, convened in June 1922 in the town of Čop (Csap, Chop), was intended to express PKR’ rabbis’ ideological independence by fiercely attacking Agudat Israel.51 The formal reason given for convening the meeting was to hear Rabbi Shapira’s review of his journey to Warsaw, Poland.52 During the trip he visited Agudat Israel’s institutions and met with its political leaders, including Rabbi Avraham Mordechai Alter of Góra Kalwaria, better known as the Hasidic Rabbi of Gur (the Gerer Rebbe).53 In his speech, Rabbi Shapira claimed that Agudat Israel had flouted its own religious principles by implementing “Zionist” ideas. These included the introduction of several hours per week of general studies to the curriculum of Agudat Israel’s main yeshiva in Warsaw, also known as the Metivta, as well as its call to settle Orthodox Jews in Palestine, which echoed that of the Zionists.54 This meant, he explained, that although Agudat Israel claimed to be Orthodox, “true” Orthodox Jews should shun and condemn the movement. One of the younger rabbis who attended the assembly was Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum of Irsava (Orshiva), PKR. He later became known as the rabbi of Carei and Satmar, who soon embraced the anti-Agudat Israel stand and made it a cornerstone of his anti-modern and anti-Zionist ideology.55

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Following the assembly, the participants issued a public decree calling for the imposition of a total ban on Agudat Israel. In the ensuing years, dozens of rabbis, many of them of Hungarian origin, signed this document.56 On the other hand, the feisty reactions, both on the part of Agudat Israel’s leaders and of many other rabbis, reflected widespread opposition both to the Rabbi of Munkács in person, and to the Assembly’s resolutions.57 In December 1922, a few months after the Čop assembly, Rabbi Shapira of Munkács summoned another assembly at which he intended to announce the establishment of PKR’s independent Orthodox Bureau. He was forced to give up the idea in the wake of the negative responses as many Jews demonstrated outside the meeting place, and because only one other rabbi besides Rabbi Shapira turned up.58 PKR’s Orthodoxy and Intra-Jewish, Local, and National Politics Negotiations over the representation of PKR’s Orthodox communities in the Slovakian Bureau were resumed in March 1923, without the participation of Rabbi Shapira.59 The parties agreed that while for certain general purposes, the religious leaders of both districts would work together, PKR’s communities would retain a certain amount of autonomy to handle local issues. To that end, it was decided that the Bureau should establish an office in Ungvár (Užhorod), PKR’s capital, which would be run by the local leadership. The new branch was launched in late April 1923, and the opening ceremony was led by Rabbi Kalman Weber, the Slovakian Bureau’s president. At its first meeting, local officers elected Rabbi Mordechai Aharon Lieberman of Bilke, whose worldview was more liberal than that of most of PKR’s rabbis, to serve as chairman of the local branch.60 Outraged both by this outcome and by the fact that he had been totally ignored, Rabbi Shapira of Munkács launched fierce attacks against the new office and its leaders.61 As the date of the elections for PKR’s local parliament approached, the non-Jewish parties became concerned about the high proportion of Jewish voters.62 The Agrarian party which represented the farmers, then the ruling party, secretly approached several rabbis, including Rabbi Shapira. It promised that in return for their support, it would accord the Orthodox communities the same rights and degree of autonomy they had enjoyed under Hungarian rule. Having accepted the deal, the rabbis called on Jewish voters to eschew all Jewish parties and to vote only for the Agrarian party. When they realized that this strategy was failing, they sought to win over Jewish voters by running a newly established party called the Jewish Agrarian Party. This, in fact, was an amalgamation of two existing non-Zionist parties: the Civil Party and the Jewish Rights party.63 The rabbis’ intervention yielded results, and although the two Jewish parties mustered more than 30,000 votes, they failed to pass the cut-off point needed to send a representative to PKR’s local parliament.64

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia 127 The following year another election took place, this time for the national parliament of Czechoslovakia. Having learned from their previous experience, the two Jewish parties decided to join forces, while representatives of the Agrarian party turned to the rabbis once again.65 This time they called on Jews to vote for the Jewish Economic Party, which the Slovakian Bureau had established in order to combat the united Jewish party.66 In this case too, the rabbis’ political maneuver achieved its purpose and the Jews failed to gain their own representative in parliament.67 Further Attempts to Establish an Independent Bureau in PKR In return for his assistance, Rabbi Shapira of Munkács was enabled to fulfill his longstanding desire and was eventually authorized to establish an independent Orthodox Bureau for PKR’s communities. It was headed by Moshe Yosef Shpigel, an educated businessman from Ungvar, who was known as the new Bureau’s supreme commissar. After only one year in office, Shpigel resigned, due to major conflicts with Rabbi Shapira. Since the Ministry of Religious Affairs was now no longer in the hands of the governing party, and since many other rabbis refused to cooperate with the new Bureau, it ceased to function.68 Rabbi Shaul Brakh was the chief rabbi of Košice (Kassa, Kaschau) in eastern Slovakia and held the extremist and separatist worldviews shared by many of the rabbis in PKR. In early 1926 he too tried and failed to establish a separate Bureau that was to represent all extremist rabbis from Slovakia and PKR.69 The PKR branch was officially closed in April 1926, when the authorities discovered that it had failed to keep its records in good order. Consequently, in the ensuing years, PKR’s Orthodox communities were placed, once again, under the jurisdiction of the Slovakian Bureau.70 The failure to establish a separate Bureau in PKR was due to the ideological and personal rivalries among its leading rabbis. These included Rabbi Shapira of Munkács, Rabbi Teitelbaum of Irsava, Rabbi Yosef Zvi Dushinsky of Chust, Rabbi Lieberman of Bilke, and Rabbi Brakh of Košice, each following different ideology and political path.71 The disagreements among them were exacerbated by the fierce campaign Rabbi Shapira waged against his rivals from the Hasidic courts of Belz and Spinka.72 As a Hasidic leader himself, he welcomed two other Hasidic leaders, the rabbis of Belz and of Spinka (Săpânţa), who had fled their hometowns during World War I and found refuge in Munkács. Their Hassidim soon followed and a few years later their growing ranks threatened the dominance of Rabbi Shapira’s local Hasidim. Tension intensified after the two Hasidic rabbis left town and Rabbi Shapira expected their Hasidim to follow them. However, despite their rabbis’ departure most of the Belz Hasidim and some of the Spinka Hasidim remained in town. Faced with Rabbi Shapira’s enmity, the Belz Hassidim decided to establish their own independent community. From then on, the

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controversy escalated and descended into slander, banning, and legal actions, and at times even turned into sheer physical violence. Since the Rabbi of Belz was widely admired by Jews in PKR, many laymen and rabbis resented Rabbi Shapira’s attitude toward their favorite Hasidic rabbi. Consequently, although he eventually won the political battle against the other Hasidim in the town of Munkács, he lost the support of the rest of PKR’s Jewry.73 In June 1930, after two of Rabbi Shapira’s opponents had moved abroad, and after the conflicts with the rival Hasidic courts had temporarily subsided,74 a further attempt was made to establish a separate Bureau, but it too failed.75 In 1931, the Slovakian Bureau’s president – Rabbi Kalman Weber – passed away. A few months later, his deputy, Rabbi Shimon Hirshler, fell ill, and in 1932 he too passed away.76 In the same year, Rabbi Dushinsky of Chust, was elected to replace Rabbi Yosef Haim Sonnenfeld as chief rabbi of the Edah Haredit of Jerusalem.77 In addition, after years of negotiations, the rivalry between Rabbi Shapira of Munkács and the Hasidim of Belz came to an end,78 although the final “peace agreement” was signed only in 1934.79 The departure of his main opponents and the de-escalation of the intraHasidic dispute enabled Rabbi Shapira to reestablish the separate PKR Bureau. It began to operate in April 1932 headed by Rabbi Shapira, which served to accentuate its independence from the Slovakian Bureau.80 Soon after its establishment, the Bureau encountered public opposition, and a group of mostly non-Hasidic rabbis broke away from it and established their own informal organization.81 This prompted another wave of ideological and political feuds between the supporters of Rabbi Shapira and his opponents.82 The dispute was also fueled by criticism of the lavish wedding Rabbi Shapira held for his only daughter in 1933, and the hefty sum he paid in order to settle the dispute with the other Hasidim.83 These two huge expenses eventually led the Orthodox community of Munkács to bankruptcy.84 The Emergence of the Orthodox Political Movements The failure of the Orthodox communities in PKR to establish their own governing body resulted in a multitude of political controversies, mostly related to electing members to the local Orthodox councils, appointing chief rabbis, and filling other religious positions. Some of these conflicts were virulent and violent, and in some cases took several years to resolve.85 Its constant engagement in these conflicts and its efforts to avoid them led the Orthodox leadership to neglect other social threats. This also contributed to the continuation of the ban on Agudat Israel, which was not permitted to operate in the region. Faced with no competition, and with a rabbinical leadership that was immersed in internal controversies, the Zionist movement had no difficulty in attracting many Orthodox youngsters. These young yeshiva and high-school

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia 129 students were disgusted by their own rabbis’ conduct on the one hand, and sought a meaningful life and new ideologies on the other. This paved the way for the flowering of even secular Zionist movements such as Beitar, HaHalutz, and Ha-Shomer Ha-Tzair.86 The result was an ever-growing number of youngsters who forsook the Orthodox lifestyle and the decline of the local yeshivas.87 Taking advantage of the political chaos generated by the internal controversies in the early 1930s, Agudat Israel was finally able to begin operating in PKR.88 Since one of Rabbi Dushinsky’s roles in Jerusalem was to serve as the chief rabbi of Agudat Israel’s branch in Palestine, prior to his departure he felt obliged to demonstrate his commitment to the movement. Consequently, he initiated and supported the establishment of several branches in Chust and its nearby towns.89 After its initial penetration, and with the support of the Slovakian branch, the movement faced less opposition and it established branches in several additional locations.90 The ongoing controversies and inner opposition to the local Bureau led to its inept functioning, and the Slovakian Bureau, yet again, took control over it.91 National Politics Meets Orthodox Politics for the Last Time As general elections approached in 1935, the Agrarian Party once again offered to support a separate Bureau in return for the Orthodox Jews’ votes.92 When the leaders of the Orthodox communities met to discuss this offer in February of that year,93 the sorry economic state of the Jews of PKR, which had deteriorated following the 1929 global financial crisis, was high on their agenda.94 As final preparations were made to re-open the Bureau, Rabbi Shapira’s opponents publicized his extremist views, his offensive statements directed at other rabbis, and his fierce opposition to the Hebrew schools system.95 Nevertheless, owing to the ineptitude of Isidor Pappenheim, the Slovakian Bureau’s new president, and the support of the Agrarian party, the separate Bureau was re-opened and officially recognized. Opposition to the Bureau gradually subsided and by the time it held its first general assembly in April 1935, 24 of the 27 community representatives attended the meeting.96 Shortly thereafter the Bureau publicized its regulations, according to which its governing body would comprise 60 lay delegates and 20 rabbis, who would represent the 24 major communities.97 The Bureau leaders convened every few months,98 its leaders met with government officials,99 and it was awarded governmental funding.100 The Bureau tried its best to solve the various controversies that erupted both within and among the Orthodox communities, but since not all rabbis accepted its authority, both its capabilities and its political achievements were limited.101 In early 1937, Rabbi Shapira of Munkács fell ill and a few months thereafter passed away.102 Since Rabbi Shapira had no sons, his young sonin-law, Rabbi Baruch Yehoshua Yerachmiel Rabinowitz, whose worldview was less radical, was elected to replace him both as chief rabbi of Munkács

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and as the Bureau’s president.103 He chaired the Bureau meeting at least once before World War II.104 Under his leadership, the Bureau cooperated with the Zionist organization in preparation for the impending calamity, while at the same time, it sought to gain some influence in national politics.105 The political events of late 1938 and the annexation of PKR to Hungary brought the short-lived episode of its small Orthodox Bureau to an end.106 Notes 1 This territory had a multitude of geographical and political names: Podkarpackie-Rus (=PKR), Karpatorus, Rusi Zakarpackie, Subcarpathian, Carpathian Ruthenia, etc. 2 Yitzhak Yosef Cohen, Hakhmei Hungarya Ve-Hasafrut Ha-Toranit Bah, Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalayim, 1997, 312–313. 3 On him see: Jacob Katz, “Towards a biography of the Hatam Sofer,” in: From East and West: Jews in a Changing Europe, 1750–1870, edited by Frances Malino and David Sorkin, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1990, 223–266; Maoz Kahana, From the Noda Be-Yehuda to the Chatam Sofer: Halakha and Thought in their Historical Moment, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2015 (in Hebrew). 4 Avigdor Dagan (ed.), The Jews of Czechoslovakia: Historical Studies and Surveys, vol. 2, Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1971, 351–352, 356; Yehuda Erez (ed.), Karpatorus, Jerusalem: Entsiklopedia Shel Galuyot, 1959, 118–122; Yehoshua Robert Bikhler (ed.), Pinkas Ha-Kehilot: Slovakia, Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 2003, 27–28; Yeshayahu A. Jelinek, Exile in the Foothills of the Carpathians: The Jews of Carpatho-Rus’ and Mukachevo, 1848–1948, Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 2003. 67, 73 (in Hebrew). PKR’s only non-Orthodox community was in Ungvar [Uzhorod]. 5 Other Jewish newspapers were Judaica (Bratislava), Jüdische Nachrichten (Presow), Jüdische Herold (Dona Strada), Jüdische Tradition (Kosice). Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 2, 163, 376. 6 For example: Jüdische Presse, October 24, 1924, 288–289; ibid., November 14, 1924, 303–304 (A report on the Zionist leader Menahem Ussishkin’s visit to Czechoslovakia). 7 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Come back, come back, so that we may look upon thee”: Women’s pictures in ultra-Orthodox newspapers,” Kesher: Journal of Media and Communications History in Israel and the Jewish World 53 (2019): 74–93 (Hebrew). 8 Jüdische Presse, November 19, 1920, 1–2; Shmuel Haim Deitch, Sefer Todot Shemuel, Munkacs 1936, 99; Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 1, (1968), 274; Shmuel Ha-Cohen Weingarten, Toldot Yehudei Bratislava (Preshburg), ser. Arim Ve-Imahot Be-Israel, vol. 7, Jerusalem 1960, 135. 9 On Rabbi Weber see: Doberish Weber and Eliezer Abramovitch, Sefer Ha-Ish Begevurato, New York, 2020 (in Hebrew). 10 On Rabbi Unger see: Elisha Ha-Kohen Faksher, Eliezer Abramovitch and Moshe Zvi Ha-Levi Shisha, Sefer Raba De-Amei, vols. 1–2, London: Shimeon Hirshler, 2015. 11 Ha-Derekh, Tishrei, 5,680 (1920), 6, 8; Weingarten, Bratislava, 137. 12 Ha-Derekh, Kislev, 5,680 (1920), 33–34; ibid., Ha-Derekh, Tevet, 5,680 (1920), 39–40; Jüdische Presse, November 26, 1920, 3; ibid., January 7, 1921, 4; Ibid.,

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March 4, 1921, 57; ibid., March 11, 1921, 65; ibid., May 17, 1921, 141–142. On Agudat Israel’s activity in Slovakia, see: Gertrude Hirschler, “The History of Agudath Israel in Slovakia (1919–1939),” in: Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 2, 155–172. Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 2, 164–165. Jüdische Presse, June 24, 1921, 161. On him, see: Levi Yitzhak Cooper, “ʽNeged Zirmei Ha-Maim Ha-Zedonim’: Ha-Admor Mi-Munkatch R. Haim Eleazar Shapira,” in: Gdoilim: Leaders who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry, edited by Benjamin Brown and Nissim Leon, Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2017, 259–291. Jüdische Presse, December 3, 1920, 3; ibid., December 10, 1920, 1; ibid., December 31, 1920, 3; Ibid., February 4, 1921, 27; ibid., February 25, 1921, 50. Jüdische Presse, March 19, 1926, 93; Ibid., March 26, 1926, 106; ibid., November 18, 1932, 5; Kol Israel, April 9, 1926, 2; ibid., May 14, 1926, 5. On the integration of the Hungarian Jews into their new political surroundings in Slovakia, see: Rebekah Klein-Pejsova, Mapping Jewish Loyalties in Interwar Slovakia, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2015. Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 2, 275–276; Dov Dinur, Perakim BeToldot Yehudei Rusia Ha-Karpatit, Tel Aviv: Ha-Igud Ha-Olami Shel Yehudei Rusia Ha-Karpatit, 1983, 63, 73. On the Jewish Party see: Aharon Moshe K. Rabinowicz, “The Jewish Party,” in Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 2, 253–346. Weingarten, Bratislava, 134. Jüdische Presse, October 23, 1925, 283; ibid., October 30, 1925, 290; ibid., November 6, 1925, 296; Kol Israel, November 7, 1925, 3. Weingarten, Bratislava, 146; Jüdische Presse, November 20, 1925, 310; ibid., November 27, 1925, 313–315; ibid., December 4, 1925, 325; ibid., December 11, 1925, 334; Apirion, 1926, 36–38, 63–65. JTA (Jewish Telegraphic Agency reports), May 22, 1927, 3; Jüdische Presse, March 23, 1928, 85; ibid., April 2, 1928, 96, Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 1, 98. Jüdische Presse, October 18, 1929, 5–7; ibid., April 17, 1935, 9. Meir Stein, Luah Agudat Rabanei Slovakia, vol. 2, Trnava, 1925, 1–16 (The author was the chief rabbi of the Status Quo community of Trnava (Tyrnau, Nagyszombat) and in this article he criticized the Bureau’s decision not to allow his, and other communities, to join it). Jüdische Presse, December 3, 1926, 334; ibid., February 18, 1927. 52; ibid., May 6, 1927. 132; June 24, 1927, 171; ibid., July 27, 1927, 189; JTA. February 3, 1927, 1. Jüdische Presse, June 8, 1928. 154; ibid., August 10, 1928, 200; Weingarten, Bratislava, 155–156. Shmuel Ha-Cohen Weingarten, “Ha-Mizrahi Be-Tshekhoslovakia,” Mitzpe: Shenaton Ha-Tzofe, Jerusalem 1953, 453–484. Jüdische Presse, August 6, 1926, 22; ibid., August 13, 1926, 234; ibid., September 22, 1926, 277–278 (A series of articles claiming that Zionism was, in fact, a new form of Neology). Kol Israel, November 23, 1923, 2; Jüdische Presse, April 8, 1925, 98; ibid., June 15, 1934, 3; ibid., July 6, 1934, 1; ibid., December 8, 1934, 5; Ha-Olam, January 20, 1938, 369. On this issue see: Gershon C. Bacon, “Imitation, rejection, cooperation: Agudat Yisrael and the Zionist movement in interwar Poland, in: The Emergence of Modern Jewish Politics, Bundism and Zionism in Eastern Europe, edited by Zvi Gitelman, Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2003, 85–94. Jüdische Presse, July 19, 1929, 3; ibid., August 28, 1929, 4–5.

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31 Jüdische Presse, October 5, 1930, 4; ibid., November 28, 1930, 5; Sha’are Ora, Tishrei, 5,691 (1931), 14; Avraham Fuchs, Yeshivaot Hungaria Be-Gedulatan UBehurbanan, vol. 2, Jerusalem, 1987, 44–46. 32 Jüdische Presse, September 1, 1933, 3; ibid., March 23, 1934, 5; ibid., August 16, 1935, 4. 33 On religious organizations in Slovakia, see: Hugo Stransky, “The religious life in Slovakia and Subcarpathian Ruthenia,” in Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 1, 347–389; Gustav Fleischman, “The Religious Congregation, 1918–1928,” in: ibid, vol. 2, 267–329. 34 Jüdische Presse, March 29, 1929, 5. On separatist Orthodox communities, see: Benjamin Brown, “ʽKe-Haravot Leguf Ha-Adama’: Hitnagdutam Shel Rabanei Mizrah Eiropa Le-Ra’ayon Ha-Kehilot Ha-Nifradot,” in: Yosef Da’at: Studies in Modern Jewish History in Honor of Yosef Salmon, edited by Yossi Goldstein, Be’er Sheva: Ben Gurion University Press, 215–244. 35 Jüdische Presse, June 22, 1928, 167; ibid., October 4, 1935, 4. 36 Jüdische Presse, August 17, 1928, 207; ibid., February 8, 1929, 4–5; ibid., June 24, 1932, 4; Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 1, 287–288. 37 Jüdische Presse, May 28, 1926, 166; ibid., August 19, 1927, 207; ibid., April 27, 1928, 113; ibid., June 15, 1928, 160. 38 Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 1, 103–104; Weingarten, Bratislava, 151; Jüdische Presse, March 6, 1931, 3; ibid., May 8, 1931, 1; ibid., August 21, 1931, 2; JTA, May 2, 1931, 6; ibid., August 18, 1931, 2. 39 Jüdische Presse, November 5, 1920, 3; ibid., November 10, 1922, 248; ibid., February 1, 1924, 36; ibid., August 31, 1928, 217–218; ibid., January 18, 1929, 3; ibid., October 22, 1930, 4–5; Sha’are Ora, Kislev, 5,691 (1931), 32. 40 Jüdische Presse, October 9, 1931, 1, 3. 41 Jüdische Presse, October 23, 1931, 3; ibid., February 12, 1932, 3; ibid., July 15, 1932, 4. 42 Jüdische Presse, December 9, 1932, 3; ibid., December 16, 1932, 4–5; ibid., December 23, 1932, 3; Judaica, January 1935, 34–35. 43 Major controversies broke out in the Orthodox communities of Bratislava, Prešov, Trnovo, Uzhhorod (Ungvar), Munkacs and Chust. On some of these, see: Menachem Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rebbe (1887–1979): A Biography, PhD Dissertation, Tel Aviv University, 2013, 110–116. 44 Jüdische Presse, December 7, 1934, 3; ibid., December 21, 1934, 3; ibid., January 11, 1935, 4; Weigarten, Bratislava, 150–151. 45 Menachem Frank, Yehiel Tene (eds.), Ha-Halutz Ha-Tzair Be-Karpatorus, Kibbutz Lohamei Ha-Getaot: Beit Lohamei Ha-Getaot, 1984; Yehoshua HaLevi (ed.), Toldot Beitar Czechoslovakia, Tel Aviv: Yotsei Beitar CZR, 1961; Yaakov Altman (ed.), Ha-Shomer Ha-Tzair Be-Czechoslovakia: Perakim BeToldot Ha-Tenuah 1920–1950, Givat Haviva: Yad Ya’ary, 1986; Erez, Karpatorus, 321–290. 46 Židovská Ústředna Úradovna pre Krajinu Slovenskú. On the Holocaust in Slovakia, see: Livia Rotkirchen, The Destruction of Slovak Jewry, Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1961 (in Hebrew). 47 Akiva Nir (ed.), Perakim Be-Korot Shoat Yehudei Slovakia, Giv’at Haviva 1988, 81–108; Rotkirchen, The destruction, 24–26. 48 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Maramaros, Hungary – The cradle of Extreme Orthodoxy,” Modern Judaism 35 (2) (2015): 147–174; Menachem Keren-Kratz, Maramaros-Sziget: Extreme Orthodoxy and Secular Jewish Culture at the Foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, Jerusalem: The Dov Sadan Publishing Project and Leyvik House, 2013, 48–59 (in Hebrew).

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia 133 49 Erez, Karpatorus, 165–166; Jüdische Presse, December 2, 1921, 300; ibid., March 3, 1922, 52. 50 Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 1, 281. 51 On the assembly: Geva Ve-Partikol Me-Aseifat Ha-Rabanim […], Čop 1922; Moshe Goldstein (ed.), Sefer Tikun Olam, Munkacs, 1936. 52 Sefer Igrot Shapirin, Brooklyn, 1983, 268–280 (clauses 179–185). 53 Yekuthiel Zvi Zehavi, Me-Hitbolelut Le-Tsionut: Mekor Tsiyonuto Shel Hetsel, Jerusalem: Ha-Sifriya Ha-Tsiyonit, 1972, 246–248; Yehuda Shpigel, Toldot HaYehudim Be-Rusia Ha-Karpatit, Tel Aviv 1997, 36–51; Aviezer Ravitzky, “Munkatch Ve-Yerushalaim: Ha-Peleg Ha-Haredi Ve-She’elat Eretz Israel,” in: Zionut Ve-Dat, edited by Shmuel Almog, Yehuda Reinhartz and Anita Shapira, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 1994, 87–92. 54 Bacon, “Imitation, rejection, cooperation.” 55 On him, see Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel. 56 Goldstein, Tikun Olam; Igrot Shapirin, 286. 57 Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 78; Jüdische Presse, November 24, 1922, 260; ibid., December 1, 1922, 266; ibid., December 8, 1922, 271; Kol Israel, December 8, 1922, 2; ibid., December 22, 1922, 2–3. 58 Jüdische Presse, January 19, 1923, 16 (the other rabbi was Rabbi Menachem Yehuda Adler of Serednje). 59 Jüdische Presse, March 2, 1923, 49–50; ibid., March 9, 1923, 60. 60 Jüdische Presse, May 11, 1923, 123; ibid., June 22, 1923, 167–168; ibid., June 29, 1923, 177; Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 1, 306. 61 Jüdische Presse, February 22, 1924, 58; Ibid., May 23, 1924, 142. 62 Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 82–84; Jüdische Presse, February 29, 1924, 65–66. 63 Erez, Karpatorus, 167–168; Jüdische Presse, March 7, 1924, 72–73 (Prior to the elections the party changed its name to The Democratic Jewish Party). 64 Jüdische Presse, March 21, 1924, 86; Shpigel, Toldot Ha-Yehudim, 113–114. 65 Yehuda Shpigel, Ungvar – Uzhorod, Tel Aviv, 1993, 237–238; Shpigel, Toldot HaYehudim, 113–114. 66 Kol Israel, November 7, 1925, 3; Jüdische Presse, November 13, 1925, 303; Gelbman. Moshian, vol. 4, 419. 67 Jüdische Presse, November 20, 1925, 310; ibid., November 27, 1925, 317; Kol Israel, December 18, 1925, 3; Yehuda Shpigel, “Ungvar,” in Arim Ve-Imahot Be-Israel, edited by Yehuda Leib Fischman, vol. 4, Jerusalem: Mosad Ha-Rav Kook, 1960, 47–48; Shpigel, Toldot Ha-Yehudim, 114; Dinur, Perakim Be-Toldot, 74. 68 Shpigel, Ungvar, 238; Shpigel, Toldot Ha-Yehudim, 113–115. 69 Jüdische Presse, January 22, 1926, 30; ibid., January 29, 1926, 36–37. On Rabbi Brakh see: Naftali Zvi Brodi, Sefer Gedulat Shaul, vols. 1–2, Bnei Brak, 2018. 70 Jüdische Presse, March 19, 1926, 92; ibid., March 26, 1926, 106; ibid., April 23, 1926, 128; Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 1, 307; ibid., vol. 2, 359. 71 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Zealotry has Many Faces: The Views and Modes of Operation of Four Hungarian Rabbis,” Moreshet Israel 19 (2) (2021): 321—348 (Hebrew). 72 Uriel Gellman and Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The Battle Over Hasidic Radicalism: The Belz–Munkács Controversy,” Jewish Studies Quarterly, vol. 30 (3) (2023): 304-327. 73 Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 112–113; Shmuel Ha-Cohen Weingarten, “Pulmus Munkacs-Belz,” in: Erez, Karpatorus, 225–235; Shpigel, Toldot Ha-Yehudim, 59–99; Shlomo Leyb Moshkovits, A Dor Vos Geyt Unter, Munkacs: Nekudah, 1937, 32–38, 41–44. 74 In 1926 Rabbi Teitelbaum of Orshiva moved to Carei, Romania, after his election as its chief rabbi. A year later Rabbi Lieberman of Bilke was appointed chief

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85

86 87 88 89 90

The Interwar Period rabbi of Rzeszów, Poland. Jüdische Presse, January 27, 1928, 29; ibid., May 11, 1928. 126; ibid., June 1, 1928, 148; Haynt, July 12, 1929, 2 (Rabbi Shapira paid Rabbi Weiss of Spinka 100,000 crowns to persuade him to leave Munkacs). Jüdische Presse, June 27, 1930, 2–3. Jüdische Presse, January 13, 1933, 1–2; ibid., January 20, 1933, 2. Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 128–130; Idem., “‘Guarding the Guardians’: Rabbi Yosef Zvi (Maharitz) Dushinsky,” in: The Gdoilim: Leaders Who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry, edited by Benjamin Braun and Nisim Leon, Jerusalem: Van Leer Institute – Magnes Press, Jerusalem, 2017, 337–367; Jüdische Presse, April 1, 1932, 1. Yidishe Shtime, December 11, 1931, 2; ibid., January 6, 1933, 1; Jüdische Presse, April 15, 1932, 3; ibid., May 6, 1932, 3; July 28, 1933, 3. Jüdische Presse, January 5, 1934, 5; ibid., March 9, 1934, 3; ibid., March 16, 1934, 3; ibid., March 23, 1934, 5; Yidishe Tseytung, March 2, 1934, 1; ibid., March 16, 1934, 1–3; Dos Yidishe Folksblat, March 2, 1934, 2; ibid., March 9, 1934, 1. Jüdische Presse, March 18, 1932, 3; ibid., April 20, 1932, 5; ibid., May 6, 1932, 1–2; ibid., May 13, 1932, 3; ibid., June 24, 1932, 3; Yidishe Tseytung, April 20, 1932, 3; ibid., May 13, 1932, 2; ibid., June 3, 1932, 1; ibid., July 8, 1932, 1; ibid., November 11, 1932, 1; Zsidó újság, May 15, 1932, 4; ibid., May 20, 1932, 4; ibid., June 3, 1932, 6. Yidishe Tseytung, May 6, 1932, 2; Yidishe Shtime, June 10, 1932, 3; ibid., July 14, 1932, 2; ibid., August 12, 1932, 1–3; Jüdische Presse, July 8, 1932, 3; ibid., July 22, 1932, 4; ibid., August 5, 1932, 3–4; ibid., August 19, 1932, 3. Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 115–116, 136–137; Jüdische Presse, February 24, 1933, 5; ibid., May 18, 1934, 7; ibid., June 8, 1934, 4; ibid., July 6, 1934, 3; ibid., July 13, 1934, 4; ibid., September 7, 1934, 10; ibid., September 21, 1934, 4; ibid., October 26, 1934, 4; Yidishe Tseitung, January 27, 1933, 1; ibid., February 3, 1933, 1; ibid., November 17, 1933, 1; ibid., December 1, 1933, 3; Dos Yidishe Folksblat, January 26, 1934, 1; ibid., April 27, 1934, 3; ibid., May 25, 1934, 2; ibid., June 22, 1934, 2; Yidishe Shtime, May 25, 1934, 2; ibid., June 22, 1934, 3; ibid., January 18, 1935, 1. Haynt, July 12, 1929, 2 Meir Yosef Frankel, Rosh Simkhati, New York, 1992; Yidishe Tseytung, February 24, 1933, 2; ibid., March 3, 1933, 1; ibid., March 10, 1933, 1–2; ibid., March 24, 1933, 1; ibid., March 31, 1933, 2; ibid., October 27, 1933, 1; ibid., January 5, 1934, 1; Dos Yidishe Folksblat, June 14, 1935, 1; Jüdische Presse, June 28, 1935. 4. Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel, 80–81, 110–116; Yidishe Tseytung (Munkacs), January 4, 1929, 2; ibid., November 29, 1929, 2; ibid., January 1, 1932, 1; Jüdische Presse, June 27, 1930, 2–3; ibid., February 6, 1931, 3; ibid., February 13, 1931, 3; ibid., April 1, 1931, 9; ibid., April 17, 1931, 3; ibid., August 28, 1931, 2; ibid., March 11. 1932, 3; Yidishe Shtime, February 20, 1930, 2; ibid., January 29, 1932, 3; April 28, 1933, 2; ibid., May 25, 1934, 2. Frank, Ha-Halutz Ha-Tzair; Ha-Levi, Toldot Beitar; Altman, Ha-Shomer Ha-Tzair; Erez, Karpatorus, 321–290. The Zionist movements in Czechoslovakia were most active in the regions of Slovakia and PKR, where most of the country’s Jews lived. Jüdische Presse, June 25, 1931, 3; ibid., December 11, 1931, 1–2; ibid., March 25, 1932, 3; ibid., May 20, 1932, 4. Kol Israel, November 2, 1923, 3; Jüdische Presse, July 31, 1925, 206. Jüdische Presse, September 2, 1932, 3–4; ibid., January 20, 1933, 4; ibid., February 24, 1933, 3; ibid., August 25, 1933, 3; ibid., January 18, 1935, 4; Yidishe Tseytung, January 20, 1933, 1. Dos Yidishe Folksblat, January 25, 1935, 3; Dos Yidishe Vort (Czernowitz, Cernăuți), Fabruary 1, 1935, 3; Kol Israel, July 11, 1935, 3; ibid., April 4, 1937, 3; Darkenu (Sighet), Shevat 20, 5,695 (1935), 15.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia 135 91 Yidishe Shtime, June 30, 1933, 3; Yidishe Tseytung, October 7, 1933, 3. 92 Erez, Karpatorus, 205–208; Yidishe Shtime, December 14, 1934, 1; ibid., April 17, 1935, 2. 93 Jüdische Presse, February 8, 1935, 4; ibid., February 22, 1935, 4. 94 Jüdische Presse, March 8, 1935, 3; ibid., February 5, 1937, 4; November 19, 1937, 3; ibid., December 24, 1937, 4; ibid., January 7, 1938, 4; ibid., February 18, 1938, 4; Davar, August 28, 1940, 1. 95 Erez, Karpatorus, 198–201; Yidishe Shtime, June 29, 1934, 1; ibid., July 6, 1934, 1; Yidishe Tseytung, November 2, 1934, 2; ibid., November 9. 1934, 1; Hayint, December 27, 1934, 2; Dos Yidishe Folksblat, February 22, 1935, 1; Jüdische Presse, March 8, 1935, 4; ibid., March 22, 1935, 3. 96 Jüdische Presse, April 12, 1935, 3; ibid., April 17, 1935, 10. 97 Jüdische Presse, June 28, 1935, 3; ibid., August 9, 1935, 4; Zsidó újság, July 5, 1935, 5; Dos Yidishe Folksblat, June 28, 1935, 1; ibid., July 5, 1935, 1; Yidishe Shtime, June 28, 1935, 1; ibid., July 5, 1935, 1; ibid., August 2, 1935, 1. 98 Jüdische Presse, January 3, 1936, 3; ibid., February 21, 1936, 4; ibid., March 20, 1936, 4; ibid., November 27, 1936, 3; Yidishe Shtime, January 1, 1931, 1; ibid., September 19, 1936, 1. 99 Jüdische Presse, March 27, 1936, 4; ibid., July 7, 1936, 3; ibid., December 4, 1936, 4. 100 Jüdische Presse, November 6, 1936, 4. 101 Transylvanishe Yidishe Tseytung, July 16, 1935, 2; ibid., January 3, 1936, 3. 102 Jüdische Presse, April 16, 1937, 4; ibid., May 14, 1937, 1; ibid., May 21, 1937, 1. 103 Jüdische Presse, May 28, 1937, 3; ibid., September 3, 1937, 4. 104 Jüdische Presse, November 12, 1937, 2; Yidishe Shtime, November 19, 1937, 2. 105 Erez, Karpatorus, 481–484; Yidishe Shtime, January 14, 1938, 1; ibid., March 3, 1938, 3; ibid., August 12, 1938, 1. 106 On the Holocaust in PKR, see: Raz Segal, Genocide in the Carpathians: War, Social Breakdown, and Mass Violence, 1914–1945, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2016.

Bibliography Altman, Yaakov (ed.). Ha-Shomer Ha-Tzair Be-Czechoslovakia: Perakim Be-Toldot Ha-Tenuah 1920–1950. Givat Haviva: Yad Ya’ary, 1986. Bacon, Gershon C. “Imitation, rejection, cooperation: Agudat Yisrael and the Zionist movement in interwar Poland.” In: Gitelman, Zvi (ed.). The Emergence of Modern Jewish Politics, Bundism and Zionism in Eastern Europe. Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2003, 85–94. Bikhler, Yehoshua Robert (ed.). Pinkas Ha-Kehilot: Slovakia. Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 2003. Brodi, Naftali Zvi. Sefer Gedulat Shaul, vols. 1-2. Bnei Brak, 2018. Brown, Benjamin. “ʽKe-Haravot Leguf Ha-Adama’: Hitnagdutam Shel Rabanei Mizrah Eiropa Le-Ra’ayon Ha-Kehilot Ha-Nifradot.” In: Goldstein, Yossi (ed.). Yosef Da’at: Studies in Modern Jewish History in Honor of Yosef Salmon. Be’er Sheva: Ben Gurion University Press, 215–244. Cohen, Yitzhak Yosef. Hakhmei Hungarya Ve-Hasafrut Ha-Toranit Bah. Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalayim, 1997. Cooper, Levi Yitzhak. “ʽNeged Zirmei Ha-Maim Ha-Zedonim’: Ha-Admor MiMunkatch R. Haim Eleazar Shapira.” In: Brown, Benjamin and Nissim Leon (eds.). Gdoilim: Leaders who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2017, 259–291.

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Dagan, Avigdor (ed.). The Jews of Czechoslovakia: Historical Studies and Surveys, vols. 1-2. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1968–1971. Deitch, Shmuel Haim. Sefer Todot Shemuel. Munkacs, 1936. Dinur, Dov. Perakim Be-Toldot Yehudei Rusia Ha-Karpatit. Tel Aviv: Ha-Igud HaOlami Shel Yehudei Rusia Ha-Karpatit, 1983. Erez, Yehuda (ed.). Karpatorus. Jerusalem: Entsiklopedia Shel Galuyot, 1959. Faksher, Elisha Ha-Kohen, Eliezer Abramovitch and Moshe Zvi Ha-Levi Shisha. Sefer Raba De-Amei, vols. 1-2. London: Shimeon Hirshler, 2015. Fleischman, Gustav. “The religious congregation, 1918-1928.” In Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 2, 267–329. Frank, Menachem and Yehiel Tene (eds.). Ha-Halutz Ha-Tzair Be-Karpatorus. Kibbutz Lohamei Ha-Getaot: Beit Lohamei Ha-Getaot, 1984. Frankel, Meir Yosef. Rosh Simkhati. New York, 1992. Fuchs, Avraham. Yeshivaot Hungaria Be-Gedulatan U-Behurbanan. vol. 2, Jerusalem, 1987. Gellman, Uriel and Menachem Keren-Kratz. “The Battle Over Hasidic Radicalism: The Belz–Munkács Controversy.” Jewish Studies Quarterly (2023). Geva Ve-Partikol Me-Aseifat Ha-Rabanim […]. Čop 1922. Goldstein, Moshe (ed.). Sefer Tikun Olam. Munkacs, 1936. Ha-Levi, Yehoshua (ed.). Toldot Beitar Czechoslovakia. Tel Aviv: Yotsei Beitar CZR, 1961. Hirschler, Gertrude. “The History of Agudath Israel in Slovakia (1919–1939).” In: Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 2, 155–172. Jelinek, Yeshayahu A. Exile in the Foothills of the Carpathians: The Jews of Carpatho-Rus’ and Mukachevo, 1848–1948. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 2003. Kahana, Maoz. From the Noda Be-Yehuda to the Chatam Sofer: Halakha and Thought in their Historical Moment. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2015. Katz, Jacob. “Towards a biography of the Hatam Sofer.” In: Malino, Frances and David Sorkin (eds.). From East and West: Jews in a Changing Europe, 1750–1870. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1990, 223–266. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “‘Guarding the Guardians’: Rabbi Yosef Zvi (Maharitz) Dushinsky” In: Braun, Benjamin and Nisim Leon (eds.). The Gdoilim: Leaders Who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry. Jerusalem: Van Leer Institute – Magnes Press, Jerusalem, 2017, 337–367. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Come back, come back, so that we may look upon thee”: women’s pictures in ultra-Orthodox newspapers.” Kesher: Journal of Media and Communications History in Israel and the Jewish World 53 (2019): 74–93 (Hebrew). Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Maramaros, Hungary – the cradle of Extreme Orthodoxy.” Modern Judaism 35 (2) (2015): 147–174. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “The campaign for the nature of Jewish Orthodoxy: religious tolerance versus uncompromising extremism in interwar Czechoslovakia.” Modern Judaism 38 (3) (2018): 328–353. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Zealotry has many faces: the views and modes of operation of four Hungarian Rabbis.” Moreshet Israel 19 (2) (2021): 321–348. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. Maramaros-Sziget: Extreme Orthodoxy and Secular Jewish Culture at the Foothills of the Carpathian Mountains. Jerusalem: The Dov Sadan Publishing Project and Leyvik House, 2013.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Czechoslovakia 137 Keren-Kratz, Menachem. Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rebbe (1887-1979): A Biography. PhD Dissertation, Tel Aviv University, 2013, 110–116. Klein-Pejsova, Rebekah. Mapping Jewish Loyalties in Interwar Slovakia. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2015 Moshkovits, Shlomo Leyb. A Dor Vos Geyt Unter. Munkacs: Nekudah, 1937. Nir, Akiva (ed.). Perakim Be-Korot Shoat Yehudei Slovakia. Giv’at Haviva, 1988. Rabinowicz, Aharon Moshe K. “The Jewish party.” In Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 2, 253–346. Ravitzky, Aviezer. “Munkatch Ve-Yerushalaim: Ha-Peleg Ha-Haredi Ve-She’elat Eretz Israel.” In: Almog, Shmuel, Yehuda Reinhartz and Anita Shapira (eds.). Zionut Ve-Dat. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 1994, 87–92. Rotkirchen, Livia. The Destruction of Slovak Jewry. Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1961. Segal, Raz. Genocide in the Carpathians: War, Social Breakdown, and Mass Violence, 1914–1945. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2016. Shapira, Haim Elazar, Sefer Igrot Shapirin. Brooklyn, 1983. Shpigel, Yehuda. “Ungvar.” In: Fischman, Yehuda Leib (ed.). Arim Ve-Imahot BeIsrael, vol. 4. Jerusalem: Mosad Ha-Rav Kook, 1960, 47–48. Shpigel, Yehuda. Toldot Ha-Yehudim Be-Rusia Ha-Karpatit. Tel Aviv, 1997. Shpigel, Yehuda. Ungvar – Uzhorod. Tel Aviv, 1993. Stein, Meir. Luah Agudat Rabanei Slovakia, vol. 2. Trnava, 1925. Stransky, Hugo. “The religious life in Slovakia and Subcarpathian Ruthenia.” in Dagan, The Jews of Czechoslovakia, vol. 1, 347–389. Weber, Doberish and Eliezer Abramovitch. Sefer Ha-Ish Begevurato. New York, 2020. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. “Ha-Mizrahi Be-Tshekhoslovakia.” Mitzpe: Shenaton Ha-Tzofe, Jerusalem 1953, 453–484. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. “Pulmus Munkacs-Belz.” in: Erez, Karpatorus, 225–235. Weingarten, Shmuel Ha-Cohen. Toldot Yehudei Bratislava (Preshburg). (In: Fishman, Yehuda Leib (ed.). ser. Arim Ve-Imahot Be-Israel, vol. 7.). Jerusalem: Mosad HaRav Kook, 1960. Zehavi, Yekuthiel Zvi. Me-Hitbolelut Le-Tsionut: Mekor Tsiyonuto Shel Hetsel. Jerusalem: Ha-Sifriya Ha-Tsiyonit, 1972.

8

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy *

Maintaining the Separatist Tradition in the Smaller Jewish Communities Up until World War I, belonging to a certain Jewish group – Orthodox, Neolog, or Status Quo – was part of Hungarian Jews’ self-identity. Following the war, many former Hungarian Jews found themselves residing in countries in which the Jewish community had never actually absorbed the full meaning of Orthodoxy, neither in its religious nor its social and political, namely separatist, sense. Being so closely attached to their Hungarian-Orthodox identity, these Jews did everything in their power to preserve it. This, however, was not a simple task, especially in countries in which the Orthodox camp comprised a small minority of the Jews, who were themselves a tiny minority. Contrary to the desire of their new state and its general Jewish community to regard all Jews as a single ethnic group, the Orthodox leaders persuaded the local authorities and the Jewish leadership to recognize their separate organization and community institutions. Moreover, they required funding to support a separate religious education system and a number of other religious institutions, such as synagogues, slaughterhouses, mikvas (ritual baths), and cemetery plots. They likewise encountered a growing wave of Zionist activity, which was predominantly secular and threatened to attract the youth, which after being uprooted from their former homeland – Hungary – felt no connection to their new countries. It is, therefore, hardly surprising that in the face of such overwhelming challenges Orthodox leaders turned to the one organization that could support them and give them a sense of belonging to an international Orthodox body – namely Agudat Israel. Although shunned in Hungary, this organization became a valuable tool in preserving Orthodox identity in all the former

* This chapter is based on my article “Keeping up the separatist tradition: Hungarian Orthodoxy in interwar Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy,” Journal of Modern Jewish Studies 19 (4) (2020): 472–489.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-11

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy 139 Hungarian communities, and many rabbis who once shunned it, now recognized its value and sought its support. Prior to World War I, there were only a few Orthodox communities in Austria and in the countries that made up Yugoslavia, while in Italy there were no Eastern European Orthodox communities at all. In the large Jewish communities of Vienna and Zagreb, there were indeed more Orthodox Jews than in the annexed territories, but they did not enjoy a special status. Although the number of Orthodox Jews in these countries was far lower than that of traditional, reform, or Sephardi Jews, the Orthodox leaders in the formerly Hungarian territories refused to integrate into the existing local Jewish organizations and fought to maintain their unique status. The establishment of separate Orthodox organizations in the annexed areas of the three countries and their cooperation with Agudat Israel, the international Orthodox organization, brought the separatist Orthodox worldview, which had hardly existed in these countries before the war, to the fore. The Orthodox Communities in Burgenland, Austria The Burgenland (Felsőrrvidék) region, which before World War I was part of Great Hungary situated along its western border, was annexed to Austria in 1921. This was an area populated mainly by people of Austrian and German descent, among whom were more than 3,000 Jews who lived in some of the oldest Jewish communities in Hungary known as the “Seven Communities” (Siebengemeinden).1 The larger communities, especially Eisenstadt and Mattersdorf, which after the annexation were renamed Mattersburg, were home to some of Hungary’s greatest rabbis, all of German origin. Among them was Rabbi Meir (1670–1744), who served as chief rabbi of Eisenstadt from 1717 till 1744 and was named after this town. During his time in office, he established Hungary’s first yeshiva.2 Another famous rabbi was Moshe Sofer, also known by his book’s title Hatam Sofer, who served as chief rabbi in Mattersdorf from 1798 till 1806. Another prominent rabbi was Azriel Hildesheimer (1820–1899), Eisenstadt’s chief rabbi from 1851 up until 1869. There he established a unique type of yeshiva in which students received a good measure of general education on top of their intensive religious studies.3 With a history going back several centuries, Burgenland’s Jewish communities developed their own customs and regulations,4 as well as their own Yiddish vernacular,5 and after the 1868–9 congress, many of them joined the Orthodox Bureau.6 Having maintained their traditional Orthodox identity in the face of the growth of modern ideologies, religious reforms, and secularization, following World War I Burgenland’s Orthodox Jews found themselves in a different country, Austria, most of whose communities were comprised of Reformed and assimilated Jews. The few existing Orthodox communities, the largest of which was located in Vienna, were small and relatively poor. Since these long-established Austrian communities did not enjoy a separate status, as in

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Hungary, they lived under the jurisdiction of the community’s reform and assimilated leadership. After the annexation, Burgenland’s communities became the largest Orthodox communities in the country (apart from that of Vienna), and were forced to decide on their relations with Austria’s other Jewish communities. This decision was of particular importance, since after the war, all of Burgenland’s Jewish communities were beset by an acute economic crisis.7 Regardless of their poor economy, and relying on the postwar Minorities Treaties, the heads of the communities petitioned the local and national Austrian authorities to honor the former arrangement allowing for separation between the Orthodox and non-Orthodox communities. They requested that the Seven Communities be permitted to have their own Orthodox body that was to succeed the Hungarian Bureau. In 1922, with the blessing of both Burgenland’s governor and of the president of Austria, the civil administration of Burgenland acceded to their request.8 The inaugural meeting of Burgenland’s Orthodox Bureau was held in May 1923.9 The organization’s first president was Rabbi Moshe Shimon Levy of Frauenkirchen, and his vice president was Rabbi Shmuel Ehrenfeld of Mattersdorf (1891–1980).10 A few weeks later, the Bureau held its first general assembly in Lackenbach.11 The assembly drew up its basic principles and regulations and elected officials to head its institutions.12 One of its first successful campaigns was to overturn a governmental decision to declare Sunday the formal day of rest in Jewish schools, which forced the children to study on the Sabbath.13 The Bureau and its regulations were officially recognized and its representatives even met with Austrian Chancellor Ignaz Seipel. However, their request to expand the Bureau’s jurisdiction and to extend it to Austria’s other Orthodox communities was denied.14 In its early years, the Bureau lacked a regular meeting place and some of its meetings were held in Frauenkirchen or Eisenstadt.15 In 1925, Burgenland’s non-Orthodox communities agreed to abide by the Orthodox Bureau’s regulations and asked to join it. Following Rabbi Ehrenfeld’s visit to these communities and his meeting with their leaders, the Bureau approved their request, which meant it now represented around a dozen communities.16 In 1926, Rabbi Shmuel Ehrenfeld was elected president of the Bureau. He set about lobbying the heads of the local government to approve the Bureau’s legal status, which they did. This qualified it to receive a government budget.17 From then on, the Bureau held regular meetings every few months. It promoted religious education for all Jewish children, combatted attempts to outlaw ritual slaughtering on humanitarian grounds, and ensured that Jewish soldiers would not be forced to desecrate the Sabbath and would receive kosher food.18 The Bureau furthermore appointed various officials, such as rabbis, religious judges (dayanim), ritual slaughterers (shohtim), and Torah teachers (melamdim). From time to time, it was called upon to intervene in political and religious disputes that broke out in the various Orthodox communities.19

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy 141 The challenges facing the Orthodox Jews living among a majority of assimilated Jews in Austria were described by Rabbi Moshe Shimon of Lackenbach in the introduction to his book: Observant Jews display a number of virtues at this time. They are more worthy of praise and glory than those of previous generations who were not obliged to confront such great challenges as in these days, when evil inclination increases every day […] A great number of Jews have crossed long-standing boundaries, become rebellious, violated the covenant […] Yet nevertheless, the remnant of Israel has not given up, thousands and tens of thousands have remained devoted servants of God. They observe the Sabbath and do not care about their money [which they lose by closing their businesses on the Sabbath]. Their sons are raised to study the Torah and they are not deterred by the question: What will become of our children on the day they build their homes, how will they support their families? Particularly at a time when those who study natural sciences and other external disciplines are admired […] Therefore I too […] come not to blame but with words of reconciliation and appeasement and to strengthen weak hands and failing knees […] to put joy in their hearts that they may worship God gladly and with a pure heart, for God will repay their actions and their livelihood will be assured.20 One of the issues that occupied the Bureau in the following years was the demand of the local authorities, backed by the other Jewish communities, that Burgenland’s Orthodox communities join Austria’s Federation of Jewish Communities, which was established in 1928. The heads of the Orthodox Bureau sought to maintain their separate status and rejected the demand, explaining that they could not collaborate with an organization that catered mainly to Reform communities.21 They, however, joined the other Jewish communities to request that the Austrian government allocate budgets to help them finance their education system and cover the religious officials’ salaries and their overall expenses.22 In the early 1930s, the legal status of the Jewish communities in Austria was amended and the demand for unification of all Jewish communities resurfaced.23 In response, the representatives of the Orthodox communities of Burgenland, together with Vienna’s Adat Israel, Austria’s largest Orthodox community, initiated a campaign to overturn the decree. Eventually, thanks to the intervention of Chancellor Engelbert Dollfuss, the decree was rescinded and the Orthodox representatives thanked him for this. However, shortly after his assassination in 1934, the demand for unification was raised once again, but to no avail.24 Moreover, inspired by granting of special status to the Bureau in Burgenland, and following negotiations that dragged on for several years, Vienna’s Adat Israel community also gained recognition as a semi-autonomous Orthodox community.25 However, the Orthodox Bureau’s demand that the

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government officially recognize Orthodox marriages and exempt newlyweds from the requirement to conduct a civil ceremony was denied.26 One of the factors that enabled the Orthodox communities in Austria to maintain their independence, both politically and socially, was the support they received from Agudat Israel. Burgenland’s rabbis, who were more receptive to the modern world, spoke several languages, and had come to appreciate Western culture and literature, decided to cooperate with Agudat Israel.27 Rabbi Shmuel Ehrenfeld, the former vice president and the future president of the Orthodox Bureau, headed the local branch of the movement. In this capacity, he attended Agudat Israel’s first and second international conferences (Ha-Kenesia Ha-Gedola) in 1923 and in 1929 in Vienna. He also participated in the movement’s other activities, such as its international fundraising project Keren Ha-Torah (the Torah fund) to support traditional educational institutions.28 He was joined by other representatives from Burgenland who participated in various local meetings that Agudat Israel held in Austria.29 As did many of their Hungarian counterparts, the rabbis of Burgenland opposed Zionism, and speakers at the rabbinical assembly that gathered in 1933 reminded the audience of the ban on Zionism, and forbade all cooperation with the Zionist movement and even with the religious-Zionist movement – HaMizrahi.30 Agudat Israel’s principal activity in Burgenland was conducted through its youth wing (Tze’irei Agudat Israel), which began operating in Mattersdorf and in time expanded its activity to other communities.31 In the mid-1930s it also established training camps for Burgenland’s Orthodox youth who wished to migrate to Palestine and to settle there.32 In March 1938, Nazi Germany annexed Austria (the Anschluss). Shortly thereafter, thousands of Burgenland Jews were deported to other countries and the Bureau ceased to function.33 Those of Burgenland’s Jews who survived the Holocaust, including Rabbi Shmuel Ehrenfeld who migrated to New York in 1938, established Orthodox communities that preserved their former customs in the “old homeland.” In the early 1950s, Rabbi Ehrenfeld founded Kiryat Mattersdorf, a neighborhood in Jerusalem that is also known as the Seven Communities quarter in memory of Burgenland’s historic communities. The Orthodox Communities in Yugoslavia In 1918, following its defeat in World War I, Hungary’s semi-autonomous territory, known as the Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia, was joined together with parts of some other southern counties, all populated by a large number of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, and with Serbia (which included Montenegro, Bosnia, Dalmatia, and Macedonia), to form the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes which would later rename as Yugoslavia. The formerly Hungarian area contained some 50,000 Jews, several thousands of whom resided in Zagreb, the region’s largest city. These Jews lived in around a hundred communities, most of which had previously belonged to Hungary’s

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy 143 non-Orthodox organizations. Only around a dozen towns and villages, mainly in the Vojvodina region, had a separate Orthodox community that formerly belonged to the Hungarian Orthodox Bureau. Altogether, some 3,000–4,000 Orthodox Jews resided in Yugoslavia.34 In 1919, delegates from all the Jewish communities in Yugoslavia convened in Osijek and established The Federation of Jewish Communities. The organization received official recognition and its activities extended to the fields of religion, culture, welfare, and education. In 1923, it established both the chief rabbinate and an association of rabbis. The final status of the Jewish communities was confirmed in 1929.35 Seeking to preserve their separate status, the leaders of formerly Hungarian Orthodox communities refused to join the Federation and established their own organization, which modeled itself on the Orthodox Bureau in Hungary. It was headed by Rabbi Shlomo Deutch of Subotica (Szabadka), who headed the region’s largest Orthodox community.36 Following the nomination of a Hungarian rabbi – David Yehuda Silberstein – as the chief rabbi of the separate Orthodox community in Zagreb, it too was invited to join the Orthodox organization.37 Despite the Orthodox Bureau’s refusal to join the Federation of Jewish communities, the two organizations cooperated closely throughout the interwar period.38 The dozen or so Orthodox communities, largely located near the new state’s northern border with Hungary, continued their traditional lifestyle.39 Four yeshivot operated in Ilok, Zenta (Senta), Stara Kanjiža (Magyarkanizsa), and Petrovo Selo (Petrowasla, Péterréve). They were run according to the Hungarian tradition introduced in the early nineteenth century by Rabbi Moshe Sofer.40 In a few of the formerly Hungarian towns, Hasidic groups established their own communities, the largest of which was in Senta. This community was led since the early 1940s by Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum (1914–2006), who in 1979 was appointed the Satmar Rebbe.41 These small Hasidic communities, titled “Sephardi,” were separate from both the main nonOrthodox community and the Orthodox one. This led to internal controversies, such as that in which the Orthodox community of Senta demanded a separate plot in the cemetery, which the Orthodox Bureau was called upon to resolve.42 In time, Yugoslavia’s Orthodox leadership, which was composed mainly of formerly Hungarian rabbis, sought to entrench its special status and to cater to its members. In 1925, Pinhas Halevi Keller began publishing an Orthodox newspaper in German titled Israel.43 One of its editors and writers was Rabbi Shmuel Benjamin Deutsch of Subotica, who was the town’s chief rabbi and the Orthodox Bureau’s president.44 In addition, in order to support the yeshivot, Rabbi Isakhar Ber Mentzer of Stara Kanjiža established Yugoslavia’s Yeshiva Supporters Fund (tomkhei yeshivot), which operated along the lines of a similar organization in Hungary:45 For several years now, since the establishment of our country Yugoslavia, we have witnessed with our own eyes how the study of Torah [namely the

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Talmud] in our country has weakened and regressed ten degrees backwards, because the gates of our country are closed to the youngsters who seek to travel abroad and to drink from the well of the water of life – our holy Torah. And in our country, they cannot sit peacefully to study the Torah without disturbance and interruption. And in order to save the youngsters from deteriorating, and in order to produce another generation that will carry the banner of Torah, we, the fearful Orthodox, have gathered and deliberated about what to do and we have unanimously agreed to establish the Yeshiva Supporters’ Fund, and this has been done.46 In the late 1920s, following internal political processes that led to the repeal of the country’s constitution, a law was passed that regulated the activities of the religious communities in Yugoslavia and granted Judaism a status equal to that of other religions. Consequently, the Orthodox Bureau was granted a part of the government budget allocated to the Jewish communities.47 As a result, in the 1930s several other communities decided to join the Orthodox Bureau.48 As in Burgenland, here too the success of the Orthodox communities in maintaining their independence despite being a small minority among the Jews, who were themselves a tiny group, was due to their cooperation with Agudat Israel, whose local leader was Rabbi Shmuel Deutsch of Subotica. In late 1926, the movement established a vocational school for Orthodox children in Subotica,49 and continued to operate in this town and in other locations in the ensuing years.50 Agudat Israel established educational institutions, held social events, and trained Orthodox candidates for migration to Eretz Israel and its agricultural settlement.51 The movement’s activity intensified during the second half of the 1930s, when it held national conferences and established several branches of its youth wing, Tze’iri Agudat Israel.52 At its meeting in 1936, the Orthodox Bureau elected Rabbi Alexander Polak of Senta as chairman and his deputies were Rabbi Herman Deutsch of Subotitca (son of Rabbi Shmuel), and Rabbi Isakhar Ber Mentzer of Stara Kanjiža.53 At a meeting held in September, Rabbi Herman Deutsch was elected to succeed his father as the Bureau’s president. The chairman and guest of honor was the Senate member and Yugoslavia’s chief rabbi – Rabbi Yitzhak Avraham Alkalai of Belgrade.54 He also chaired the Bureau’s meeting in the following year, which elected Rabbi Alexander Polak copresident together with Rabbi Herman Deutsch.55 During most of the interwar period, the Jews of Yugoslavia hardly suffered discrimination or experienced anti-Semitic incidents. The Jewish communities’ delegates, including the rabbis, met periodically with representatives of the government and even with the king himself.56 Even the Orthodox communities, whose members preserved their traditional Jewish appearance, were able to conduct their daily life without disturbance. All this changed in October 1940 when the government passed the first Numerus Clausus anti-Jewish law. The Germans conquered Yugoslavia in

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy 145 April 1941 and divided it into several parts, each of which was controlled by another country that employed different methods to take measures against the Jews. Some of the formerly Hungarian territories, along with the majority of the Orthodox communities, were returned to Hungary, and shared the fate of the other Hungarian Jews. Eventually, some 80 percent of Yugoslavia’s 80,000 Jews perished during the Holocaust.57 The Orthodox Community in the City of Fiume, Italy Prior to World War I, the Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, but enjoyed a certain degree of autonomy in its internal affairs. Yet, since it was Hungary’s only international sea port and despite being completely cut off from its inland, the town of Fiume, later renamed Rijeka, enjoyed a special status and was considered Hungarian soil. From the 1880s onward, after a long period of decline during which most of the Jewish population left town, Fiume began to flourish and many Hungarian Jews, including a small number of Orthodox Jews, settled there. The new Hungarian-Jewish settlers made a significant impact on the town’s economy. The banker Zigmond Kornfeld, for example, established Fiume’s oil refineries, and his son, Maurice, was instrumental in the modernization and mechanization of the town’s harbor.58 The majority of the town’s 1,200–1,500 Jews belonged to the Neolog community, but it also had a small Orthodox community. In 1921, following World War I, Italy annexed Istria peninsula, which had previously belonged to the Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia. In accordance with international agreements, Fiume, which lay just east of that territory, was declared a “free state” and became an autonomous entity. In March 1924, after a period of prolonged political unrest, the territory that contained Fiume and the nearby town of Abbazia (Opatija), which also had a small Jewish community, was annexed to Italy.59 Since all of Italy’s other Jewish communities followed the local customs that had evolved over the centuries, Fiume was the only place in which an Orthodox community existed alongside its main community. The Orthodox community, which numbered several hundred Jews, was headed by Rabbi Haim David Rubin-Halberstam.60 He established a Shas Hevra (Talmud study society), and led social events of a religious nature.61 In 1923, the Orthodox Union of Fiume was founded and was headed by Albert Engelsrath, who represented the community at events held outside of Italy, such as the convention of Agudat Israel’s Keren Ha-Torah.62 In 1927, the Orthodox Union elected Albert Engelsrath as its president while Yaakov Barukh and Eugen Lifschitz were appointed vice presidents.63 The cornerstone of the separate Orthodox synagogue was also laid in that year, but its construction began only in late 1930 and lasted about a year.64 In the early 1930s, the Fascist government in Italy changed the laws that regulated the status of the Jewish communities, and the separate Orthodox

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community was ordered to amalgamate with the Neolog community in Fiume.65 The Orthodox community sought to delay this procedure for as long as it could, but once the main community granted it religious autonomy it approved the formal unification.66 Following the departure of Rabbi Haim David to Antwerp, the community searched for a new rabbi and decided to appoint Rabbi Joseph Breuer of Frankfurt (1882–1980), who, because of the situation in Germany, sought a safer place for himself and for his yeshiva.67 Rabbi Breuer and his students arrived in Fiume in late 1933, but within a few months he regretted his decision and returned to Germany with his students.68 During these years, Fiume’s Jewish community hosted refugees from Germany and Poland who made use of the town’s international port to continue their migration to other countries.69 As in the other two formerly Hungarian territories, Fiume’s Orthodox organization cooperated with Agudat Israel, whose main movement and youth wing (Tze’irei Agudat Israel) began to operate in Fiume.70 In 1936, Rabbi Avraham Shreiber-Sofer of Gorizia (1897–1982), Italy, who was born and raised in Hungary, was appointed Fiume’s chief rabbi.71 Anti-Jewish decrees in Italy were issued in October 1938, including a ban on kosher slaughter. One of the laws revoked the Italian citizenship of all Jews who had not acquired it before 1919, which included most of Fiume’s Jews, who only became Italian citizens in 1924 following the town’s annexation. Consequently, many Jews, including Fiume’s chief rabbi, were exiled. Following the arrest of the heads of the Orthodox synagogue in 1940, the activities of Fiume’s Orthodox organization terminated.72 A young policeman named Giovanni Palatucci helped save thousands of Fiume’s Jews by issuing false documents. He was consequently known as “the Italian Schindler,” and was designated by Yad Vashem as a Righteous Among the Nations. In 2013, new information suggested that Palatucci was in fact a Fascist who cooperated with the Nazis and that the number of Jews he rescued was much smaller than previously reported. This debate is still unresolved.73 Notes 1 Yekuthiel Yehuda Greenwald, Matzevet Kodesh: Le-Kehilot Israel She-Nehrevu, New York, 1952; Moshe Goldstein. Ma’amar Sheva Ha-Kehilot, Tel Aviv, 1955; Shlomo Shpitzer. Eliezer Stern, Haya Batya Markovitz (eds.), Kehilot Ostria, Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalaim, 2017, 24–30. 2 On the community of Eisenstadt see: Raphael Patai, “Eisenstadt,” in: Arim VeImahot Be-Israel, vol. 1, edited by Yehuda Leib Fischman, Jerusalem: Mosad HaRav Kook, 1946, 41–79. 3 On the yeshivot in Burgenland see: Avraham Fuchs, Yeshivot Hungaria BeGedulatan Ube-Hurbanan, vol. 1, Jerusalem: Hed, 1978, 559–578. 4 Bunim Yoel Tausig, The Communities and Their Customs: Embraces the Customs of the Seven Communities of the Burgenland, Jerusalem: Yechiel Goldhaber, 2005.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy 147 5 Lea Schä fer, “On the frontier between Eastern and Western Yiddish: sources from Burgenland,” European Journal of Jewish Studies 11 (2) (2017): 130–147. 6 Shpitzer, Kehilot Ostria, 29. 7 Jüdische Presse, January 26, 1923, 19–20; ibid., February 2, 1923, 27; ibid., April 27, 1923, 105; ibid., May 18, 1923, 130–131. 8 Jüdische Presse, March 10, 1922, 59; ibid., July 28, 1922, 171. The body’s official name was: “Verband der Autonomen Orthodoxen Israelitischen Kultusgemeinden des Burgenlandes.” On Burgenland’s Orthodox organization see: Milka Zalmon, The Community of Deutschkreutz (Zelem) in Burgenland (Austria): A Small Central-European Community’s Struggle for Preservance and preservation of its unique character in the Early Modern and Modern Era (1672 to 1938), PhD dissertation, Bar Ilan University, 1999, 149–185; Shlomo Spitzer and Milka Zalmon, Die jüdische Gemeinde von Deutschkreutz, Vienna: Böhlau Verlag, 1995; Rafaela Stankevich, The Community of Lackenbach in Burgenland (Austria): Preserving its Religious and Social Uniqueness in the Early Modern and Modern Era (1671–1938), PhD dissertation, Bar Ilan University, 2010, 252–257. 9 Jüdische Presse, January 26, 1923, 19–20; ibid., February 2, 1923, 27; ibid., April 27, 1923, 105. 10 Jüdische Presse, May 4, 1923, 115; ibid., May 11, 1923, 122; ibid., June 8, 1923, 148; Shpitzer, Kehilot Ostria, 30. 11 On this community see: Stankevich, The Community of Lackenbach; Adoniyahu Kraus, Kehila Kedosha Lakenbach, Jerusalem, 1963. On the Deutschkreutz community see: Moshe Alexander Zusha Kunstlicher and Shlomo Yehuda Ha-Cohen Shpitzer, Kehilat Zehlim Ve-Hahameyha, Bnei Brak, 2000. 12 Jüdische Presse, July 27, 1923, 215; ibid., August 3, 1923, 225. 13 Jüdische Presse, May 18, 1923, 130–131; ibid., June 8, 1923, 148; Stankevich, The Community of Lackenbach, 255. 14 Jüdische Presse, October 12, 1923, 332; ibid., October 19, 1923, 329. 15 Jüdische Presse, November 11, 1923, 379; ibid., January 2, 1925, 3. 16 Jüdische Presse, January 2, 1925, 3; ibid. May 15, 1925, 130; Zalmon, The Community of Deutschkreutz, 155–156. 17 Jüdische Presse, April 16, 1926, 122; ibid., April 15, 1927, 118: ibid., November 1, 1935, 3. Zalmon, The Community of Deutschkreutz, 144. 18 Jüdische Presse, July 21, 1933, 2; ibid., March 9, 1934, 2; ibid., July 20, 1934, 4; Fuchs, Yeshivot Hungaria, vol. 1, 547; Zalmon, The Community of Deutschkreutz, 159–161. 19 Jüdische Presse, July 6, 1934, 3; ibid., February 22, 1935, 3; Zalmon, The Community of Deutschkreutz, 145, 157–158. 20 Moshe Shimon Ha-Levi, Shut Yismah Lev, Montreal 1983, Introduction, 7–8 (pages not numbered). 21 Jewish Telegraphic Agency Bulletin, December 15, 1926, 1; Zalmon, The Community of Deutschkreutz, 165–174; Stankevich, The Community of Lackenbach, 256. 22 Avraham Palmon, “Ha-kehila ha-yehudit be-vina ve-ha-republika ha-ostrit harishona (1918–1938): ha-ma’avak al hishtatfut ha-shiltonot be-mimun ha-kehilot,” Jewish History 1 (1) (1986): 9–32. 23 Jüdische Presse, September 8, 1933, 3. 24 Jüdische Presse, April 20, 1934, 1; ibid., May 4, 1934, 1; ibid., May 18, 1934, 4; ibid., August 10, 1934, 3; ibid., June 21, 1935, 1–2. 25 Jüdische Presse, May 4, 1934, 4; ibid., May 11, 1934, 1; ibid., November 30, 1934, 1. 4; ibid., December 7, 1934, 1; ibid., July 19, 1935, 1 (The newspaper carried dozens of articles describing the quarrels between Vienna’s Orthodox and Reform communities). 26 Jüdische Presse, November 1, 1935, 1.

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27 Jüdische Presse, February 2, 1923, 34; ibid., August 15, 1930, 3; ibid., June 23, 1932, 2; ibid., July 1, 1932, 2; ibid., June 6, 1933, 3; ibid., April 24, 1936, 3; ibid., November 19, 1937, 4; ibid., November 26, 1937, 4. 28 Jüdische Presse, September 7, 1923, 294; ibid., May 13, 1927, 135; Zalmon, The Community of Deutschkreutz, 178. 29 Jüdische Presse, May 31, 1929, 1–2; ibid., June 30, 1933, 3; Stankevich, The Community of Lackenbach, 259–260. 30 Jüdische Presse, July 21, 1933, 2–3. 31 Jüdische Presse, March 29, 1935, 3; ibid., May 3, 1935, 3; ibid., April 24, 1936, 3; ibid., May 15, 1936, 3; ibid., January 1, 1937, 4; ibid., April 23, 1937, 4. 32 Jüdische Presse, April 13, 1934, 3; ibid., June 1, 1934, 3. 33 Milka Zalmon, “Forced emigration of the Jews of Burgenland: a test case,” Yad Vashem Studies 31 (2003): 287–323. 34 Vojvodina included the counties of Banat, Bačka, Baranja and Srem. On the Jews of Vojvodina, see: Zvi Loker, History of the Jews of the Vojvodina Region of Yugoslavia, Tel Aviv: Hitahdut Olei Yugoslavia, 1994. 35 Zvi Loker (ed.), Pinkas Ha-Kehilot: Yugoslavia, Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1988, 18; Beit Va’ad La-Hahamin, Kislev 5,690 (1930), 14. 36 Jüdische Presse, March 2, 1923, 51–51; ibid., October 19, 1923, 330. On this community, see: Loker, Pinkas Ha-Kehilot: Yugoslavia, 218–232. 37 Jüdische Presse, November 20, 1925, 311; ibid., January 15, 1926, 22; Zsidó Újság, May 12, 1926, 9; ibid., June 18, 1926, 11; Paul Benjamin Gordiejew, Voices of Yugoslav Jewry, New York: SUNY Press, 1999, 45–46. 38 Apirion, Kislev 3, 5,687 (1927), 170–172; Jüdische Presse, June 1, 1928, 147; Margalit Goldgof, “History of the Jews in the Former Yugoslavia in the 20th Century to Present Day,” Miami International Studies Journal, 1 (2012): 31–40. 39 Jüdische Presse, December 17, 1926, 345. 40 Jüdische Presse, January 4, 1929, 4; Fuchs, Yeshivot Hungaria, vol. 2, 328–347. 41 On Rabbi Moshe see: U-Moshe Haya Ro’eh, vols. 1–6, Kiryat Yoel, 2007. 42 Jüdische Presse, November 25, 1921, 291; ibid., April 20, 1923, 411; ibid., December 28, 1923, 411; U-Moshe Haya Ro’eh, vol. 2, 119–247; Eliyahu Ha-Levi Shpitzer, Kehilat Sombor Be-Hurbana, Jerusalem 1970, 27–28; Loker, Pinkas HaKehilot, 243. 43 On Jewish newspapers in Yugoslavia, see: Yakir Eventov, “Itonei ha-yehudim beyugoslavia ad ha-shoah be-1941,” in: Itonut Yehudit Shehayta, edited by Yehuda Gottholf, Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv: Hairgun Ha-Olami Shal Itonaim Yehudim, 1973, 473–477. 44 Ha-Derekh, Tamuz-Av, 5,685 (1925), 16; Jüdische Presse, February 18, 1927, 51; ibid., December 7, 1934, 1. 45 Fuchs, Yeshivot Hungaria, vol. 2, 338–345. 46 Ibid., vol. 2, 341. 47 Jüdische Presse, December 20, 1929, 3; ibid., January 3, 1930, 1; ibid., January 10, 1930, 4; ibid., February 9, 1934, 4; JTA, December 17, 1929, 1; ibid., February 13, 1930, 6–8; Horev (Warsaw), July 1930, 19; Beit Va’ad Le-Hahamim, Kislev 5,689 (1929), 14; Gordiejew, Voices of Yugoslav Jewry, 32, 83. 48 Jüdische Presse, July 13, 1934, 4. 49 Zsidó Újság, December 10, 1926, 10. 50 Jüdische Presse, April 8, 1932, 3; ibid., December 15, 1933, 6; ibid., January 5, 1934, 6; ibid., January 12, 1934, 4; ibid., January 19, 1934, 4. 51 Jüdische Presse, March 16, 1934, 4; ibid., March 23, 1934, 6; ibid., March 30, 1934, 10; ibid., November 30, 1934, 6; ibid., May 3, 1935, 4. 52 Jüdische Presse, September 7, 1934, 7; ibid., October 26, 1934, 6; ibid., December 7, 1934, 4; ibid., July 29, 1935, 6–8; ibid., June 11, 1937, 4.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy 149 53 54 55 56 57

58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69

70 71

72 73

Jüdische Presse, April 3, 1936, 8; ibid., April 24, 1936, 4. Jüdische Presse, September 16, 1936, 4–5. Jüdische Presse, March 26, 1937, 5. Jüdische Presse, April 20, 1934, 4; ibid., January 4, 1935, 6. On the Holocaust in Yugoslavia, see: Menachem Shelah, Toldot Ha-Shoah: Yugoslavia, Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1990; Krinka Vidaković-Petrov, “The Holocaust in Yugoslavia: questions of identity,” in: Hiding, Sheltering, and Borrowing Identities: Avenues of Rescue during the Holocaust, edited by Dan Michman, Jerusalem: Yad Vashem, 2017, 343–365. Nethaniel Katzburg, Antisemitism in Hungary, 1867–1914, Tel Aviv: Devir, 1969, 45; Paul Lendvai, The Hungarians: A Thousand Years of Victory in Defeat, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003, 340. Jüdische Presse, February 9, 1923, 34. Rabbi Haim David Rubin-Halberstam was a descendant of Rabbi Haim Halberstam, the founder of the Sanz Hasidic court and one of the most prominent religious leaders of his time. Jüdische Presse, February 12, 1926, 52; ibid., April 8, 1927, 107; ibid., April 5, 1929, 4. Jüdische Presse, May 18, 1926, 154; ibid., May 13, 1927, 135. Jüdische Presse, May 13, 1927, 138. Jüdische Presse, October 5, 1930, 4; ibid., September 25, 1931, 3. Jüdische Presse, May 24, 1929, 5; ibid., December 11, 1931, 3. Michele Sarfatti, The Jews in Mussolini’s Italy: From Equality to Persecution, Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2006, 61–62. Yom-Tov Sneiders, Zekhor Zot Le-Yaacov, London 1995, 61. Jüdische Presse, September 29, 1933, 3; ibid., November 17, 1933, 3; ibid., November 24, 1933, 3; ibid., January 12, 1934, 2; The Sentinel, January 4, 1934, 24; Sarfatti, The Jews in Mussolini’s Italy, 230. Daniel Karpi, “Tsionim ve-tsionut be-italia be-idan tahapukhot 1936–1958,” Tsionut 21 (1998): 121–155. At least three ships carrying 1,000–2,000 Jewish war refugees sailed from Fiume’s port in 1939. See: Daniel Rosenne, Gideonim, Yahud, 2017, 428–429. Orthodoxishe Yugend Bleter, Tevet 1, 5,690 (1930), 5 (A. Engelsrath is listed as Fiume’s representative on the central council of Agudat Israel’s international leadership). Jüdische Presse, September 20, 1935, 3; ibid., February 7, 1936, 4; ibid., October 23, 1936, 3. He later settled in Israel and became a well-known scholar and publisher of old Jewish texts. In 1991 he was awarded the Israel Prize for his extensive scholarly work. Sarfatti, The Jews in Mussolini’s Italy, 140. See for example: Nazareno Giusti, L’ultimo Questore: La Vera Storia di Giovanni Palatucci, il Poliziotto che Salvo’ Migliaia di Ebrei, Livorno: Belforte, 2009; Giuseppe Fresolone e Marcello Naimoli (eds.), Giovanni Palatucci e gli Ebrei Internati a Campagna: Memorie, Rappresentazioni e Nuove Ricerche, Rome: Edup, 2017.

Bibliography Eventov, Yakir. “Itonei ha-yehudim be-yugoslavia ad ha-shoah be-1941.” In: Gottholf, Yehuda (ed.). Itonut Yehudit Shehayta, Tel Aviv: Hairgun Ha-Olami Shal Itonaim Yehudim, 1973, 473–477. Fresolone, Giuseppe and Marcello Naimoli (eds.). Giovanni Palatucci e gli Ebrei Internati a Campagna: Memorie, Rappresentazioni e Nuove Ricerche. Rome: Edup, 2017.

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Fuchs, Avraham. Yeshivot Hungaria Be-Gedulatan Ube-Hurbanan, vol. 1. Jerusalem: Hed, 1978. Giusti, Nazareno. L’ultimo Questore: La Vera Storia di Giovanni Palatucci, il Poliziotto che Salvo’ Migliaia di Ebrei. Livorno: Belforte, 2009. Goldgof, Margalit. “History of the Jews in the former Yugoslavia in the 20th century to present day.” Miami International Studies Journal, 1 (2012): 31–40. Goldstein, Moshe. Ma’amar Sheva Ha-Kehilot. Tel Aviv, 1955. Gordiejew, Paul Benjamin. Voices of Yugoslav Jewry. New York: SUNY Press, 1999. Greenwald, Yekuthiel Yehuda. Matzevet Kodesh: Le-Kehilot Israel She-Nehrevu. New York, 1952. Ha-Levi, Moshe Shimon. Shut Yismah Lev. Montreal, 1983. Karpi, Daniel. “Tsionim ve-tsionut be-italia be-idan tahapukhot 1936–1958.” Tsionut 21 (1998): 121–155. Katzburg, Nathaniel. Antisemitism in Hungary, 1867–1914. Tel Aviv: Devir, 1969. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Keeping up the separatist tradition: Hungarian Orthodoxy in interwar Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy.” Journal of Modern Jewish Studies 19 (4) (2020): 472–489. Kraus, Adoniyahu. Kehila Kedosha Lakenbach. Jerusalem, 1963. Kunstlicher, Moshe Alexander Zusha and Shlomo Yehuda Ha-Cohen Shpitzer. Kehilat Zehlim Ve-Hahameyha. Bnei Brak, 2000. Lendvai, Paul. The Hungarians: A Thousand Years of Victory in Defeat. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2003. Loker, Zvi (ed.). Pinkas Ha-Kehilot: Yugoslavia. Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1988. Loker, Zvi. History of the Jews of the Vojvodina Region of Yugoslavia. Tel Aviv: Hitahdut Olei Yugoslavia, 1994. Palmon, Avraham. “Ha-kehila ha-yehudit be-vina ve-ha-republika ha-ostrit harishona (1918–1938): ha-ma’avak al hishtatfut ha-shiltonot be-mimun ha-kehilot.” Jewish History 1 (1) (1986): 9–32. Patai, Raphael. “Eisenstadt.” In: Fischman, Yehuda Leib (ed.). Arim Ve-Imahot BeIsrael, vol. 1. Jerusalem: Mosad Ha-Rav Kook, 1946, 41–79. Rosenne, Daniel. Gideonim. Yahud, 2017. Sarfatti, Michele. The Jews in Mussolini’s Italy: From Equality to Persecution. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2006. Schä fer, Lea. “On the frontier between Eastern and Western Yiddish: sources from Burgenland.” European Journal of Jewish Studies 11 (2) (2017): 130–147. Shelah, Menachem. Toldot Ha-Shoah: Yugoslavia, Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1990. Shpitzer, Eliyahu Ha-Levi. Kehilat Sombor Be-Hurbana. Jerusalem, 1970. Shpitzer, Shlomo, Eliezer Stern and Haya Batya Markovitz (eds.). Kehilot Ostria. Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalaim, 2017. Sneiders, Yom-Tov. Zekhor Zot Le-Yaacov, London, 1995. Spitzer, Shlomo and Milka Zalmon. Die jüdische Gemeinde von Deutschkreutz. Vienna: Böhlau Verlag, 1995. Stankevich, Rafaela. The Community of Lackenbach in Burgenland (Austria): Preserving its Religious and Social Uniqueness in the Early Modern and Modern Era (1671–1938). Ph. D. dissertation, Bar Ilan University, 2010. Tausig, Bunim Yoel. The Communities and Their Customs: Embraces the Customs of the Seven Communities of the Burgenland. Jerusalem: Yechiel Goldhaber, 2005. U-Moshe Haya Ro’eh., vols. 1-6. Kiryat Yoel, 2007.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy 151 Vidaković-Petrov, Krinka. “The Holocaust in Yugoslavia: questions of identity.” In: Michman, Dan (ed.). Hiding, Sheltering, and Borrowing Identities: Avenues of Rescue during the Holocaust. Jerusalem: Yad Vashem, 2017, 343–365. Zalmon, Milka. “Forced emigration of the Jews of Burgenland: a test case.” Yad Vashem Studies 31 (2003): 287–323. Zalmon, Milka. The Community of Deutschkreutz (Zelem) in Burgenland (Austria): A Small Central-European Community’s Struggle for Preservance and preservation of its unique character in the Early Modern and Modern Era (1672 to 1938). PhD dissertation, Bar Ilan University, 1999.

Part III

Hungarian Orthodoxy Outside of Europe

9

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in America

Until the Holocaust Hungarian Jews began to migrate to the United States in the mid-nineteenth century. Initially, as long as their number was still small, they integrated with other Central and East European communities, but subsequently, they began to set up their own organizations. The first Hungarian-Jewish social association, The Hungarian Society of New York, was established in 1865, while Ohab Zedek, the first religious congregation, was founded in New York’s Lower East Side in 1873 and in 1881 built its synagogue at 70 Columbia Street. Five years later, in 1886, having expanded rapidly, it sold this building to a different Hungarian congregation called Ahavat Achim Anshe Ungarn. Ohab Zedek moved into the gothic-style synagogue building at 172 Norfolk Street, which it purchased from its previous congregation. Today, this is the Angel Orensanz Center, the oldest surviving synagogue building in New York and the fourth oldest in the USA.1 In 1906 the congregation moved uptown into one of Harlem’s newly fashionable neighborhoods on 116th Street. The congregation was wealthy enough to hire the world’s most acclaimed cantor Yossale Rosenblat, who served the community from 1911 to 1926, and again in 1929. In 1926, Ohab Zedek moved once again to a building on 118th Street and has remained there ever since.2 Both Ohab Zedek and Ahavat Achim Anshe Ungarn, as well as other Hungarian-Orthodox congregations in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, comprised non-Hasidic Jews, who by and large led a more modern way of life and were better educated than Hungary’s Hasidim. The latter, who adhered to a more conservative lifestyle, obeyed their rebbes who forbade them to travel to America, which they termed the “treifene medina” (Yiddish: the un-holy country).3 The notion that America was not a suitable place for observant Jews was not altogether unfounded. In their home countries, the vast majority of Central and Eastern European migrants, even those who were not fully observant, had received a Jewish education, refrained from working on the Sabbath, respected the rabbinical scholars, attended synagogue at least several times a year, and DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-13

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consumed kosher meat. However, given the conditions that prevailed in America during the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, they found it all but impossible to maintain a traditional Jewish way of life. Most of the hundreds of thousands of Jews who were members of the Orthodox communities were obliged to work on Saturday, the Sabbath, which at the time was a regular working day. They consumed non-kosher meat because the kosher variety was expensive, could not comply with the family purity laws since the mikvahs were few and far between and expensive, and lost respect for the rabbis, whom they perceived to be old fashioned. Moreover, most Jews could not provide their children with a Jewish education, which was private and costly.4 A report compiled in 1887 on New York’s Orthodox Jewry by the Hungarian rabbi Moshe Weinberger reveals that some 200 Orthodox congregations of one sort or another were operating at the time. Although they hosted many visiting preachers and Torah scholars, there were only three to four “genuine,” namely Eastern European-style rabbis in the entire city. The synagogues served primarily as social meeting places and were led by the wealthier members rather than those who could serve as spiritual and religious role models. Most of the members in these Orthodox communities observed only a few of the mitzvoth and did not give their children a traditional Jewish education.5 Hungarian Hasidim, who stood out with their long beards and sidelocks, were more reluctant to relinquish their religious lifestyle. They, and certainly their rebbes, refrained from migrating to America, knowing it lacked a Hasidic infrastructure. Consequently, up until the 1920s, all Hungarian congregations were led by non-Hasidic rabbis, who, on top of their extensive Talmudic knowledge, had a broad general education and usually spoke several languages. The two congregations mentioned above were led by such rabbis. Rabbi Hillel (Philip) Klein, who led Ohab Zedek between 1892–1926, was not only a talented Talmudic scholar but also gained a PhD at the University of Berlin. He lived in Hungary and Germany and, before moving to the USA, he spent more than a decade in the Russian Empire. Upon his arrival, he immediately became a leading figure in New York’s Orthodoxy and was involved in numerous social and religious initiatives. In 1896 he established the Shomrei Shabbat association, a society that promoted the observance of the Sabbath, and two years later he and his associates founded the Orthodox Jewish Congregation Union (later the OU) and remained dedicated to its work throughout his lifetime. Unlike most Hungarian rabbis, Rabbi Klein supported Zionism and founded a religious-Zionist society called Knesset Zion Ha-Metsuyenet. Following the first international Zionist congress held in 1897, Klein established the Federation of Zionist Organizations in America. He also joined the United Zionist Societies, which later became the Federation of American Zionists. Following the establishment of Ha-Mizrahi in 1902, he became one of

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in America 157 its leaders in the USA. When Agudat Israel was founded in 1912, Rabbi Klein became one of its representatives, and sought to bridge the gap between the two Orthodox organizations – Agudat Israel and Ha-Mizrahi, which opened its first branch in America in 1914. Rabbi Klein furthermore served for many years as president of Kolel Shomrei Hachomot, a charity that supported the Hungarian members of Palestine’s Old Yishuv.6 During the last year of his life, he encouraged Orthodox participation in the Synagogue Council of America, even though it represented Conservative and Reform congregations as well as the Orthodox.7 The above-mentioned Rabbi Moshe Weinberger was a well-trained nonHasidic Talmudist, but upon his arrival in 1880, he was unable to gain a rabbinical position. He involved himself in several enterprises and was eventually chosen to lead some small Orthodox congregations in Pennsylvania and in Cleveland. In 1895, he was chosen to lead New York’s prestigious congregation Ahavat Achim Anshe Ungarn.8 There he set out to establish the city’s first “true” Hungarian-style yeshiva named Or Ha-Haim, but was not supported in this endeavor by the leaders of his community, with which he eventually parted ways.9 Rabbi Weinberger was succeeded by Rabbi Alter Shaul Pfeffer, likewise, a non-Hasidic Hungarian rabbi who, like Rabbi Klein, was a prominent rabbinical figure. Not only did he write and issue one of America’s most comprehensive responsa books, but also joined the leadership of Agudat Ha-Rabanim, Ezrat Torah (an organization that supported Orthodox educational institutions worldwide), and chaired New York’s rabbinical council. During the late 1930s, he also served as the secretary of Agudat Israel’s Council of Sages.10 Rabbi Weinberger’s dream materialized only two decades later when Yeshiva Torah Vodaas was established in Williamsburg in 1917 by a group of modern and Zionist rabbis headed by Rabbi Ze’ev Gold, one of Ha-Mizrahi’s leaders. This was a school in which the students, who were required to maintain an observant lifestyle, studied both religious and general studies. When Rabbi Shraga Feivel Mendelovitz of Hungary settled in New York in the early 1920s, he expanded the yeshiva’s activities and added a metivta, a religious high school in which Talmud was the main subject studied.11 He subsequently opened a yeshiva gevoha in which students studied only religious subjects, particularly the Talmud. This institution became very popular among Hungarian Jewish immigrants, who sought to give their children a modern yet Orthodox education.12 By the beginning of the 1920s, Hungarian Jews comprised some 4 percent of the Jewish population in the USA.13 They belonged to over 30 national and local organizations, including many landsmanshaften, namely societies of people originating from the same town or county, which issued their own journals and organized various social events.14 As the number of New York’s Hungarian Jews grew, and given the high reputation of Torah Vodaas, many of them chose to settle in Williamsburg. Jews of Hungarian descent comprise the majority of the neighborhood’s Jews to this day.15

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Hungarian Hasidim were loath to migrate without their rebbes’ permission. Those who went ahead with their plan without receiving their rabbi’s blessing, generally abandoned their Hasidic appearance and lifestyle. Although a small percentage of American Orthodox communities were Hassidic and were known as “Anshe Sepharad” or “Nosah Ha-Ari,” which alluded to their unique style of worship, they were not committed to any specific Hasidic court.16 Only following World War I, as several second-rank Hassidic rabbis settled in America, did they establish a few congregations that adhered to the customs of a specific Hasidic court, but only a handful of those were Hungarian.17 In the mid-1920s, the Hasidic rabbis established their own rabbinical association named Agudat Ha-Admorim, but only a few of them were Hungarian.18 From only three Hasidic synagogues in the early twentieth century, by the 1940s their number had grown to 130, yet they still comprised only 6 percent of the overall number of the synagogues in New York.19 Up until the 1940s, one would only rarely come across Hasidic Jews dressed in their traditional long coats fastened by a gartel (a silk or silk-like belt tied around the waist during prayer, usually by Hasidim), sporting a long beard and sidelocks, their heads covered by a shtreiml (a wide and round fur hat usually used by Hasidim on Shabbat, holy days, and special occasions).20 American Orthodoxy and the “Slide to the Right” Up until the 1930s, most of the hundreds of thousands of Orthodox Jews in America were accustomed to working on Shabbat simply because they had no alternative. They furthermore consumed non-kosher meat because the kosher variety was costly, failed to comply with the family purity laws because the mikvahs were few and far between and expensive, and did not provide their children with Jewish education, preferring to send them to the free public schools. Most of the rabbis earned a low wage and, fearing for their livelihood, dared not chastise their congregates, and certainly not their leaders, for their flawed and lax religious observance. Thus, the term Orthodoxy came to convey a different meaning in America to that it had in Eastern Europe, where most Orthodox Jews were also fully observant Jews.21 Today’s North American Orthodox communities present a completely different picture. Most members of these congregations maintain a religious lifestyle even more rigorous than that which prevailed in the most illustrious pre-war ultra-Orthodox communities in Eastern Europe. Several academic scholars who have studied the Haredization process of American Orthodoxy termed it “the swing” or “the slide” to the right.22 This development facilitated the settlement of the more conservative Hungarian rabbis and they, in turn, helped to drive this process further. The slide to the right, which began in 1902 with the establishment of Agudat Ha-Rabanim Ha-Ortodoksim (The Union of Orthodox rabbis), gained significant momentum in the mid-1930s. Then, as anti-Semitism in Europe intensified, many Orthodox Jews, who had never before even

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in America 159 considered doing so, migrated to America. These Jews, who only sought to survive, were not seeking to fulfill the American dream nor were they prepared to abandon their beliefs and lifestyle. On the contrary, they endured great hardship by having to settle for low-paid jobs that did not require them to work on the Sabbath and by refraining from opening businesses that would require their attendance on the holy days.23 These Jews were the driving force behind the establishment of 13 new yeshivas between 1938–1948, which tripled their overall number. Most of the newcomers settled in Brooklyn, where six of the new yeshivas were built, and turned it into the bustling hub of Orthodox life in America. Those who settled further afield, such as in Lakewood and Monsey, turned these townships into Orthodox centers as well.24 The newly arrived rabbis founded their own Eastern European-style congregations, which displayed less tolerance toward members who failed to observe all the mitzvoth. To differentiate this type of congregation from those established previously, the new type of Orthodoxy came to be termed ultra-Orthodoxy. In 1937, Agudat Israel held its third international congress (Knesia Gedola) in Marienbad, Czechoslovakia. Two years later, and 27 years after the movement was founded in Europe, American rabbis of Eastern European origin finally established its first American branch.25 The movement was led by Rabbi Eliezer Silver (1882–1968), who was also the leader of Agudat Ha-Rabanim, America’s leading rabbinical union.26 American rabbis perceived Agudat Israel as an important tool by which to promote the Eastern European Orthodox lifestyle, rather than a means to confront Zionism. Consequently, they endeavored to come to terms and cooperate with the strong Ha-Mizrahi movement rather than attack it.27 Although Agudat Israel’s ultra-Orthodox and anti-Zionist ideology was adopted and promoted by several rabbis, most observant Jews did not embrace it and among those that did, many did so for practical rather than ideological reasons.28 The Expansion of Hungarian Orthodoxy In Greater Hungary and in the Hungarian communities which, following World War I, found themselves in other countries, Hungarian Orthodoxy was in fact divided into three groups: German style neo-Orthodoxy was the most modern form of Orthodoxy and its adherents made up the smallest group; mainstream Orthodoxy, which was the largest; and Extreme Orthodoxy, which was the most radical and anti-modern group. In America, the first Hungarian Orthodox congregations were neo-Orthodox. Among them was Ohab Zedek, whose spiritual leader, Rabbi Hillel Klein, was a student of Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer, a quintessential neo-Orthodox rabbi. The latter founded a neo-Orthodox rabbinical seminary in Hungary where students, such as Rabbi Klein, attended both Talmudic and general classes. Following the same neo-Orthodox tradition, Rabbi Klein gained a PhD from the University of

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Berlin. Other Hungarian congregations in America, such as Ahavat Achim Anshe Ungarn, were styled along the lines of non-Hasidic mainstream Orthodoxy. Considering the predominantly lenient Orthodox lifestyle in America and the fact that almost all Orthodox congregations and organization supported Zionism, for a long time there was no room for Extreme Orthodox rabbis or communities in the country. This state of affairs, however, began to change in the late 1930s. As more Eastern European ultra-Orthodox communities wereestablished in America, and as growing anti-Semitism in Europe drove ever more observant Jews out of the continent, the first “true” Hungarian rabbis, namely those who had previously served as chief rabbis in their communities, migrated to the new world. The first to arrive were Rabbi Levi Yitzhak Greenwald (1893–1980), the former chief rabbi of several communities including that of Tzhelim (Deutschkreutz, Sopronkeresztur) and Rabbi Shmuel Ehrenfeld the former chief rabbi of Matersdorf, who, upon their arrival in 1938, reported on the dire situation of Jews in Europe. In response, the American rabbis called for a day of atonement and petitioned President Roosevelt to assist the Jews.29 The two rabbis were warmly welcomed by former residents of their previous European communities, who appointed them to serve as their congregations’ rabbis. Both founded their own yeshivas and called upon their congregants to adhere to a stricter religious lifestyle. Rabbi Greenwald was the first rabbi in America to install far stricter supervision of the slaughtering process, which is known as Glatt Kosher. He was also the first to introduce rabbinical supervision of the milking process, which led to the establishment of the first dairy whose products received a superior kashruth authorization known as Halav Israel (milk supervised by a Jew). He likewise opened a matzah bakery that produced handmade matzoth according to the strictest halakhic demands of Hungarian Orthodoxy and established the first mikvah to be built according to the Hatam Sofer’s regulations, namely in accordance with the customs of Hungarian Jews. Rabbi Greenwald’s Talmud Torah and yeshiva – Arugat Ha-Bosem – were the first educational institutions in the USA to adopt the Hungarian mode laid down by Hatam Sofer. In a short while, he became a prominent figure in the American ultra-Orthodox Jewish world.30 After the Holocaust, the former Hungarian Jews who survived and settled in America, among them several rabbis and descendants of Hasidic rebbes, founded new congregations. Most of these were Hasidic courts located on the Lower East Side, in Williamsburg, and in Crown Heights.31 Since the members of these communities came directly from the displaced persons camps, they were unfamiliar with the American lifestyle, and their religious conduct was reminiscent of that to which they were accustomed in Europe before the Holocaust. Furthermore, many of these survivors felt compelled to adhere to their ancestors’ traditions in order to commemorate both the ancestors and the traditions that had been annihilated during the Holocaust.

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in America 161 One such community was the Atzei Haim Congregation, established by Jews who originated from the town of Sighet and from the neighboring villages of Maramaros. They appointed Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, a descendant of the town’s rabbinical dynasty and a Holocaust survivor, as their rabbi.32 He was also a welcome guest in other religious and social organizations of Hungarian Jews.33 On top of the salary he earned from his congregation, like other Hungarian rabbis he issued certificates for glatt kosher meat, Halav Israel, and other foodstuffs produced under his strict kashrut supervision.34 Further Hungarian communities were established by other Holocaust survivors, among them Rabbi Yehoshua Greenwald of Chust; Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda Halberstam of Sanz-Klausenburg (Cluj); Rabbi Meir Hager of Oyber Visho (Vişeu de Sus, Felsővisó); Rabbi Yoel Meyer-Teitelbaum of Királyháza (Craia); Rabbi Yom-Tov Lipa Teitelbaum of Nyírbátor; Rabbi Ya’akov Weiss of Spinka; Rabbi Zvi Hirsh Meislish of Vác; Rabbi Michael Dov Weissmandel and Rabbi Shalom Moshe Ha-Lavi Unger of Nitra; Rabbi Elazar Shapira of Kivishad (Mezőkövesd); Rabbi Yozepa Friedlander of Liska; and Rabbi Raphael Blum of Kosice. Upon their arrival to America, these Hungarian rabbis, even those who previously identified with the anti-modern, anti-Zionist, and anti-Agudat Israel agenda of Extreme Orthodoxy, joined Agudat Israel and accepted its principles. These included not only de-facto recognition of Zionism but also close cooperation with this movement. By virtue of this cooperation, Agudat Israel not only became a full partner in the establishment of the State of Israel, populated by a majority of secular Jews, but also participated in its early governments. Joining the American branch of Agudat Israel also meant accepting its comparatively lenient religious attitude and practices. Thus, despite the establishment of several congregations that adhered to the Hungarian lifestyle and customs, the spirit of Hungarian Orthodoxy which had evolved from the clash between its mainstream and extreme factions, had yet to gain a foothold in America. The revival of Extreme Orthodoxy after the Holocaust can be attributed to one dominant figure – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, the Satmar Rebbe. The Satmar Rebbe’s Arrival in America Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, formerly chief rabbi of Satmar (Satu Mare), Romania, arrived in America on September 27, 1946, the second day of Rosh Ha-Shana (the Jewish New Year festival). This, as he later reflected, was one of the lowest points of his life. Although raised by a father who served both as a chief rabbi, a prominent Hasidic leader and as head of a yeshiva, the child Yoel was not destined to succeed him in any of these positions, which were preserved for his elder brother. At the age of 17, shortly after his marriage and his father’s death, he was ousted from his hometown to prevent him from interfering with his elder brother’s accession to power. Left penniless, he then settled in Satmar, where he was soon recognized as an extraordinary Talmudic scholar.

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Subsequently, while serving as chief rabbi in a remote village, he waited for the opportunity to prove himself equal to his older brother. Following his brother’s untimely death in 1926, Rabbi Yoel expected to replace him and thereby to secure his place in the family dynasty after all. To his disappointment, his own hometown’s leaders bypassed him and chose his 14-year-old nephew instead. From that time onward, he resolved to do everything in his power to gain all the public positions of which he believed he had been deprived.35 Making use of his political skills and employing the most underhand means, he waged a six-year-long campaign to be appointed Satmar’s chief rabbi. To that end, his subordinates slandered, forged, threatened, and used verbal and even physical violence until in 1934 they managed to subdue all public resistance to the appointment of the extremist and zealous rabbi. It took him a further three years of cunning manipulations to get himself elected to the governing body of the 150,000 Orthodox Jews in the province of Transylvania. Shortly after he had achieved all his political aims, the Holocaust descended. Much to Hasidim’s consternation, he made several attempts to escape and to that end, he even approached his archrivals, the Zionist activists. Eventually, when his entire congregation was forced into the ghetto, he fled in the middle of the night, was caught, and sent to another ghetto. While most of its inmates were destined to be deported to Auschwitz, Rabbi Yoel boarded the Kasztner train. After a few months’ incarceration in BergenBelsen, he was released to Switzerland.36 After leaving Switzerland, Rabbi Yoel decided to settle in Jerusalem and reestablish a Hasidic congregation there. This bid ended in failure, owing to his political mistakes that stemmed from arrogance, as well as his dubious conduct during the Holocaust. Eventually, after the institutes he established accumulated enormous debts, Rabbi Yoel, persecuted by his creditors, was forced to flee on a ship that sailed on the holy days of Rosh Ha-Shana, and which lacked a proper minyan for the festival’s prayers. For almost two years, Rabbi Yoel roamed among Jewish congregations seeking to raise funds to save his institutes in Jerusalem, with a view to returning there as soon as possible. However, since he spoke no English and persisted in criticizing American Jewry and articulating his anti-Zionist stands, his mission ended in failure. Since it became clear to him that he was not going to raise sufficient funds to save his institutions, and since the State of Israel had meanwhile been established and Rabbi Yoel feared it would hound him for his anti-Zionist stance, he decided to settle in America. The Satmar Rebbe and the Rise of Extreme Orthodoxy Recent studies assert that the success of religious leaders and their communities depends on their ability to satisfy the ideological, social, and material needs of their followers.37 Consequently, a spiritual leader who detects a collective that

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in America 163 yearns for a specific type of ideology or leadership can supply this demand and expand his circle of followers. This theory goes some way to explaining Rabbi Yoel’s tremendous success in America. Considering his initial starting point, namely that he was older than most other surviving rabbis, his poor reputation both before and during the Holocaust, the fact that he had no Hasidim in America, and that he spoke no English meant that his prospects of becoming a successful religious leader were very slim. The only card left in his hand was that of Hungarian Extreme Orthodoxy. Staking all his spiritual assets on this particular card turned out to be the best political decision he ever made. Within a decade after it was of its founding, Rabbi Yoel’s congregation became one of the largest and most prosperous Hasidic courts in the land. It not only numbered thousands of Hasidim in America but, unlike any other court at the time, it maintained several branches around the world. The Satmar court ran one of the largest Jewish education systems in America and owned millions of dollars’ worth of assets. After arriving in America, as he traveled between numerous Orthodox communities seeking to raise funds for his institutes, Rabbi Yoel became aware of the change that American Orthodoxy was undergoing. He furthermore realized that the new wave of Orthodox immigrants, mainly Holocaust survivors, looked askance at the “established” and lenient type of American Orthodoxy and its modern outlook. He discerned that among the newcomers, and even among a few of the well-established American Jews, there was a yearning for the uncompromising type of Orthodoxy they had known in their Eastern European homes. Having decided to remain in America and establish a congregation that would promote Extreme Orthodox values, Rabbi Yoel required a convenient platform to display his uniqueness and differentiate himself from other rabbis. Unlike the demand for greater observance of the halakha, adopting an anti-Zionist stance demanded no personal sacrifice on the part of his followers, and by parading himself as the only anti-Zionist rabbi in America, he caught the attention of many Jews. Some of them, either because they had been educated in an anti-Zionist environment or because they felt let down by the Zionist Organization’s failure to do more for European Jews during the Holocaust, joined the congregation he officially established in April 1948, just a few weeks before the State of Israel came into being. The joy, hope, and relief as the first Jewish state was founded was shared by most Jews, even those who had previously expressed anti-Zionist opinions. Only the tiny minority of the zealous Neturei Karta in Israel and a small group of radical reform Jews in America objected to the newly born state at the time when it was still fighting for its existence.38 The vast majority of Orthodox Jews in America were thrilled at the news and the Jewish press reported on many public events in support of Israel at which rabbis preached and cantors sang in celebration of the new state.39

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In 1948, Rabbi Yoel was invited to attend a rabbinical conference summoned by Tze’irei Agudat Israel to discuss American Orthodoxy’s response to the newly established state of Israel.40 During the conference, the rabbis were asked to encourage their congregations to make a donation toward the purchase of weapons for the Israeli army, then in the midst of the War of Independence, during which 1 percent of Israel’s Jewish population was killed. This call prompted Rabbi Yoel to step up and speak out publicly against the new state and its war against the Arabs. Helping the State of Israel, according to his interpretation, was a violation of the Three Oaths that were binding on the people of Israel.41 It soon became clear that no other rabbi supported him, while some explicitly opposed him.42 Eventually, Rabbi Yoel was forced to leave the assembly. He subsequently wrote as follows to the few students he still had in Jerusalem: I was sitting in a meeting with rabbis that are not considered Zionist and I cried out endlessly, but to no avail […] I publicly uttered my opinion that opposes Zionist ideology and the bitter path it leads to, God forbid. And I became the laughing stock of bums and booze drinkers as well as of the rabbis and the public leaders […] My heart is aching at the state our generation has reached […] I cannot begin to describe how broken my heart is, out of fear.43 This event was the first occasion on which Rabbi Yoel emerged as the fiercest opponent of Zionism among American Orthodoxy, a distinction he proudly bore all his life. The Organization of Hungarian Extreme Orthodoxy Although the ideological differences among the Hungarian Extreme Orthodox rabbis prior to the Holocaust were negligible, they were never able to bridge them and establish their own organization. Consequently, as they condemned Agudat Israel and its various activities, and banned its books and newspapers, the Extreme Orthodox rabbis never offered their followers an alternative. Realizing he was the only Extreme Orthodox rabbi of the old generation to survive the Holocaust and seeking to establish this ideology in the United States, Rabbi Yoel decided to build a local Extreme Orthodox organization.44 The unexpected flowering of Rabbi Yoel’s congregation, alongside his impudence, drew the attention of other Hungarian rabbis, who came to appreciate the political potential of Extreme Orthodoxy’s anti-Zionist stance. Consequently, in 1954, just six years after establishing his own congregation, Rabbi Yoel founded The Central Rabbinical Congress of the USA and Canada, or in short the CRC (also known as: Hit’ahadut Ha-Rabanim). This body attracted the majority of Hungarian rabbis, Hasidic and non-Hasidic alike. As a result, in the following decades, only a handful of rabbis of Hungarian descent still identified with preHolocaust mainstream Hungarian Orthodoxy. Most shed their “Hungarian” orientation and simply identified themselves as ultra-Orthodox.

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in America 165 One of the CRC’s early gatherings was held in 1955 and was attended by 150 rabbis and several hundred participants, most of them Hungarian. The other Orthodox factions, unhappy with the establishment of a separate Extreme Orthodox organization and with its anti-modern and anti-Israeli stands, condemned the organization and its leader.45 Nevertheless, the traditionalistic manner in which Rabbi Yoel led his Hasidic congregation alongside his personal charisma, and his leadership of the CRC, propelled him to the forefront of American Orthodoxy. His name now regularly appeared in many of the Jewish newspapers’ articles that covered the rise of Hasidic life in America.46 In 1958, headed by Rabbi Yoel, the CRC convened a special assembly in the Manhattan Center hall which was attended by thousands of people, and for lack of space, hundreds remained outside and protested against the State of Israel. A few months later, Rabbi Yoel addressed the annual assembly of the CRC. This was probably the first time that he openly held Zionism responsible for the horrors of the Holocaust: Today everybody knows that it was Zionism that caused the annihilation of the six million Jews. Not only did it poison their hearts with its despicable heresy regarding everything that is holy to Judaism, which caused great harm, but also due to its political stands and its irresponsibility. Millions were executed because they believed that only Jewish blood could win them their independent state. During the Holocaust there were a few opportunities to save thousands of Jews from oblivion […] but the Zionists didn’t want to save even one, and they didn’t care if many Jews were annihilated. A little of what they did is currently revealed in the Kasztner trial, which exposed the Zionists’ shortcomings and their responsibility for the murder of millions of Jews.47 In late 1958, Israel’s interior minister Haim Moshe Shapira of the nationalreligious party (Mafdal) visited New York. Shapira had previously assisted Rabbi Yoel to obtain permission to build a small neighborhood for his Hasidim in Bene Barak, which was still under construction.48 The two met during Shapira’s visit, but the exact content of their discussions was never made known. After the meeting, however, both Rabbi Yoel and the CRC modified the tone of their criticism, and it appears that Rabbi Yoel was served an ultimatum to curb his anti-Israeli activity or face the consequences.49 This change of attitude was especially notable during Rabbi Yoel’s visit to Israel in 1959, during which his demeanor was far more moderate than on his previous visits. Dismayed at this change of attitude, Neturei Karta publicly criticized Rabbi Yoel for being overly compromising.50 Va-Yoel Moshe: Extreme Orthodoxy’s Canonic Text Ten years after establishing his congregation and assuming leadership of Extreme Orthodoxy both in America and in Israel, Rabbi Yoel realized that

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although he had succeeded in forming a significant body of supporters, most of whom belonged to his own Hasidic court, the vast majority of American Orthodox Jews continued to ignore him. He further realized that the CRC’s anti-Israel demonstrations were becoming increasingly harder to monitor. Occasionally, groups of young zealots would discredit the protest’s goals by committing extreme acts such as the painting of swastikas on the walls of Jewish establishments.51 Moreover, although Rabbi Yoel was considered the supreme spiritual and rabbinical authority among a small group of rabbis, he realized that most other rabbis simply ignored him personally as well as his halakhic rulings. This drove Rabbi Yoel to change his strategy and, for the first time in his 72 years, he decided to write a book.52 From a rabbinical perspective this book, titled Va-Yoel Moshe, which focuses on matters of religious worldview (hashkafah), was highly unusual.53 All the other rabbis in modern times who were faced with challenges such as religious reforms, a continuing decline in religious observance, secularism, and Zionism, had never devoted an entire book to laying out their concept of the ultra-Orthodox worldview. In the few cases in which a rabbi had addressed such issues in writing, this was done in the form of a preface or a chapter in a more conventional book on the Torah, the Talmud, or the halakha.54 Prior to Rabbi Yoel, almost all authors to publish anti-Zionist books were second- and third-tier activists who expressed their own opinions and sometimes attached a few letters of support from rabbis.55 In this book, Rabbi Yoel shifted the discussion about Zionism and the State of Israel from an abstract objection based on oral traditions and on Kabbalist reasoning to the realm of the halakha. To this end, he collated various rabbinical sources that supported three basic principles: (a) that the basic principles of Zionism violated the “Three Oaths midrash” and expressed disbelief in the power of God to redeem the Jewish people, which was a severe form of heresy; (b) that there is no halakhic obligation to settle in the Land of Israel; and (c) that the use of Hebrew as a widely spoken language was forbidden by the halakha.56 By writing this book, Rabbi Yoel had probably intended to achieve two goals. The first, to demonstrate that his anti-Zionist stands were rooted in the halakhic writing of the great sages that had preceded him; and the second, to evoke the response of prominent rabbis. The book, so he hoped, would force them to view the question of Zionism and of the Jewish state as a halakhic question. And once such debate would commence, he was certain that his arguments would prove superior to those of his opponents. Soon after the book was published, however, Rabbi Yoel realized that none of his expectations had been met and that almost all other rabbis simply ignored the book and refused to address its contents. In this book, he also referred, for the first time in writing, to the responsibility of Zionism for the calamity of the Holocaust and its horrific outcome.57 The next opportunity that Rabbi Yoel found to promote his anti-Zionist ideology came in 1967, after the Six-Day War. It was then that Rabbi Yoel

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in America 167 published his second book, titled Al-Ha-Geula Ve-Al Ha-Temura.58 In it he asserted that Israel’s outstanding victory was not a God-given miracle, as many ultra-Orthodox Jews believed at the time, but an act of the devil intended to test and to confuse the Jewish people. He further claimed that true believers should not be fooled by Satan and should not vent their joy at the victory. Moreover, true believers should not exploit the fruits of this false victory, which meant that they should not attend the holy places that were liberated during the war, such as the Wailing Wall.59 Although Va-Yoel Moshe failed to elicit a response from the other rabbis, it became a canonical text for the Satmar Hasidim and for other Extreme Orthodox groups. During the ensuing 60 years, the book has reappeared in more than a dozen full editions and been translated into several languages. At least 30 further volumes have offered interpretations, adaptions for children, compiled digests, or reviewed its relevance to various ideological issues or halakhic rulings.60 It likewise served as a basis for hundreds of polemical books and booklets that were published in the ensuing years.61 Today, the book is taught in special classes, both in the yeshivas and by independent study groups, and hundreds of rabbis around the world cite the book regularly during their sermons at public events. Excerpts from the book are quoted and interpreted in pamphlets that are distributed every weekend in dozens of synagogues worldwide and are also sent by mail to thousands of subscribers. Va-Yoel Moshe inspires various zealous groups, such as Neturei Karta, whose provocative demonstrations, such as their participation in protests alongside radical Muslims who seek the annihilation of Israel, challenge and aggravate Jews worldwide.62 By the time Rabbi Yoel passed away in 1979, his congregation was well established. It operated numerous branches around the world, ran one of the largest private Jewish education systems for boys and girls of all ages, and possessed real-estate assets worth hundreds of millions. Since he had no children of his own, Rabbi Yoel was succeeded by his nephew, Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, who was known as the Sighet rebbe. Since his reputation could not be compared to that of Rabbi Yoel’s, Rabbi Moshe decided to perpetuate and even rigidify Rabbi Yoel’s Extreme Orthodox Hungarian ideology.63 Notes 1 New York Times. February 18, 1987. 2 Chaim Steinberger, First Hungarian Congregation Ohab Zedek: founded in 1873, New York, NY: First Hungarian Congregation Ohab Zedek, 2005 3 Arthur Hertzberg, “‘Treifene medina’: learned opposition to emigration to the U.S,” World Congress of Jewish Studies 8, Panel Sessions: Jewish History (1981): 1–30. 4 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The Haredization of American Orthodoxy in the Early Twentieth Century,” Tradition, 54, 1 (2022): 13–45. 5 Moshe Weinberger, Ha-Yehudim Ve-Hayahadut Be-New York, New York, 1887 (in Hebrew).

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6 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Kolel Shomrei Ha-Homot,” Segula 113 (2020): 54–66. 7 Moshe D. Sherman, Orthodox Judaism in America, A Biographical Dictionary and Sourcebook, Westport CT: Greenwood Press, 1996, 117–119. 8 Sherman, Orthodox Judaism in America, 215–216. 9 Shnayer Z. Leiman, “Yeshivat Or ha-Hayyim, the first talmudical academy in America,” Tradition, 25, 2 (1990): 77–89. 10 Asher Z. Rand (ed.), Toldot Anshei Shem, vol. 1, New York: Teigman Press, 1950, 101 (in Hebrew). 11 Jonathan Rosenblum, Reb Shraga Feivel: The Life and Times of Rabbi Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz, Brooklyn, NY: Mesorah Publications, 2001. 12 William B. Helmreich, The World of the Yeshiva: An Intimate Portrait of Orthodox Jewry, New York: KTAV Publishing House, 2000, 26–28. 13 Maurice J. Karpf, “Jewish Community Organization in the United States,” American Jewish Year Book, 39 (1937–1938): 52. 14 Michael R. Weisser, A Brotherhood of Memory: Jewish Landsmanshaftn in the New World, New York: Basic Books, 1985. 15 Solomon Poll, The Hasidic community of Williamsburg: A Study in the Sociology of Religion, New York: Schocken Books, 1973, 29, note. 1. 16 Ha-Leumi, January 3, 1889, 4–5; ibid., January 10, 1889, 4–5. The Hasidic version of the Siddur (prayer book) was titled either “Nosah Sepharad” or “Nosah Ha-Ari.” 17 Marcin Wodziński, The Historical Atlas of Hasidism, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018, 148–149. 18 Apirion, 5,684 (1924), 131; ibid., 5,686 (1926), 171; ibid., 5,687 (1927), 50, 58. 19 Ira Robinson, “Anshe Sfard: The Creation of the First Hasidic Congregations in North America,” American Jewish Archives Journal, 57, 1–2 (2005): 53–66. 20 Jeffrey S. Gurock, Orthodox Jews in America, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009, 96–97; Sender Deutch, Butsina Kadisha, vol. 2, Brooklyn NY: Tiferet, 2000, 298; Sefer Ha-Sihot 5,700–5,701 (1940–1941), Kfar Habad: Karnei Or Torah, 1992, 38; ibid., 5,702–5,703 (1942–1943), 64. 21 Charles S. Liebman, “Orthodoxy in American Jewish life,” American Jewish Yearbook 66 (1965): 21–93; Jonathan D. Sarna, American Judaism: A History, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004, 135–207; Gurock, Orthodox Jews in America, 1–20. 22 Samuel C. Heilman, Sliding to the Right: The Contest for the Future of American Jewish Orthodoxy, Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006; Haym Soloveitchik, Rupture and Reconstruction: The Transformation of Modern Orthodoxy, Oxford: The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2021; KerenKratz, “The Haredization of American Orthodoxy.” 23 Although the Fair Labor Standards Act that regulated working hours was introduced in 1938, it took some 20 years until it was fully implemented. During that time many businesses, and especially the garment industry in which many Jews were employed, continued to work a six-day week. 24 Liebman, “Orthodoxy in American Jewish life,” 94–95. 25 Ha-Pardes, December 1937, 2–3. 26 Ha-Pardes, July 1939, 6–8. 27 Gurock, Orthodox Jews in America, 182. 28 Liebman, “Orthodoxy in American Jewish life,” 77. 29 Ha-Pardes, June 1938, 6; ibid., October 1938, 2; ibid., December 1938, 2–3. 30 Yekuthiel Yitzhak Meiseles, Tzadik Ma Pa’al, Brooklyn, 2003; Sefer Ha-Zikaron De-Yeshiva U-Metivta Arugat Ha-Bosem, New York, 1985. 31 Wodziński, The Historical Atlas of Hasidism, 148–149.

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in America 169 32 Ha-Pardes, February 1947, 6–7; Morgen Journal, January 3, 1947, 5.; U-Moshe Haya Roeh, Kiryas Joel, 2006, vol. 3, 386–387. 33 Morgen Journal, May 2, 1946, 16; ibid., May 15, 1947, 18; ibid., October 24, 1947, 2, 18; ibid., November 7, 1947, 12; Ha-Pardes. November 1947, 3. 34 Morgen Journal, March 1, 1949, 10; ibid., November 18, 1949, 10; ibid., December 5, 1949, 10. 35 Menachem Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rebbe (1887–1979): Biography, Ph. D. dissertation, Tel Aviv University, 2013; idem., The Zealot: The Satmar Rebbe – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2020 (in Hebrew). 36 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Hast Thou Escaped and Also Taken Possession? The Responses of the Satmar Rebbe – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – and his Followers to Criticism of his Conduct During and After the Holocaust,” Dapim: Studies on the Holocaust 28 (2) (2014): 97–120. 37 Menachem Friedman, “The Market Model and Religious Radicalism,” in: Jewish Fundamentalism in Comparative Perspective: Religion, Ideology, and the Crisis of Modernity, edited by Laurence J. Silberstein, New York: New York University Press, 1993, 192–215; Laurence Iannaccone and William S. Bainbridge, “Economics of Religion,” in: The Routledge Companion to the Study of Religion, edited by John Hinnells, New York: Routledge, 2010 (2nd edition), 461–475. 38 Thomas A. Kolsky, Jews Against Zionism: The American Council for Judaism, 1942–1948, Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1990; Yitshak Ronen, “Pe’ilutam Shel Neturei Karta Neged Hakamat Ha-Medina (Neturei Karta’s activities against the establishment of Israel), Kivunim Hadashim 9 (2004): 158–174. 39 Ha-Pardes, December 1947, 2–5; Ibid., June 1948, 2–6; Morgen Journal, May 13, 1948, 2–3; Ibid, May 14, 1948, 1, 17; Ibid., May 16, 1948, 3. 40 Ha-Pardes, October 1948, 10. 41 Yitzhak Krauss, Shalosh Ha-Shevuot Ke-Yesod Mishnato Ha-Anti Tsionit Shel Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum [The Three Vows as the Basis of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum’s Anti-Zionist Doctrine], MA Thesis, The Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 1990; Aviezer Ravitzky, “The Impact of the Three Oaths in Jewish History,” Messianism, Zionism, and Jewish Religious Radicalism, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996, 211–234. 42 Ben Zion Yakobovitch, Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 4, Bnei Brak, 1998, 45; Daitsch, Butsina Kadisha, vol. 1, 326–328. 43 Yoel Teitelbaum, Mikhtavim, vol. 1, Brooklyn, 1981, 87–91; Yakobovitch, Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 4, 44. 44 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Zealotry has Many Faces: The Views and Modes of Operation of Four Hungarian Rabbis,” Moreshet Israel 19 (2) (2022): 321–348 (Hebrew). 45 Morgen Journal, February 6, 1955, 1–2; Ibid., February 7, 1955, 1–2; Ibid., February 10, 1955, 3. 46 For example: Morgen Journal, May 6, 1953, 5; Ibid., August 31, 1953, 5; Ibid., March 19, 1954, 10; Ibid., January 28, 1955, 5, 18; Ibid., February 1, 1955, 1; Ibid., February 9, 1955, 5. 47 Ha-Ma’or, June 1958, 3–9. 48 Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, 279–280. 49 Herut, November 24, 1958, 2; Davar, November 24, 1958, 2. 50 Keren-Kratz, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, 296–301. 51 Ma’ariv, April 6, 1958, 3; Der Tog/ Morgen Journal, November 5, 1963, 1. 52 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Mekoma shel ha-anti tsionut ba-sefer Va-Yoel Moshe shel Ha-Rabi mi-Satmar: hashiva mehudeshet,” Da’at 91 (2020): 627-654; Menachem

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Keren-Kratz, “Va-yo’el Moshe: The Most Anti-Zionist and Anti-Israeli Jewish Text in Modern Times,” Jewish Quarterly Review 113 (3) (2023): 477-504. Yoel Teitelbaum, Sefer Va-Yoel Moshe, Brooklyn: S. Deitch, 1959. See, for example, the preface to Shaul Brakh, Sefer Avot Al Banim, Seiny: Y. Wieder, 1926. For example: Eliyahu Akiva Rabinowitz, Sefer Zion Be-Mishpat, Warsaw, 1899; Dobrish Toresh, Bar Hadiya O Halom Herzel, Warsaw, 1901; Shlomo Zalman Landa and Yosef Rabinowitz, Sefer Or Le-Yesharim, Warsaw, 1901. Yitzhak Kraus, “Yahadut Ve-Ziyonut: Shnayim She-lo Yelkhu Yahdav: Mishnato Ha-Radikalit Shel Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – Ha-Rabbi Mi-Satmar,” Ha-Tsiyonut 22 (2000): 37–60. Yakobovitz, Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 4, 75–79, 84, 89; Deitch, Butsina Kadisha, vol. 1, 398–402. Yoel Teitelbaum, Al Ha-Ge’ula Ve-Al Ha-Temura, Brooklyn: Jerusalem, 1967. Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum—the Satmar Rebbe—and the Rise of Anti-Zionism in American Orthodoxy,” Contemporary Jewry, 37 (3) (2017): 457–479. Some of the additional editions were published in 1961, 1962 (in Jerusalem), 1974, 1978, 1982, 1984, 1988, 1992, 1995, 2000, 2003, 2008. Some of the books which were based on Va-Yoel Moshe are: Kuntras Emes Ve-Emunah, Bnei Brak, 1987 (in Yiddish); Inyanim Fun Sefer Va-Yoel Moshe, New York, 1988 (in Yiddish); Yalkut Amarim Va-Yoel Moshe, New York, 2002; Oystsugen Fun Sefer Va-Yoel Moshe Oyf Yiddish, New York, 2000 (in Yiddish); Kuntres Yalkut Amarim, Jerusalem, 2006; Meir Weinberger, Sefer Va-Yoel Moshe Im Perush Or Ki Tov, Antwerp, 2010. For example: Arye Ashkenazi, Yalkut Devar Emet, vols. 1–2. Jerusalem, 1965–1966; Kuntres Hasbara, Jerusalem 1968; Moshe Dov Ha-Levi Beck, Mikhtav Hit’orerut, Brooklyn 1981; Yelkut Shelo Shinu Et Leshonam, Jerusalem, 1987; Shlomo Halbernatz, Sefer Derekh Hatsala, Quebec 2002; Yoel Elhanan, Dat Ha-Tsionut, Petah Tikva, 2008. Menachem Keren-Kratz, Satmar and Neturei Karta: Jews Against Zionism,” Modern Judaism 43 (1) (2023): 52–76. Samuel C. Heilman, Who Will Lead Us?: The Story of Five Hasidic Dynasties in America, Oakland, California: University of California Press, 2017.

Bibliography Ashkenazi, Arye. Yalkut Devar Emet, vols. 1-2. Jerusalem, 1965-1966. Beck, Moshe Dov Ha-Levi. Mikhtav Hit’orerut. Brooklyn, 1981. Brakh, Shaul. Sefer Avot Al Banim. Seiny: Y. Wieder, 1926. Deutch, Sender. Butsina Kadisha, vol. 2. Brooklyn NY: Tiferet, 2000. Elhanan, Yoel. Dat Ha-Tsionut. Petah Tikva, 2008. Friedman, Menachem. “The market model and religious radicalism.” In: Silberstein, Laurence J. (ed.). Jewish Fundamentalism in Comparative Perspective: Religion, Ideology, and the Crisis of Modernity. New York: New York University Press, 1993, 192–215. Gurock, Jeffrey S. Orthodox Jews in America. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009. Halbernatz, Shlomo. Sefer Derekh Hatsala. Quebec, 2002. Heilman, Samuel C. Sliding to the Right: The Contest for the Future of American Jewish Orthodoxy. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006.

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in America 171 Heilman, Samuel C. Who Will Lead Us?: The Story of Five Hasidic Dynasties in America. Oakland, California: University of California Press, 2017. Helmreich, William B. The World of the Yeshiva: An Intimate Portrait of Orthodox Jewry. New York: KTAV Publishing House, 2000. Hertzberg, Arthur. “‘Treifene medina’: learned opposition to emigration to the U.S.” World Congress of Jewish Studies 8, Panel Sessions: Jewish History (1981): 1–30. Iannaccone, Laurence and William S. Bainbridge, “Economics of Religion.” In: Hinnells, John (ed.). The Routledge Companion to the Study of Religion. New York: Routledge, 2010 (2nd edition), 461–475. Inyanim Fun Sefer Va-Yoel Moshe, vols. 1-6. New York, 1988. Karpf, Maurice J. “Jewish community organization in the United States.” American Jewish Year Book 39 (1937-1938): 47–148. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Hast thou escaped and also taken possession? The responses of the Satmar Rebbe – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – and his followers to criticism of his conduct during and after the Holocaust.” Dapim: Studies on the Holocaust 28 (2) (2014): 97–120. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum—the Satmar Rebbe—and the rise of anti-Zionism in American Orthodoxy.” Contemporary Jewry, 37 (3) (2017): 457–479. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Kolel Shomrei Ha-Homot.” Segula 113 (2020): 54–66. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Mekoma shel ha-anti tsionut ba-sefer Va-Yoel Moshe shel Ha-Rabi mi-Satmar: hashiva mehudeshet.” Da’at 91 (2020): 627–654. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “The Haredization of American Orthodoxy in the early twentieth century.” Tradition 54 (1) (2022): 13–45. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Zealotry has many faces: the views and modes of operation of four Hungarian Rabbis.” Moreshet Israel 19 (2) (2022): 321–348. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Va-yo’el Moshe: The Most Anti-Zionist and Anti-Israeli Jewish Text in Modern Times.” Jewish Quarterly Review 113 (3) (2023): 477–504. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Satmar and Neturei Karta: Jews Against Zionism,” Modern Judaism 43 (1) (2023): 52–76. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rebbe (1887–1979): Biography. Ph. D. dissertation, Tel Aviv University, 2013. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. The Zealot: The Satmar Rebbe – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2020. Kolsky, Thomas A. Jews Against Zionism: The American Council for Judaism, 1942–1948. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1990. Kraus, Yitzhak. “Yahadut Ve-Ziyonut: Shnayim She-lo Yelkhu Yahdav: Mishnato Ha-Radikalit Shel Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – Ha-Rabbi Mi-Satmar.” Ha-Tsiyonut 22 (2000): 37–60. Krauss, Yitzhak. Shalosh Ha-Shevuot Ke-Yesod Mishnato Ha-Anti Tsionit Shel Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum [The Three Vows as the Basis of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum’s AntiZionist Doctrine]. MA Thesis, The Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 1990. Kuntras Emes Ve-Emunah. Bnei Brak, 1987. Kuntres Hasbara. Jerusalem 1968. Kuntres Yalkut Amarim. Jerusalem, 2006. Landa, Shlomo Zalman and Yosef Rabinowitz. Sefer Or Le-Yesharim. Warsaw, 1901. Leiman, Shnayer Z. “Yeshivat Or ha-Hayyim, the first Talmudical academy in America.” Tradition 25 (2) (1990): 77–89.

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Liebman, Charles S. “Orthodoxy in American Jewish life.” American Jewish Yearbook 66 (1965): 21–93. Meiseles, Yekuthiel Yitzhak. Tzadik Ma Pa’al. Brooklyn, 2003. Oystsugen Fun Sefer Va-Yoel Moshe Oyf Yiddish. New York, 2000. Poll, Solomon. The Hasidic community of Williamsburg: A Study in the Sociology of Religion. New York: Schocken Books, 1973. Rabinowitz, Eliyahu Akiva. Sefer Zion Be-Mishpat, Warsaw, 1899. Rand, Asher Z. (ed.). Toldot Anshei Shem, vol. 1. New York: Teigman Press, 1950. Ravitzky, Aviezer. “The Impact of the Three Oaths in Jewish History.” Messianism, Zionism, and Jewish Religious Radicalism, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996, 211–234. Robinson, Ira. “Anshe Sfard: the creation of the first Hasidic congregations in North America.” American Jewish Archives Journal 57 (1–2) (2005): 53–66. Ronen, Yitshak. “Pe’ilutam Shel Neturei Karta Neged Hakamat Ha-Medina” (Neturei Karta’s activities against the establishment of Israel). Kivunim Hadashim 9 (2004): 158–174. Rosenblum, Jonathan. Reb Shraga Feivel: The Life and Times of Rabbi Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz. Brooklyn, NY: Mesorah Publications, 2001. Sarna, Jonathan D. American Judaism: A History. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004. Sefer Ha-Sihot 5,700-5,701 (1940–1941). Kfar Habad: Karnei Or Torah, 1992. Sefer Ha-Zikaron De-Yeshiva U-Metivta Arugat Ha-Bosem. New York, 1985. Sherman, Moshe D. Orthodox Judaism in America, A Biographical Dictionary and Sourcebook. Westport CT: Greenwood Press, 1996, 117–119. Soloveitchik, Haym. Rupture and Reconstruction: The Transformation of Modern Orthodoxy. Oxford: The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2021. Steinberger, Chaim. First Hungarian Congregation Ohab Zedek: founded in 1873. New York, NY: First Hungarian Congregation Ohab Zedek, 2005 Teitelbaum, Yoel. Al Ha-Ge’ula Ve-Al Ha-Temura. Brooklyn: Jerusalem, 1967. Teitelbaum, Yoel. Mikhtavim, vol. 1. Brooklyn, 1981. Teitelbaum, Yoel. Sefer Va-Yoel Moshe. Brooklyn: S. Deitch, 1959. Toresh, Dobrish. Bar Hadiya O Halom Herzel. Warsaw, 1901. U-Moshe Haya Roeh, vols. 1-6. Kiryas Joel, 2006. Weinberger, Meir. Sefer Va-Yoel Moshe Im Perush Or Ki Tov. Antwerp, 2010. Weinberger, Moshe. Ha-Yehudim Ve-Hayahadut Be-New York. New York, 1887. Weisser, Michael R. A Brotherhood of Memory: Jewish Landsmanshaftn in the New World. New York: Basic Books, 1985. Wodziński, Marcin. The Historical Atlas of Hasidism. Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018. Yakobovitch, Ben-Zion. Zekhor Yemot Olam. Bnei Brak, 1998. Yalkut Amarim Va-Yoel Moshe. New York, 2002. Yelkut Shelo Shinu Et Leshonam. Jerusalem, 1987.

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The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel*

The Ashkenazi Old Yishuv Prior to World War I Early in the nineteenth century, after a prolonged absence, Ashkenazi Jews resettled in Jerusalem and established there what would later become known as the Old Yishuv.1 The composition of the Jewish society in Eretz Israel was roughly similar to that of world Jewry. Thus, some 70 percent of the Ashkenazi Jews in Eretz Israel hailed from the Russian Empire, which included Poland, Belarus, Lithuania, Latvia, and Ukraine. The remaining Ashkenazi Jews came from countries such as Hungary, Romania, Galicia, the German-speaking territories, Western Europe, and America. This demographic composition colored the Old Yishuv’s rabbinical and political leadership, which comprised of rabbis and activists who too had come from the Russian Empire. This linkage was inevitable since the Old Yishuv’s economy was not based on a productive lifestyle but rather on donations made by the kollels.2 The kollel was a charitable organization that raised funds in a certain territory, be it a country, a district, or even a city to support the Jews from the same territory who had settled in Eretz Israel so they would not have to work and could live a devout life dedicated to prayer and to the study of the Torah (namely the Talmud). Consequently, it was the rabbis and the heads of the kollels who largely provided for the livelihood of members of the Old Yishuv. Up until World War I, Eretz Israel – Palestine – was ruled by the Ottoman Empire, which formally recognized only Sephardi Jews who hailed from the Muslim countries. Ashkenazi Jews were tolerated but were accorded no formal recognition, and their rabbis and community leaders had no official status. Given the lack of a central authority and that members of the Ashkenazi Jewish community received different levels of economic support according to their territory of origin and the wealth and efficiency of the kollel they belonged to, the Old Yishuv was driven by inner controversies and ongoing economic hardship.

* This chapter is based on my article “The rise of the Hungarian leadership of the Old Yishuv in Jerusalem during the Mandate Period,” Moresht Israel 17 (2019): 107–156 (in Hebrew).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-14

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For most of this period, attempts to unify the kollels or to establish a single Ashkenazi leadership came to naught. The lack of leadership was felt acutely in the early twentieth century following the death of Rabbi Shmuel Salant in 1909. Although he held no official position, Rabbi Salant was considered the Old Yishuv’s highest rabbinical authority, and since he was able to merge many kollels into a single organization that he headed, he was also the community’s foremost political leader.3 The Old Yishuv’s leaders had invited Rabbi Eliyahu David RabinowitzTeomim to settle in Jerusalem and to succeed Rabbi Salant when the time came, but Rabbi Rabinowitz passed away in 1905, four years before Rabbi Salant. Since no agreed candidate to replace Rabbi Salant emerged, and since the Ashkenazi rabbis had no formal status, there was no point in holding an election, the outcome of which would not be respected by the losing parties. Consequently, the Old Yishuv was left with no recognized rabbinical or political authority and was beset by financial and leadership crises. Things got even worse following the outbreak of World War I.4 Eretz Israel after World War I In October 1914, the Ottoman Empire declared war on the Russian Empire and its allies. Consequently, many of Eretz Israel’s Ashkenazi Jews who retained their Russian nationality suddenly became enemy aliens and were obliged to choose either to become Ottoman citizens or to emigrate. Many took the latter course. As a result of this trend, along with the lack of food and the poor medical services, the number of Jews, particularly in Jerusalem, declined sharply and those who remained suffered severe economic hardship.5 One group, the Hungarian Jews, suffered less than others. Before the war, Hungary experienced a “golden era” and its Jews enjoyed considerable economic and social prosperity. Consequently, the Hungarian Kollel became Palestine’s richest charitable institution. It was even able to build its own neighborhood, Batei Ungarin (the Hungarian houses), which offered accommodation almost free of charge to hundreds of Hungarian families and became the largest neighborhood of its kind. Moreover, because the Ottoman and the Russian Empires were at war, funds raised in Russia could not be transferred to Eretz Israel. Hungary, on the other hand, fought on the same side as the Ottomans, so that the kollel continued to receive funding from abroad. Consequently, a few years into the war, the Kolel Ungaren became the main source of support for all members of the Old Yishuv.6 In November 1917, British Foreign Secretary Lord Balfour declared Britain’s commitment to establish a national home for the Jews in Palestine. A few weeks later, Britain conquered Palestine, and was awarded a mandate to govern it by the League of Nations. These developments boosted Zionist activity worldwide, particularly as the British authorities recognized the Jewish Agency, which was controlled by secular Ashkenazi Zionists, as the

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel 175 formal representative of the Jewish people. Non-Zionist Agudat Israel, which feared that the Zionists would assume total control of the land, decided to establish its own Eretz Israel operation aimed at encouraging and supporting the settlement of Non-Zionist Orthodox Jews in Palestine. Unlike their Ottoman predecessors, the British Mandatory authorities recognized the right of all sections of the Jewish population to have their own leadership and institutions. Since the Zionist Ashkenazis constituted a majority among the Jews, it was they who founded and led the national Jewish institutions. While most of the Zionists were secular, a relatively small group of religious Zionists, both Sephardi or Ashkenazi, was represented by the HaMizrahi movement and played a crucial role in the establishment of a separate religious educational system and in the founding of the Central Rabbinate, which was headed by a Sephardi and Ashkenazi chief rabbi who operated alongside each other. The Rise of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel Since the Jewish community in Jerusalem was the largest in the land, the British authorities decreed that it should have its own governing bodies. The council they established comprised representatives of the various Jewish groups and around one-third of the seats were reserved for the Old Yishuv delegates, the same number as that allocated to the Zionists. Motivated by political considerations, a few Old Yishuv delegates formed an opposition bloc in the council along with some other non-Zionists, and when Jerusalem’s General City Council (Va’ad Ha-Ir Ha-Kelali) was founded, they established the smaller Ashkenazi Community Council (Va’ad Ha-Edah Ha-Ashkenazi). In the 1918 elections, both Haredi and non-Haredi members were elected to the Ashkenazi Council. A year later, following internal disputes, the nonHaredi delegates left the Ashkenazi Council and it remained entirely in the hands of members of the Old Yishuv. After the non-Haredi delegates walked out, the Ashkenazi Council reelected its leadership. It comprised two of the Old Yishuv’s most prominent rabbis, the 80-year-old Lithuanian Rabbi Yitzhak Yeruham Diskin and the 71-year-old Hungarian Rabbi Yosef Haim Sonnenfeld. The latter was considered the supreme spiritual and social leader of Jerusalem’s Hungarian Jews and was also the most prominent leader of the Kolel Ungaren, which had gained widespread appreciation for its relief activity during the war. Since Rabbi Sonnenfeld was the more dominant of the two, he was able to lead this small organization in a Hungarian and separatist fashion, which eschewed all cooperation with Zionist Jews or organizations. He was supported in this endeavor by Rabbi Reuven Shlomo Jungreis, a social activist and a prominent leader of the Hungarian Kollel. The two men worked together to shape the Ashkenazi Council as a social and political entity altogether unrelated to the Zionist organizations. To that end, they operated on no less than seven fronts:7

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1 In 1919, the Ashkenazi Council established its own rabbinical court, unrelated to the existing courts supervised by the city’s General Council. This court’s backing for the decisions made by rabbis Diskin and Sonnenfeld enhanced their authority. The court’s independence moreover underlined the fact that the Ashkenazi Council was not obliged by decisions made by Palestine’s Central Rabbinate. 2 In 1919, several prominent rabbis declared Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak HaKohen Kook not only the Ashkenazi chief rabbi of Palestine but also of Jerusalem. This angered The Old Yishuv establishment, which publicly slandered Rabbi Kook. In April 1920, it declared that Rabbi Sonnenfeld and not Rabbi Kook was the city’s chief rabbi. The attacks on Rabbi Kook became more vehement and all the attempts to reconcile the parties, including those made by leading Eastern European rabbis who visited Eretz Israel, failed. 3 While most Hungarian rabbis shunned Agudat Israel, Rabbi Sonnenfeld decided to cooperate with the movement and practically turned the Ashkenazi Council into its local branch. Backed by an international movement, the Ashkenazi Council now enjoyed a loftier political status. Agudat Israel backed Rabbi Sonnenfeld’s decision to part ways with Palestine’s non-Haredi national organizations, and announced that it would not accept members who did not formally cancel their membership of the general Jewish organization – Knesset Israel. 4 Following World War I, donations to the Old Yishuv dwindled significantly. Since Hungary lost the war, its Jews, once major contributors to the Old Yishuv organizations, could no longer extend their generous support. Most donations now came from the United States, and since most American Jews held pro-Zionist standpoints, they were reluctant to contribute to the Old Yishuv’s organizations. Here, too, Agudat Israel stepped in to play a crucial role as it exerted its influence to raise further funds and to support the Ashkenazi council’s institutions. 5 In order to differentiate itself as a separate Jewish body, the Ashkenazi Council adopted a more moderate position toward the Arab population compared to the militant approach taken by the Zionist authorities. This orientation evolved in part through the endeavors of Doctor Israel Yaacov De-Haan, an assimilated Dutch journalist, poet, and lawyer, who became a Haredi after arriving in Palestine. De-Haan negotiated on behalf of the Ashkenazi Council both with the British and with the Arab leaders. Since the British authorities sought to maintain the divisions among the Jews, particularly with respect to the Arab question, they backed the Old Yishuv’s quest for semi-autonomous status, thereby ensuring that the Jews would not speak with one voice.8 6 In order to gain greater influence, Rabbi Sonnenfeld promoted the establishment of a Haredi newspaper, Kol Israel (The Voice of Israel), which expressed the views of Agudat Israel and of the other non-Zionist Haredi factions. The paper was also used to repel attacks made by the

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel 177 Zionist press and launch counterattacks and disseminate news about the Old Yishuv’s distress abroad.9 7 While the first six goals were relatively easy to achieve, the final mission, the founding of a separate educational system, initially presented an almost impossible challenge. On the one hand, both the Old Yishuv and Agudat Israel lacked the financial means to build and maintain such a system; and on the other hand, the American donors were reluctant to support an antiZionist school system that neglected to teach even the most basic general subjects. In time, however, Agudat Israel managed to overcome these obstacles and founded its own separate schools for boys and for girls. The Decline of Separatist Hungarian Orthodoxy With the support of Agudat Israel, Rabbi Sonnenfeld succeeded in turning his group of followers into a Hungarian Orthodox-style separatist community that became progressively disconnected from the rest of Eretz Israel’s Jewish society. This meant that the non-Zionist Haredi Jews, the majority of whom hailed from the Russian Empire and other countries in which the Orthodox and non-Orthodox communities were not formally separated, now adopted the separatist worldview of Hungarian Orthodoxy. However, the period during which all Eretz Israel Haredi Jews followed Hungarian Orthodoxy’s standards was relatively brief, owing to both internal and external factors. Three major groups resisted this separation. First was the national Jewish leadership in Eretz Israel, which confronted the separatist Haredi groups by all available means, the most potent of which was the denial of funding. It likewise used the Jewish press worldwide to slander the separatist Haredi leadership for its support of anti-Zionist organizations that sought to curb Jewish settlement in Palestine and for their uncoordinated political negotiations with Arab leaders. This deterred Diaspora Jews from contributing to the Old Yishuv’s organizations. The second group of adversaries comprised religious yet non-Haredi Jews. They refuted the Haredi allegations leveled against them and claimed that they maintained a totally religious lifestyle while at the same time forming part of the general Jewish society that sought to establish its own state. They, moreover, maintained that allowing their children to acquire a general education that would enable them to find good jobs and achieve a higher socioeconomic status did not violate any religious edict, as the Haredi leaders claimed. The third group that took issue with Rabbi Sonnenfeld’s separatist policy was Agudat Israel’s international leadership. Although it supported the Ashkenazi Council, this body soon realized that the council’s separatist policy deterred many observant Jews who were unwilling to break away from the rest of Jewish society from joining the organization. This was particularly evident in the towns and cities outside of Jerusalem, in which many former members of Agudat Israel settled. Owing to the council’s demand that they

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leave the general Jewish organization, these settlers refrained from joining the movement’s local branch in Eretz Israel. Agudat Israel dispatched several delegations to negotiate an agreement between Rabbi Sonnenfeld and the other rabbis, but to no avail. In the late 1920s, Palestine’s newly promulgated Religious Communities’ Law recognized the separate status of Agudat Israel and the Ashkenazi Council. By that time Agudat Israel had established its first educational institutions for both boys and girls. Overall, of Palestine’s roughly 80,000 Jews, some 8–12 percent belonged to Rabbi Sonnenfeld’s separatist organization. While it was able to overcome internal objections, the separatist organization eventually succumbed to external pressure. In the late 1920s, tensions between Jews and Arabs intensified and during the riots of 1929 many Jews, including many Haredim, were murdered. Since the Haredi Jews did not have the means to defend themselves, they had to rely on the Zionist self-defense organizations for protection. At the same time, increased anti-Semitism in Europe drove Agudat Israel to cooperate further with the Zionist movement and with Ha-Mizrahi.10 Agudat Israel, for example, was almost totally dependent on the Zionist organizations for immigration certificates to Palestine. In 1932, Rabbi Sonnenfeld fell ill and shortly thereafter passed away. Agudat Israel took this opportunity to put into place a more moderate leadership, one that would suit its own agenda. The Formation of Two Haredi Camps In 1921, Rabbi Yosef Zvi Dushinsky, who had served as Galanta’s chief rabbi for 30 years, was appointed chief rabbi of Chust, PKR, and head of its renowned yeshiva.11 Although he held firm conservative and anti-Zionist views, Rabbi Dushinsky joined Agudat Israel and was elected to its Council of Sages (Mo’etzet Gedolei Ha-Torah) at its first general conference (Knesiya Gedola) in 1923.12 By virtue of his outstanding personality and achievements as head of a great yeshiva, in 1932 he was chosen to replace Rabbi Sonnenfeld.13 In this capacity, Rabbi Dushinsky maintained the separatist orientation of the Old Yishuv in Palestine vis-a-vis the British authorities as well as in his dealings with the Zionist organizations. Yet unlike Rabbi Sonnenfeld, and despite his radical views on many topics, he was pragmatic and cooperative on matters pertaining to the vital interests of the Jewish people and its right to settle in Palestine. For example, prior to the municipal election campaign in Jerusalem in 1934, in order to block the election of an antagonistic Arab mayor, he supported the establishment of a united Jewish party that included Haredi, Zionist, and secular representatives.14 Rabbi Dushinsky’s extreme views were manifested in some of his controversial decisions. For example, he rejected the British Mandate’s proposal to establish a separate Haredi central rabbinate that would operate alongside its Zionist equivalent (Rabanut Rashit).15 His ruling regarding the education of Haredi girls was likewise uncompromising. The Old Beit Ya’acov girls’ school

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel 179 that Agudat Israel established in the late 1920s faced serious competition from the more modern New Beit Ya’acov and Horev Haredi schools. While the latter also operated under Agudat Israel’s supervision, they adopted a more open approach to general studies and taught their students in Hebrew rather than in Yiddish. Rabbi Dushinsky’s adamant objection to the teaching of Hebrew led to a ruling that stipulated that those who sent their daughters to these “modern” schools would be ineligible for election to any office in the Edah Haredit, the name given in the late 1930s to the former Ashkenazi Council.16 He furthermore opposed The Haredi Hebron and Etz Haim yeshivas, castigating them for being too moderate.17 These decisions exacerbated the tension between the moderate and the more radical members of the Haredi public, which eventually resulted in a split within Eretz Israel’s Haredi Jews. Since the early 1930s, with the rise of anti-Semitism in Europe, the restrictions on Jewish immigration to the USA, and the improved economic conditions in Palestine, Haredi Jews migrated to Eretz Israel in greater numbers, particularly from Germany and Poland. These newcomers did not seek to join the Old Yishuv and to live according to its strict religious regulations while depending on charity for their livelihood. Instead, they settled in the new Jewish towns and cities, opened their own businesses, or began to work in their former occupations. They were perfectly content to live and work alongside other types of Jews, be they observant, traditional, or secular, as they had been accustomed to do prior to their immigration. Although they sought to maintain a Haredi lifestyle and to educate their children in Haredi schools, they had no wish to detach themselves from the general Jewish society and its institutions. In time, Agudat Israel’s leadership realized that a growing number of Haredi Jews were reluctant to comply with the separatist demands of the Edah Haredit, which controlled the local branch of Agudat Israel. Consequently, in the mid-1930s it dispatched a delegation to Palestine that separated the two organizations, each with its own leadership. Moreover, Agudat Israel’s leaders dropped the demand that in order to join Agudat Israel one must waive his membership in Knesset Israel. This allowed Haredi Jews to join both bodies and the number of Agudat Israel’s members grew. The Edah Haredit continued to represent the Old Yishuv’s more radical camp based in Jerusalem, while the newly established leadership of Agudat Israel represented the more tolerant Haredi society in the other Jewish towns. Consequently, while the Hungarian style of separatist Orthodoxy maintained its hold on the Haredi Jews of Jerusalem, those living in other locations adhered to a more inclusive and tolerant strain of Orthodoxy, such as that which prevailed in all European communities outside of Hungary. The tension between these two Haredi camps was manifested by the establishment of Neturei Karta in the late 1930s. This group criticized Agudat Israel for its moderate outlook and policy of compromise and was supported by Rabbi Dushinsky, who feared for the future of the Edah Haredit and its Hungarian separatist ethos. In 1945, he ruled that a large group of Agudat

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Israel supporters was ineligible to vote in the general election to the Edah Haredit’s institutions. As a result, Agudat Israel lost the election and eventually broke away from the Edah Haredit, which then came to be controlled altogether by Neturei Karta. This step furthermore deprived Agudat Israel of its rights to a separate rabbinate and rabbinical court. These two institutions remained in the hands of the Edah Haredit, and constitute its major sources of income and authority to this day.18 His rigid position on internal Haredi issues notwithstanding, when he appeared before the UN commission in 1947 Rabbi Dushinsky favored free immigration for all Jews regardless of their religious affiliation.19 Moreover, prior to the establishment of the State of Israel, in his capacity as chief rabbi of Agudat Israel, Rabbi Dushinsky played an active role in negotiations with the Zionist organizations.20 These negotiations determined the future relations between the religious and Haredi society and the Zionist secular leadership. The principles laid down during those sessions were later formalized and became known as the Status Quo agreement.21 As the leader of the Edah Haredit after the split, Rabbi Dushinsky set out the fundamental guidelines by which it related to Zionism and subsequently to the State of Israel. These included the total renunciation of Zionism and refusal to cooperate with its institutions or to accept financial benefits from them; and refusal to agree to the incorporation of general studies in any of the Edah Haredit’s education institutions.22 Rabbi Dushinsky furthermore forbade Haredi men and women to serve in the military, even during the siege of Jerusalem in the war of independence in 1948.23 Rabbi Dushinsky died in October 1948, a few months after the establishment of the State of Israel. At that time, as in the Hungarian territories, Israel’s Haredi society was divided between a majority of mainstream nonZionist Orthodox Jews who identified with Agudat Israel, and a minority of Extreme Orthodox Jews who joined the Edah Haredit. While the former cooperated fully with the Zionist institutions, served in the Israeli army during the War of Independence, and joined the coalition in Israel’s first governments, the latter shunned not only the Israeli state and its institutions, but also Agudat Israel.24 The Consolidation of Israel’s Extreme Orthodox Camp Following Rabbi Dushinsky’s demise, Agudat Israel sought to regain some power within the Edah Haredit leadership. It pressured the Edah Haredit’s leaders to appoint Rabbi Reuven Zelig Bengis to succeed Rabbi Dushinsky. Rabbi Bengis was a Lithuanian rabbi who held to a more moderate worldview and maintained cordial relations with many rabbis, including Rabbi Kook.25 Since the more zealous and separatist factions within the Edah Haredit were unhappy with this nomination, they sought to undermine Rabbi Bengis’ authority by appointing a radical Hungarian rabbi to be his second-in-command.

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel 181 In 1946, in the wake of the Holocaust, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, the former Satmar Rebbe, settled in Jerusalem, where he sought to revive his Hasidic court and to become a leader of Hungarian-style Extreme Orthodoxy. Given his controversial views, his confrontational personality, and his dubious conduct during the Holocaust, he was not well received either by Agudat Israel or by the Edah Haredit. The latter was still led by Rabbi Yosef Zvi Dushinsky, who did not forget that in 1932, following the announcement that he would succeed Rabbi Sonnenfeld, Rabbi Yoel had sought to block his appointment so as to obtain the position for himself. Since the relief institutions that Rabbi Yoel established accumulated tremendous debts, he was soon forced to travel to the USA in order to raise funds. Only after failing to collect enough money, and following the establishment of the State of Israel, he decided to settle in New York.26 A few years after the founding of Rabbi Yoel’s Hasidic court in New York, other Satmar communities sprung up in locations such as London, Montreal, Antwerp, Sao Paulo, and Buenos Aires. Rabbi Yoel supported his Hasidim in Israel, helping them to build their own neighborhoods and educational institutions. He likewise assisted the Extreme Orthodox groups that belonged to the Edah Haredit. In 1951, seeking to counterbalance Rabbi Bengis, the Edah Haredit’s more radical leaders appointed Rabbi Yoel as president and a year later he was appointed Ra’avad, namely the organization’s second-in-command.27 In 1953, Rabbi Bengis passed away and Rabbi Yoel succeeded him as the Edah Haredit’s Ga’avad, its supreme leader.28 Although he was not involved in the daily management of the Edah Haredit, Rabbi Yoel continued to serve as its spiritual leader and its primary financial supporter.29 The funds he raised from his Hasidim in America enabled the various groups associated with the Edah Haredit to maintain their financial independence and to decline municipal or governmental aid. Rabbi Yoel visited Israel on several occasions, during which he sharply criticized Zionism and the State of Israel. His abhorrence of Zionism was such that he held it accountable for the advent of the Holocaust and its horrific consequences.30 During the latter years of his life until his death in 1979, Rabbi Yoel became the embodiment of anti-Zionism and Extreme Orthodoxy.31 As such, he exerted considerable influence on the relations between other Extreme Orthodox groups and mainstream Orthodoxy on the one hand, and non-Orthodox Jews on the other. By virtue of Rabbi Yoel’s and the Satmar court’s financial support, the Edah Haredit and its various affiliate groups were able to maintain their independence and to shun both Israeli institutions and Agudat Israel. Since it confronted a multitude of social and economic challenges, Israel’s Extreme Orthodox community developed more slowly than the mainstream Haredi camp, which received government funding for its education system alongside many other social and financial benefits. Nevertheless, Israel’s Extreme Orthodoxy, which to this day adheres to its Hungarian-style separatist ideology and is governed by many rabbis of Hungarian descent,

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continues to influence not only the country’s Haredi society but its general society as well. Hungarian Mainstream Orthodoxy Up until the split between Agudat Israel and the Edah Haredit that took place in 1945, all non-Zionist Orthodox Jews, including the Hungarians, belonged to Agudat Israel. After the split, many, especially those living outside of Jerusalem, remained members of Agudat Israel while most of the Haredi Hungarian Jerusalemites chose allegiance with the Edah Haredit. The majority of former Hungarian Orthodox Jews who survived the Holocaust and arrived in Palestine settled outside of Jerusalem and joined Agudat Israel. Many of them chose to settle in Tel Aviv, Israel’s largest and most prosperous city, and formed the country’s second-largest Haredi community. This trend was particularly prevalent among Hasidic Jews and gathered pace when prominent Hungarian and Galician Hasidic rabbis established their communities in Tel Aviv. Hungarian Jews contributed to the establishment of the central Hasidic synagogue in Tel Aviv in the 1930s and established their own communities in places such as Haifa, Petah Tikva, and Bnei Brak.32 Following the 1945 split, and particularly since Rabbi Dushinsky chose to turn his back on the movement at this critical time, Agudat Israel decided not to vest its religious authority in the person of a single rabbi and instead appointed a council of sages. Although most of them were Lithuanian rabbis, the council included several Hungarian rabbis, both Hasidic and Ashkenazi. Some of the Hungarian rabbis who survived the Holocaust established their own communities and institutions. Among them were Rabbi Akiva Sofer, great-grandson of Hatam Sofer, who established the Pressburg yeshiva; Rabbi Yohanan Sofer, who established the Erloy Yeshiva and Hasidic community; and Rabbi Shmuel Ehrenfeld, who built up the Mattersdorf neighborhood, all in Jerusalem. In addition, Rabbi Haim Meir Hager, the Viznitzer rebbe, led Israel’s second-largest Hasidic court and established Shikun Viznitz in Bnei Brak; Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda Halberstam, the Sanz-Klausenberg Rebbe, founded Kiryat Sans in Netanya; Rabbi Hananya Yom-Tov TeitalbaumMeyer, the Sassover rebbe, established Kiryat Yismah Moshe in Petah Tikva; and Rabbi Baruch Hager, the Seret-Viznitz rebbe, established his own Hasidic community in Haifa.33 Since the former Hungarian Haredim constituted the second-largest group within Agudat Israel, a member of their community represented them in the Knesset. Seeking to distinguish themselves from others, in the mid-1930s, the Hungarian Haredi Jews established their own communities, which they called Hug Hatam Sofer (The Hatam Sofer Circle). They also established their own political wing, which operated under the auspices of Po’alei Agudat Israel, the movement’s labor section.34 Their foremost political leader was Shlomo Lorintz, originally from Budapest, who also led Agudat Israel’s youth wing and was one of the most active Haredi politicians.35

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel 183 In the early 1950s, following the establishment of the State of Israel, several Hungarian rabbis and activists decided to establish a new organization, a sort of Orthodox council of Hungarian Jews. They held a series of meetings over a period of a year, but eventually concluded that creating another separate body would not go down well with the public and abandoned the initiative.36 In the 1950s and 1960s, the Hatam Sofer Circle in Jerusalem and Bnei Brak established its own synagogues, yeshivas, and educational institutions for boys and girls, and also operated its own kashrut supervisory body.The group gained public recognition following the appointment of Rabbi Shmuel Vozner, a prominent Hungarian scholar and halakhic adjudicator, as their leader, but toward the end of the twentieth century, the membership of the Hatam Sofer Circle declined.37 Notes 1 Israel Bartal, “‘Old Yishuv’ and ‘New Yishuv’: image and reality,” Cathedra 2 (1977): 3–19 (in Hebrew); Yehoshua Kaniel, “The terms ‘Old Yishuv’ and ‘New Yishuv’: problems of definition,” Cathedra, 6 (1978): 3–19 (in Hebrew). 2 Avraham Moshe Lunts, Ha-Haluka: Mekora, Hishtalsheluta, Takanoteiha Usedareiha Al Pi Mekorot Historim, Jerusalem: Lunts Press, 1911; Yehoshua Kaniel, “Ha-Haluka U-Mishtara Be-Moked Ha-Yehasim Ha-Beinkevutsatim,” Continuity and Change: Old Yishuv and New Yishuv during the First and Second Aliya, Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1982, 60–101. 3 Elazar Horowitz, Mosad Ha-Yesod: Toldot Va’ad Ha-Kelali Kneset Israel BeYerushalaim, Jerusalem: Va’ad Ha-Kelali, 1958; Menachem Friedman, “Al Mivne Hanhagat Ha-Tsibur Ve-Harabanut Ba-Yeshuv Ha-Yashan Ha-Ashkenazi BeShalhei Ha-Shilton Ha-Otomanit,” in: Chapters in the History of the Jewish Community in Jerusalem, edited by Yehuda Ben Porat, Ben Zion Yehoshua, and Aharon Kedar, Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1977, 273–288. 4 Menachem Friedman, Society in a Crisis of Legitimization, the Ashkenazi Old Yishuv 1900–1917, Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 2001 (in Hebrew). 5 Menachem Friedman, Society and Religion: the non-Zionist Orthodox in EretzIsrael, 1918–1936, Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1978 (in Hebrew). 6 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Kolel Somrei Ha-Homot,” Segula, 113 (2020): 54–63. 7 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Hungarian Orthodoxy’s Rise to Power in the Old Yishuv During Palestine’s British Mandate Period,” Moreshet Israel 17 (2019): 107–156, (in Hebrew). 8 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Israel and Ishmael: The Arabs in the Land of Israel in the Eyes of the Haredi Old Yishuv,” in: Religion and Nationality: Jewish Leadership and Thought and the Arab Question, edited by Ephraim Lavie, Jerusalem: Carmel, 2015, 145–162 (in Hebrew). 9 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Kol Israel and the crystallization of Haredi identity in Mandate Palestine,” Kesher 51 (2018): 142–157 (in Hebrew). 10 Monty N. Penkower, “A Lost Opportunity: Pre-World War II Efforts Towards Mizrachi-Agudas Israel Cooperation,” Journal of Israeli History 17 (2) (1996): 221–261; Daniel Mahla, “No Trinity: The Ttripartite Relations between Agudat Yisrael, the Mizrahi Movement, and the Zionist Organization,” Journal of Israeli History 34 (2) (2015): 117–140. 11 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “‘Mishmeret La-Mishmeret’: Rabbi Yosef Zvi (Maharitz) Dushinsky,” in: Gdoilim: Leaders who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry, edited by

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13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

31 32

33 34 35 36 37

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Benjamin Brown and Nissim Leon, Jerusalem: Magnes and Van Leer Institution, 2017, 337–367. Menachem Parush, Sharsheret Ha-Dorot Ba-Tekufot Ha-So’arot, vol. 3, Jerusalem 2001, 317, 332–333. Rabbi Dushinsky was not the only rabbi who held extreme views to join Agudat Israel. Others were Rabbi Haim Soloveitchik (1853–1918), and Rabbi Elhanan Bunem Vaserman, both from Brisk. Menachem Friedman, Society and Religion, 346–347; Parush, Sharsheret Ha-Dorot, vol. 4, 78–79. Ibid, vol. 3, 354–355; Kol Yisrael, September 17, 1934, 1. Parush, Sharsheret Ha-Dorot, vol. 3, 204–205. Friedman, Society and Religion, 360–361. Kol Yisrael, March 3, 1938, 1. Parush, Sharsheret Ha-Dorot, vol. 4, 119–123. Ibid, vol. 3, 159–161 Kol Yisrael, December 24, 1936, 1. Menachem Friedman, “Ve-Eilu Toldot Ha-Status-Qwo: Dat U-Medina Be-Yisrael,” in: Ha-Ma’avar Me-Yeshuv Le-Medina 1947–1949, edited by Varda Pilovski, Haifa: University of Haifa, 1990, 47–73; Parush, Sharsheret Ha-Dorot, vol. 3, 185. Kuntras Zekhor Yemot Olam, Jerusalem 2001, 53–55, 57–60, 62–63, 67, 70. Ha-Homa, 21 Av 5,708 (1948), 1; Kol Yisrael, May 5, 1948, 1. Moshe Ehrnvald, The Haredim During the Independence War, Ben-Shemen: Modan, 2017 (in Hebrew); Yair Ha-Levi, The “New Haredism” Revolution in Israel in the 1970s, Ph. D dissertation, Bar-Ilan University, 2020 (in Hebrew). Amihai Kinarti, Or Reuven: Kishrei Ha-Yedidut Bein […] Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Ha-Kohen Kook […] Ve-Hagaon Rabbi Zelig Reuven Bengis, Jerusalem: Or Ha-Orot, 2011. Yoel Teitelbaum, Divrei Yoel Al Ha-Torah, vol. 2, Brooklyn: Yerushalayim, 2005, 119–121. Keren-Kratz, “Mishmeret La-Mishmeret.” Menachem Keren-Kratz, The Zealot: The Satmar Rebbe – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2020, 225. Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Ha-Edah Ha-Haredit in Jerusalem in 1948–1973,” Cathedra 161 (2017): 139–174 (in Hebrew). Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Hast Thou Escaped and Also Taken Possession? The Responses of the Satmar Rebbe – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – and his Followers to Criticism of his Conduct During and After the Holocaust,” Dapim: Studies on the Holocaust 28 (2) (2014): 97–120. Zvi Jonathan Kaplan, “Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum, Zionism, and Hungarian UltraOrthodoxy,” Modern Judaism 24 (2) (2004): 165–178. Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Bnei Brak: Krakh Haredi Nolad,” Segula 94 (2018): 16–27; idem., “Hatzerot Tel-Aviv,” Segula 123 (2020): 54–65; Michal Glatter, Sacred and Mundane: Hasidic Courts in Tel-Aviv 1940–1965, Ph. D. dissertation, Bar-Ilan University, 2019 (in Hebrew). Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Kerayot Ne’emanot: Ha-Kerayot Ha-Hasidiyot,” Segula, 156 (2023): 37–47. Ha-Boker, June 7, 1944, 4; Ha-Aretz, June 11, 1944, 2; Ha-Tsofe, April 9, 1951, 4. Ma’ariv, May 22, 1954, 2. Yohanan Sofer, Asefat Mikhtavim Mi-Gedoley Israel El Ba’al Imrei Sofer, vol. 2, Bnei Brak, 2014, 623–693. Kol Israel, September 3, 1942, 3; Al Ha-Mishmar, September 14, 1943, 4; Ha-Aretz, September 14, 1943, 4; Ibid., October 22, 1943, 3; Ibid., July 28, 1947, 3; Ibid., March 24, 1948, 4; Ha-Tsofe, October 20, 1943, 4; Ibid., January 6, 1952, 3; Ibid., July 1,

The Establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Eretz Israel 185 1952, 3; Ibid., June 17, 1955, 8; Ibid., March 25, 1962, 4; Shearim, November 16, 1950, 1; Ibid., May 24, 1954, 4.

Bibliography Bartal, Israel. “‘Old Yishuv’ and ‘New Yishuv’: image and reality.” Cathedra 2 (1977): 3–19. Ehrnvald, Moshe. The Haredim During the Independence War. Ben-Shemen: Modan, 2017. Friedman, Menachem. “Al Mivne Hanhagat Ha-Tsibur Ve-Harabanut Ba-Yeshuv Ha-Yashan Ha-Ashkenazi Be-Shalhei Ha-Shilton Ha-Otomanit.” In: Ben-Porat, Yehuda, Ben Zion Yehoshua, and Aharon Kedar (eds.). Chapters in the History of the Jewish Community in Jerusalem. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1977, 273–288. Friedman, Menachem. “Ve-Eilu Toldot Ha-Status-Qwo: Dat U-Medina Be-Yisrael.” In: Pilovski, Varda (ed.). Ha-Ma’avar Me-Yeshuv Le-Medina 1947–1949. Haifa: University of Haifa, 1990, 47–73. Friedman, Menachem. Society and Religion: the non-Zionist Orthodox in Eretz-Israel, 1918–1936. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1978. Friedman, Menachem. Society in a Crisis of Legitimization, the Ashkenazi Old Yishuv 1900–1917. Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 2001. Glatter, Michal. Sacred and Mundane: Hasidic Courts in Tel-Aviv 1940–1965. Ph. D. dissertation, Bar-Ilan University, 2019. Ha-Levi, Yair. The “New Haredism” Revolution in Israel in the 1970s. Ph. D dissertation, Bar-Ilan University, 2020. Horowitz, Elazar. Mosad Ha-Yesod: Toldot Va’ad Ha-Kelali Kneset Israel BeYerushalaim. Jerusalem: Va’ad Ha-Kelali, 1958. Kaniel, Yehoshua. “Ha-Haluka U-Mishtara Be-Moked Ha-Yehasim Ha-Beinkevutsatim.” In: Continuity and Change: Old Yishuv and New Yishuv during the First and Second Aliya. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1982, 60–101. Kaniel, Yehoshua. “The terms ‘Old Yishuv’ and ‘New Yishuv’: problems of definition.” Cathedra, 6 (1978): 3–19. Kaplan, Zvi Jonathan. “Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum, Zionism, and Hungarian UltraOrthodoxy.” Modern Judaism 24 (2) (2004): 165–178. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “‘Mishmeret La-Mishmeret’: Rabbi Yosef Zvi (Maharitz) Dushinsky.” In: Brown, Benjamin and Nissim Leon (eds.). Gdoilim: Leaders who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry. Jerusalem: Magnes and Van Leer Institution, 2017, 337–367. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Bnei Brak: Krakh Haredi Nolad.” Segula 94 (2018): 16–27. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Ha-Edah Ha-Haredit in Jerusalem in 1948–1973.” Cathedra 161 (2017): 139–174. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Hast Thou Escaped and Also Taken Possession? The Responses of the Satmar Rebbe – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – and his Followers to Criticism of his Conduct During and After the Holocaust.” Dapim: Studies on the Holocaust 28 (2) (2014): 97–120. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Hatzerot Tel-Aviv.” Segula 123 (2020): 54–65. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Hungarian Orthodoxy’s rise to power in the Old Yishuv during Palestine’s British mandate period.” Moreshet Israel 17 (2019): 107–156 (in Hebrew).

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Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Israel and Ishmael: The Arabs in the Land of Israel in the Eyes of the Haredi Old Yishuv.” In: Lavie, Ephraim (ed.). Religion and Nationality: Jewish Leadership and Thought and the Arab Question. Jerusalem: Carmel, 2015, 145–162. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Kol Israel and the crystallization of Haredi identity in Mandate Palestine.” Kesher 51 (2018): 142–157. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Kolel Somrei Ha-Homot.” Segula, 113 (2020): 54–63. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “The rise of the Hungarian leadership of the Old Yishuv in Jerusalem during the Mandate Period.” Moresht Israel 17 (2019): 107–156. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Kerayot Ne’emanot:Ha-Kerayot Ha-Hasidiyot.” Segula 156 (2023): 37–47. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. The Zealot: The Satmar Rebbe – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum. Jerusalem: Zalman Shazar Center, 2020. Kinarti, Amihai. Or Reuven: Kishrei Ha-Yedidut Bein […] Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Ha-Kohen Kook […] Ve-Hagaon Rabbi Zelig Reuven Bengis. Jerusalem: Or HaOrot, 2011. Kuntras Zekhor Yemot Olam. Jerusalem 2001. Lunts, Avraham Moshe. Ha-Haluka: Mekora, Hishtalsheluta, Takanoteiha Usedareiha Al Pi Mekorot Historim. Jerusalem: Lunts Press, 1911. Mahla, Daniel. “No trinity: The tripartite relations between Agudat Yisrael, the Mizrahi movement, and the Zionist organization.” Journal of Israeli History 34 (2) (2015): 117–140. Parush, Menachem. Sharsheret Ha-Dorot Ba-Tekufot Ha-So’arot, vols. 1–6. Jerusalem, 2001. Penkower, Monty N. “A lost opportunity: pre-world war II efforts towards MizrachiAgudas Israel cooperation.” Journal of Israeli History 17 (2) (1996): 221–261. Sofer, Yohanan. Asefat Mikhtavim Mi-Gedoley Israel El Ba’al Imrei Sofer, vol. 2. Bnei Brak, 2014. Teitelbaum, Yoel. Divrei Yoel Al Ha-Torah, vol. 2. Brooklyn: Yerushalayim, 2005.

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Introduction Only a small number of Orthodox Jews who were born and raised in the Hungarian-speaking territories have survived into the twenty-first century. Nevertheless, what remains of Hungarian Orthodoxy may be divided into two main cultural traditions. First are the communities, mainly Hasidic, which seek to perpetuate the legacy that prevailed in the Hungarian-speaking territories in the pre-Holocaust era. These include Hasidic groups such as Satmar, Viznitz, Seret-Viznitz, Munkács, and Toldot Aharon. Other Hasidic courts, such as Sanz-Klausenberg, Erloy, and Dushinsky, continued the Hungarian tradition but modified to a degree the old-school Hungarian Hasidism. A smaller group within this camp consists of those who adhere to the non-Hasidic wing of Ashkenazi Hungarians, some of whom belong to the Hatam Sofer circle. Yet the main bearers of Hungarian Orthodoxy’s legacy are the groups associated with Extreme Orthodoxy. These groups belong to either the Edah Haredit in Israel or the CRC (Hit’ahdut Ha-Rabanim) in America, or to various Neturei Karta groups which operate in Israel, the United States, and Europe. This chapter presents a short review of these two main camps who perpetuated Hungarian Orthodoxy – the Hungarian Hasidic groups, mainly Satmar and Viznitz, and the Extreme Orthodox ones. In both cases, although many of the members in these communities are not necessarily of Hungarian descent, they have adopted either Hungarian religious customs and its strict worldview or the radical worldview of Hungarian-style Extreme Orthodoxy. Hungarian Orthodoxy’s Legacy in Contemporary Israel Israel’s Hungarian Hasidic Courts

Chapter 10 reviewed the establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Mandatory Palestine and in Israel’s early decades, as well as its influence in shaping Haredi society to the present day. The rise of Israel’s Haredi society from the 1950s was accompanied by the flourishing of Hungarian-style Hasidic courts. After Gur, Israel’s largest Hasidic court and a major force in Haredi politics, Viznitz, the DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-15

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largest Hungarian court, ranks second in size and influence. Since the 1960s, its leader, the Viznitzer Rebbe, has wielded great political influence not only within the Haredi political system but also in Israeli politics, where one of the Knesset members of Agudat Israel is almost always a Viznitz Hasid. Today, Viznitz is composed of three main groups, two based in Bnei Brak and one, Seret-Viznitz, in Haifa. The other Hungarian Hasidic courts in Israel are smaller and less influential. Moreover, because many Hungarian groups belong to the Edah Haredit and do not participate in Israeli politics, their influence is limited to these radical circles. Such Hungarian groups include Toldot Aharon, Dushinsky, Satmar, and Munkács. A third group of Hungarian courts has Hungarian names and maintains some Hungarian customs, but do not show overtly Hungarian characteristics. Such groups include the small Hasidic courts of Sanz-Klausenburg, Erloy, Dej, Spinka, Kretchiniev, Somrei Emunim, and Nadvorna. According to the latest estimate, as of 2020, there were between 8,000–9,000 households registered in one of the Israeli Hungarian Hasidic courts, representing some 40,000–50,000 people. More than half of them belong to one of the Viznitz groups.1 The number of Jews who adhere to the non-Hasidic style of Hungarian Orthodoxy is far smaller; most of them live in Jerusalem and belong to one of the groups of the Edah Haredit. The majority of non-Hasidic Jews who are descendants of Orthodox families from the Hungarian-speaking territories and who maintain an observant lifestyle do so within the Religious-Zionist camp. Compared to other Haredi groups, members of the Hungarian Hasidic communities are more likely to follow a particularly conservative lifestyle, shun modern technology, speak Yiddish as their everyday language, and send their children to conservative educational institutions. Most of them expect that their wives will not only dress modestly, for example by avoiding bright colors but will also fully cover their hair; in many instances, the expectation is that women will shave their heads after marriage.2 Hungarian Style Extreme Orthodoxy after the Establishment of Israel

Under British mandate rule, both the Zionists and anti-Zionists enjoyed the same rights. Consequently, anti-Zionist declarations by members of Neturei Karta and the Edah Haredit had very little effect on their own daily life. At that time, both Neturei Karta and the Edah Haredit had no compunction about obeying state law or accepting funds and assistance from the official institutions.3 This, however, was not the case after the establishment of Israel when the Extreme Orthodox factions refused to recognize the sovereignty of the Jewish state’s government and its affiliated institutions, such as the justice system, the police, local municipalities, and national organizations. This fundamental decision caused major problems for Extreme Orthodox society. The annihilation of Europe’s Orthodox communities during the

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 189 Holocaust caused a total cessation of the donations which until then had funded the Old Yishuv’s members and institutions. Since accepting any sort of support was considered a violation of the ban on Zionism, the Extreme Orthodox leadership refused both state and municipal financing. Consequently, the Edah Haredit suffered a major economic crisis, and its religious and education institutions could no longer pay their employees’ salaries. Seeking to provide for their families, some of them began looking for work in Agudat Israel or even in state-sponsored institutions. This threatened the continuity of the stringent separation between Extreme Orthodoxy and the rest of Jewish society.4 The Edah Haredit was on the brink of collapse before the Satmar Rebbe finally came to its rescue. Following its establishment in New York in 1948, the Satmar Hasidic court had flourished, and its leader ordered his Hasidim to donate large sums of money to help the Edah Haredit. In gratitude, in 1953, the Edah appointed the Satmar Rebbe its foremost spiritual leader, a position he held until his death in 1979. However, because Agudat Israel joined Israel’s first governments, it received significant budgets for its religious and educational institutions. The Extreme Orthodox who refused government funding and relied on selffinance and donations were unable to compete with the standard of teachers and teaching in Agudat Israel’s institutions for boys and for girls. Consequently, many parents, despite theoretically supporting the Extreme Orthodox ideology, decided to entrust their children to Agudat Israel’s superior education system. This, too, posed a threat to the survival of Extreme Orthodoxy over the coming generations.5 Moreover, although Neturei Karta, which numbered 100 to 200 families, was prominently represented in the Edah Haredit leadership, they were not the only group in this organization, which catered for several thousand families. Over time, the Edah’s leadership adopted a somewhat independent policy. Because so many people were dependent upon them for numerous practical needs, such as the supply of water, electricity, sewerage, gas, post, telephone, and public transportation, they were forced to cooperate with either the national or the municipal authorities. Maintaining the Edah’s separate identity was also dependent on such cooperation and on state-issued authorizations. For example, the Edah required a permit to run its separate slaughterhouse, rabbinical court, and burial services. Permits were also required for building its institutions, for official registration of real estate properties so as to protect the ownership rights of the Edah or its members, and for the establishment of new education institutions. This created a rift between Neturei Karta, which objected to even a minimal level of cooperation with the state or city authorities, and the Edah’s leaders, who believed that a failure to cooperate with these bodies would result in a growing number of people abandoning the Extreme Orthodox camp in favor of Agudat Israel. The clash between these two extreme Orthodox ideologies was reflected in the fact that both the Edah and

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Neturei Karta published their own journals, each defending its own stance and attacking the other.6 Neturei Karta’s decision to take the lead in the organization of demonstrations and public protests provided further evidence of the rift. This activity, which began shortly before the establishment of Israel, became the defining characteristic of Neturei Karta, and particularly of its leader, Amram Blau.7 Neturei Karta’s initial protests against the violation of the Sabbath in the Haredi neighborhoods extended over time to include other religious violations.8 These included the opening of a mixed kindergarten for boys and girls of working mothers, the opening of a public swimming pool in Jerusalem, the requirement that religious girls seeking exemption from military service face a special committee, archaeological excavation in areas suspected as being former Jewish burial sites, the performance of autopsies in hospitals, and rigorous modesty demands from Orthodox and non-Orthodox women.9 In the mid-1960s, the Edah leaders expressed their disapproval of the reckless and disobedient behavior of Neturei Karta, which, they believed, threatened the basic interests of its members. Seeking to demonstrate their superior public status, they forbade Amram Blau, the undisputed leader of Neturei Karta, to marry Ruth Ben-David, a French convert some 20 years Blau’s junior. When Blau disregarded the Edah Haredit’s rabbinical court’s decree, the gap between these two bodies widened still further.10 Israel’s astonishing victory in the 1967 Six-Day War and the liberation of the holy places, including the Temple Mount and Western Wall, led many Haredi Jews to regard the state in a much more positive light.11 These trends even affected the Extreme Orthodox, to the degree that the Satmar Rebbe, their top spiritual leader, hastened to publish a book titled Al Ha-Geula Ve-Al Ha-Temurah (On Redemption and On Transformation).12 The book asserted that the victory was not a heavenly miracle, as many believed at the time, but one created by the devil. He consequently forbade his followers to enjoy the fruits of this false victory and banned them from visiting the holy sites liberated during the war. This further widened the schism between Neturei Karta, which generally obeyed Rabbi Yoel’s ban on visiting the Western Wall, and the Edah Haredit, whose leaders disregarded it.13 Neturei Karta Escalates Its Anti-Israeli Policy

After suffering a stroke in 1968, from which he never fully recovered, the Satmar Rebbe’s deteriorating health was accompanied by a weakening of his influence over some of the Extreme Orthodox groups. At the same time, Amram Blau also lost much of his authority as a result of the dispute with the Edah Haredit leadership over his marriage to Ruth Ben-David.14 Consequently, other figures, both in Israel and abroad, took advantage of the waning authority of the existing leadership and sought to impose an even stricter regime on Neturei Karta.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 191 In pursuit of that objective, they were no longer satisfied with simply protesting against the public violation of the religious status quo in Israel, but publicly challenged its mere existence as a Jewish state, claiming it should be abolished. To that end, they even cooperated with other anti-Israeli movements and governments. For example, in May 1968, barely a year after the Six-Day War, a group of Neturei Karta openly burned Israeli flags, and were immediately attacked by several soldiers who were passing by.15 After Yasser Arafat was elected as leader of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) in 1967, the organization increased the number and scope of its terrorist attacks. In 1972, for example, Palestinian terrorists murdered 11 Israeli sportsmen and staff who attended the Olympic Games in Munich. The 1973 Yom Kippur War caught Israel completely unprepared. Despite eventually winning the war, this was a bitter victory that cost the lives of many soldiers. From a theological perspective, unlike the Six-Day War victory which gave the impression that God was protecting Israel against its enemies, the feeling now was that God had grown dissatisfied with Israel and had even jeopardized its existence. Following the Arab defeat in the 1973 Yom Kippur War, the PLO decided to expand its diplomatic operations. Soon thereafter, it gained recognition by the United Nations as the sole representative of the Palestinian people and was granted observer status. The outcome of the war, and the fact that Israel almost lost it, prompted Neturei Karta to step up their anti-Israel campaign. This trend escalated following the death of Amram Blau in 1974, when the battle over his succession caused potential candidates to present more radical stands. This was demonstrated, for example, by Neturei Karta’s support of Hilarion Capucci, a Syrian Catholic bishop who received a 12-year prison sentence for using his diplomatic status to smuggle arms to the PLO for terrorist activities against Israelis.16 A year later, Neturei Karta sent a letter to Yasser Arafat, expressing its support for the PLO’s goals. A second letter was sent to Israel’s Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, demanding that he unconditionally relinquish all the territories conquered during the Six-Day War.17 Intensifying its anti-Israel activity, Neturei Karta also sent a delegate to an anti-Zionist conference in Libya in 1976,18 and by 1980 they freely corresponded with PLO leaders and sought the official recognition by the United Nations of Neturei Karta as the representative of all anti-Zionist Jews.19 These and other encounters between Israelis and members of PLO led the government to enact a law forbidding its citizens from engaging in any contact with representatives of terrorist organizations.20 Yet Neturei Karta disregarded this law and continued the contacts, even receiving a letter from Arafat thanking them for their efforts.21 In 1984, Neturei Karta’s leaders expressed their desire to become citizens under Palestinian authority once this was established. A public letter they disseminated denouncing Zionism and expressing support for Palestinian national demands was translated and published in several Arabic newspapers.22 Such public actions strengthened Neturei Karta’s relations with the

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PLO, and in 1985 Yasser Arafat sent them another public letter, thanking them for their support for the Palestinian cause.23 In 1988, Neturei Karta began hanging Palestinian flags in their Jerusalem neighborhood. They also increased their cooperation with the PLO and Neturei Karta representatives attended many of the PLO’s anti-Israeli demonstrations abroad. In recognition of this support, Yasser Arafat announced his intention to appoint an Israeli Neturei Karta member as a minister in the government he was about to establish.24 He partially fulfilled his promise in 1992, when he appointed several Neturei Karta members as observers in the official Palestinian delegation to the peace talks in Washington. Two years later, one of them was invited to take part in the official ceremony finalizing the talks between Israel and the PLO.25 Extreme Orthodoxy in Israel in the Early Twenty-First Century

Various Palestinian and other nationalistic Muslim groups and individuals began launching organized terrorist attacks against Jews in the 1920s and have continued doing so ever since. Following its foundation in the 1960s, the PLO became the major perpetrator of anti-Israel terrorist acts. However, the scope and ferocity of the terror attacks during the period of the Second Intifada, which began in September 2000 and lasted some five years, were unprecedented. The 20,000 attacks launched in that period cost the lives of almost 1,200 Israelis, many of them the victims of some 150 suicide terrorists. In the aftermath of these attacks, and particularly given the significant number of Haredi casualties, Neturei Karta had to contend with the grave consequences of their cooperation with and support for the PLO and were censured even by the Edah Haredit and the Satmar Rebbe. This persuaded Neturei Karta to move some of their activities outside of Israel. Challenging these tactics, former Israeli Neturei Karta members established an even more radical group named Sicarii (named after a group of fanatics in the late Second Temple period, from the Latin word for “dagger”). The group employed violent tactics against non-Haredi Jews, particularly women, but also against those whom they considered too lenient among the Extreme Orthodox.26 In 2011, for example, a few members of the group insulted and spat at religious women whose appearance they considered insufficiently modest, while others physically attacked passing Israeli soldiers.27 Since then, similar acts have become an almost daily occurrence in Neturei Karta strongholds in a handful of neighborhoods in Jerusalem and Beit Shemesh. In the same year, some Israeli members of Neturei Karta met in London with Sheikh Raad Salah, the leader of the radical wing of the Islamic Movement in Israel.28 Similar actions continued over the following years. In 2012, a Neturei Karta member painted graffiti in Yad Va-Shem, Israel’s central Holocaust memorial museum. The text sarcastically praised Nazi Germany for “arranging” the Holocaust, which, it claimed, enabled the establishment of

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 193 the State of Israel.29 This act was also repeated over the coming years. In 2013, a Neturei Karta member was accused of collaborating with Iranian agents, convicted of espionage, and imprisoned for several months.30 Since the mid-2010s, Israel’s Extreme Orthodox – i.e., members of the Edah Haredit and Neturei Karta – have no longer been a leading force in demonstrations and protests against violation of religious norms. Instead, other Haredi groups not usually regarded as part of the Extreme Orthodox camp have replaced them, mounting protests against government proposals to enlist Haredi soldiers or impose a minimal level of general studies on Haredi children, or against traffic in Jerusalem’s main streets near Haredi neighborhoods during the Sabbath. Neturei Karta, on the other hand, sought to distinguish themselves by protesting the very existence of the Jewish state, as well as by collaborating with its worst enemies. Both their actions and ideology are a contemporary reminder of Hungarian Extreme Orthodoxy’s practices and ideology. Hungarian Orthodoxy’s Legacy in Contemporary America Introduction

Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum was the only Extreme Orthodox leader to survive the Holocaust. This, as well as his personal attributes, made him this movement’s undisputed leader for the remainder of his life. Following his court’s success, other Hasidic leaders, mostly Hungarian, adopted this ideology and joined the CRC, the Extreme Orthodox organization he established in 1954. At the same time, Rabbi Yoel was also committed to expanding his influence and to recruiting more followers, both in the United States and in other countries. To that end, he needed to overlook some of his principles in order to accommodate the needs of Hasidic communities in other locations that held to slightly less restrictive lifestyles than those accepted in Williamsburg. By way of example, he established a Hasidic community in Bnei Brak, Israel, at a time when most of the city’s residents were not Haredi, and unlike in Jerusalem, there were no other Extreme Orthodox groups, such as the Edah Haredit or Neturei Karta, to support them. Lower separatist standards and a less restrictive lifestyle were also required for the Satmar communities which were established in Britain, Canada, Austria, Belgium, and South America.31 This drew criticism from the more radical elements within the Satmar court, as well as from Neturei Karta members who accused Rabbi Yoel of deviating from the principles he himself had formulated. Throughout most of his life, such criticism was relatively muted, and since his prestige continued to grow, it hardly had any consequences. The situation changed following Rabbi Yoel’s stroke in 1968, after which, and until his death in 1979, he was not as active and influential as before. Rabbi Yoel’s ill health permitted the development of two small groups of opponents who suggested that his positions were not in line with his own

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ideology and demanded more decisive actions. While one group focused its criticism on the way the court itself handled those who failed to adhere fully to religious rules and social norms, the second criticized the court’s overly compromising attitude toward Israel, the Zionist archenemy. The first group was composed of dissident Satmar Hasidim, while the members of the second split from Satmar and regarded themselves as Neturei Karta. While this chapter focuses on Satmar, by far the largest Hungarian group, which accounts for some 40 percent of all American Hasidim, many other Hasidic groups of Hungarian descent operate in America.32 These include the far smaller courts of Pupa, Viznitz, Sanz-Klausenberg, Skvira, Krule, Kashoy, Toldot Aharon, and Munkács.33 Satmar Dissidents

The phenomenon by which members from within the Satmar community claimed that the court’s leaders were not following its own radical ideology to the letter began during Rabbi Yoel’s life, as noted, but has intensified since his death. On June 12, 1969, about a year after Rabbi Yoel’s stroke, the CRC organized a demonstration in front of the Israeli consulate in New York. The demonstrators protested the undertaking of autopsies in Israeli hospitals, which, they claimed, violated Halakha (Jewish religious law). Despite Rabbi Yoel’s demand to maintain public order, several students from his yeshiva felt that the demonstration was too mild. They caused property damage, painted swastikas on the consulate walls, and published anti-Israeli advertisements in the New York Post.34 Despite being condemned not only by non-Satmar circles but also by Satmar officials, the young dissidents repeated their unauthorized behavior in the following years, reflecting their dissatisfaction from the court’s too nuanced stances.35 In the 1970s, a radical group of dissidents, dubbed Di Shvartzes (“the Blacks”), began targeting people whom they believed acted against the “true” will of Rabbi Yoel. They further claimed that such individuals, and even the leaders of the CRC, had taken advantage of Rabbi Yoel’s poor health in order to promote their own compromising ideology. Among other things, they slandered and even physically attacked several rabbis and published a booklet criticizing some of the court and the CRC leaders.36 However, the more significant dissident movement began following Rabbi Yoel’s death, when a group of Hasidim argued that his official successor, his nephew Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, was unworthy to assume his uncle’s role. This group, which later came to be known as Bnai Yoel (the Sons of Yoel), was supported by Rabbi Yoel’s widow, Rebbetzin Alta Faige, who, during her husband’s last years, was the de facto head of the community and sought to maintain this role in the future.37 These developments led to the reappearance in America of two prominent but forgotten characteristics of Hungarian Orthodoxy: internal controversies and nepotism. As long as Rabbi Yoel was alive, no one dared to question his

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 195 authority and the Extreme Orthodox camp was united under his leadership. Once he became sick, and particularly after his death, internal conflicts which until then had remained hidden from the public resurfaced. Such was the tension between the Rebbetzin and Rabbi Moshe, the eruption of the controversy between the Belz Hasidic community and the Edah Haredit, and an intra-Hasidic controversy on whether to permit the establishment of an Eruv (a symbolic perimeter fence allowing observant Jews to carry objects during the Shabbat) in New York’s Haredi neighborhoods.38 Bnei Yoel’s campaign against the nomination of Rabbi Moshe was bitter and ugly and resembled that launched against the nomination of Rabbi Yoel in Satmar. It included public demonstrations and the publication of slanderous texts. The group also claimed that Rabbi Yoel had never wanted Rabbi Moshe to succeed him, and that the will he left detailing his last wishes had been stolen.39 Rabbi Moshe responded by replacing all the leaders of the Satmar institutions who were not totally committed to him. He also appointed his two sons, Rabbi Aharon and Rabbi Yekuthiel Yehuda (better known as Zalman Leib), as well as his sons-in-law, to prominent positions in the court and in various communal organizations.40 The focal point of the collision between Rabbi Moshe’s followers and his opponents occurred in Kiryas Joel. Originally erected as a separate neighborhood of the town of Monroe, NY, the Hasidic residents of Kiryas Joel sought to run their lives separately from the rest of the town’s other residents. Since the town’s leaders opposed this demand, Kiryas Joel’s leader launched a long legal campaign, which after several decades resulted in the declaration of Kiryas Joel as a separate town formally known as Palm Tree. The Satmar Hasidic community’ struggle for independence relied on a single legal principle – the separation of Church and State, also known as the Establishment Clause. In accordance with this principle, if the Hasidic neighborhood (which in the late 1970s was declared a separate village within the town of Monroe) wished to maintain its own governing and regulatory bodies, these were required to operate in a completely secular manner, to conduct themselves according to the same standards as similar bodies in other places, and to avoid any religious or halakhic considerations in its managemental decisions. Moreover, if the local Hasidic leadership wished to establish institutions that would be eligible for government or state support, as was the case with the school they established for children with special needs, these establishments would also have to be conducted in a completely secular manner.41 The thought that Kiryas Joel, the brainchild of Rabbi Yoel, Satmar’s foremost leader, would have to embrace secular standards was unbearable for his devout followers, the Bnai Yoel. They responded by founding their own institutions and, with the help of the Rebbetzin, they established a fierce opposition that fought the formal leadership in a series of legal battles extending over several decades. This intra-Satmar controversy adopted all the traditional elements of similar disputes in the Hungarian-speaking territories. These included the publication of slanderous texts, physical violence, appeals

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to rabbinical and state courts, mutual excommunication, and publications in the Jewish and non-Jewish press.42 The intra-Satmar controversy reached a new level of hostility and animosity in the early twenty-first century. Until that time, all the Hasidim had assumed that Rabbi Aharon, Rabbi Moshe’s oldest son who was also appointed the spiritual leader of Kiryas Joel, would eventually succeed his father as the court’s sole leader. However, in the late twentieth century, Rabbi Moshe asked his other son, Rabbi Zalman Leib, who until then had headed the Satmar community in Jerusalem, to return to the United States and to lead the community in Williamsburg. This resulted in a bitter succession war between the two brothers that intensified as their father’s mental health deteriorated, particularly after his death in 2006.43 While the controversy in Kiryas Joel was a local one, the one between the two brothers turned into a global conflict that tore apart Satmar communities around the world. As in the local dispute in Kiryas Joel, this Satmar vs. Satmar controversy also bears the same characteristics of Hasidic disputes in the pre-Holocaust Hungarian territories. Moreover, Satmar’s succession controversy prompted similar disputes in other Hasidic courts. As in previous disputes in the Hungarian-speaking territories, this controversy was also justified by ideological reasoning, as each group claimed that the other was not following Rabbi Yoel’s “true” ideology. Satmar, now divided between two main camps, is the largest Hasidic court in the world.44 Nowadays, over 40 years after Rabbi Yoel’s death, Hungarian Orthodoxy’s legacy in America, which is mainly Extreme Orthodox and Hasidic, accounts for some 30 percent of the country’s Orthodox Jewish population. As in Europe, the American Hasidic communities that regard themselves as Hungarian are characterized not only by acute religious fundamentalism, an uncompromising struggle against Zionism, and anti-modern ideology, but even more so by never-ending internal disputes. Neturei Karta in America

In the late 1960s, some of the Satmar dissidents, as well as Hasidim from other courts, felt that the current Hasidic leadership in America was becoming too moderate and compromising. Accordingly, they began to selfidentify as Neturei Karta and joined their Israeli counterparts in their antiIsrael and pro-Palestinian activities. In January 1969, for example, a group of Neturei Karta members protested against Israel’s foreign policy in front of the UN building.45 A year later, Neturei Karta cooperated with the PLO in launching a joint anti-Zionist demonstration at the same location.46 The most prominent leader of Neturei Karta in America was Moshe Ber Beck. Beck was born in Nyírbogát, Hungary, and in 1948 his family settled in Bnei Brak, Israel, and joined the local Viznitz court. As he adopted more radical views, he left the court and joined Neturei Karta. In 1970, following the Six-Day War and after being criticized for his radical opinions, he moved

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 197 to Monsey, New York, where he established his own Neturei Karta group. Beck was a prolific author who published numerous anti-Zionist manifests and was the semi-official spokesperson of Neturei Karta.47 His decision to settle in Monsey was not incidental. This rural town was home to a group of Viznitz Hasidim led by Rabbi Mordechai (Mote’le) Hager, son of Rabbi Haim Meir Hager, the leader of the Viznitz Hasidic court in Israel. Unlike his father, who supported Agudat Israel’s relatively moderate views, Rabbi Mote’le adopted the Satmar Rebbe’s ideology and was known as a fierce opponent of Zionism and Agudat Israel. The cooperation between Beck’s followers and Rabbi Mote’le and his Hasidim made Monsey a center of Hungarian-style Extreme Orthodoxy.48 Although generally regarded as a strict anti-Zionist leader, the Satmar Rebbe had to consider the well-being of all the Extreme Orthodox groups and was reluctant to support Neturei Karta’s radical stance. He made a clear distinction between “true” and “false” zealotry, and while supporting protests and demonstrations in response to Israel’s violation of the religious status quo, he disapproved of anti-Israel demonstrations as such. In particular, he forbade his followers to join forces with Arab demonstrators, damage property, or daub swastikas as a form of anti-Israeli protest. Rabbi Yoel’s criticism of Neturei Karta, on the one hand, and the grave danger Israel faced during the 1973 Yom Kippur War, on the other, led to a secession of Neturei Karta’s activities in the United States for several years. These were resumed when the Satmar Rebbe’s moderating influence came to an end following his death in 1979. In 1980, for example, Neturei Karta demanded to participate as speakers in discussions of the Palestinian issue at the UN General Assembly.49 Thereafter, they cooperated with either the CRC or other Neturei Karta groups, both in Israel and in the United Kingdom, and attended various antiIsraeli demonstrations. Following the beginning of the Second Intifada in 2000, all of Israel’s Haredi leaders objected to Neturei Karta’s cooperation with the PLO and other terrorist organizations which did not discriminate between secular and Haredi Jews and launched terrorist attacks in Jerusalem’s Haredi neighborhoods. This led the American branch of Neturei Karta to pursue its anti-Israeli campaign through the most advanced tool of that time – the internet. Despite the overall rabbinical ban on the use of modern technology, and particularly the use of the internet and social media networks, Neturei Karta took full advantage of these platforms. Several Neturei Karta members opened their own internet forum on the Hebrew/Yiddish forums platform titled Hydepark.co.il, which was later renamed Be-Hadrei Haredim and became a major Haredi website.50 In 2003, seeking to disseminate their ideas, a group of American Neturei Karta established their own website, and a few years later it was followed by another similar site.51 In order to spread their ideas still further, by 2007, Neturei Karta began issuing several weekly and bi-weekly newsletters, which they distributed via online mailing lists. Several years later, they also launched their own Facebook pages.

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In 2001, American Neturei Karta participated in the UN conference against racism in Durban, South Africa. During the conference, they supported the Arab countries’ claim that Israel is a racist, apartheid state that is guilty of genocide and other war crimes.52 In 2004, American Neturei Karta participated in public prayers outside the Paris hospital, where Yasser Arafat lay on his death bed.53 In 2005, they openly protested Israel’s public attacks on Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who had previously called for the annihilation of Israel. A year later a few Neturei Karta members visited Iran and met with Ahmadinejad and other officials.54 Later that year, they participated in a Holocaust conference held in Iran at which many of the speakers denied the Holocaust or downplayed its scope.55 Other Haredim were unable to tolerate such radical acts, and after their return, several of the delegates were attacked, both verbally and physically, including by members of other Extreme Orthodox groups. They were even condemned by the Satmar Rebbe, who claimed that such actions contradicted the anti-Zionist stance of his uncle, Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum.56 Regardless, American Neturei Karta continued its provocative actions. In 2011, for example, Yisroel Dovid Weiss, a leading figure in American Neturei Karta, attended a conference in London at which he called to dismantle Israel, which he accused of using a false Jewish identity to seize control over Palestine, an Arab territory.57 He also participated in a conference organized by Hezbollah in Beirut in 2018, and met with Hassan Nasrallah, the leader of the organization.58 The radical Neturei Karta groups, as well as the Satmar dissidents, followed the Hungarian Extreme Orthodox tradition and positioned themselves at their society’s outermost perimeter while continuing to push the limits in a provocative and uncompromising manner. While so doing, and in the same Hungarian spirit, they flagrantly and arrogantly exposed themselves to public shaming, overall condemnation, social sanctions, and even physical attacks. Hungarian Orthodoxy in Canada, Austria, Belgium, and Great Britain From the late nineteenth century and particularly after World War I, Orthodox Jews from the Hungarian-speaking territories settled in countries other than Israel and the USA. Seeking to maintain their Hungarian Orthodox legacy, some of them established Hasidic communities in the main cities in these countries. While initially led by local rabbis, over time some of these communities asked the Satmar Rebbe to become their spiritual leader. This resulted in the establishment of Satmar communities in Canada, Austria, Belgium, and the United Kingdom, as well as in some other countries. Later, additional Hasidic courts, usually smaller, were established by other Hungarian rebbes. These local Hasidic communities adopted some of the social characteristics of pre-Holocaust Hungarian Orthodoxy. In some cases, the extremist elements within these communities adopted a more radical worldview and regarded themselves as Neturei Karta. They

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 199 subsequently either participated in anti-Israeli demonstrations, sometimes joining public protests organized by Palestinian groups, or donated money to Neturei Karta groups in other countries. Canada

Small numbers of Jews arrived in Canada in the late eighteenth century, but their numbers remained small until the period of mass immigration to this country, which began in the early twentieth century. The newcomers included Orthodox Jews, some of whom immigrated from the Hungarian-speaking territories. Despite the hardships involved, these newcomers continued to maintain their observant lifestyle. The first Hasidic Jews arrived in Canada in the late nineteenth century, and their numbers continued to grow during the interwar period, and especially after the Holocaust.59 However, prior to the Holocaust, Canada had almost no Hungarian congregations or Hungarian Hasidic courts.60 The first sign of Hungarian Orthodoxy in Canada is marked by the arrival of Rabbi Meshulam Feish Lowy II, a Holocaust survivor from Nyirtass, Hungary. Born to a Hasidic dynasty and bearing its founder’s name, Rabbi Lowy decided to continue his family’s tradition, and in 1952, a year after his arrival, he established Canada’s first Hungarian-style Hasidic court. The court was named Tosh (or Tash), after its leader’s birth town, where his ancestors had served as local rabbis and Hasidic leaders. Seeking to implement the Hungarian principle of separation, in 1963, a small group of Tosh Hasidim purchased an area in Boisbriand, some 20 kilometers north-west of Montreal, where they established their own settlement, named Kiryas Tosh (Tosh Village).61 Unlike the Hungarian Hasidic courts of the United States, which have adopted many of the pre-Holocaust “Hungarian” characteristics, Tosh has remained relatively unaffected by these trends. Apart from its founder’s strictly anti-Zionist stance, and its members’ rigorous observance of the commandments and their separation from the surrounding community, Tosh has not supported an excessively zealous lifestyle. Unlike similar Hasidic courts in the United States, its development was very modest: compared to Satmar’s 120,000 members, Tosh has only some 3,500 Hasidim, as well as a few small branches in New York and London with a few thousand members each. Canada’s largest Hungarian community was that established by Holocaust survivors from the Hungarian-speaking territories who settled in Montreal after the war. While some simply continued their more or less observant lifestyle and established their own congregations, others sought to adopt a stricter religious life. They consequently approached the Satmar Rebbe, who had just established his community in Williamsburg, and asked him to become their spiritual leader. In 1955, he visited Montreal and launched the Canadian branch of his court.62 In 1957, it already founded its own Mikvah (ritual bath).63

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The local community continued to expand rapidly, establishing its own communal institutions and education system.64 In 1963, Rabbi Yoel again visited his community in Canada and was invited to inspect the growth of the local Satmar yeshiva.65 As the community continued to expand over the following years, it sought to distance itself from the other Orthodox communities, and in 1978 established its own Hevra Kadisha (the traditional burial society responsible for preparing the dead for burial according to religious customs).66 Following Rabbi Yoel’s death in 1979, his widow, Rebbetzin Alta Feiga, who sought to maintain her strong political status within the court, also visited this community. Besides asking for their support, she also collected donations for the charity institutions she had established.67 By the late 1980s, Satmar community in Montreal was an established and self-sufficient community that maintained its own religious and education institutions, including a yeshiva and Kollel, as well as a kashrut supervision system run in cooperation with Belz.68 In time, other Hasidic courts were established in Montreal, including some Hungarian groups such as Viznitz, Viznitz-Monsey, Munkács, Shotz, and Sanz-Klausenberg, yet Satmar still remained the largest group. By the beginning of the twenty-first century, there were some 7,000 Hasidim in Montreal, most of them concentrated in the neighborhood of Outremont. In the spirit of Hungarian separation, each established its own educational, commercial, and social institutions.69 By the 2020s, their number has grown to over 10,000, and because they constitute a significant share of the overall number of Jews, the relative share of Orthodoxy in Montreal (22 percent), is significantly higher than that in Canada as a whole (14 percent) or in the United States (6 percent).70 Canada’s Hungarian Orthodoxy is characterized by adherence to the traditional Hungarian customs. Each court maintains a safe distance from other Hasidic groups. Yet, despite formally following a strictly anti-modern and anti-Zionist ideology, the local Hasidim do not participate in anti-Israeli demonstrations and are not part of any radical group. Occasionally, a few American Neturei Karta members visit Montreal with the hope of recruiting support and funding for their activities. Austria

Jews settled in Austria since the twelfth century, yet their number grew significantly since the early nineteenth century when they were allowed not only to have their traditional education institutions but also to have their own schools. Most of the Jews, including the Orthodox, lived in the large towns and villages yet by far the largest community was in Vienna. From 1848 till the beginning of 1938, when Austria was annexed to Germany by the Nazis (the Anschluss), Austrian Jews enjoyed a prolonged period of prosperity. While many Austrian Jews managed to flee the country, between 65,000–70,000 were murdered in the Holocaust. Consequently, the great

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 201 center of Jewish life in Vienna that previously comprised of 180,000 Jews, was annihilated.71 Since the mid-nineteenth century until World War I, both Austria and Hungary were part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, which led to mutual cultural and religious influence. After the war, a small section of Hungary, known as Burgenland, was annexed to Austria and imported the Hungarianstyle separation between Orthodox and non-Orthodox communities.72 Before the Holocaust, most of Vienna’s Jews, who comprised some 10 percent of its total population, led a modern secular or religiously Reform lifestyle. Vienna also had a strong Orthodox congregation whose leaders were among the leaders of the international Orthodox movement Agudat Israel. The city’s Orthodox congregation expanded and diversified following World War I as many Hassidic rebbes found refuge in Vienna and remained there even after the war was over. Moreover, although under the Austrian regime, all the Jewish congregations, Reform, modern, and Orthodox, belonged to the same community (Israelitische Kultusgemeinde Wien, or IKG), after the war, Vienna’s Orthodox congregation was allowed greater autonomy and established its own religious and education institutions. Several hundred Holocaust survivors and refugees returned to Vienna after the war and reestablished the Jewish community. Among them was also a small group of Orthodox Jews, some of whom were of Hungarian descent. The Satmar Rebbe visited Vienna in 1955 and encouraged the Hasidim to follow his ruling and adopt his anti-Zionist and anti-modern ideology.73 Their number grew following the 1956 Hungarian revolt when many Jews, including a few hundred Orthodox Jews, fled and settled in Vienna.74 In the 1960s, the city’s Orthodox Jews had already established two Talmud Tora institutions in which boys studied after they attended the ordinary state schools. One belonged to those identifying with the Mizrahi movement, while the other catered to the ultra-Orthodox Jews, ranging from members of Agudat Israel but also to the small Hasidic community, some of its members identified as Satmar Hasidim.75 The Hasidic community’s most prominent leader was a Satmar Hasid named Yeshayahu Ratek who was the general manager and part owner of the local Allgemeine Wirtschaftsbank. Thanks to his wealth and his political connections, he was able to support both the local Hasidic community and donate to Satmar institutions in the United States. Among other things, in 1968, he helped establish the Mahazikei Hadas congregation that catered to the Hasidim, which shunned Agudat Israel and financed the salary of Rabbi Bezalel Stern who headed it. The Hasidic community continued to grow over the years and some of its highly successful businessmen were strong supporters of the Satmar court in the United States. In the mid-1970s, when the first Jews from the USSR were allowed to leave, Satmar established a refugee organization titled Rav Tov, which opened a post in Vienna, the immigrants’ first stop in the west, and encouraged some of them to settle in the United States, rather than going to

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Israel. Along the way, they also recruited a few Orthodox Jews for their local community.76 Consequently, in 1980, when Rabbi Moshe, Rabbi Yoel’s successor, wished to strengthen his public status, he visited the Rav Tov branch in Vienna and asked the local Hasidim for financial backing for the changes he planned to implement as Satmar’s new leader.77 Nowadays, of the roughly 12,000 Jews who live in Vienna, there are between 300–500 Haredi Jews; about one-third of them are Satmar Hasidim or Hasidim of other Hungarian courts. Although adopting non-Zionist ideology, the local Hasidim refrain from any controversial acts and do not initiate anti-Israeli demonstrations. The Hungarian influence among Vienna’s Orthodox Jews is manifested not only in the specific groups’ affiliations and their membership in general Hasidic congregations but also by belonging to a different political party in Vienna’s Jewish council. The only exception to that rule was Moshe Aryeh Friedman, a single person who adhered to Neturei Karta’s radical anti-Zionist ideology. In 2006, he participated in the International Conference to Review the Global Vision of the Holocaust that took place in Tehran in which he also expressed his reservation on what happened during the Holocaust.78 Following the conference, which hosted several Holocaust deniers, his children were expelled from the Talmud Torah school, and he had to move to the USA. Belgium

Jews settled in Belgium from Roman times, but their numbers only began to grow from the late eighteenth century. The first Ashkenazi communities, which followed the Eastern European Orthodox lifestyle and religious traditions, were established in the late nineteenth century, particularly in Antwerp but also in Brussels.79 Antwerp served as the world’s hub for the diamond industry, and Orthodox Jews played a leading role in the trade and manufacturing of these precious stones. Among these Orthodox Jews, was a group of Viznitz Hasidim who emigrated from Greater Hungary and maintained its former lifestyle as well as its commitment to the court’s leaders. The religious communities continued to develop after World War I, and the two Orthodox movements, Agudat Israel and Ha-Mizrahi, opened branches in Belgium and held public gatherings in Antwerp.80 These two religious groups also established two separate communities – Shomrei HaDas and Mahazikei Ha-Das – each with its own chief rabbi. About half of Belgium’s Jews, many of whom were Orthodox, were murdered during the Holocaust.81 The survivors reestablished their communities which continued to develop in the post-Holocaust era.82 By the mid-1960s, there were over 20 different synagogues in Antwerp, each catering for a different religious group.83 Today there are some 10,000 Haredim in Belgium, constituting over one-third of the total Jewish population in the country. About a third of the Haredim are affiliated with either Satmar or Viznitz.84

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 203 After the Holocaust, Hungarian Orthodoxy was represented in Belgium particularly by the Satmar court established in Antwerp in 1949, which was the first Hasidic court outside of Brooklyn to adopt Rabbi Yoel as its spiritual leader and to accept his strict set of communal regulations. At first, the Satmar community was led by Rabbi Yosef Greenwald, a Hungarian Holocaust survivor who had earlier served as the chief rabbi of Pupa (Pápa).85 In 1952, on his way to Israel, the Satmar Rebbe visited his community in Antwerp and thanked its members for their support for the institutions he established in Williamsburg and Jerusalem.86 The Satmar community in Antwerp continued to develop over the following years and several of its members, who were successful businessmen, donated large sums to the court’s institutions. Besides their own synagogue and study hall, by the late 1970s, they also established a Mikvah and educational institutions for the community’s 250 boys and girls.87 Consequently, in 1980, after Rabbi Moshe replaced Rabbi Yoel as the court’s leader, he visited this community to secure their support.88 He visited Antwerp again in 1986 and encouraged them to expand their institutions and to donate money to Satmar’s other initiatives.89 As was the case in Vienna and Montreal, the Satmar Hasidim in Belgium adhered to their anti-Zionist ideology and separatist lifestyle, but focused on their daily affairs and refrained from any public protest. In time the community grew, partly as a result of Satmar Hasidim who moved there from Britain.90 Although they usually adhere to local laws and regulations, over recent decades Satmar and other Hasidic courts have failed to meet the mandatory number of hours dedicated to the teaching of secular studies in their institutions. This has resulted in threats by national and municipal authorities to close them.91 The one exception to the community’s otherwise nonprovocative approach was Moshe Aryeh Friedman, the above-mentioned provocateur from Vienna who in 2007 moved to New York and in 2011 settled in Antwerp, where he resumed his anti-Zionist activities. As was the case in Vienna, he was shunned by the other Hasidim and his daughters were expelled from school. Friedman appealed to the local court, which compelled the school to re-admit them.92 However, after his sons were expelled, he was forced to enroll them at the Orthodox girls’ school.93 He subsequently retreated from his previous radical lifestyle and adopted a more modern and tolerant approach.94 Great Britain

The first Jewish community was established in England in the eleventh century. The first Ashkenazi Jews arrived in the seventeenth century, and their number soared during the period of mass migration that began in the late nineteenth century. By the eve of World War II there were almost 500,000 Jews in Britain, most of them Ashkenazi. After the Holocaust, the number of Jews declined, and today the community numbers fewer than 300,000. About

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half of Britain’s Jews are affiliated to a synagogue, and of these, some 60 percent belong to Orthodox congregations. Consequently, although Canada has a larger Jewish population, Britain’s 75,000 Haredim – over onefourth of the total Jewish population – constitutes the largest Haredi community after Israel and the USA.95 Most of the Haredim are concentrated in three cities: London, Manchester, and Gateshead.96 Although Orthodox Jews from the Hungarian-speaking territories arrived in Britain from the early twentieth century, they did not initially form their own congregations. Separate Hungarian-style Hasidic communities were established by Satmar and Viznitz only after the Holocaust. Satmar has always been Britain’s largest Hungarian community, and is also the one that shows a strong “Hungarian” character. Viznitz is smaller and does not stand out as overly zealous. In both cases, the first communities were established in Stamford Hill, London, and both courts later established additional communities in the Haredi concentration in Salford, Manchester.97 A small group of Hungarian Hasidim in London established their own community in the early 1950s, and in 1952 they invited Rabbi Yoel, the Satmar Rebbe, to visit them on his way to Israel.98 After they asked him for spiritual guidance, they established the local Satmar community. The Satmar Rebbe also visited his London community in 1955, and it was following this visit that Satmar established its first separate institutions.99 Rabbi Yoel returned to his London community as part of his next visits to Israel in 1959 and 1965.100 The success of the Satmar Hasidim prompted non-Hungarian Hasidic rebbes to visit London and establish their own branches in the city.101 Consequently, since the mid-1960s Stamford Hill began to be known for its unique ultra-Orthodox character and for the revival of Hasidism.102 After Rabbi Yoel’s death, his successor, his nephew Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum, also visited the community in 1982, 1985, and 1989, urging his Hasidim to contribute to his various projects. In 1989, the court’s branch in London, which numbered a few hundred families, established what was then considered Europe’s largest Hasidic synagogue and study hall.103 Rabbi Moshe’s last visits were in 1994, when another synagogue and study hall were inaugurated, and in 1995, when he participated in a family celebration of one of the top benefactors of the court.104 Despite their reclusive, anti-Zionist, and anti-modern ideology, the Satmar community in Britain participated both in Jewish and general politics. Their institutions followed the obligatory regulations concerning general studies, and in recent decades Satmar Hasidim living in Stamford Hill were even elected as counselors in the Borough of Hackney.105 In addition, Satmar charities received government and municipal funding for their activities.106 Because of rising housing costs, Hackney’s local council even allocated public housing to the Satmar community.107 As a rule, the Satmar community distanced itself from the provocative actions of the local Neturei Karta.108 This rule, however, was not respected by all members of the community and, after the death of Rabbi Yoel, the founder of the court, a few youngsters

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 205 adopted a more activist approach and occasionally staged anti-Israeli demonstrations.109 Today, there are two Viznitz and about a dozen Satmar congregations in London and Manchester, each with about 50–200 families.110 Since the beginning of the twenty-first century, Satmar’s institutions have grown stronger, and the court is becoming a leading force within Britain’s overall Orthodox leadership.111 During that period, Satmar faced charges that their education institutions were not built according to the permits they received, did not follow basic safety standards for their students, and failed to provide the required level of secular studies.112 In recent years, a group of Hasidim, most of them from Satmar, have sought to establish their own rural community, far away from the bustling city life that they consider a threat to their children’s upbringing. To that end, they have purchased a local school in Canvey Island, a small town some 50 kilometers east of London, and established their own community in the area.113 Some of Britain’s Hasidim were very successful businessmen who donated large sums of money to the court’s institutions both in the United States and in Israel. One of the court’s most prominent members was Getzil (Gershon) Berger, a British real estate billionaire who donated to many Haredi institutions but particularly to Satmar.114 His support was so extensive that he was one of only two laymen who had a street named after them in Kiryas Yoel.115 Another Haredi millionaire, who for many years led Neturei Karta in Britain and in Israel, was Yisroel Yerahmiel Domb.116 He was born and raised in a Hasidic family in Poland, and after the Holocaust settled in London and made a fortune as a jewelry and precious stones dealer. Domb adopted Hungarian Orthodoxy’s radical anti-modern and anti-Zionist worldviews and became Neturei Karta’s most prominent activist and benefactor.117 Under Domb’s leadership, London’s Neturei Karta began their activities and public protests in the 1950s.118 In 1958, Domb published The Transformation, a book in English in which he explained in great detail Neturei Karta’s anti-Zionist and anti-modern ideology.119 From 1962 through 1965, he also published Comment, an English and Hebrew periodical supporting Neturei Karta that was banned by the other Orthodox organizations.120 During this period, Neturei Karta in Britain cooperated with other Jewish and non-Jewish anti-Zionist organizations and attacked Britain’s Orthodox rabbis and newspapers for their religious laxity.121 Domb published many articles in Neturei Karta’s journals, as well as in the general Jewish press, and continued to publish books promoting his anti-Zionist ideology.122 After the Six-Day War, London’s Neturei Karta began cooperating with the PLO and other Arab movements.123 They also launched various protest against Israel and against what they considered its anti-religious policy and were sometimes joined by the local Satmar Hasidim.124 Since the mid-1970s, a few Neturei Karta members from Britain have cooperated with various Palestinian organizations and with local anti-Zionist organizations to hold joint anti-Israeli demonstrations and other political activities.125 Since the

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1980s Neturei Karta also participated in anti-Zionist events at British universities, sometimes alongside Palestinian, anti-Zionist, and even anti-Semitic speakers.126 Consequently, London has become the main venue for meetings between Neturei Karta and Palestinian officials.127 Since the turn of the twenty-first century, Britain’s Neturei Karta has adopted an even more radical stance, not only protesting against Israel but also cooperating with its fiercest enemies.128 For example, in 2006, members of Britain’s Neturei Karta participated in the International Conference to Review the Global Vision of the Holocaust in Tehran, which hosted some Holocaust deniers. Consequently, the majority of the Satmar Hasidim, and even Domb, voiced their objection to Neturei Karta’s cooperation with Palestinian or Muslim organizations, and particularly to their visits to Iran.129 Regardless, Neturei Karta’s anti-Zionist demonstrations, sometimes alongside with Palestinians, BDS movements, or other anti-Israeli groups, continue to be a common sight in the British capital.130 Hungarian Orthodoxy Elsewhere Hungarian Orthodoxy, represented by small Hasidic communities, mainly Satmar, were established after World War II in other cities, including Los Angeles, Miami, and Detroit in the United States; Buenos Aires, Argentina; Montevideo, Uruguay; Zurich and Lugano, Switzerland; São Paulo, Brazil; and Melbourne, Australia.131 These communities each number 100–300 families. Besides following the court’s strict regulations, praying and studying in their own synagogue and study hall, and sending their sons to be educated in Satmar’s institution in the United States, these small communities keep a low profile and are not involved in any public protests or open controversies with the other Haredi communities in their region.132 Interestingly, although in contemporary Hungary there are still separate Orthodox and non-Orthodox communities, not a single community perpetuates the legacy and historical characteristics of the original Hungarian Orthodoxy. Notes 1 Marcin Wodziński, The Historical Atlas of Hasidism, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018, 194–195. 2 Sima Zalcberg, “‘Grace is deceitful and beauty is vain’: How hassidic women cope with the requirement of shaving one’s head and wearing a black kerchief,” Gender Issues 24 (3) (2007): 13–34. 3 Menachem Friedman, Society and Religion: The Non-Zionist Orthodox in EretzIsrael, 1918–1936, Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 1978 (in Hebrew). 4 Michal Shaul, Beauty for Ashes: Holocaust Memory and the Rehabilitation of Ashkenazi Haredi Society in Israel, 1945–1961, Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2014 (in Hebrew). 5 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) society and the State of Israel in its first decade as reflected in the Haredi press,” Kesher 52 (2019): 74–91 (in Hebrew).

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 207 6 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Walls of Separation: Neturei Karta’s Magazines 1944–1958,” Kesher 50 (2018): 71–88 7 Menachem Friedman, “‘Neturei Karta’ Ve-Hafganot Ha-Shabat Bi-Yerushlayim Be-1848–1950” (Neturei Karta and the Sabbath demonstrations in Jerusalem in 1948–1950), in: Yerushalaim Ha-Hatzuya 1948–1967: Mekorot, Sikumim, Parshiyot Nivcharot Ve-Homer Ezer, edited by Avi Barely, Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1982, 224–240; Kimmy Caplan, Amram Blau: The World of Neturei Karta’s Leader, Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2017 (in Hebrew). 8 Naomi Levenkron, “The role of the Israel police in the establishment of Haredi citizenship: The protest against Sabbath desecration in Jerusalem (1948–1956),” Police and History 2 (2020): 115–156 (in Hebrew). 9 Motti Inbari, “The modesty campaigns of Rabbi Amram Blau and the Neturei Karta movement, 1938–1974,” Israel Studies 17 (1) (2012): 105–129. 10 Kimmy Caplan, “‘Hutspedike Shmotsedike Gioret’: Ha-Parasha Shel Nisuei Amram Blau Ve-Ruth Ben-David,” Iunim Be-Tekumat Israel 20 (2010): 300–335 (in Hebrew). 11 Yair Ha-Levi, Teguvot Ha-Zerem Ha-Haredi Ha-Merkazi Le-Milhemet Sheshet Ha-Yamim, MA thesis, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2011 (Hebrew); Menachem Keren-Kratz, “‘Al ken ein zot milhemet reshut’ milhemet sheshet hayamim be-eiynaim harediot,” Et-Mol 250 (2017): 9–12 (in Hebrew). 12 Yoel Teitelbaum, Al Ha-Geula Ve-Al Ha-Temurah, New York: Jerusalem, 1967 (in Hebrew). Rabbi Yoel wrote the book’s introduction and reviewed and edited the book chapters that were written by his students. 13 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Is the Jewish State the Ultimate Evil or a Golden Opportunity? Ideology vs. Politics in the Teachings and Actions of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – the Satmar Rebbe,” Jewish Political Studies Review 29 (1–2) (2018): 5–26. 14 Caplan, “‘Hutspedike Shmotsedike Gioret.” 15 Ma’ariv, May 16, 1968, 1. 16 Ma’ariv, September 1, 1974, 8; ibid., September 11, 1974, 4. 17 Ma’ariv, June 3, 1973, 12. Ibid., July 14, 1975, 4; ibid., July 17, 1975, 4. 18 Ma’ariv, August 20, 1976, 3. 19 Ma’ariv, March 27, 1980, 3; ibid., July 13, 1980, 3. 20 Hok Le-Tikun Pekudat Meniat Teror [A law updating the anti-terror act], 1980. 21 NYT, December 1, 1981, A14. 22 Davar, February 13, 1984, 4; ibid., July 4, 1984, 3; Ibid., July 31, 1984, 3. 23 Davar, December 7, 1985, 3. 24 Davar, March 8, 1988, 3; ibid., March 14, 1988, 3; ibid., March 18, 1988, 2; ibid., December 9, 1988, 3. 25 Davar, April 23, 1992, 2; ibid., August 3, 1992, 4; ibid., May 1, 1994, 2; ibid., May 4, 1994, 3. 26 Walla, September 9, 2010, news.walla.co.il/item/1731242; Ynet, December 25, 2011, www.ynet.co.il/articles/0,7340,L-4166342,00.html; Ha’aretz, September, 7, 2011, www.haaretz.co.il/news/education/1.1448035. 27 Ynet, November 24, 2011, www.ynet.co.il/articles/0,7340,L-4152648,00.html; Walla, December 26, 2011, news.walla.co.il/item/1888315. 28 Arutz 7, August 30, 2011, www.inn.co.il/news/225132. 29 Ynet, June 11, 2012, www.ynet.co.il/articles/0,7340,L-4240879,00.html; Walla, June 26, 2012, news.walla.co.il/item/2544811. 30 Ha’aretz, August 1, 2013, www.haaretz.co.il/news/politics/1.2086896; Ibid., March 30, 2017, www.haaretz.co.il/news/politics/1.2228779. 31 Keren-Kratz, “Is the Jewish State.” 32 Wodziński, The Historical Atlas of Hasidism, 192.

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33 Wodziński, The Historical Atlas of Hasidism, 198–199, 202. 34 Der Yid, May 30, 1969, 1; ibid., June 13, 1969, 1–2, 5; ibid., June 27, 1969, 2; ibid., September 19, 1969, 4; Tog / Morgen Journal, June 13, 1969, 1; Ha-Homa, Tamuz 5,729 (1969), 38–39. 35 Ha-Maor, Kislev-Tevet-Shevat 5,730 (1970), 44, 55; ibid., Adar 1–2, 5,730 (1970), 22; Ha-Homa, Shevat-Adar 5,730 (1970), 123–130, 142; JTA, February 11, 1970, 4. 36 Jewish Chronicle, March 7, 1975, 6; ibid., February 25, 1977, 4; ibid., March 4, 1977, 22; Kuntras Hasbara: Yotze La-Or Al Yedei Ha-Talmidim Ha-Holkhim BeShaitat Admo”r Shlita, Brooklyn, 1976. 37 Menachem Keren-Kratz and Motti Inbari, “The Sociological Model of Haredi Rebbetzins: ‘Two-Person Single Career’ vs. ‘Parallel-Life Family’,” AJS Review 46 (2) (2022): 270–290. 38 Noah Zevuluni, “Milhemet Ha-Eruv Goleshet Mi-Flatbush Le-Borough Park,” October 1980. https://ranaz.co.il/notPublished/article16_19801000.asp; Yeshayahu Tuvia Director, Sefer Torat Tikunei Eruvin: Teshuvat Ha-Rabanim […] Be-Inyan Tikun Ha-Eruv Ba-Ir Brooklyn, Brooklyn, 1981. 39 Yediot Aharonot, August 22, 1978, 7; ibid., August 30, 1979, 2; ibid., August 31, 1979, 2. 40 Der Yid, December 28, 1979, 1, 9, 12–13, 31; ibid., January 4, 1980, 6; ibid., May 2, 1980, 1; ibid., October 10, 1980, 6. 41 Louis Grumet and John Caher, The Curious Case of Kiryas Joel: The Rise of a Village Theocracy and the Battle to Defend the Separation of Church and State, Chicago: Chicago Review Press, 2016. 42 Nomi M. Stolzenberg and David N. Myers, American Shtetl: The Making of Kiryas Joel, a Hasidic Village in Upstate New York, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2021. 43 Samuel C. Heilman, Who Will Lead Us?: The Story of Five Hasidic Dynasties in America,Oakland: University of California Press, 2017, 152–209. 44 Wodziński, The Historical Atlas of Hasidism, 204–205. 45 Ha-Tzofe, January 22, 1969, 2. 46 Ma’ariv, January 30, 1970, 1; ibid., March 13, 1970, 20. 47 For example: Moshe Dov Beck, Kuntras Hasbara: […] Al Darkei Ha-Tsionut, Jerusalem, 1968; idem., Kuntras Milhama Lahashem Ba-Amalek, Monsey: M.D. Beck, 1992; idem., Kuntras Derekh Ha-Galut: Leva’er Inyan Halikha Le’oto Sar, Monsey: Moshe Dov Beck, 1999; idem., Kuntras Derekh Hatsla: Teshuva LaShoalim Be-Inyan Ha-Halikha Im Ha-Palestinayim, Monsey: Naturei Karta, 2002. 48 Mishpacha, October 3, 2016 ( www.mishpacha.com/clouds-of-faith/); ibid., March 21, 2018 ( www.mishpacha.com/a-singular-foundation/). 49 Davar, July 13, 1980, 3. 50 Lee Cahaner, Nicola Nikola Yozgof-Orbac, and Arnon Sofer, Ha-Haredim BeIsrael: Merhav, Hevra, Kehila, Haifa: Haifa University, 2012, 140–141 (in Hebrew). 51 www.nkusa.org and www.truetorahjews.org, respectively. 52 Ynet, August 29, 2001, www.ynet.co.il/articles/0,7340,L-1066629,00.html; Ha’aretz, September 6, 2001, https://www.haaretz.co.il/misc/1.731736. 53 New York Times, November 11, 2004, www.nytimes.com/2004/11/11/world/europe/ arafats-followers-kept-solemn-vigil-outside-hospital-in-france.html. 54 Nkusa.org, October 28, 2005, www.nkusa.org/activities/Statements/2005Oct28Iran. cfm. 55 Ynet, December 14, 2006, www.ynet.co.il/articles/0,7340,L-3340043,00.html; Globs, June 13, 2008, www.globes.co.il/news/article.aspx?did=1000351025; NYT, January 15, 2007.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 209 56 Ynet, December 15, 2006, www.ynet.co.il/articles/0,7340,L-3340422,00.html; ibid., February 7, 2007, www.ynet.co.il/articles/0,7340,L-3362227,00.html. 57 The Jewish Chronicle, January 4, 2019, www.thejc.com/news/uk-news/corbyncondemned-after-expressing-agreement-with-zionism-has-nothing-to-do-withjudaism-claim-1.478100 . 58 Times of Israel, 14 March 2018, www.timesofisrael.com/anti-zionist-rabbi-giveshezbollah-chief-in-beirut-gift-from-the-jewish-people/. 59 Pierre Anctil et Ira Robinson (eds.), Les Juifs Hassidiques de Montréal, Montréal: l’Université de Montréal, 2019. 60 Steven Lapidus, “The forgotten Hasidim: rabbis and rebbes in prewar Canada,” Canadian Jewish Studies 12 (2004): 1–30; William Shaffir, “Hasidim in Canada,” in: Canada’s Jews: In Time, Space and Spirit, edited by Ira Robinson, Brighton, MA: Academic Studies Press, 2013, 282–293. 61 William Shaffir, “Separation from the mainstream in Canada: The Hasidic community of Tash”, in: Jews in Canada, edited by Robert J. Brym, William Shaffir, and Morton Weinfeld, Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1993, 126–141. 62 Der Yid, November 11, 1955, 2. 63 Jewish Chronicle, June 28, 1957, 13. 64 Der Yid, August 5, 1960, 6; ibid., October 5, 1962, 4. 65 Der Yid, August 30, 1963, 1, 3; ibid., September 27, 1963, 3. 66 Der Yid, May 19, 1978, 1, 5, 19. 67 Der Yid, October 24, 1980, 26. 68 Jewish Chronicle, October 4, 1988, 5. 69 Randal F. Schnoor, “Tradition and innovation in an ultra-Orthodox community: The Hasidim of Outremont,” Canadian Jewish Studies 10 (2002): 53–73; Steven Lapidus and William Shaffir, “La complétude institutionnelle parmi les Hassidim,” in: Les Juifs Hassidiques de Montréal, edited by e Pierre Anctil and Ira Robinson, Montreal: University of Montreal Press, 2019, 97–114; Daniel L. Staetsky, “Haredi Jews around the world: Population trends and estimates,” Institute for Jewish Policy Research, 2022, 7, file:///C:/Users/menac/Downloads/ haredi-Jews-around-the-world-jpr-2022_1.pdf. 70 Ibid., 55; Shaffir, “Hasidim in Canada,” 282. 71 Shlomo Spitzer, Kehilot Austria, Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalayim, 2017, 60–244. 72 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Keeping up the separatist tradition: Hungarian Orthodoxy in interwar Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy,” Journal of Modern Jewish Studies 19 (4) (2020): 472–489. 73 Ma’ariv, October 24, 1954, 2; ibid., February 11, 1955, 1. 74 Tog / Morgen Journal, November 1, 1956, 10 75 Panim El panim, May 28, 1965, 14–16. 76 Yediot Aharonot, May 20, 1975, 5; Davar, January 22, 1982, 30. 77 Allgemeiner Journal, July 11, 1980, 1; Der Yid, July 18, 1980, 1, 21. 78 The Guardian. 11 December 2006; New York Times, 13 December 2006; The Washington Post, January 27, 2007; The Vienna Review, March 1, 2007. 79 Veerle Vanden Daelen, “In the port city we meet?: Jewish migration and Jewish life in Antwerp during the late 19th and early 20th centuries,” Les Cahiers de la Mémoire Contemporaine, 13 (2018): 55–94. 80 Ha-Derekh, Sivan 5,674 (1914), 6–9; Kol Israel, January 4, 1924, 3; ibid., October 8, 1926, 2–3; ibid., October 15, 1926, 2. 81 Dan Michman, “Why did so many of the Jews in Antwerp perish in the Holocaust?” Yad Vashem Studies 30 (2002): 465–481. 82 Veerle Vanden Daelen, “Returning: Jewish life in Antwerp in the aftermath of the Second World War, 1944–1945,” European Judaism 38 (2) (2005): 26–42; idem.,

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96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106

Hungarian Orthodoxy Outside of Europe “Orthodoxy through diamonds: Jewish life in Antwerp after World War II,” in: Purchasing Power: The Economics of Modern Jewish History, edited by Rebecca Kobrin and Adam Teller, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015, 192–215. Panim El Panim, August 6, 1965, 14–16; ibid., August 20, 1965, 14–17. Staetsky, “Haredi Jews around the world,” 7; Wodziński, The Historical Atlas of Hasidism, 185. Morgen Journal, August 26, 1952, 1; Ben-Zion Yakobovitz, Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 4, Bnei Brak, 1998, 347–368. Der Tog / Morgen Journal, May 27, 1959, 2; Yoel Teitelbaum, Letters, vol. 2, New York: Yerushalayim, 1981, 15–16. Der Yid, January 25, 1974, 11; ibid., November 28, 1975, 20; ibid., March 24, 1978, 22. Der Yid, July 18, 1980, 1, 21. Der Yid, March 14, 1986, 20–21. Jewish Chronicle, January 5, 1962, 15; ibid. November 27, 1970, 21; ibid., November 10, 1989, 1. Jewish Chronicle, September 16, 2005, 12. New York Post, December 4, 2011; JTA, December 29, 2012; ibid., March 13, 2013; Ynet, December 30, 2012. Be-Hadrei Haredim, January 1, 2013; ibid., February 7, 2013. Kikar Ha-Shabat, January 15, 2016, www.kikar.co.il/world-news/190601 Donatella Casale Mashiah, Synagogue membership in the United Kingdom in 2016, Institute for Jewish Policy Research & Board of Deputies of British Jews, 2017, file:/// C:/Users/menac/Downloads/ Synagogue_membership_in_the_United_Kingdom_in_2016.pdf; Staetsky, “Haredi Jews around the world,” 7. On GB’s Haredi community see: Shlomit Flint Ashery, Spatial Behavior in Haredi Jewish Communities in Great Britain, Cham: Springer, 2020. Yaakov Wise, “The establishment of ultra-Orthodoxy in Manchester,” Melilah 7 (11) (2012): 25–56; Orthodox Jewish community IN Salford, https://archive.jpr. org.uk/download?id=2448. Jewish Chronicle, July 11, 1952, 10; ibid., August 15, 1952, 1, 8; ibid., August 22, 1952, 16–17; Morgen Journal, August 26, 1952, 1; ibid., August 27, 1952, 1. Jewish Chronicle, May 6, 1955, 28; ibid., June 10, 1955, 5; ibid., June 17, 1955, 11; Morgen Journal, June 2, 1955, 1; Der Yid, June 24, 1955, 2; Kuntres Masa HaKodesh: London 5715 (1955), New York, 2010. Morgen Journal, June 21, 1959, 1; ibid., July 17, 1959, 15, 24; Jewish Chronicle, June 12, 1959, 6; ibid., June 26, 1959, 9; ibid., July 3, 1959, 5–6; Der Yid, June 26, 1959, 1; ibid., July 10, 1959, 2; ibid., July 24, 1959, 1; ibid., August 6, 1965, 1. Jewish Chronicle, December 26, 1952, 10; ibid., October 2, 1959, 64; ibid., October 19, 1984, 3; ibid., December 27, 1985, 2 Panin El Panim, December 17, 1965, 9. Jewish Chronicle, July 9, 1982, 40; ibid., July 21, 1989, 1; Der Yid, July 9, 1982, 1–2; ibid., November 17, 1989, 3; The Australian Jewish News, July 19, 1985, 5; ibid., August 11, 1989, 10. Jewish Chronicle, June 10, 1994, 1; ibid., June 17, 1994, 15; ibid., January 1, 1995, 1. Jewish Chronicle, September 2, 1988, 1; ibid., September 16, 1988, 1; ibid., April 17, 1992, 10; ibid., January 21, 1994, 12; ibid., October 25, 1996, 8; ibid., May 1, 1998, 15; ibid., May 19, 2000, 1. Jewish Chronicle, October 4, 1985, 1; ibid., November 29, 1985, 11; ibid., December 26, 1986, 1; February 9, 1990, 1; ibid., September 24, 2010, C2.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 211 107 Jewish Chronicle, November 10, 1989, 3; ibid., January 11, 1994, 9; ibid., February 24, 1995, 13. 108 Jewish Chronicle, July 25, 1969, 17; ibid., November 28, 1975, 48–49; ibid., May 1, 1981, 10; ibid., December 22, 2006, 28. 109 Jewish Chronicle, August 14, 1981, 1, 36; ibid., February 15, 1985, 1; ibid., May 23, 2014, 24. 110 Jewish Chronicle, August 8, 2003, 1; ibid., January 27, 2006, 2; ibid., January 19, 2007, 4; ibid., August 1, 2008, 8; ibid., August 22, 2008, 6; ibid., May 13, 2011, C1; ibid., March 30, 2012, C4; ibid., October 24, 2014, 9; ibid., January 2, 2015, 4; ibid., September 18, 2015, 21; ibid., March 11, 2016, 36; ibid., January16, 2017, 16; ibid., November 16, 2018, 25; ibid., October 11, 2019, 13. 111 Jewish Chronicle, August 3, 1990, 36; ibid., July 12, 2002, 1. 112 Jewish Chronicle, November 10, 1989, 3; ibid., January 11, 1994, 9; ibid., February 24, 1995, 13. 113 Shlomit Flint Ashery, “A Ghetto Within an Island? The Satmar Community of Canvey Island,” CIST (2020), https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/hal-03114694/ document. 114 Jewish Chronicle, September 9, 1955, 29; ibid., September 23, 1977, 1; ibid., July 1, 198, 21; ibid., January 27, 1984, 2–3; Nachman Seltzer, Reb Getzel: The Dramatic Life of Reb Getzel, New Jersey: Saar Press, 2021. 115 Mashiah, Synagogue membership in the United Kingdom, 39–42. 116 Hadashot, September 19, 1986, 33–35. 117 Behadrei Haredim, March 12, 2013, https://www.bhol.co.il/news/127182. 118 Jewish Chronicle, December 24, 1954, 8; ibid., February 22, 1957, 27; ibid., May 2, 1958, 5, 8. 119 Jewish Chronicle, March 31, 1958, 31; ibid., August 1, 1958, 16; Israel Yerahmiel Domb, The Transformation: The Case of the Neturei Karta, London: Ha-Madpis, 1958. 120 Jewish Chronicle, August 17, 1962, 9; ibid., August 24, 1962, 15. 121 Jewish Chronicle, September 13, 1963, 8; ibid., July 10, 1964, 8; ibid., November 20, 1964, 8; ibid., September 9, 1966, 46; ibid., October 28, 1966, 7; ibid., March 15, 1968, 24; ibid., March 22, 1968, 6. 122 Australian Jewish Herald, October 12, 1951, 4; Yisroel Yerahmiel Domb, Al HaNisim, Jerusalem, 1957; idem., Lo Nitsahon, London, 1961; idem., Et Nisayon: Biur Be-Inyan Ha-Tsionut, Jerusalem, 1972; idem., Aspaklarya Shel Torah, Jerusalem: Homat Yerushalayim, 2006. 123 Jewish Chronicle, May 24, 1968, 6; ibid., May 31, 1968, 1; Panim El Panim, January 24, 1969, 9; ibid., January 31, 1969, 17. 124 Jewish Chronicle, June 20, 1969, 48; Ha-Homa, Tamuz 5,729 (1969), 253–255; Ma’ariv. August 19, 1977, 18; The Australian Jewish Times, July 31, 1969, 12; ibid. July 3, 1975, 11. 125 Jewish Chronicle, September 12, 1975, 2; ibid., January 25, 1980, 23; ibid., June 27, 1980, 8; ibid., November 28, 1980, 2; ibid., April 17, 1981, 40; ibid., September 18, 1981, 22; ibid., October 15, 1982, 1; January 15, 1988, 1; ibid., February 19, 1988, 26; ibid., June 17, 1988, 52. 126 Jewish Chronicle, December 18, 1982, 8; ibid., March 7, 2003, 21; ibid., august 4, 2006, 25; ibid., November 24, 2006, 21. 127 Jewish Chronicle, January 11, 1991, 9; January 1, 1994, 4. 128 Jewish Chronicle, May 1, 1998, 1; ibid., June 116, 2000, 4; ibid., November 6, 2001, 1; ibid., April 19, 2001, 1; May 10, 2002, 6; March 19, 2004, 4; ibid., April 2, 2004, 22; ibid., February 24, 2006, 46; ibid., March 17, 2006, 4; ibid., June 16, 2006, 4.

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129 Jewish Chronicle, April 7, 2006, 2; ibid., September 22, 2006, 59; ibid., December 22, 2006, 3. 130 Jewish Chronicle, June 15, 2007, 6, 37; ibid., October 12, 2007, 4; ibid., March 21, 2008, 10; ibid., July 4, 2008, 6; January 16, 2009, 3; January 15, 2010, 4; January 28, 2011, 8; April 13, 2012, 20; ibid., June 23, 2017, 6; ibid., June 15, 2018, 6; ibid., January 11, 2019, 5; ibid., February 28, 2020, 30. 131 Wodziński, The Historical Atlas of Hasidism, 194–195. 132 Der Yid, November 24, 1978, 1, 25; The Australian Jewish News, June 11, 1999, 18; ibid., January 16, 2004, 15.

Bibliography Anctil, Pierre et Ira Robinson (eds.). Les Juifs Hassidiques de Montréal. Montréal: l’Université de Montréal, 2019. Beck, Moshe Dov. Kuntras Derekh Ha-Galut: Leva’er Inyan Halikha Le’oto Sar. Monsey: Moshe Dov Beck, 1999. Beck, Moshe Dov. Kuntras Derekh Hatsla: Teshuva La-Shoalim Be-Inyan Ha-Halikha Im Ha-Palestinayim. Monsey: Naturei Karta, 2002. Beck, Moshe Dov. Kuntras Milhama Lahashem Ba-Amalek. Monsey: M. D. Beck, 1992. Beck, Moshe Dov. Kuntres Hasbara: […] Al Darkei Ha-Tsionut. Jerusalem, 1968. Cahaner, Lee, Nicola Nikola Yozgof-Orbac, and Arnon Sofer. Ha-Haredim Be-Israel: Merhav, Hevra, Kehila. Haifa: Haifa University, 2012. Caplan, Kimmy. “‘Hutspedike Shmotsedike Gioret’: Ha-Parasha Shel Nisuei Amram Blau Ve-Ruth Ben-David.” Iunim Be-Tekumat Israel 20 (2010): 300–335. Caplan, Kimmy. Amram Blau: The World of Neturei Karta’s Leader. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2017. Daelen, Veerle Vanden. “In the port city we meet?: Jewish migration and Jewish life in Antwerp during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.” Les Cahiers de la Mémoire Contemporaine, 13 (2018): 55–94. Daelen, Veerle Vanden. “Orthodoxy through diamonds: Jewish life in Antwerp after World War II.” In: Kobrin, Rebecca and Adam Teller (eds.). Purchasing Power: The Economics of Modern Jewish History. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015, 192–215. Daelen, Veerle Vanden. “Returning: Jewish life in Antwerp in the aftermath of the Second World War, 1944–1945.” European Judaism 38 (2) (2005): 26–42. Director, Yeshayahu Tuvia. Sefer Torat Tikunei Eruvin: Teshuvat Ha-Rabanim […] Be-Inyan Tikun Ha-Eruv Ba-Ir Brooklyn. Brooklyn, 1981. Domb, Israel Yerahmiel. The Transformation: The Case of the Neturei Karta. London: Ha-Madpis, 1958. Domb, Yisroel Yerahmiel. Al Ha-Nisim. Jerusalem, 1957. Domb, Yisroel Yerahmiel. Aspaklarya Shel Torah. Jerusalem: Homat Yerushalayim, 2006. Domb, Yisroel Yerahmiel. Et Nisayon: Biur Be-Inyan Ha-Tsionut, Jerusalem. 1972. Domb, Yisroel Yerahmiel. Lo Nitsahon. London, 1961. Flint Ashery, Shlomit. “A Ghetto Within an Island? The Satmar Community of Canvey Island.” CIST (2020), https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/hal-03114694/document. Flint Ashery, Shlomit. Spatial Behavior in Haredi Jewish Communities in Great Britain. Cham: Springer, 2020.

Hungarian Orthodoxy in Contemporary Haredi Society 213 Friedman, Menachem. “‘Neturei Karta’ Ve-Hafganot Ha-Shabat Bi-Yerushlayim Be-1848-1950” (Neturei Karta and the Sabbath demonstrations in Jerusalem in 1948-1950). In: Bareli, Avi (ed.). Yerushalaim Ha-Hatzuya 1948-1967: Mekorot, Sikumim, Parshiyot Nivcharot Ve-Homer Ezer. Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 1982, 224–240. Friedman, Menachem. Society and Religion: The Non-Zionist Orthodox in EretzIsrael, 1918–1936. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 1978. Grumet, Louis and John Caher. The Curious Case of Kiryas Joel: The Rise of a Village Theocracy and the Battle to Defend the Separation of Church and State. Chicago: Chicago Review Press, 2016. Ha-Levi, Yair. Teguvot Ha-Zerem Ha-Haredi Ha-Merkazi Le-Milhemet Sheshet HaYamim. M. A. thesis, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2011. Heilman, Samuel C. Who Will Lead Us?: The Story of Five Hasidic Dynasties in America. Oakland: University of California Press, 2017. Inbari, Motti. “The modesty campaigns of Rabbi Amram Blau and the Neturei Karta movement, 1938–1974.” Israel Studies 17 (1) (2012): 105–129. Keren-Kratz, Menachem and Motti Inbari. “The sociological model of Haredi Rebbetzins: ‘two-person single career’ vs. ‘parallel-life family’.” AJS Review 46 (2) (2022): 270–290. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “‘Al ken ein zot milhemet reshut’ milhemet sheshet hayamim be-eiynaim harediot.” Et-Mol 250 (2017): 9–12. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) society and the State of Israel in its first decade as reflected in the Haredi press.” Kesher 52 (2019): 74–91. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Is the Jewish State the ultimate evil or a golden opportunity? ideology vs. politics in the teachings and actions of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – the Satmar Rebbe.” Jewish Political Studies Review 29 (1-2) (2018): 5–26. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Keeping up the separatist tradition: Hungarian Orthodoxy in interwar Austria, Yugoslavia, and Italy.” Journal of Modern Jewish Studies 19 (4) (2020): 472–489. Keren-Kratz, Menachem. “Walls of separation: Neturei Karta’s magazines 1944–1958.” Kesher 50 (2018): 71–88. Kuntras Hasbara: Yotze La-Or Al Yedei Ha-Talmidim Ha-Holkhim Be-Shaitat Admo”r Shlita. Brooklyn, 1976. Kuntras Masa Ha-Kodesh: London 5715 (1955). New York, 2010. Lapidus, Steven and William Shaffir. “La complétude institutionnelle parmi les Hassidim.” In: Anctil, Pierre and Ira Robinson (eds.). Les Juifs Hassidiques de Montréal. Montreal: University of Montreal Press, 2019, 97–114. Lapidus, Steven. “The forgotten Hasidim: rabbis and rebbes in prewar Canada.” Canadian Jewish Studies 12 (2004): 1–30. Levenkron, Naomi. “The role of the Israel police in the establishment of Haredi citizenship: The protest against Sabbath desecration in Jerusalem (1948–1956).” Police and History 2 (2020): 115–156. Mashiah, Donatella Casale. Synagogue membership in the United Kingdom in 2016. Institute for Jewish Policy Research & Board of Deputies of British Jews, 2017, file:///C:/Users/menac/Downloads/Synagogue_membership_in_the_United_ Kingdom_in_2016.pdf; Michman, Dan. “Why did so many of the Jews in Antwerp perish in the Holocaust?” Yad Vashem Studies 30 (2002): 465–481.

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Schnoor, Randal F. “Tradition and innovation in an ultra-Orthodox community: the Hasidim of Outremont.” Canadian Jewish Studies 10 (2002): 53–73. Seltzer, Nachman. Reb Getzel: The Dramatic Life of Reb Getzel. New Jersey: Saar Press, 2021. Shaffir, William. “Hasidim in Canada.” In: Robinson, Ira (ed.). Canada’s Jews: In Time, Space and Spirit. Brighton, MA: Academic Studies Press, 2013, 282–293. Shaffir, William. “Separation from the mainstream in Canada: The Hasidic community of Tash.” In Brym, Robert J., William Shaffir, and Morton Weinfeld (eds.). Jews in Canada. Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1993, 126–141. Shaul, Michal. Beauty for Ashes: Holocaust Memory and the Rehabilitation of Ashkenazi Haredi Society in Israel, 1945–1961. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2014. Spitzer, Shlomo. Kehilot Austria. Jerusalem: Makhon Yerushalayim, 2017. Staetsky, Daniel L. “Haredi Jews around the world: Population trends and estimates.” Institute for Jewish Policy Research, 2022, file:///C:/Users/menac/Downloads/harediJews-around-the-world-jpr-2022_1.pdf. Stolzenberg, Nomi M. and David N. Myers. American Shtetl: The Making of Kiryas Joel, a Hasidic Village in Upstate New York. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2021. Teitelbaum, Yoel. Al Ha-Geula Ve-Al Ha-Temurah. New York: Yerushalayim, 1967. Teitelbaum, Yoel. Letters, vol. 2. New York: Yerushalayim, 1981. Wise, Yaakov. “The establishment of ultra-Orthodoxy in Manchester.” Melilah 7 (11) (2012): 25–56. Wodziński, Marcin. The Historical Atlas of Hasidism. Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018. Yakobovitz, Ben-Zion. Zekhor Yemot Olam, vol. 4. Bnei Brak, 1998. Zalcberg, Sima. “‘Grace is deceitful and beauty is vain’: how hassidic women cope with the requirement of shaving one’s head and wearing a black kerchief.” Gender Issues 24 (3) (2007): 13–34.

Conclusion

The previous chapters reviewed the long history of Hungarian Orthodoxy since its establishment in the nineteenth century as a Jewish religious group that exhibited unique features up until the present day. Given the considerable influence of its Extreme Orthodox wing, Hungarian Orthodoxy has long been considered the most fervent brand of Jewish piety. Today, the study of religious fundamentalism involves several academic disciplines, among them sociology, history, religion, and political science. Since Hungarian Orthodoxy, and particularly Extreme Orthodoxy, represents Judaism’s most fundamentalist stream, this chapter will assess the particular episodes discussed previously from a broader perspective. The first section deals with the question of how, given its fundamentalist nature, did Hungarian Orthodoxy relate to the concept of Zionism and the establishment of a Jewish state, namely the State of Israel. The following section addresses the question of how, given its particular separatist agenda, did Hungarian Orthodoxy set about rescuing Jews, particularly Orthodox Jews, during the Holocaust. The third section describes and compares two Jewish Hungarian societies, one that adopted a fairly balanced and pragmatic religious stance, while the other promoted an uncompromising Extreme Orthodox orientation. The fourth section shows how the Hungarian example can be used as a case study of religious fundamentalism. The chapter’s final section proposes ways in which this book, which deals with only one of its streams, may contribute to the writing of a comprehensive and much-needed study on the history of Jewish Orthodoxy in general. Hungarian Orthodoxy, Zionism, and the State of Israel Most scholars concur that the concept of Jewish Orthodoxy began to crystallize in the early nineteenth century, while the common usage of this term can be traced to the mid-1840s, when several Jewish newspapers began using the term “Orthodox” in their titles.1 Separate Orthodox bodies were established in Hungary in the early 1860s, while the formal Orthodox-non-Orthodox schism occurred in the early 1870s. This was also the period in which the idea of Yishuv Eretz Israel, namely the return to Zion as a national idea, began to be espoused DOI: 10.4324/9781003436676-16

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by a few European religious leaders, who would subsequently be recognized as the forerunners of Zionism.2 In 1880, some 28,000 Jews lived in Ottoman Palestine. By 1903, following what would become known as the first wave of aliyah, the Jewish population had almost doubled. Most of the 25,000 Jews who arrived in Palestine during the first aliya originated from Eastern European countries. During that same period, the number of Jews in America increased more than sixfold from 250,000 to over 1,500,000, almost all of whom came from Eastern Europe.3 The fact that less than 2 percent of Jewish migrants chose to travel to Palestine rather than to the USA demonstrates that the halakhic debate on whether aliyah to Eretz Israel was permissible and on what conditions, was mostly theoretical. In the twentieth century, however, it transpired that one’s opinion on Zionism and the State of Israel became a major benchmark for establishing one’s religious orientation. Before World War I, Hungary’s 950,000 Jews constituted Europe’s second largest Jewish population, after the 5,200,000 Jews who lived in the Russian Empire, which included historical Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, Belarus, and Ukraine. The fact that the proportion of Hungarian Jews in Palestine was roughly the same as that in Europe indicates that the resistance to the settlement of Eretz Israel in Hungary was no more effective than that in the Russian Empire. This began to change in the late nineteenth century, following the establishment of the Zionist movement in 1897 and that of its religious wing, HaMizrahi, in 1902. Following these events, religious leaders started publishing anti-Zionist mouthpieces in which they expressed their objection not merely to the secular nature of the Zionist movement, but also to the idea that Jews should return in large numbers to Eretz Israel.4 Yet, because the Zionist movement was not very active in Hungary save for a few locations, no Hungarian rabbi issued an anti-Zionist text and the country’s Extreme Orthodox rabbis directed their attacks, voiced orally, at the Ha-Mizrahi movement.5 Consequently, whereas until this period Extreme Orthodox rabbis had shunned mainstream Orthodox leaders and communities, claiming that their overall religious conduct was too modernistic, compromising, and lenient, by the turn of the twentieth century, Zionism had taken this ideological debate to another level. Most mainstream Orthodox rabbis came to realize that the Zionist idea was not going to disappear and was gaining popularity, particularly among those who felt connected to their Jewish legacy either in a religious or a nationalist manner. Such religious leaders either supported the religious national movement Ha-Mizrahi or became involved in the formation of the non-Zionist Orthodox movement Agudat Israel, which was established in 1912. Since Agudat Israel sought to represent the general Jewish interest, it was unable to ignore Zionism. In time, it even began to imitate it, particularly with respect to its active support of the settlement of Orthodox Jews in Eretz

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Israel.6 After World War I, and especially following the rise in antisemitism in the early 1930s, Agudat Israel was obliged to strengthen its cooperation with the Zionist movement, and by 1948 its leaders were among the founders of the State of Israel and served in its first governments. Because Hungarian Orthodoxy was divided between mainstream and Extreme Orthodoxy, the debate over Zionism led to a head-on confrontation. The anti-Zionist campaign was initially led by Extreme Orthodoxy’s two most prominent leaders, Rabbi Hananya Yom-Tov Lipa Teitelbaum of Sighet, and Rabbi Moshe Greenwald of Chust. The two attacked the Ha-Mizrahi religious Zionist movement, which had gained popularity among some of Hungary’s traditional Jews. Yet, because Zionism and religious Zionism were not very prevalent in Hungary, most of its Orthodox leaders did not feel compelled to attack the movement or issue anti-Zionist tracts. The Hungarian rabbis’ indifferent attitude toward Zionism was totally reversed after World War I and the dismantlement of Hungary. Following the Balfour declaration and the beginning of British rule in Palestine in 1917, various Zionist organizations established branches in the former Hungarian territories in Romania and in Czechoslovakia. Many Orthodox Jews embraced either Zionist ideology as a whole, or at least the prospect of migrating to Palestine. These trends boosted both Ha-Mizrahi and Agudat Israel, which openly supported the settlement of Orthodox Jews in Palestine. These developments received further impetus following the US government’s 1921 and 1924 Immigration Acts, which significantly reduced the number of immigrants entering from Eastern Europe, thus positioning Eretz Israel as the preferred destination for Orthodox Jews who sought to leave Europe. The Extreme Orthodox rabbis, those living in Transylvania and PKR, launched a fierce counterattack. In 1921, Rabbi Issachar Ber Kahan of Sângeorgiu de Pădure (Erdőszentgyörgy), Transylvania, published an anti-Zionist pamphlet titled Shav Lakhem Mashkimei Kum (Nothing to you early risers).7 In the pamphlet, which is only a few pages in length, the rabbi discussed the settlement of the Land of Israel in light of the Three Oaths Midrash. According to this Talmudic text, God adjured the people of Israel not to provoke the gentiles and not to hasten the coming of redemption. The third oath was directed at the gentiles, whom God adjured not to oppress the people of Israel “unduly.” Throughout the generations, the Three Oaths Midrash served as the main religious justification for objecting to the mass return of Jews to the Land of Israel, and for abstaining from migrating to the Holy Land.8 A year later, Rabbi Haim Elazar Shapiro of Munkács, the Munkácser Rebbe and the fiercest anti-Zionist campaigner, convened a rabbinical conference in the town of Chop (Csap, Čop), PKR. This conference targeted not merely the secular and the religious Zionist movements but was also aimed at Agudat Israel, which, while ostensibly adhering to a non-Zionist policy, was accused of imitating Zionism and even cooperating with it. Many rabbis,

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particularly the Hungarians, wrote letters supporting the conference resolutions, which denounced all forms of Zionism and condemned Agudat Israel for its willingness to compromise with this movement. When these letters were published as a book, the almost-unanimous anti-Zionist position of the Hungarian Extreme Orthodox rabbis became public.9 In 1926, Rabbi Shaul Brakh of Kosice, Czechoslovakia, published his commentary on the tractate of Avot.10 In the book’s lengthy introduction, Rabbi Brakh laid out his critique of various issues concerning the conflict between the modern and the traditional world. This included his virulent opposition to Zionism and to any form of cooperation with the Zionist movement. In 1936, Rabbi Yeshayahu Shpitz of Trnava, Czechoslovakia, likewise issued an anti-Zionist pamphlet.11 Besides these publications, many Hungarian rabbis frequently expressed their abhorrence of Zionism, of HaMizrahi, and of Agudat Israel, which they considered an accomplice, in their sermons, in public posters (pashkeviles), and in their halakhic rulings. The animosity on the part of the Extreme Orthodox rabbis toward both the Zionist movements and Agudat Israel was such that it hindered rescue operations during World War II and the Holocaust. This issue is discussed in the following section. In 1948, Rabbi Michael Dov Weissmandel of Nitra, Slovakia, issued anonymously the first anti-Zionist text after the Holocaust.12 In 1960, he wrote a book in which he criticized the failure of the Zionist organizations to save Jews, and particularly Orthodox Jews, during the Holocaust.13 Rabbi Weissmandel was the foremost Haredi authority in the field of rescue during the Holocaust, which accorded his publications great credibility. His writings, and the impact they made on the public, prompted the establishment of a new Haredi literary category that dealt with the Zionists’ responsibility for the occurrence of the Holocaust and for its terrible outcome.14 Following the establishment of Israel, the conflict between the state and the more radical elements of the Haredi community reached its peak, as antiZionist and anti-Israeli texts appeared regularly in Neturei Karta’s weekly journal.15 One of the journal’s prominent editors, Rabbi Moshe Chaim Ephraim Bloch, who was born and raised in Maramaros, Hungary, compiled dozens of anti-Zionist tracts that he published in the journal and subsequently as a book in 1957. Between 1959–1965, he issued another threevolume compilation of anti-Zionist texts.16 The final step that conclusively bonded anti-Zionism and Extreme Orthodoxy was taken in 1960 with the publication of Va-Yoel Moshe, the first and only book written by Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, the Satmar Rebbe, which is the most radical anti-Zionist text written by a Jew in modern history.17 During the ensuing 60 years, the book has been reissued in more than a dozen full editions and translated into several languages. At least 30 further volumes have offered interpretations, adaptations for children, compiled digests, or reviewed the book’s relevance to various ideological issues or halakhic rulings. The hundreds of anti-Zionist texts that have appeared in the ensuing

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decades in various formats and languages were all based on the religious ideas propounded in Va-Yoel Moshe.18 The ideology expressed in Va-Yoel Moshe can be reduced to two fundamental principles. First, it claims that Zionism in general and the State of Israel, in particular, constituted the worst sin imaginable. This sin was so grave that God’s only possible response to it was the Holocaust. Second, it asserts that only a small group of Jews, namely those who accept the ideas that Rabbi Yoel expressed in Va-Yoel Moshe, are “true Jews,” while all others who call themselves Jews are imposters who are either false or flawed. This group of “fake Jews” comprises not merely secular, assimilated, Reform, and Conservative Jews, but also religious and Haredi Jews. Since the latter are merely imposters or Jews who have gone astray, the book suggests that there is no real need to heed their rabbis’ positions regarding Israel nor their halakhic rulings on that matter. The Satmar Rebbe’s anti-Zionist and anti-modern ideology, which was articulated in Va-Yoel Moshe and in many other secondary sources, was well researched. Numerous scholars have reviewed this radical worldview as a whole,19 while others have considered specific aspects of it, such as The Three Oaths Midrash,20 the ban on modern Hebrew,21 and its unique eschatological concepts.22 Perusal of Va-Yoel Moshe’s principal arguments reveals that these had been voiced in many previously published texts. Yet, unlike the former texts, this book not only explains the theoretical differences between mainstream Orthodoxy and Extreme Orthodoxy, but also translates them into halakhic commands. This is what turned it into a canonical text among the Extreme Orthodox groups, which are dependent on such separation to establish their distinct identity. The book’s halakhic rulings have several practical consequences. It stipulates, for instance, that Jews are forbidden from voting in elections to the Israeli parliament (the Knesset) and from serving as MKs (delegates) or ministers; that the settlement in Eretz Israel is not a mitzva (a religious obligation); that “true” Jewish institutes should not be supported by any “Zionist” funds; and that Jews are forbidden to speak or read modern Hebrew. The focus on these particular halakhic rulings was not random but rather indicated the core issues on which mainstream Orthodoxy, namely Agudat Israel, and Extreme Orthodoxy were divided. Consequently, following the publishing of Va-Yoel Moshe, the boundary between the two groups became well defined. Those who accepted Rabbi Yoel’s rulings, such as the boycotting of Israel’s elections and the refusal to accept state funding, were on the Extreme Orthodox side, while those who ignored them were considered mainstream Orthodoxy.23 What Va-Yoel Moshe advocated, particularly for the Extreme Orthodox, was that anti-Zionism is not an ordinary halakhic issue that rabbis can debate, but rather a fundamental religious commitment. This concept was manifested in the book’s assertion that voting in the Knesset elections

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constituted a horrendous sin, on par with converting to another religion. When the Extreme Orthodox Jews accepted and obeyed Rabbi Yoel’s antiZionist halakhic rulings, they felt themselves to be better Jews and regarded all other observant Jews to be less Jewish than they. A further criterion by which to distinguish between “true” and “false” Jews presented itself in 1967, following the Six-Day War. In its wake, Rabbi Yoel wrote a second book titled Al Ha-Geula Ve-Al Ha-Temura.24 In it he decreed a prohibition on acknowledging Israel’s victory in that war, and on visiting the holy places that had been liberated, including the Western Wall, the site Jews have always held to be the holiest of all. Consequently, the only Jews who refrain from visiting these holy places are the Satmar Rebbe’s Hasidim and followers. Several Extreme Orthodox groups, collectively known as Neturei Karta, took this concept a step further. For them, the more radical their antiZionism, the better Jews they become. Consequently, the mere adherence to an anti-Zionist ideology or refusal to accept the Zionist, namely Israel’s rules and funding, is not sufficient. Considering these stands too passive, they sought to adopt a more active, not to say aggressive, attitude. They consequently considered public demonstrations, the disrupting of public order, and clashing with the police to constitute the full realization of their anti-Zionist religious ideology. For these groups, the more provocative and inflammatory their actions, the better Jews they consider themselves to be. This is why they issue a flood of anti-Zionist texts both in print and on the internet; burn the Israeli flag and hold a mourning procession on Israel’s Day of Independence; compare Israel and its institutions to Nazi Germany and the Israeli flag to the Nazi swastika; launch anti-Israel demonstrations in Israel and abroad; join protests held by anti-Israeli Muslims; and meet with and cooperate with Israel’s bitterest enemies, such as the leaders of Iran and the heads of terrorist organizations such as Hamas and Hezbollah. Hungarian Orthodoxy and the Holocaust The internal political and ideological controversies within Hungarian Jewry in general and Hungarian Orthodoxy, in particular, had tragic consequences for the country’s Jews. The Holocaust in Hungary, set in motion following the German invasion in March 1944, began quite some time after the atrocities perpetrated by the Nazis in most other European countries had become known. Consequently, one might have expected that in light of this collective threat, Hungary’s Jewish leadership would unite in the face of this imminent disaster. Yet internal political and ideological conflicts put paid to various attempts at cooperation, and rather than setting up a robust collective rescue machinery, each group sought to save its own members. This schism had two dimensions, the geographical and the ideological. Geographically speaking,

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Hungarian Jewry during the Holocaust was an amalgamation of five major Jewish regions. These included that of interwar Hungary, and those of the four territories annexed during the war; namely southern Slovakia, PKR, Northern Transylvania, and parts of Yugoslavia, each of which numbered between 50,000 and 150,000 Jews. Although the annexation took place several years prior to the Holocaust, each of these groups maintained its own leadership and sought to protect its specific interests and take care of its own Jews. Moreover, these local leaderships were themselves made up of various Jewish groups, each fostering its own ideology and aspirations. They ranged from acculturated Jews who had forgone their Jewish legacy and adopted the local Hungarian, Romanian, or Czechoslovak national orientation, to those who remained members of the Neolog communities, and from the Zionists through the socialists, to the various Orthodox groups. Since each group’s leadership pursued its own interests and adhered to a different political orientation, the various leaders were unable to join forces to form a united Jewish leadership capable of launching a joint rescue operation. Eventually, a united Jewish leadership, namely the Judenrat, was established only after the German occupation in early 1944 and in response to the Germans’ demand.25 While the overall conduct of the Jewish leadership in Hungary during the Holocaust has been well researched, this section will examine the conduct of the Orthodox leadership and its responsibility for this sorry situation. The split within the Orthodox leadership can likewise be assessed on two levels: the geographical and the ideological-political. Besides interwar Hungary’s Orthodox Bureau, each of the other four territories annexed during the war had its own Orthodox organization. Yet, because only parts of Slovakia, Transylvania, and Yugoslavia had been annexed, their former Orthodox Bureaus no longer functioned as representative bodies. Rather, individual rabbis and lay leaders from each of the territories, including that of PKR, which was divided even before the war, claimed to represent the collective interest of their respective Orthodox communities.26 This chaotic situation was exacerbated by ideological and political controversies. The religious-Zionists, namely Ha-Mizrahi, as well as the nonZionist Agudat Israel, complied with the instructions set by their respective international leaderships. Consequently, leaders belonging to Agudat Israel in Slovakia, Transylvania, and Yugoslavia were able to cooperate with one another as were the leaders of Ha-Mizrahi in other territories. They, however, could not interact freely with other movements or with Orthodox leaders in prewar Hungary, who were reluctant to cooperate either with Agudat Israel or with Ha-Mizrahi.27 Moreover, even when such limited understandings were concluded, fearing that such alliances would grant these movements some formal recognition, the Extreme Orthodox leaders in all of these territories did all they could to impede them. They sought to undermine not only the cooperation of the Orthodox with the non-Orthodox organizations, but also hindered the establishment of a mutual rescue operation among the Orthodox groups.28

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The lack of cooperation both between the Orthodox and the nonOrthodox leadership and within the Orthodox camp itself led to a chaotic situation. As some religious leaders realized that their rescue efforts were futile, they lost hope and began to seek only their own salvation. This was particularly notable within the Orthodox society, in which relations between the rabbis and the Hassidic rebbes and their congregants were far closer than those between the secular political leaders and the general Jewish population. The rabbis’ conduct thus aroused public resentment in the face of what some Orthodox leaders called “the flight of the rabbis.”29 Increasingly, since no joint plan of action had been agreed upon, each of the Orthodox leaders, lay activists, rabbis, and Hasidic rebbes acted on their own initiative. Some sought to rescue themselves in the early years of the war, while others decided to remain with their communities through thick and thin. This lack of leadership spread confusion and fear among the simple Jews who had neither the means nor the political connections to save themselves.30 Because so many Orthodox Jews obeyed their rabbis’ recommendation and made no attempt to migrate to other countries, and since by that time the Germans had gained experience and streamlined the extermination process, the Holocaust devastated Hungarian Jewry in general and Hungarian Orthodoxy in particular. After the Holocaust, when Hungary’s surviving Orthodox Jews sought to reestablish their communities mainly in Israel and in the United States, they tended to ignore the reprehensible behavior of their rabbis during the war. Orthodox leaders and spokespersons, on the other hand, sought to justify their rabbis’ conduct during the Holocaust, even though these rabbis had been criticized for their selfish and reckless behavior at the time.31 The outcome was a new type of hagiographic literature. It lauded the rabbis for whatever decision they made during the Holocaust period, be this to abandon their communities in order to save themselves, or to eschew such action and remain with their congregants to the bitter end. Moreover, seeking to justify their rabbis’ conduct, the books’ authors pointed a finger at those whom they considered their worst enemies, namely not the Nazis but the Zionists. In this respect, regardless of their standpoint on Zionism, HaMizrahi, or Agudat Israel prior to the Holocaust, almost all the biographers of Hungarian rabbis utilized Zionist ideology as a theological justification of the Holocaust, and accused the Zionist organizations of neglecting to rescue Hungarian Jews in general and Orthodox Jews in particular.32 Initially, blaming the Zionists for the Holocaust and its horrendous outcome was a negligible phenomenon confined to a handful of Neturei Karta zealots who wrote articles in their limited circulation newspapers.33 This relatively nuanced criticism was subsequently followed by the Satmar Rebbe Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum’s strident public accusations. In his public sermons delivered in the late 1950s and in his book Va-Yoel Moshe that appeared shortly thereafter he argued as follows:

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And now in our generation there is no need to look in hidden places for the reason that brought about this catastrophe [the Holocaust], because it is visible and explicit [… …] by disregarding the Three Oaths that demand that the people of Israel should not hasten redemption by reclaiming the Land of Israel and will not rebel against the other nations (God forbid), God permitted the nations to devour us like predators who capture deer and gazelles in the open graze. And because of our grave sins, so it was.34 Following this and similar statements issued by Rabbi Yoel and by some of his followers, many Hungarian rabbis, particularly those belonging to the Extreme Orthodox camp, adopted the explanation that Zionism was solely to blame for the Holocaust and that the Nazis were merely a vessel to implement God’s punishment. They, moreover, claimed that while the Nazis “merely” sought to physically annihilate the Jews, the Zionists, who, unlike the defeated Germans, were only becoming stronger, were still seeking to eradicate the Jewish spirit. This rendered them even worse enemies than the Nazis.35 The trend of accusing Zionism for the horrors of the Holocaust prevails to this day and can be found in many of the contemporary publications of the various Extreme Orthodox groups.36 The Problem with Zealotry Spokespersons and ideologists of religious fundamentalism justify their uncompromising theology by claiming that they adhere to the absolute religious truth and that compromising with the truth is wrong. When confronted with the suggestion that a few minor concessions in the present may yield benefits in the future, they respond by asserting that compromise is not only a bad tactic but also a bad strategy to follow. This section takes a closer look at this latter claim. Rarely does history present historians with “laboratory-like” circumstances in which two religious groups, which, barring one element, are virtually identical and which seek the same purpose, end up with very different results. The Orthodox Jews of Slovakia and of PKR had shared the same historical and religious legacy for many centuries. They lived in the same relatively liberal and pro-Jewish country of Hungary. They venerated the same rabbinical sages. They followed the same religious customs and halakhic standards, and they accepted the authority of the same supreme organization – the Hungarian Orthodox Bureau. During World War I both groups underwent the same ordeal and thereafter they both found themselves subject to the same foreign regime, namely the newly established state of Czechoslovakia. They functioned in this environment over a relatively brief period of time – from the end of World War I up until the eve of World War II. The fact that the two groups belonged to two separate districts was of very little practical significance, since Jews were treated equally in both of them. In addition, the number of Jews who

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belonged to the Orthodox communities was roughly the same in the two districts, and Orthodox Jews constituted by far the largest group within the general Jewish population in these areas. The main difference between the two groups was that while the Orthodox Jews of Slovakia were led by well-educated, tolerant, and open-minded rabbis, who also had a good grasp of political and social reality, PKR’s Orthodox Jews were led by several ultra-conservative, anti-Zionist, antimodern, and narrow-minded rabbis who zealously followed religious principles to the letter. The outcome was clear-cut. The Slovakian Orthodox Jews established their own bureau immediately after World War I, and under its guidance they conducted their communities amid relative tranquility up until the Holocaust. They also embraced Agudat Israel and thus enjoyed the sponsorship of this international and highly popular Orthodox organization. Their counterparts in PKR, on the other hand, failed to establish a sustainable generally accepted leadership, and throughout the interwar period, their communities were overwhelmed by an ongoing series of inner controversies and disputes.37 Furthermore, although compared to PKR Slovakian Jews constituted a far smaller percentage of the general population and the province contained a far higher percentage of non-Orthodox communities, Slovakia boasted more than three times the number of yeshivas and yeshiva students.38 On top of this, the PKR rabbis’ fierce hostility and opposition toward the Zionist movement and other religious movements such as Agudat Israel and HaMizrahi proved counter-productive, and drove the religious youth to join these more liberal religious movements.39 A further aspect of the PKR rabbis’ failure was the flowering of the Zionist non-religious Jewish education system, the most outstanding example of which was Munkács’ much acclaimed Jewish gymnasium.40 The Jews in PKR lived in a well-defined territory in which they constituted a significant portion of the population. This meant that had they wished to do so they could have wielded a far stronger political influence than in most other Jewish environments. Moreover, almost all of them belonged to selfproclaimed Orthodox communities whose religious leadership was highly respected. In theory, PKR Jewry could have become a model for a selfgoverning Orthodox society led by the rabbis in accordance with the laws of halakha. In reality, however, despite these promising conditions, continuous conflicts and controversies over religious principles, exacerbated by personal vanity, thwarted any attempt at collaboration. From an Orthodox perspective, and where it counted the most, it was the moderate religious leadership of Slovakia that managed to retain more youngsters within the realm of Orthodoxy, whereas the extremist leadership of PKR lost many of them to Zionism and even to secularism. The advantage of Slovakia’s more balanced religious leadership was also manifested during the Holocaust. Both the Jews of Slovakia and of PKR eventually ended up in the concentration camps. Yet, while in PKR the rabbis were unable to launch

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any significant rescue operation, Slovakian rabbis were involved in many such projects. The success of these operations, which sought to assist all Hungarian Jews, can be attributed to the cooperation among activists of various streams, namely the Orthodox, the non-Orthodox, and the Zionists.41 The lesson to be drawn from this episode is that religious fundamentalism and intolerance may be effective within the confines of a specific community, but has major drawbacks in the context of a wider heterogeneous environment. Tolerant leadership, by definition, is receptive to different voices and can overcome ideological differences. This enables it to cooperate both with external bodies; in this case, the international movement of Agudat Israel, and to generate a stable internal coalition, such as that required for the establishment of the Slovakian Bureau. The Slovakian religious leadership thus could present a more resilient front better capable of facing the external social challenges that threatened its traditional way of life. An understanding of the processes and outcomes of this historical case study, which played out amid a period of great social change, is relevant to the study of contemporary ultra-Orthodox society, which, due to modern technology, the internet, and the new social media, is likewise confronting unprecedented social change. Both then and now, the ultra-Orthodox leaders’ most urgent challenge was and still is to maintain the unity of their religious society and to minimize the number of those seeking to leave it. Would they be better advised to confront this challenge by taking a hard line and seeking to isolate their flock, or to adopt a softer approach more receptive to change? According to the above-mentioned case, the answer appears to be clear. Hungarian Orthodoxy and Religious Fundamentalism Religious fundamentalism manifests itself primarily in two spheres – the ideological and the sociological.42 The very concept of religious fundamentalism contains, inter alia, the notion of religious sequencing. All religions, save for the founding generation of newly established sects, have members who were born into this group yet are reluctant to comply with some or all of that particular religion’s rules or to acknowledge its ideology fully or partially. Such lax members are located on one end of the religious spectrum, whereas the fundamentalists, namely those who fully adhere to a certain religion’s “fundamentals” and also demonstrate their devotion in practice, are located on the other end. In most established religions, the majority of members are located in the middle of the spectrum and constitute their mainstream. By and large, the less involved group of lax members exerts little influence on its religion’s principles, while the fundamentalist group makes the most significant impact. Nevertheless, it is the mainstream that represents the largest proportion of followers, who form the religion’s backbone and provide the financial, social, and political infrastructure upon which the entire religion is based. Consequently, newly established radical sects that bear no

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relation to established religions find it very difficult to survive and expand without ultimately condescending the formation of a more moderate body, which constitutes their mainstream. It should also be noted that established religions and their internal groupings may contain more than one variety of the lenient-mainstreamfundamental spectrum, according to the predominant order of priorities. A certain group, for example, may consider the study of the religion’s canonic texts to be their top priority, while another may focus on disseminating the religion among non-believers. A third stream may emphasize women’s chastity, while a fourth may lay greater store by translating their religious principles into a nationalistic-political program. Consequently, major religions and their internal factions may accommodate different fundamentalist groups, each of which promotes a different religious principle.43 The development of religions, particularly the more established ones, may be explained by referring to the principles of biological evolution. From its establishment, a point in time that one can set only with hindsight, a religion evolves in a certain ideological and sociological manner until it is confronted by circumstances that oblige it to change its course or to split up. Such circumstances may include external factors, such as wars, occupation by another nation, exile, economic crisis, natural disaster, and foreign cultural influence, or technological novelties such as the invention of the printing press and the internet. Challenges may also emerge from within, presented either by individuals who seek to transform the religion or the society that adheres to that religion, or by the death of a charismatic leader. Further factors include the influence exerted by members of other religions living in close proximity, and social trends that offer various types of benefits to those who forsake religion altogether or who join another religion.44 Over time, every new religious strain encounters challenges that may lead it to split or change direction, or even threaten its very existence. This process leads established religions, which initially were united under a single leadership and a well-defined ideology, to branch out and develop many religious strains and sub-strains. While within each of these branches one may find different groups of members, each adhering to the religion’s regulations and ideology in a different manner, most religious denominations are sociologically structured as an enclave.45 The enclave’s most important feature is its boundary. Such boundaries may have physical characteristics, such as a state, a city, or a neighborhood. Boundaries may also be defined by sociological parameters such as nationality, race, or language; by adopting a distinct appearance through unique clothing, head covering, or hairstyle; or according to ideological trends, namely, certain basic beliefs generally laid down in a canonical text. While some religions seek to expand by inviting new members from outside the enclave, either through persuasion or by force, no enclave will ever abandon its boundaries by allowing its members to join other religious groups. This prohibition is often enforced by imposing various sanctions,

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including sociological restrictions, religious sanctions, excommunication, and even physical violence. A further characteristic of religious fundamentalism is what Freud referred to as “the narcissism of small differences.” This concept helps explain why different leaders or groups that hold religious principles that to the outsider appear to be almost indistinguishable, often demonstrate fierce animosity toward each other. This hostility is sometimes far greater than that directed toward leaders and groups that adhere to totally different ideologies. The antagonism toward similar leaders and groups is expressed in various ways that include verbal abuse, the publication of texts such as polemic books and broadsides, demonstrations, the issuing of religious bans, and the use of various forms of physical violence, including homicide.46 Over recent decades scholarship has taken a growing interest in religious fundamentalism.47 A central topic in this field of study is the use of various forms of aggression to enforce religious laws or to expand the religious group’s outreach. Such aggression is directed both inwardly in order to impose strict observance of religious laws, or outwardly, with the aim of expanding the cadre of followers. Because of its relatively small number of followers or because of its inward orientation, the Jewish religion has never directed violence at non-Jews. However, Jews are frequently accused of unfairly employing their wealth and their leading positions in various fields, such as journalism, academia, and national politics, to advance their collective aims. By contrast, certain Muslim groups, such as the notorious ISIS (The Islamic State), employ significant violence toward both Muslims and infidels (non-Muslims).48 Many of the above-mentioned characteristics of religious fundamentalism are well demonstrated in the history and practice of Hungarian Orthodoxy, and particularly within its most zealous branch – Extreme Orthodoxy. When it was conceived in the early nineteenth century, the concept of Jewish Orthodoxy was merely an abstract idea expressed by a few rabbis. It acknowledged the fact that many Jews no longer felt obliged to maintain their forefathers’ religious tradition and that certain rabbis who sought to preserve their Jewishness formulated new forms of religious practice that came to be known as Reform Judaism. Like their Reform counterparts, the Orthodox rabbis were perturbed by the large number of Jews who no longer felt an affinity with Jewish tradition. Yet they objected to the introduction of new and less demanding Jewish institutions, rituals, and religious rulings. They argued that while this trend may temporarily diminish the stream of those who sought to leave Judaism altogether, it would eventually endanger the existence of the original and “true” form of Judaism. The rise of these opposing trends, Reformism and Orthodoxy, occurred predominantly among the German speaking Jews living in central Europe, which included western Hungary. It is thus not surprising that a Hungarian rabbi, the Hatam Sofer, was among the prominent leaders of Jewish Orthodoxy in its initial stages.

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The singular conditions prevailing in Hungary, portrayed in detail in Chapter 1, resulted in the establishment of a multitude of religious strains of Judaism. Many rabbis and communities adopted religious reforms that included a more modern and attractive design of synagogues, delivering sermons in a non-Jewish vernacular, updating some of the prayer texts, and refraining from criticism of non-observant Jews. The more radical reformist rabbis and communities called for the Jewish Sabbath to be moved to Sunday, to permit inter-religious marriages, to omit major sections from the traditional prayer-books, and to render the circumcision of Jewish boys and other basic commandments non-obligatory. The Orthodox response to these reforms ranged from the relatively modernoriented neo-Orthodoxy, through mainstream Orthodoxy, to Extreme Orthodoxy. This generated a broad spectrum of Jewish religious ideologies found only in greater Hungary. As is generally the case, it was the most radical groups, both among the Reformists and the Orthodox, that shaped their respective ideologies and public image. Yet it was the mainstream sections within these movements that formed and maintained their social infrastructure. This chapter further demonstrates that a profound understanding of religious fundamentalism, such as Extreme Orthodoxy, cannot be gained merely from a narrow intra-religious ideological perspective. Issues such as global and national politics, the rise and decline of social trends, military confrontations, technological advances, and migration patterns may significantly impact local religion in general and its fundamental stream in particular. Chapter 2, which deals with Extreme Orthodoxy, demonstrates the virtue of religious sequencing. Prior to the formal Orthodox – non-Orthodox schism, when Hungarian Jewish society was still conceived to be a single entity, it exhibited, like all other European Jewries, a “natural” religious sequencing ranging from the acculturated and Reform Jews at one end of the spectrum, to the Orthodox at the other end. Following the schism, however, as Orthodoxy became a separate group it too needed to establish its own sequencing. This is why Extreme Orthodoxy gained such impetus during that period, and why it found it easy to condemn mainstream Orthodoxy, which had until recently been situated at the far end of the religious spectrum. This is also why certain Jews and rabbis, who had until recently been considered Orthodox, were shunned, banned, and castigated as being overly lenient simply because they were members of the Status Quo communities. This chapter also traces the evolution of religious groupings. Initially, Extreme Orthodoxy comprised two fundamentalist ideological strands: the Hasidic and the non-Hasidic. And while, for example, one supported the settlement of Eretz Israel by Orthodox Jews, the other opposed this practice. This chapter also shows how these two religious strands evolved in ways reminiscent of biological evolution, whereby each formulated its principles so as to blend with the surrounding social and spiritual milieu. It demonstrates how each generation of leaders promoted certain principles while forsaking others in a bid to accommodate social change and expand its influence.

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Chapter 3 describes how Hungarian Orthodoxy gained the right to selfdefinition as an independent Jewish denomination. It sought to mark its boundaries in order to establish itself as a religious enclave by establishing autonomous Orthodox communities led by a separate organization – the Orthodox Bureau. Maintaining the enclave’s boundaries was deemed so important that even Status Quo communities and rabbis that adhered to a strictly observant lifestyle were shunned and castigated. Chapters 3 and 4 both demonstrate the major role played by the Freudian principle of “narcissism of small differences” at several levels. In Chapter 3, we see how it was applied to fully observant Jews and communities who, for various reasons, were not members of the official Orthodox communities. Chapter 4 relates how, despite facing overwhelming challenges that could have been eased by joining Agudat Israel, the Hungarian leadership’s rigid intransigence meant that its members were denied the benefits of belonging to this international Orthodox organization. Chapter 5 traces how the excessive zealotry of Extreme Orthodoxy and its refusal to cooperate even with groups that held a similar worldview proved counterproductive and led many of its members, mainly the young, to break away from Orthodoxy. Moreover, this rigid mindset that impeded cooperation with other less radical groups had disastrous consequences during the Holocaust. Chapters 6 and 7 demonstrate how negligible differences between Orthodox communities and rabbis who lived in the same territory, faced the same problems, and were threatened by the same religious, social, and political elements, led them to part ways and fight among themselves, rather than joining forces to advance their mutual interests. These chapters likewise show how “the narcissism of small differences” often resulted in various forms of violence. These included verbal attacks, the publication of polemic texts in books and broadsides, demonstrations, the issuing of religious bans, and the use of various forms of physical violence. This concept also explains the resort to political violence, namely the use of unlawful methods in order to gain political control. This was manifested in a number of election campaigns for the community council, in the election of a local chief rabbi, and in the elections to the leadership of the various Orthodox Bureaus. The book’s final chapters trace the two main avenues along which religious fundamentalism expanded geographically. It generally takes a certain set of circumstances for a religious fundamentalist group to sprout and thrive, and the spread of fundamentalism beyond national borders is invariably associated with some form of crisis and social instability. Hungarian Orthodoxy spread to neighboring countries in the wake of World War I and the dismantlement of Greater Hungary. The circumstances that this war brought about in Palestine alongside the unanticipated nomination of a Hungarian rabbi to lead the Old Yishuv, resulted in the establishment of a Hungarianstyle Orthodoxy in that country as well. As for the USA, the circumstances that led to the establishment of Hungarian Orthodoxy there were the Holocaust and the Satmar Rebbe’s decision to settle in New York.

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To conclude, because Judaism numbers far fewer adherents than do other major religions, and because for two thousand years Jews were dispersed around the globe, the religion never developed a fundamentalist wing that targeted Gentiles, nor did it seek to convert them to Judaism. The main form of Jewish fundamentalism was that which was directed inward, at other Jews.49 Because of the unique circumstances that prevailed in Hungary, its Jewish society grew much faster than other Jewish collectives. Consequently, social processes that had played out over centuries in other places, evolved within only a few decades in Hungary. This resulted in greater religious variance among the country’s Jews, manifested in greater radicalism at both the secularreform end of the religious spectrum and at the Extreme Orthodox end. Upon considering the various forms of religious fundamentalism, the phenomenon of Hungarian Orthodoxy and its manifestations in other locations serves as an instructive case study of this type of inwardly directed radicalism. This holds true with respect to the role of religious leaders, the place of fundamentalism within a certain religion’s internal politics, the various means used to enforce the fundamental religious way of life, and evaluating the role of canonical texts. Final Thoughts The study of Jewish Orthodoxy began some half a century ago. Yet to this day, there is not a single monograph devoted to the historical development of this important Jewish movement. While the history of one major Orthodox group, namely Hasidism, has been well researched, other groups and subjects still await the same concerted academic endeavor. For example, to this day not a single academic conference, book, nor collection of articles has been devoted to the history of Jewish Orthodoxy’s only independent movement – Agudat Israel.50 Moreover, while numerous books and articles have addressed various aspects of Jewish Orthodoxy and Orthodox society in countries such as Germany, Hungary, Galicia, Eretz Israel, and the United States, one finds very little academic interest in these topics in the territories in which most of the Orthodox Jews lived, namely the Russian Empire and interwar Poland. When a comprehensive monograph on the history of Jewish Orthodoxy is finally written, it will undoubtedly draw on the existing works on various aspects of this phenomenon, which can be divided into several categories: (a) Works dealing with Orthodoxy’s major groups, namely Hasidism, Lithuanian Mithnagdim, Hungarian Ashkenazim, and German style neoOrthodoxy; (b) scholarly biographies of prominent Orthodox leaders; (c) articles and monographs dealing with various aspects of Jewish Orthodoxy from a historical, social, political, or halakhic perspective; (d) books and articles dealing with the history of Orthodoxy in a specific territory; and (e) books and articles on Jewish Orthodoxy’s most important institutions, the yeshivot and the community’s chief rabbis.

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Although it focuses on Hungary, this book offers a potential template for a monograph on Jewish Orthodoxy in general. Its overall structure, namely the division into various periods and locations, as well as its sub-partition into geographical units, may prove useful in such a book. Obviously, a standardlength book on Jewish Orthodoxy in general cannot provide as many examples and details as a book dealing with Orthodoxy in a single country. Yet, as this book does, it should include some non-chronological chapters and sub-chapters devoted to specific topics such as the Hasidim-Mithnagdim controversy, the relationships between the major Orthodox camps, and the establishment of Agudat Israel. Moreover, such a book on Jewish Orthodoxy will undoubtedly address a perennial topic addressed here, namely the relationship between Orthodoxy and politics.51 Prior to the nineteenth century, even those Jews who did not adhere to all the precepts of the halakha still believed that the traditional halakhic lifestyle represented the only form of the Jewish religion. For centuries, leading rabbis, both at the local and the national level, were entrusted with representing the interests of the entire Jewish society. This, however, ceased to apply when Reform Jews and certain secular groups considered themselves to be just as Jewish as the traditionalist Orthodox. From that time onward, while certain issues such as antisemitism called for a united Jewish response, the Orthodox and non-Orthodox leaderships held very different views on numerous other topics. Seeking to advance their own interests, this inevitably forced Orthodox leaders to become more involved in politics. As was the case in Hungary, Orthodox activists and leaders in other countries also began to involve themselves in several spheres of politics. First, at the national level, the Orthodox leaders took advantage of the Orthodox Jews’ right to vote in elections for the national governing bodies to advance their interests. Second, at the municipal level, the Orthodox either founded their own local parties or supported a different party or candidate in return for political gain. Third, within the intra-Jewish sphere, politics played out in the election and conduct of the local Jewish councils that operated in most of the towns and villages as well as in the national Jewish organizations. A fourth sphere of political activity was located within the Orthodox society. Here, one finds power struggles between the Hasidim and the Mithnagdim, controversies involving rival Hasidic courts, competition between various strains of Orthodoxy, confrontation between Ha-Mizrahi and Agudat Israel, and internal squabbles that broke out within both these Orthodox movements. This book, which addresses a particular Jewish camp, opens the door to further monographs that deal with Jewish Orthodoxy in other locations, or to a comprehensive study that deals with Jewish Orthodoxy in its entirety. Furthermore, by illuminating Jewish Orthodoxy’s most radical wing, this book offers a useful starting point for other works that set out to address the many aspects of Jewish fundamentalism.

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Notes 1 Akiva Zimmerman, “‘Shomer Tzion Ha-Ne’eman’: Bitaon Ha-Yahadut Ha-Datit Ba-Germania Be-Emtza Ha-Mea Ha-19,” Kesher 19 (1996): 131–134. 2 Jacob Katz, “The forerunners of Zionism,” Jerusalem Quarterly 7 (1978): 10–21; Monty Noam Penkower, “Religious forerunners of Zionism,” Judaism 33 (3) (1984): 289–295. 3 Samson D. Oppenheim, “The Jewish Population of the United States,” American Jewish Year Book 20 (1918–1919): 31–74. 4 Shlomo Teplitzky, Magen Ha-Emunah, Berdyczów: H”I Sheptil, 1898; Aharon Lewit, Sefer Al Ha-Tsionit, Warsaw, 1899; Eliyahu Akiva Rabinowitz, Sefer Zion Be-Mishpat, Warsaw, 1899; Meir Ha-Cohen Rosenfeld, Migdal Bavel Ha-Hadash, Warsaw, 1900; Shelomo Zalman Landa and Yosef Rabinowitz, Sefer Or LaYesharim, Warsaw, 1900; Shmuel Yaacov Rabinowitz, Ha-Dat Ve-Haleumiyut, Warsaw, 1900; Arye Miller, Bein Or Le-Hoshekh, Vilnius, 1901; Dobrish Toresh, Bar Hadiya O Halom Herzel, Warsaw, 1901(in Hebrew); Yaacov Lifshitz, Ma’amar Devarim Ke-Khtavam, Berlin, 1902; Ephraim Eliyahu Lifshits, Sefer Higayon Lev Ivri, Piotrków Trybunalski, 1902; Avraham Barukh Steinberg, Da’at Ha-Rabanim, Warsaw, 1902; Idem., Kol Kore: Hu Kontres Aharon, Vilnius, 1903; Mordehai Kravinski, Der Futerner Oyven, Piotrków Trybunalski, 1904. 5 Shlomo Yaacov Gelbman, Moshian Shel Israel, vol. 3, New York 1992, 185–238, 371; Zvi Yaacov Abraham, Le-Korot Ha-Yahadut Be-Transylvania, vol. 1, Brooklyn 1951, 95–96. 6 Gershon C. Bacon, “Imitation, rejection, cooperation: Agudat Yisrael and the Zionist movement in interwar Poland,” in: The Emergence of Modern Jewish Politics: Bundism and Zionism in Eastern Europe, edited by Zvi Gitelman, Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2003, 85–94. 7 Issachar Ber Kahan, Shav Lakhem Mashkimei Kum, Bistrita, 1921 (in Hebrew). 8 On the impact of the three oaths in Jewish history, see: Aviezer Ravitzky, Messianism, Zionism, and Jewish Religious Radicalism, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996, 211–234. 9 Moshe Goldstein, ed., Sefer Tikun Olam, Munkács: H. Guttmann, 1936. 10 Shaul Brakh, Avot Al Banim, Seini, 1926 (in Hebrew). 11 Yeshayahu Shpitz, Tzave Yeshuot, Satu Mare, 1936 (in Hebrew). 12 Michael Dov Weissmandel, Mi Natan Israel La-Bozezim [unspecified location], 1948. The first to attribute this text to Rabbi Weismandel was Moshe Schoenfeld, who included it in his own book: Serufei Ha-Kivshanim Ma’ashimim (Those burnt in the crematoriums accuse), Bnei Brak: Tzeirei Agudat Israel, 1975 (in Hebrew). 13 Michael Dov Weissmandel, Min Ha-Metsar, New York, 1960 (in Hebrew). 14 For example: Dina Porat, “‘Shutafav shel Amalek’: Ha’ashamot Ha-haredim baaretz be-shenot ha-shemonim klapei ha-tsionut be-tekufat ha-shoah,” Ha-Tsionut 19 (1995): 295–324; Haim Nir’el, Haredim Mul Shoah: Ha’ashamot Ha-Haredim Kelapei Ha-Tsionut Ba-Aharayut La-Shoah, Jerusalem: Carmel, 1997. 15 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Walls of Separation: Neturei Karta’s Magazines 1944–1958,” Kesher 50 (2018): 71–88 (Hebrew). 16 Moshe Haim Ephraim Bloch, Mi Natan Le-Meshisa Ya’acov Va-Israel LaBozezim, New York, 1957 (in Hebrew); idem., Dovev Siftei Yeshenim, vols. 1–3, New York, 1959–1965. Rabbi Shmul Weingarten claimed that some of the letters Bloch published were forged: Mikhtavim Anti-Tsioniym Me’et Gedolei Israel […] are forgeries, Jerusalem, 1956; Idem., Mikhtavim Mezuyafim Neged Ha-Tsionut, Jerusalem, 1981. 17 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The Satmar Rebbe’s Va-Yoel Moshe: The Most Influential Anti-Zionist Text in Modern Jewish History,” Jewish Quarterly Review 113 (3) (2023) 479–505.

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18 For example: Arye Ashkenazi, Yalkut Divrei Emet, vols. 1–2, Jerusalem, 1965–1966; Kuntras Hasbara, Jerusalem, 1968; Moshe Dov Ha-Levi Beck, Mikhtav Hit’orerut, Brooklyn, 1981; Yalkut She-Lo Shinu Et Leshonam, Jerusalem, 1987; Shlomo Halbernatz, Sefer Derekh Hatsala, Quebec, 2002; Yoel Elhanan, Dat Ha-Tsiyonut, Petah Tikva, 2008. 19 For example: Norman Lamm, “The ideology of the Neturei Karta, according to the Satmarer version,” Tradition 12 (2) (1971): 38–53; Allan Nadler, “Piety and politics: the case of the Satmar Rebbe,” Modern Judaism 31 (2) (1982): 135–152; Zvi Jonathan Kaplan, “Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum, Zionism, and Hungarian UltraOrthodoxy,” Modern Judaism 24 (2) (2004): 165–178; David N. Myres, “‘Commanded War’: Three Chapters in the ‘Military’ History of Satmar Hasidism,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 81 (2) (2013): 311–356; David Sorotzkin, “Binyan eretz shel ma’ala ve-hurban eretz shel mata’: ha-rabi Me-Satmar Ve-Ha-askola Ha-ortodoksit ha-radikalit,” in: The Land of Israel in 20th Century Jewish Thought, edited by Aviezer Ravitsky, Jerusalem: Yad Ben Zvi, 2004, 133–167; Hanokh Ben-Pazi, “Al ha-anti universaliyut shel ‘ha-ra’ayon hatsioni’: nekudat ha-mabat ha-satmarit shel ha-rav Yoel Teitelbaum,” Ha-Hinukh U-Sevivo 29 (2017): 291–304; Shaul Magid, “American Jewish Fundamentalism: Ḥabad, Satmar, ArtScroll,” in: Piety and Rebellion: Essays in Ḥasidism, Brighton, MA: Academic Studies Press, 2019. 20 For example: Yitzhak Kraus, Shalosh Ha-Shevuot Ke-Yesod Le-Mishnato Ha-Anti Tsionit Shel Ha-Rabi Mi-Satmar, M.A. thesis, the Hebrew University of Baltimore, 1990; Idem., “‘Yehadut ve-tsionut – shenaim shelo yelkhu yahdav’: mishnato ha-radikalit shel R. Yoel Teitelbaum ha-admor mi-satmar,” Ha-Tzionut 22 (2001): 37–60; Refael Kadosh, Extremist Religious Philosophy: The Radical Doctrines of the Satmar Rebbe, Ph.D. dissertation, Cape town University, 2011 (Hebrew); Ravitzky, Messianism, Zionism, and Jewish Religious Radicalism, 211–234. 21 For example: A. Fun Volozin, “Hasidei Satmar”, Adi Ofir (ed.) Hamishim LeArbaim Ushemone, Jerusalem: Van Leer Institute, 1999, 523–534; Oded Shechter, “Leshonam ha-tame shekra’uhu ivrit’: bein leshon ha-kodesh ve-ha-aramit – legeneologia shel ha-ivrit,” Mita’am 2 (2005): 123–138; Lewis Glinert, and Yossef Shilhav, “Holy land, holy language: a study of an ultraorthodox Jewish ideology,” Language in Society 20 (1) (1991): 59–86; Haim Be’er, “From the language of G-d to the language of the devil: on the struggle of Orthodoxy against Hebrew,” Keshet Ha-Hadasha 4 (2003): 128–144; Steffen Krogh, “The foundations of written Yiddish among Haredi Satmar Jews,” in: Yiddish Language Structures, edited by Marion Aptroot and Björn Hansen, Berlin: De Gruyter Mouton, 2014, 63–103; Ariel Evan Mayse, “The calf awakens: language, Zionism and heresy in twentiethcentury American Hasidism,” in: Kabbalah in America: Ancient Lore in the New World, edited by Brian Ogren, Boston: Brill, 2020, 269–291. 22 For example: David Sorotzkin, “‘Geula shel hoshekh ve-afela’: Rabi Yoel Teitelbaum ha-rabi mi-Satmar,” in: Gdoilim: Leaders Who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry, edited by Benjamin Braun and Nisim Leon, Jerusalem: The Van Leer Institute – Magnes Press, Jerusalem, 2017, 371–401; Motti Inbari, Jewish Radical Ultra-Orthodoxy Confronts Modernity, Zionism and Women’s Equality, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2016; Eli Gurfinkel, “Netzah Israel laMaharal mi-Prag u-tefisat ha-geula shel RIT (Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum) mi-Satmar, Da’at 78 (2015): 77–91; Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Redemption and AntiRedemption in the writing of Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum – The Satmar Rebbe following the Holocaust, the establishment of Israel and the Six Days War,” in:, Zionism: Between Normalization and Messianism, edited by Asaf Yedidya and Sigalit Rosmarin, Jerusalem: Efrata College Press, 2021, 109–143.

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23 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Reevaluating the role of anti-Zionism in the Satmar Rebbe’s Va-Yoel Moshe,” Da’at 90 (2021): 627–654 (Hebrew). 24 Rabbi Yoel, who by that time was eighty years old, wrote only the introduction, while the remaining chapters were written by his students under his supervision. 25 Bela Vago, “Temutot Be-Hanhagat yehudei Hungarian Bi-yemei Milhemet HaOlam Ha-Sheniya,” in: Hanhagat Yehudei Hungaria Bemivhan Ha-Shoah, edited by Israel Gutttman, Bela Vago and Livia Rothkirchen, Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 1976, 61–76; idem., “Some aspects of the Yishuv leadership’s activities during the Holocaust,” in: Jewish Leadership during the Nazi Era: Patterns of Behavior in the Free World, edited by Randolph L. Braham, New York: Social Science Monographs and Institute for Holocaust Studies of the City University of New York, 1985, 45–66. 26 Zehava Schwartz, Ha-Kehila Ha-Ortodiksit Be-Hungaria 1939–1945, M.A. thesis, Bar-Ilan University, 1990. 27 Haim Genizi, “Ha-Tenua Ha-Tsionit Be-Hungaria Bein Ha-Shanim 1939–1949,” Kovets Ha-Tsionut Ha-Datit 5 (2002): 87–94. 28 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Hast Thou Escaped and Also Taken Possession? The Responses of the Satmar Rebbe – Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum – and his Followers to Criticism of his Conduct During and After the Holocaust,” Dapim: Studies on the Holocaust 28 (2) (2014): 97–120. 29 Isaac Hershkowitz, “‘This enormous offense to the Torah’: New discoveries about the controversy over the escape of the Rabbis from Budapest, 1943–1944,” Yad Vashem Studies 37 (1) (2009): 109–136. 30 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “A Shepherd without a flock or a flock without a shepherd? The challenging dilemmas of Hasidic rabbis in Hungary during the Holocaust,” Moreshet 18 (2021): 96–134. 31 Esther Farbstein, Hidden in the Heights: Orthodox Jewry in Hungary During the Holocaust, Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 2014. 32 Kimmy Caplan, “Have ‘many lies accumulated in history books’?: The Holocaust in Ashkenazi ‘Haredi’ historical consciousness in Israel,” Yad Vashem Studies 29 (2001): 321–375; Meier Sompolinsky, “Jewish institutions in the world and the Yishuv as reflected in the Holocaust historiography of the ultra-Orthodox,” in: The Historiography of the Holocaust Period: Proceedings of the Fifth Yad Vashem International Historical Conference in March 1983, edited by Yisrael Guttman and Gideon Greif, Jerusalem: Yad Vashem, 1988, 609–630. 33 Keren-Kratz, “Walls of Separation.” 34 Yoel Teitelbaum, Va-Yoel Moshe, Brooklyn, 1959, 5. 35 Keren-Kratz, “Hast Thou Escaped.” 36 Michal Shaul, “Holocaust memory in ultra-Orthodox society in Israel: Is it a ‘counter-memory’?,” Journal of Israeli History 32 (2) (2013): 219–239; Caplan, “Have ‘many lies accumulated in history books’.” 37 Uriel Gellman and Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The Battle Over Hasidic Radicalism: The Belz–Munkács Controversy,” Jewish Studies Quarterly, (2023): 304–327. 38 Avraham Fuchs, Yeshivot Hungaria Begedulatan U-Behurbanan, Vols. 1–2, Jerusalem: Hed, 1978–1987; Yekutiel Yehuda Greenwald, Toyzent Yor Yidish Leben In Ungaren, New York, 1945, 206, 234; Shmuel Ha-Cohen Weingarten, HaYeshivot Be-Hungaria: Divrei Yemeihen U-Be’ayoteihen, Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1976, 88–90; Yehuda Erez (ed.), Karpatorus, Jerusalem: Entsiklopedia Shel Galuyot, 1959, 426; Yehoshua Robert Bikhler (ed.), Pinkas Ha-Kehilot: Slovakia, Jerusalem: Yad Va-Shem, 2003, 31. Over 30 yeshivas, in which some 3,000 students were enrolled, operated in Slovakia, whereas PKR had about roughly one third of this number.

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39 Erez, Karpatorus, 321–390; Yeshayahu A. Jelinek, Exile in the Foothills of the Carpathians: The Jews of Carpatho-Rus’ and Mukachevo, 1848–1948, Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, 2003, 178–186; Yehoshua Ha-Levi (ed.), Toldot Beitar Czechoslovakia, Tel Aviv: Yotsei Beitar CZR, 1961; Menachem Frank, Yehiel Tene (eds.), Ha-Halutz Ha-Tzair Be-Karpatorus, Kibbutz Lohamei Ha-Getaot: Beit Lohamei Ha-Getaot, 1984; Ya’akov Altman (ed.), Ha-Shomer Ha-Tzair BeCzechoslovakia: Perakim Be-Toldot Ha-Tenuah 1920–1950, Givat Haviva: Merkaz Ti’ud Shel Ha-Shomer Ha-Tsair, 1986 (all in Hebrew). 40 Arye Sole, Lights in Mountains: Hebrew-Zionist Education in Subcarpathian Ruthenia 1920–1944, Tel Aviv: The World Association of Subcarpathian Jews and Hebrew Schools, 1986 (in Hebrew); Erez, Karpatorus, 311–320; Jelinek, Exile, 187–194. 41 Gila Fatran, “Rescue at any price: the ‘working group’ in Slovakia,” Moreshet; Journal for the Study of the Holocaust and Antisemitism 9 (2012): 185–217; Katarína Hradská, “Attempts of the ‘Working Group’ to Save Jews from Deportations,” in: Uncovering the Shoah: Resistance of Jews and Their Efforts to Inform the World on Genocide, edited by Ján Hlavinka and Hana Kubátová, Bratislava: Institute of History of the Slovak Academy of Sciences, 2016, 41–52. 42 From a scholarly perspective religious fundamentalism may also refer to groups or ideologies that contest the very notion of religion yet which are constructed and behave as a religion. Such groups, such as Scientology, are not discussed in this chapter. 43 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “The Contemporary Study of Orthodoxy: Challenging the One-Dimensional Paradigm,” Tradition 49 (4) (2016): 24–52. 44 Menachem Keren-Kratz, “Orthodoxy as a Pseudo-Evolutionary Multi-System,” Zehuyot 6 (2015): 23–54 (Hebrew). 45 Emmanuel Sivan, “The enclave culture,” in: Fundamentalism Comprehended, edited by Martin E. Marty and R. Scott Appleby, Chicago: University of Chicago Press 1995, 11–68. 46 Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents, New York: Indie, 2017, 41–42; Anton Blok, “The Narcissism of Minor Differences,” European Journal of Social Theory 1 (1998): 33–56. 47 The most comprehensive outcome of these studies was the book series: Martin E. Marty, R. Scott, Appleby (eds.), The Fundamentalism Project, vols. 1–6, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991–2004. 48 Gabriel A. Almond, R. Scott Appleby, and Emmanuel Sivan, Strong Religion: The Rise of Fundamentalisms Around the World, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. 49 Recent decades have witnessed a new form of Jewish fundamentalism, which is directed outward. This type of religious radicalism seeks to expand Jewish settlement in the territories Israel liberated in the Six-Day War, and even to promote the establishment of the Third Temple on the Temple Mount, which in currently occupied by several important Muslim institutions. See: Motti Inbari, Jewish fundamentalism and the Temple Mount: Who Will Build the Third Temple?, Albany: SUNY Press, 2009; Idem., Messianic Religious Zionism Confronts Israeli Territorial Compromises, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012. 50 A book that does address the establishment of Agudat Israel in post-World War I Poland is: Gershon C. Bacon, The Politics of Tradition: Agudat Yisrael in Poland, 1916–1939, Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1996. A book that reviews the establishment of Agudat Israel’s labor wing is: Yossef Fund, Religious Proletarians Unite!: Poalei Agudat Israel - Ideology and Policy, Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2018 (Hebrew). 51 Alan L. Mittleman, The Politics of Torah: The Jewish Political Tradition and the Founding of Agudat Israel, Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996.

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Index

A House Divided 5 Abbazia (Opatija) 145 Adat Israel (Vienna) 141 Agrarian party 126–127, 129 Agudat Ha-Admorim 158 Agudat Ha-Rabanim (Hungary) 62 Agudat Ha-Rabanim (USA) 76, 157–159 Agudat Haredim 62 Agudat Israel 3, 39, 64, 75–83, 89–90, 92–95, 102–105, 108–109, 119, 121–122, 124–126, 128–129, 138–139, 142, 144–146, 157, 159, 161, 175–182, 188–190, 197, 201–202, 216–219, 221–222, 224–225, 229, 231 Agudat Yereim 62 Ahmadinejad, Mahmoud 198 Al Ha-Geula Ve-Al Ha-Temura 167, 190, 220 Alkalai, Yitzhak Avraham 144 Alter, Avraham Mordechai 80, 83, 125 Antwerp 1146, 181, 202–203 Arad 47 Arafat, Yasser 191–192, 198 Aran, Gideon 29 Argentina 206 Ashkanazi Community Council 175–179 Auschwitz 162 Australia 206 Austria 2, 61, 63, 83, 94, 98, 138–139, 142, 193, 198, 200–221 Austro-Hungarian Empire 23, 145, 201 Ba’al Shem Tov 29 Bad Homburg 77, 83 Baden 83 Baia Mare 101 Balfour, Lord 40, 174 Barukh, Yaakov 145

Beck, Moshe Ber 196–197 Beirut 198 Beit Shemesh 192 Beit Ya’acov 121 Beitar 123, 129 Belarus 75, 173, 216 Belgium 193, 198, 202–203 Belgrade 144 Belz 127–128 Ben-David, Ruth 190 Bengis, Reuven Zelig 180–181 Ben-Menachem, Naftali 5 Berezna (Nagyberezna) 36 Bergen-Belsen 162 Berger, Getzil (Gershon) 205 Berlin 156, 160 Bessarabia 98 Bilke 126–127 Bistrița (Bistritz) 99, 101 Blau, Amram 190–191 Bloch, Moshe Chaim Ephraim 218 Blum, Amram 36 Blum, Raphael 161 Bnai Yoel 194–195 Bnei Brak 165, 182–183, 188, 193, 196 Bohemia 32 Boisbriand 199 Bonyhád 63 Borsa 108 Bosnia 142 Braham, Randolph Lewis 5 Brakh, Shaul 127, 218 Braunschweig 47 Brazil 206 Breuer, Joseph 146 Brown, Yaacov Yoel 119 Brussels 202 Budapest 20–21, 23, 32, 50–51, 60, 82, 89–92, 95

242

Index

Buenos Aires 181, 206 Bukovina 61, 98 Burgenland 63, 139–142, 144 Cairo 76 Canada 193, 198–200 Canvey Island 205 Caplan, Kimmy 29 Capucci, Hilarion 191 Carei (Nagykároly, Krule) 102, 110–111, 125 Carmilly-Weinberger, Moshe 5 Central Rabbinate (Palestine/Israel) 175–176, 178 Central Rabbinical Congress (Hitah’dut Ha-Rabanim) 164–166, 187, 193–194, 197 Chorin, Aharon 47 Chust (Huszt) 32–40, 59, 62, 92, 127–128, 161, 178, 217 Civil party 126 Cleveland 157 Cluj (Kolozsvár, Klausenburg, ClujNapoca) 58–59, 101–103, 111, 161 Cohen, Aharon Mendel 76 Cohen, Pinhas 78 Cohen, Yosef Yitzhak 5 Comment 205 Čop (Csap, Chop) 125–126, 217 Csorna 63 Czechoslovakia 2, 6, 39–40, 98, 101, 117–130, 159, 217–218, 223 Dalmatia 142 Danzig, Shmuel Benjamin 61–62 De-Haan, Israel Yaacov 176 Dej (Dés) 100, 107 Detroit 206 Deutch, Eliezer 63 Deutch, Shlomo 143 Deutsch, Herman 144 Deutsch, Shmuel Benjamin 143–144 Die Jüdische Presse 118–119 Diskin, Yitzhak Yeruham 175–176 Dollfuss, Engelbert 141 Domb, Yisroel Yerachmiel 205–206 Durban 198 Dushinsky, Yosef Zvi 37, 40, 92, 127–128, 178–182 Eckstein, Moshe Asher 121 Edah Haredit 92, 128, 179–180, 182, 188–189, 192–193, 195

Egypt 76 Ehrenfeld, Shmuel 140, 142, 160, 182 Eisenstadt 139–140 Eisenstadt, Meir 139 Engelsrath, Albert 145 Erloy 182 Érmihályfalva (Valea lui Mihai) 52, 107 Ezrat Torah 157 Federation of American Zionists 156 Federation of Jewish Communities (Austria) 141 Federation of Jewish Communities (Yugoslavia) 143 Federation of Zionist Organizations in America 156 Ferziger, Adam 5, 29 Fishman, Shraga Feish 58 Fiume (Rijeka) 145–146 Fleishman, Gizi 123 Frankel, Avraham 60, 89, 92 Frankel-Kahana, Shmuel 92 Frankfurt 76 Frauenkirchen 140 Freudiger, Pinhas (Philip) 95 Freund, Haim 110 Frieder, Avraham Aba 123 Friedlander, Yozepa 161 Friedman, Israel Avraham 58 Friedman, Menachem 29 Friedman, Moshe Aryeh 202 Fuchs, Avraham 5 Fuchs, Benjamin 104, 108, 110 Gabel, Jacob 51, 83 Galanta 37, 178 Galicia 20, 28, 30, 33, 38, 62, 64, 76, 173, 230 Gateshead 204 General City Council 175 Germany 23, 47, 63–64, 75–78, 81, 94, 103, 123, 146, 156, 179, 192, 200, 220, 230 Glasner, Avraham 58 Glasner, Moshe Shmuel 58, 101, 103 Gold, Ze’ev 157 Goldman, Eliezer 29 Great Britain 103, 193, 197–198, 203–206 Greenwald, Avraham Yosef 37, 39 Greenwald, David Eliezer 106 Greenwald, Levi Yitzhak 160 Greenwald, Moshe 36–39, 59, 62, 217 Greenwald, Yehoshua 161

Index 243 Greenwald, Yekuthiel Yehuda 5 Greenwald, Yosef 203 Grodjinsky, Haim Ozer 77, 80 Gyulafehérvár (Carlsburg, Alba Iulia) 58, 99 Habsburg Empire 21 Ha-Derekh 83 Hager, Baruch 182 Hager, Haim Meir 182, 197 Hager, Israel 38, 61–62, 104, 110 Hager, Meir 161 Hager, Menachem Mendel (Oyber Visho) 105 Hager, Mendel (Kosov) 29 Hager, Mordechai 197 Hager, Yaakov Kopel 29 Ha-Halutz 129 Haifa 182, 188 Halberstam, Yekuthiel Yehuda 161, 182 Ha-Levi, Yitshak 77 Hamas 220 Hamburg 31 Ha-Mizrahi 37–38, 59–60, 76–78, 81, 95, 99, 101, 103–105, 118, 121, 124, 142, 156–157, 159, 175, 178, 201–202, 216–218, 221–222, 224, 231 Ha-Peles 76 Hartman, Yehuda 5 Ha-Shomer Ha-Tzair 129 Hatam Sofer 28, 30, 118 Hatam Sofer Circle 182–183 Heilman, Samuel 29 Herzog, Yakov 121 Hezbollah 198, 220 Hildesheimer, Azriel 139, 159 Hirsch, Samson Raphael 76–77 Hirshler, Shimon 119, 128 Histadrut Haredim 62 Hoemesz 108 Horowitz, Yosef Yonah Zvi Ha-Levi 120 Hovevei Zion 58 Hunsdorf (Huncovce, Hunfalva) 120 Ilok 143 Inbari, Motti 29 Iran 198 Irsava (Orshiva) 100–101, 125, 127 Isakson, Avraham Yisakhar Dov 108 Islamic Movement 192 Islamic State (ISIS) 22 Israel 143

Israel 161, 163–164, 167, 180–183, 187–188, 190–198, 203–206, 215, 217, 219–220, 222 Israelitische Kultusgemeinde Wien (IKG) 201 Italy 2, 63, 98, 138, 145–146 Jaffa 60 Jergin (Szergeny) 33 Jerusalem 64, 128–129, 142, 162, 164–165, 174–177, 181–183, 188–189, 192–193, 196, 203, 229 Jeshurun 121, 123 Jewish Agrarian party 126 Jewish Economic party 120 Jewish Economic party 127 Jewish party 120 Jewish Rights party 126 Jungreis, Reuven Shlomo 175 Kahan, Yisakhar Ber 99, 217 Kahana, (family) 37, 55 Kahana, Ze’ev 63 Kattowitz (Katowice) 78–79, 82 Katz, Jacob 5 Katzburg, David Zvi 59 Katzburg, Nathaniel 5 Keller, Pinhas Halevi 143 Keren Ha-Torah 102, 142, 145 Keren Kayemrt 100 Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia 142, 145 Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes 142 Kiryas Joel 195–196, 205 Kis, Sándor 19 Kisvárda (Kleinwardein) 36 Kivishad (Mezőkövesd) 161 Klein, Hillel (Philip) 156–157, 159 Knesset Israel 77 Knesset Zion Ha-Metsuyenet 156 Knesst Israel 176, 179 Kol Israel 176 Kolel Galicia 62 Kolel Marmaros 37, 61 Kolel Munkács and the Ten Districts 62 Kolel Ungaren 33, 38, 157, 174–175 Kolomea 29 Kook, Avraham Yitzhak Ha-Cohen 60, 176, 180 Kornfeld, Zigmond 145 Kosice 127, 161, 218 Kosov 29–30, 34 Kun, Béla 89

244

Index

Lackenbach 140–141 Lakewood 159 Latvia 75, 173, 216 Levy, Moshe Shimon 139–140 Libya 191 Lichtenstein, Hilel 48, 58 Lieberman, Mordechai Aharon 126–127 Liebman, Charles 29 Lifschitz, Eugen 145 Lifshitz, Arye Leib (Stanów) 52, 60 Lifshitz, Arye Leyb (Vishnitsa) 32 Liska 161 Lithuania 19, 31, 75, 173, 216 London 181, 192, 198–199, 204–205 Lorintz, Shlomo 182 Los Angeles 206 Lowy, Meshulam Feish 199 Lugano 206 Mad (Nagymad) 36, 91 Magyar Izraeliták Pártfogó Irodája (MIPI, Hungarian Jewish Aid Bureau) 94 Magyar Zsidó 50 Mahazikei Ha-Das (Belgium) 202 Mahazikei Ha-Dat 76 Mahazikei Ha-Dat (Austria) 201 Mahazikei Ha-Dat (Galicia) 75 Mahazikei Ha-Dat (Hungary) 62–63, 91 Mahazikei Ha-Dat (Russian Empire) 77 Mahazikei Ha-Dat (Slovakia) 121 Manchester 204 Margolis, Emil 120 Marienbad 159 Marmaros 6, 28–30, 33–40, 50, 54, 105, 108–109, 218 Masaryk, Tomáš 122 Mattersdorf (Mattersburg) 31, 139–140, 142, 160 Meislish, Zvi Hirsh 161 Melbourne 206 Mendelovitz, Shraga Feivel 157 Mentzer, Isakhar Ber 143 Meyer-Teitelbaum, Yoel 161 Miami 206 Mihalovitz (Nagymihály, Michalovce) 22, 33, 36–37, 48 Mintz, Moshe 32 Monroe 195 Monsey 159, 197 Montenegro 142 Montevideo 206 Montreal 181, 199–200, 203

Moravia 32 Moriah 63, 78 Munich 123, 191 Munkács 62, 124–127, 129, 217, 224 Nasrallah, Hassan 198 Netanya 182 Neturei Karta 163, 165, 179–181, 187–194, 196–200, 202, 204–206, 218, 220, 222 New York 64, 142, 155–158, 165, 181, 194–195, 197, 199 New York Post 194 New York Rabbinical Council 157 Nitra 218 Nové Zámky (Érsekújvár, Neuhäusel) 120 Nyírbátor 161 Nyírbogát 196 Nyirtass 199 Oradea (Nagyvárad, Großwardein) 51, 62, 99, 101, 104, 108, 110 Országos Magyar Zsidó Segítő Akció (OMZSA, National Hungarian Jewish relief Action) 94 Orthodox Jewish Congregations union (OU) 156 Orthodox Union (Germany) 79 Osijek 143 Ottoman Empire 20, 173–174 Oyfalu (Berettyóùjfalu) 36–37 Paks (Bacs) 22, 47 Palatucci, Giovanni 146 Palestine (Eretz Israel) 31–32, 34–35, 39–40, 58–61, 75, 77, 92, 100, 103, 105, 108–109, 121, 129, 142, 144, 173–180, 216–217, 228–230 Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) 192, 196–197, 205 Palm Tree 195 Pappenheim, Isidor (Azriel) 120, 122–123, 129 Pappenheim, Wolf 122 Paris 98 Patai, Raphael 4, 19 Pennsylvania 157 Peri (Friedman), Yitshak 5 Petah Tikva 182 Petrovo Selo (Petrowasla, Péterréve) 144 Pfeffer, Alter Shaul 157 Pistyan (Piešťany) 119

Index 245 PKR (Carpathian Ruthenia, Karpatorus) 2, 63, 90, 93–94, 109, 117–119, 124–130, 178, 217, 221, 223–224 Poienile de Sub Munte (Havasmező) 108–109 Polak, Alexander 144 Poland 19–20, 62, 75, 78, 94, 125, 146, 173, 179, 205, 216, 230 Poll, Solomom 29 Poltava 76 Poprád 119 Pressburg (Pozsony, Bratislava) 31, 33, 47, 51, 59, 61, 77, 92, 118–120, 122, 181 Pupa (Pápa) 203, 205 Raab (Győr) 91 Rabin, Yitzhak 191 Rabinovich, Eliyahu Akiva 76 Rabinowitz, Baruch Yehoshua Yerachmiel 129 Rabinowitz-Teomim, Eliyahu David 174 Ratek, Yeshayahu 201 Rav Tov 201–202 Reich, Yacov Kopel 60, 83, 89–90 Reich, Yitzhak 49 Reich, Ze’ev 83 Romania 2, 6, 39–40, 93, 98, 173, 217 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano 160 Rosenberg, Shalom 29 Rosenblat, Yossale 155 Rosenheim, Yaacov 77–83 Roth, Haim 95 Roth, Yoel Zvi 36 Rubin-Halberstam, Haim David 145–146 Russian Empire 29, 31, 64, 75–77, 156, 173–174, 177, 216, 230 Salah, Raad 192 Salant, Shmuel 174 Salmon, Yosef 29 Samet, Moshe 29 Sângeorgiu de Pădure (Sfântu Gheorghe, Erdőszentgyörgy) 99, 217 São Paulo 181, 206 Satmar (Szatmar, Satu Mare) 40, 94–95, 101, 106–108, 110, 125, 161–162 Schechter, Yaacov 82 Scheiber, Alexander 5 Schick, Moshe 32–37 Schlesinger, Akiva Yosef 32, 34 Sered (Szered) 121

Shapira, Elazar (Kivishad) 161 Shapira, Haim Elazar 119, 124–129, 217 Shapira, Haim Moshe 165 Shapira, Zvi Hirsh 62 Shav Lakhem Mashkimei Kum 217 Shevet Ahim 49–50 Shevet Sofer 59 Shomer Israel 75 Shomrei Ha-Das (Belgium) 202 Shomrei Ha-Dat (Hungary) 33, 48–50 Shomrei Shabat Association 156 Shpigel, Moshe Yosef 127 Shpigel, Yehuda 5 Shpitz, Yeshayahu 218 Shreiber-Sofer, Avraham 146 Shulhan Arukh 49, 121 Sighet (Sighetu Marmatiei, Máramarossziget) 30, 34–40, 50–51, 54–55, 59, 61–62, 100–101, 103–104, 109, 161, 167, 217 Silber, Michael 29 Silberstein, David Yehuda 143 Silesia 32 Silver, Eliezer 159 Sivan, Emanuel 29 Slovakia 2, 63, 90, 92–93, 117–124, 127, 218, 221, 22–224 Sofer, Akiva 119, 122, 182 Sofer, Haim 51 Sofer, Moshe (Hatam Sofer) 22, 28, 30–33, 35, 47, 59, 18, 139, 143, 160, 182, 227 Sofer, Shimon 76 Sofer, Simcha Bunem 59 Sofer, Yohanan 182 Sonnenfeld, Yosef Haim 128, 175–178, 181 Sorotzkin, David 29 South Afrika 198 South America 193 Soviet Union (USSR) 201 Spinka (Săpânţa, Szaplonca) 62, 194, 127, 161 Stanów 52 Stara Kanjiža (Magyarkanizsa) 143–144 Stern, Bezalel 201 Subotica (Szabadka) 143–144 Sudetenland 124 Šurany 122 Sussman-Sofer, Ephraim Fischel 91–92 Switzerland 162 Synagogue Council of America 157 Szikszó 48

246

Index

Teitelbaum, Aharon 196 Teitelbaum, Alta Faige 194–195, 200 Teitelbaum, Eliezer Nissan 34 Teitelbaum, Haim Zvi 38, 61–62, 100, 104, 162 Teitelbaum, Hananya Yom-Tov Lipa 36–38, 52, 55, 59, 217 Teitelbaum, Moshe (Sighet) 143, 161, 167, 194–195, 202, 204 Teitelbaum, Moshe (Yismah Moshe) 28, 30, 32, 34–35, 39, 47 Teitelbaum, Yekuthiel Yehuda (Yitzv Lev) 34–37, 39, 54–55, 61 Teitelbaum, Yekuthiel Yehuda (Zalman Leib, New York) 195–196 Teitelbaum, Yekuthiel Yehuda (Zalman Leib, Sighet) 39, 104, 162 Teitelbaum, Yoel 6, 40, 94–95, 100–102, 105–111, 125, 127, 161–167, 181, 189–204, 219, 222–223, 229 Teitelbaum, Yom-Tov Lipa (Nyírbátor) 161 Teitelbaum-Meyer, Hananya Yom-Tov (Sassov) 182 Tel Aviv 182 Tel Talpiot 59–60, 92 The Transformation 205 The Yishuv 92 Tiegerman, Yosef Meir 121 Tiszaeszlár 52 Tomkhei Yeshivot (Hungary) 91, 102 Tomkhei Yeshivot (Slovakia) 121 Tomkhei yeshivot (Yugoslavia) 143 Torat Beit Ya’acov 90 Transilvanishe Yidishe Tseitung 110 Transylvania 2, 20–21, 90, 93–94, 98–111, 162, 217, 221 Trefort, Ágoston 50–51 Trnava (Tyrnau) 119, 218 Tseirei Agudat Israel 95, 142, 144, 146, 164 Turda 108 Tzhelim (Deutschkreutz, Sopronkeresztur) 160 Ujhel (Sátoraljaújhely) 32, 34, 47 Ukraine 54, 75, 173, 216 Ullman, Shlomo Zalman 99, 107

Unger, Shalom Moshe Ha-Lavi 161 Unger, Shmuel David 119, 123 Ungvár (Užhorod) 126–127 United States 75–76, 82, 108, 155–167, 173, 176, 179, 181, 187, 194, 196–197, 201, 204–206, 222, 229–230 Uruguay 206 Vác (Weitzen) 60, 61 Va-Yalket Yosef 60 Va-Yoel Moshe 165–167, 218–219, 222 Vienna 89, 93, 111, 123, 139–142, 200–203 Vilnius 77 Vişeu de Sus (Felsővisó, Oyber Visho) 105, 161 Viznitz (Vijniţa) 29, 61–62, 104, 110 Vojvodina 143 Volozhin (Wołożyn) 31, 77 Vozner, Shmuel 183 Warsaw 123 Washington 192 Weber, Kalman 119–120, 122, 126, 128 Weill, Ernest 78 Weinberger, Moshe 156–157 Weiss, Ya’akov 161 Weiss, Yisroel Dovid 198 Weiss, Yosef Meir 62 Weissmandel, Michael Dov 123, 161, 218 Wesel, Ben-Zion 108–110 Winkler, Mordechai 91 Yismah Moshe 28, 30 Yitav Lev 34 Yugoslavia 2, 63, 98, 138–139, 142–145, 221 Zagreb 139, 142–143 Zenta (Senta) 143–144 Zigmond, Maurice 145 Zilberstein, Yeshaya 60 Zsidó Híradó 51, 60 Zsidó Újság 90 Zurich 206