We refer to a great spiritual giant as a gadol. Too often, especially in the modern era of hagiography, the word is too broadly applied and thereby diluted. However, to those who have encountered a gadol, the definition seems intuitive. When one is privileged to have a relationship with a gadol, your life is forever inspired, morally challenged, and religiously refined. I had the privilege of spending thirty years in the presence of a surpassing gadol of our generation: Harav Aharon Lichtenstein zt”l, who unquestionably shaped my life and the lives of tens of thousands of his talmidim across the globe.
Though it is impossible to encapsulate the breadth and depth of his character, to me his most outstanding quality was his uncanny ability to combine character traits which to many people appear contradictory or irreconcilable. A gadol possesses a large enough persona to seamlessly integrate otherwise conflicting qualities.
Harav Lichtenstein zt”l was best known for his unparalleled Torah erudition, his sweeping intellect, and his uncommon breadth of knowledge. Yet, those who knew him personally, were far more inspired by his impeccable gentleness, his exceptional humility, and his absolute love for human beings.
Perhaps his defining character trait was his genuine and almost innocent humility. Despite his tremendous accomplishments, he viewed every man as his equal and he was completely absent of any trace of conceit, superiority, or haughtiness. Had he not been one of the greatest scholars of his day, he would have still been the nicest person you ever met.
Often, intellectual prowess and personal character refinement do not cohere. A gadol of his stature fused the two effortlessly.
He demonstrated unqualified and unflinching commitment to strict halachic observance. He was not the posek to approach if you were interested in soliciting a kulah or a halachic leniency. Yet surprisingly, he was generally regarded as very open-minded to the broader world and tolerant of a broad range of opinions. Typically, strict halachic poskim tend to possess narrow views of the world while liberals often aggressively flex the halachic system. Only a gadol of his stature could combine this peculiar mix of traditional conservatism and liberalism.
His secret lay in his staunch and steadfast commitment to halacha, Talmud Torah, and middos improvement. These core elements of religious identity forged the solid nucleus which allowed more open mindedness toward more peripheral issues. If core yiras shamayim is impregnable, broadmindedness is less hazardous.
Harav Lichtenstein was a giant of passion and intensity. To hear his Torah shmoozes and lectures was to encounter roaring fervor and unmitigated religious energy. The pitched intensity of his shiurim reflected how deeply engaged he was intellectually and how fervently he viewed Talmud Torah as the preserving agent of Jewish continuity. Yet, these thunderous shiurim and sichos were delivered by a person who was otherwise soft-spoken, gentle, and tender. I often found myself wondering how such passion and intensity could reside alongside such tranquility and softness. His character was large enough to incorporate these two voices.
Harav Lichtenstein displayed sophisticated thinking and taught us textual nuance and logical subtlety. He could spend hours dissecting Torah passages or examining the religious experience. His rigorous and layered analysis trained us to view life as complex and multifaceted, rather than simplistic and one-dimensional.
Yet, his sophistication didn’t foster the moral confusion so often witnessed in sophisticated thinkers. He possessed a clear moral voice, and often expressed his outrage toward injustice, corruption, or even minor character flaws. Neglecting personal improvement was a moral and religious shortcoming.
How could sophistication and complexity coexist with moral authority and clarity? Sophistication demands relativism and lack of absolutism. Moral clarity is pitched upon fixed and immutable values. Yet a gadol of his caliber demonstrated the synthesis of intellectual complexity and moral clarity.
Harav Lichtenstein was stunningly brilliant, creative, and erudite. One felt humbled standing in the presence of a human being who had fully maximized all the human potential Hashem endowed him with. He believed in humanity and had great faith in mankind as a Divinely created pinnacle of creation. He was a gadol and also affirmed gadlus ha’adam.
Yet, he lived his life as an eved Hashem, constantly reminding us that we are born as summoned beings or as metzuveh v’oseh, he modelled complete submission to ratzon Hashem. He worked tirelessly at religion, viewing the title of “avodas Hashem” literally as labor and toil. His hasmadah, or commitment to endless hours of uninterrupted Torah study was legendary. Viewing him in his seat in the Beis Midrash at Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush etched upon our imaginations the indelible imprint of a human being working to serve and understand his Creator.
Creative and educated people sometimes cringe at the prospect of submission. By contrast, obedient ovdei Hashem are often wary of creative thought, which is a product of self-expression and of belief in self. Only a gadol of Harav Lichtenstein’s caliber was able to encompass both poles of human identity. Witnessing a person of such intellectual accomplishment so eagerly and intuitively submitting to Hashem and mitzvos compelled his talmidim toward similar goals. If a man of his accomplishment and intellectual elegance could so eagerly embrace the mantle and weight of avodas Hashem, we all felt similarly summoned.
When he taught Torah, time stood still. It was as if the entire universe collapsed and was folded into the beauty and magnificence of the Divine word, conveyed with such grandeur by a master Rebbe. The world outside dissipated and, listening to a shiur on a narrow topic, felt like a journey through the outer limits of our universe. Yet, despite his ability to fold the entire world into an isolated Torah sugya or idea, he was intellectually engaged in almost every area of human experience, from classic literary texts to pressing social issues facing the people and State of Israel. He could respond articulately and intelligently to any query about modern culture, and actively sought to landscape the modern world with ancient Jewish morality and faith.
How could he at once shrink the world down to a page of Divine Torah text while alternatively stretching the discourse across the totality of the human condition? Only a gadol of his stature could create such an elastic experience!
A gadol doesn’t merely deepen his students, he also stretches their religious identity and imagination. He teaches them not to brand themselves or lock themselves into narrow character profiles. He teaches them to be conservative in certain areas, while being liberal in others. He teaches them passion and intensity coupled with tenderness and retiring humility. He inspires creativity and self-expression while subjugating those talents toward serving a Higher being. He models scholarship but more importantly typifies character and kindness. In short, he creates great people in his image.
On the yahrzeit of my Rebbe, Harav Aharon Lichtenstein, zt”l, we remember a true gadol, and I hope that his memory and his legacy inspire us toward the majesty of the religious experience that he so magnificently typified. n
*Originally printed in the Jewish Week, April 2015
Rabbi Moshe Taragin is a rabbi at Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, a hesder yeshiva. He has semicha and a B.A. in computer science from Yeshiva University, as well as an M.A. in English Literature from City University of New York. He is the author of “Dark Clouds Above, Faith Below” providing religious responses to the massacres of October 7 and the ensuing war. Available in bookstores or at https://kodeshpress.com/product/dark-clouds-above-faith-below/ and https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CZ7N8ZJB .