IN-DEPTH FEATURES
Tarnished Gold: Rabbi Yaakov Yosef in the Land of Opportunity

At the end of the 19th century, hundreds of thousands of Jews fleeing the horrors and pogroms of Czarist Russia streamed toward the shores of what came to be known as the Goldene Medinoh. Every month thousands of Jews were added to New York's population until at the beginning of the 20th century Jews comprised more than one-fourth of the city's total residents.

Yet they soon discovered they had come to the Treifene Medinoh. Spiritually, New York was in a state of abject poverty and something had to be done. In their innocence the leaders of 130 separate kehillos in New York City decided to import the chief-rabbinate system, which had proven itself in Europe. This form of organization would mean a united body that could uphold shemiras hamitzvos, provide direction, and oversee job appointments in the Jewish community.

The plan's backers intended to fund the learned Chief Rabbi brought from Europe (known as the Rav Kollel) by levying a tax on kosher meat. The very idea that the Chief Rabbi would have the authority to exercise power in New York's prevailing atmosphere of unfettered freedom revealed what greenhorns those activists really were.

Such an institution, subsidized by an unpopular tax, had been implemented in Eastern Europe, where it proved itself largely because the kehilloh was subject to the local government authority. Also, in the Old Country the kosher meat industry was not tainted by corruption and scandals, and was easier to run and oversee.

Nevertheless, efforts were made to formulate a plan that would grant the Chief Rabbi control over religious matters, including specific guidelines regarding the sensitive problem of issuing hechsheirim.

A Royal Reception

Rabbi Yaakov Yosef was born in Kruzesh, Lithuania in 5600 (1840) or 5601 (1841). He studied at Yeshivas Volozhin under the Netziv. Before receiving widespread recognition, he was already known as Rebbe Yankele Hecharif. A few years later he transferred to the Kloiz in Kovno, where he became a talmid muvhak of HaRav Yisroel Salanter. These experiences were reflected later during the course of Rabbi Yaakov Yosef's life: at the yeshiva he headed he maintained a combination of lamdonus and mussar.

The historical records suggest he may have received his first rabbinical post in the town of Vilon in 5618 (1858), but certainly by 5620 (when he was just twenty) he already had his own talmidim. A few years later Rabbi Yaakov Yosef set up and headed a yeshiva, originally in Vilon and later (around the year 5634) moving to Yurburg and then on to Zhagovy.

In 5644 (1883) he moved to Vilna--`the Jerusalem of Lithuania'-- where he served as a maggid meishorim and a moreh tzedek. The Vilna kehilloh had been without a rov for over 150 years, and Rabbi Yaakov Yosef became one of its spiritual leaders. His great reputation as an orator spread as far as the U.S.

Several of Rabbi Yaakov Yosef's letters were published in the press, primarily regarding hechsheirim and announcements of rabbinical appointments. His droshos were compiled in a sefer called LeBeis Yaakov first published in 5648 (1888). Later, three further editions appeared, testifying to his widespread popularity.

A few other droshos and some halachic articles were published in New York in 5649 in a booklet called Toldos Yaakov Yosef beNew York. Other droshos, mostly from his Vilna period, are also extant (Vilna 5657). These seforim reveal very straight logic and great depth of understanding. The droshos are presented in a lucid style, are extremely well-organized and the main points come across clearly. He gave haskomos for at least 16 seforim, some of which were published in Eastern Europe and some in the U.S.

Rabbi Yaakov Yosef was a famous and distinguished figure in the Vilna community when the Jewish kehillos of New York offered him the position of Rav Kollel (i.e. Chief Rabbi). The affection and esteem the people of Vilna felt towards him are apparent in a letter from Michoel Beard of Vilna to Avrohom Cohen, a relative in New York and editor of the Forward:

"He is very dear to us. Bright and saintly, he is a rare breed. We deeply regret having to part with him. We did not want to lose such a kli yokor. Please try to impress upon the Jews of New York that they have taken a rare and precious gem from us. Please try to ensure he is given the esteem he deserves. I know you are not among the regulars at the beis knesses, but you have a Jewish heart beating within you. Therefore be sure to let everyone know Vilna was blessed through him and places its pride in him, and be it known that now New York wears this crown on its head."

Festive Greeting

The day Rabbi Yaakov Yosef stepped foot on American soil in 5648 (1888) was like a holiday. A huge crowd decked in yom tov attire arrived at New Jersey's Hoboken Harbor to greet the new Chief Rabbi. Following this royal reception, thousands escorted him all the way to his attractive new home at 263 Henry Street on Manhattan's Lower East Side. Yet this splendor would soon prove to be illusory.

That Shabbos, Shabbos Nachamu, he was asked to deliver his inaugural droshoh at the Great Synagogue on Norfolk Street. The beis knesses was standing room only, with many more people peering in at the entrance. They did not expect to be able to hear the droshoh, but wanted to catch a glimpse of the Rov. Not anticipating such a large turnout, the police on hand had to request reinforcements.

A four-man police escort finally managed to clear a path for the Rov and his four accompaniers, heads of the Association of Congregations, from his home to the beis knesses. Only by threatening to use force, and periodically carrying out their threats, were they able to hold back the masses.

Inside the beis knesses, temperatures climbed high above the heat outside, but no one budged. This was the hour the association leaders and Lower Manhattan's entire eastern- European Jewish population had been waiting for.

The comforting words of the novi read in the Haftorah could have been written for American Jewry for that particular Shabbos. After it had been "loksoh miyad Hashem kiflayim bechol chatosehoh (Yeshayoh 40:2)" now a shepherd had been sent to America who "bizro'o yekabeitz telo'im ubecheiko yiso, olos yenaheil (Yeshayoh 40:11)." Five hundred pairs of eyes gazed toward the bimah when he began to speak.

"Every book has a table of contents and an introduction in which the author outlines his approach to the topic in question. This droshoh as well, to inaugurate a new movement in U.S. Jewry, should be seen as a title- page and introduction to the entries we plan to write in the Book of Life."

The droshoh lasted forty-five minutes. "During the course of the drosho he did not use any delicate phrases," says one contemporary newspaper account, "and said his ideas clearly and sharply. Written sources he quoted in Hebrew and translated into German. The audience listened to the droshoh very intently and with interest."

The droshoh was not a call to arms to fight the kofrim, but rather words of his'orerus to foster compassion and understanding within the community. "Our main endeavor will be to bring others to recognize and adhere to the laws of chesed and emes through the power . . . of our moral living and acts of tzedokoh and generosity."

This first appearance by the Rav Kollel was highly praised. His personality, mannerisms and middos won over the hearts of his harshest critics.

The hearts of community leaders swelled with pride and joy when Dr. C. Pereira Mendes and Judge Phillip Y. Joachimson paid the Rov a call to invite him to accompany them on an overseers' tour of the Hebrew Orphanage. Until then Eastern European Jews had been treated with derision, or tolerance at best. Now their rabbi was being offered an honor placing him on equal standing with the spiritual leader of the oldest, most privileged beis knesses (Dr. Mendes, rabbi of the Shearis Yisroel, the Spanish-Portugese Synagogue) and one of the most prominent public figures among the Jews of the city.

The Rov's appearance at the levaya of the victims of a fire in the Bowery--which had sent shock waves throughout the Jewish sector--and his urgent appeal to come to the help of the victims' families, brought him recognition as a leader sensitive to public needs and whose authority and sense of responsibility went hand- in-hand.

As Rosh Hashanah approached, he personally contacted the Commissioner of Correctional Services to request that Jewish prisoners be released from work during the upcoming holidays. He was greeted cordially and promised that his request would be honored.

Opposition

Presumably New York Jews would welcome the arrival of such a respected and beloved figure from the Old Country, but instead of showering him with laurels, groups within the traditional kehilloh as well as outside extremists-- particularly anarchists and socialists--began to attack and slander a man with whom they had never exchanged a word and whom they had never even seen.

Rabbi Yaakov Yosef had barely unpacked his luggage before the English-language Jewish press, entirely controlled by secular and even anti-religious entities, began to release a stream of harsh denunciations.

Weathering the Storm with Noble Middos

Rabbi Yaakov Yosef did not shrink from his maligners, and immediately began to implement the tasks he had been brought to accomplish. His first goal was to improve the dismal state of supervision in kosher slaughterhouses.

At the time, the Jewish sector in New York was witness to internal conflicts among the butchers, claims and counterclaims among the shochtim and disregard for the rabbonim who tried to impose some order in the hashgocho system.

His predecessor, Rav Avrohom Yosef Asch, had suffered throughout his time in office from the butchers who defied him and even harmed him physically. Fist fights were not uncommon and laxity in kashrus matters and matters of hygiene were widespread. Some companies contacted the authorities to inform on their competitors--a base act of chilul Hashem and slander of the Jewish community.

Both the shochtim and the butchers, of course, were angered by Rabbi Yaakov Yosef's involvement. He was supposed to curb their abuses.

Meanwhile Lower East Side residents were asked to pay a small tax to help fund the new mashgichim. The wave of protests against this levy was joined by rabbonim who had lost their income when Rabbi Yaakov Yosef and his beis din declared their hashgochos unreliable.

As if the kashrus of the meat was wholly irrelevant, opponents claimed America was the Land of Opportunity and this "fanatic foreigner" had no right to deny its citizens their "freedom of choice" and their wide-ranging rights.

Eventually the surcharge of one penny on every chicken that carried a kashrus stamp, came to be called by the unflattering nickname "Korovka," after the name of the kosher- meat tax imposed by the Czar's government in the Old Country.

This emotionally-loaded appellation reminded consumers of the persecution the immigrant community had fled. From that point on, any attempts at rational discussion were precluded.

Then the radical anti-religious press stepped into the picture, vilifying Rabbi Yaakov Yosef falsely as a shyster who sucked the last pennies from widows and orphans through a tax levied exclusively for his own benefit and for the benefit of his patrons.

A nasty smear campaign was launched, headed by the butchers' union and actively supported by rabbonim whose hashgocho had been repudiated. The verbal attacks were direct and highly damaging, knowing no bounds. Of course these accusations were unfounded.

In fact, the association's top quality hashgocho cost the Association of Congregations much more than one cent per chicken. Every shochet had to take a test and receive semichoh, and the shechita itself, the hachshoroh process and the butcher shops had to be overseen to protect consumers from mistakes and deception.

The combined attack struck a harsh blow against the authority and standing of the Rav Kollel. A target for pressure on all sides, the Rov was unable to maintain the proper respect and derech eretz demanded by his exalted post.

The two-pronged attack was effective for it exposed weaknesses in the Rav Kollel's standing. Even his most loyal supporters began to wonder if the Association of Congregations had indeed acted wisely and if it had the right to interfere in the complex, murky dealings in the kosher meat trade. From that point onward they could only engage in defensive activity and to this unpleasant, ungracious task Rabbi Yaakov Yosef now had to focus his attention and energies.

At this stage there was no longer even an appearance of respect for or listening to the rabbinate. Yet even after the rug had been pulled out from under his feet, Rabbi Yaakov Yosef continued to weather the storm, remaining an emblem and a model of self-control and self-respect.

He reacted to the denunciations and rebellious acts with patience and understanding. In a letter to the butchers' union regarding shechita regulations, he said of his opponents, "Those opposed to my regulations must still be treated with consideration and middas horachamim. For them this is a matter of business, their livelihood . . . I am asking you, my brothers, please do not disrupt them in their daily lives. Believe me, I hold no grudge in my heart over all of the slurs they say and print about me."

Even when Rabbi Yaakov Yosef was smirched with impudent and painful accusations of acting in bad faith--and such accusations were endless--he refused to descend to his opponents' shameless level and engage in mudslinging. In both public and private conversations he refused to breathe a word against his affronters. He even forbade his supporters from calling meat not under his shechita supervision treif (although its kashrus was doubtful at best). Yet no matter how much Rabbi Yaakov Yosef tried to show restraint and forgive his detractors for their unforgivable conduct, he received no reciprocity on their part.

Devoted Activities

Rabbi Yaakov Yosef had no intention of neglecting his other official duties besides kashrus supervision. He delivered numerous public droshos, speaking at different botei knesses affiliated with the Association of Congregations, sometimes giving two droshos on one Shabbos, one during Shacharis and one during Mincha.

He adhered to the spirit of the traditional Lithuanian drosho, peppered with pilpulei halocho but also containing pragmatic hints and allusions to the matters of the day. Based on an examination of three droshos he published, however, his primary focus was the tikkunim needed in the field of kashrus.

He also applied himself to matters of chinuch. Jewish education in the Lower East Side was in wretched condition. The most common educational institution was the small, private cheder, which taught little more than mechanical reading skills. The melamdim were unqualified and their pupils were uninterested. Standard enrollment fees in 5647 (1887) came to ten cents per week. Competition among melamdim was fierce--not to raise teaching standards but to acquire the most students.

Two talmudei Torah provided decent instruction for a small percentage of boys from Orthodox homes. In addition the Free Hebrew School, supported by the city's most affluent Jews, offered religious education to a fairly large number of children. Parents who wanted a more solid education for their children hung their hopes on Yeshivas Eitz Chaim, recently founded.

One of Rabbi Yaakov Yosef's first official acts in office was a visit to Eitz Chaim. He became an avid supporter of the yeshiva and on numerous occasions he encouraged members of his community to give it their generous support. Had he been able to devote more of his time attending to education and less of his time attending to kashrus, he would have certainly made a respectable contribution to the task of strengthening the religious and spiritual life of American Jews.

Rav Yaakov Yosef was indignant over the practice of mixed seating of men and women in the beis knesses, a problem for years even among the Orthodox in America of those days and thereafter. None of the botei knesses that heeded his word ever considered praying together, like the Reform, but at weddings held in botei knesses men and women would intermingle, which the Rov saw as an aveiroh and an opening for more severe developments. He instituted a takonoh requiring women and girls-- except for the kallah and her immediate family--to sit in the ezras noshim when the wedding was held inside the shul.

In order to introduce the Jewish community to the Rov and the activities of the Association of Congregations, a periodical called Sefer Toldos Yaakov Yosef beNew York was started in 5649 (1889). The cover page offered the following explanation: "These are the things I have demanded or have done be'ezras Hashem to strengthen religion and Judaism, and my responses to inquiries regarding matters of practical halocho, during my time here New York [sic]."

In the introduction the Rov writes, "Here before you, the reader, is a booklet I have begun to publish on public matters I have worked on, and what I have said to the public [during droshos] regarding matters of the day, based on [the circumstances of] the time and place in which we are living . . . "

A Bitter End

The attacks by radical groups continued, increasing in frequency. In addition to oral and written censure, they committed acts of blasphemy and rebellion, staging acts of public chilul Shabbos in the streets of the Lower East Side to demonstrate their contempt for the Rov's authority. They rented wagons, and young people smoking cigarettes (in some cases for the first time in their lives) rode them in procession past the botei knesses of Lower Manhattan on Shabbos.

Tempers flared as sticks and stones flew. The mockery reached its peak in the first "Yom Kippur Drinking Festival," Rachmono litzlan, organized by a young group of anarchists called The Freedom Vanguard. As fathers strode in festive solemnity to the beis knesses for Kol Nidrei, the youths marched in scoffing procession to the liquor and dance hall, Hashem yishmor.

In an attempt to put a stop to opposition claims, one of the heads of the association, Yehoshua Rothstein, dispatched letters to distinguished rabbonim in Eastern Europe, laying before them the libelous writings against Rabbi Yaakov Yosef that had been distributed in New York. In their replies the rabbonim empathized with the Rov and expressed anger toward his vilifiers. Rov S. Strashon of Vilna wrote, "With great sorrow we received your letter and the enclosed announcement. We cannot put into words the extent of our grief and sorrow over the grief of the Rov, the renowned gaon . . . the fabulous speaker . . . Rov Yaakov Yosef, a light unto Yisroel. Never could we have imagined this would befall him after the honor and grandeur he had here in our camp . . . "

Other rabbonim vented their rage, promised to back Rabbi Yaakov Yosef and offered their encouragement in fighting Hashem's battle, but these correspondences proved to be of no use. The opponents remained undaunted in the face of the Rov Hakollel's supporters, displaying the same audacity they had shown the Rov himself.

When the rabbinate tried to levy a modest tax to cover the expenses of producing matzo flour, Rabbi Yaakov Yosef's adversaries considered this the straw that broke the camel's back. The amount of the tax was negligible -- less than one- fourth of a cent per pound of matzo flour -- but it was enough to spur the malicious reporters and the riled masses who wanted to eliminate the Rov Hakollel once and for all.

The Association of Congregations began to show signs of weakening. Botei knesses started to skip tax payments, and little by little they reneged on their obligations entirely. The governors tired of taking responsibility for increasing budget deficits.

An agreement was reached with upstanding butchers, who committed to pay the wages of the Rov Kollel and the other rabbonim involved in hashgocho. This agreement spelled the end of the concept of a rabbinate under a rav kollel. The Rov Hakollel and his assistants were now essentially employees of the butchers they supervised.

The bitterest irony was that the Rov was compelled to lower himself by having to work as a simple mashgiach for New York butchers. Stripped of his title and made an object of mockery and ridicule, the Rov was barely able to make a living until 5655 (1893). No one denies that even under these conditions he managed to maintain his honor and his unsullied ways and to continue his activities. "The bureau was always buzzing with rabbis, friends and all sorts of meshamshim bekodesh," wrote one visitor to the Rov Kollel's office, "Some were seeking semichoh for horo'oh, others wanted haskomos for their handwritten manuscripts and asked him to write an introduction to them as well. Still others hoped to receive a kabolo [which would qualify them to become shochtim]."

He would test young, newly-ordained rabbonim and add his own semichoh to their previous semichas horo'oh. A Jewish physician named Dr. Gordon notes the Rov's home was open to all throughout the day, and many people came and went. He says the Rov provided encouragement and guidance to immigrants and their young children.

The situation declined in the spring of 5655 (1895). Butcher- shop owners banded together, released themselves from the Rov's authority and renounced his hashgocho. One contemporary describing the situation wrote, " . . . Rav Yaakov's status is not faring well, Hashem yerachem . . . He is left without any wages and is under siege and distress . . . He and his entire family are in a state of yogon ve'anochoh."

Rabbi Yaakov Yosef, the tzaddik and lamdan who battled for the sake of kashrus consumers, who fought fearlessly for religious education and observance in America, now remained penniless, bereft of any means of subsistence.

Somehow the flood of humiliations he sustained was unable to break the Rov's dogged spirit, but it did have a strong effect on his physical health. In addition to his hard- pressed financial circumstances the Rov now had to contend with an impaired state of health. Shortly after, all means of sustenance were taken away from him. Many years before the appearance of medical insurance, the former Chief Rabbi of New York suffered a stroke that left him confined to his bed for the remainder of his relatively short years.

The public that had trumpeted in his honor upon his arrival now forsook him entirely. All he had done to elevate Eastern European Jewry and to establish reliability and integrity in his religious institutions was forgotten. Almost totally forsaken, he lay on his sickbed, remembering his past and his unrealized hopes for the future.

The Final Lesson

American Jewry did not succeed in rising above American fanaticism over the individual's right to freedom of expression, which collided head-on with kovod haTorah. As a nation that granted so many persecuted peoples hope of a life of equal rights, the United States of America was not the right place for a central institution that would be dedicated to preserving the Torah's absolute values. Kovod haTorah was sacrificed on the altar of individual freedom, and with it this royal ambassador of Torah ideas, like the millions of Jewish neshomos who will never know their tradition or identify with it.

But the main symbol and the principle victim of the disgrace to the Torah was still destined to provide the greatest inspiration for the importance of Torah.

After years of isolation and confinement, totally forsaken by New York Jewry, Rabbi Yaakov Yosef regained his ability to speak. As an expression of his gratitude toward Heaven he wanted to deliver a drosho on Shabbos Shuvoh.

The rumor that Rabbi Yaakov Yosef would speak publicly for the first time after many years, took wings and attendance was expected to be high. After all, even the butchers could not deny (despite the slanderous efforts of the press) that Rov Yosef was the best darshan in the country.

The large beis medrash on Norfolk Street was packed to the brim a whole hour before the drosho was scheduled to begin. Hundreds were unable to squeeze in but remained outside nevertheless in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the ailing rabbi. The masses continued to arrive and the police were even called in to maintain order.

One hour later, very slowly and with a weak step, Rabbi Yaakov Yosef trudged his way to the same bimah where he had spoken to an audience of similar proportions upon his arrival fourteen years earlier.

Now, just as then, total silence fell. Everyone strained his ears to hear every word.

But this was not the same Rabbi Yaakov Yosef who had spoken to them years ago. The man standing before them now, had sacrificed everything he had to venture to the New World and to introduce a new order in America. Now the speaker was the victim of those who had opposed that new order.

"Shteit in Rambam" -- the Rov and the prodigy of America began, and then he fell silent. Everyone pressed forward to hear the Rov's next word, but it never came.

Moments later the distinguished Rov's soft eyes filled with tears and his body shook with uncontrollable weeping. When he finally recovered himself he uttered the last words he would ever deliver from the bimah. "Do you know what it's like for me," he sobbed between bursts of crying, "to forget the words of the Rambam?"

Unable to remember the quote he intended to base his drosho on, the tremendous gaon, the illui of Volozhin, the maggid of Vilna, the apple of Rav Yisroel Salanter's eye, stepped down from the bimah and made his sad way home.

A more important drosho had never before been heard on the North American continent.

What was it that devastated Rabbi Yaakov Yosef? Not the incessant verbal abuse and the daily reviling, not deceitful reports in the press about his leadership, not even the cruel butchers and their cohorts.

Instead, his inability to remember the words of the Rambam was the greatest humiliation for the tzaddik who had struggled against his detractors with honor and countered ignorance with lamdonus. This was the unforgettable lesson on the importance of Torah that Rabbi Yaakov Yosef managed to bring home, before his holy neshomoh rose up to ginzei meromim.

Strife Follows Him to the Grave

At the end of the summer of 5662 (1902) the Rov Hakollel again became the subject of controversy. In Tammuz of 5662 he passed away and the next day the newspapers gave notice of his petiroh. Bedridden for the last five years of his life, he was only 59 at the time of his death.

What transpired after his petiroh was more disgraceful than anything he underwent during his lifetime. Botei knesses that had cast him off and neglected him, now fought over the honor of olai yaniach tzaddik es rosho. Each beis knesses wanted to have him buried in its section of the cemetery. The Rov's bones had commercial value because competing congregation leaders correctly figured that the Rov's grave would increase the value of nearby plots!

The written hespeidim had a tone of respect for the Rov. Reflecting the Orthodox position, the Yiddishe Gazetten wrote, "Despite all that was said against the rabbi during his lifetime all of us loved him for his upstanding virtue and impeccable living. Against the man himself not even his most outspoken opponents dared to breathe a word, although it must be admitted with deep regret that many of his opponents, lacking any conscience, tied his name-- unjustifiably and without any cause whatsoever--to scandals that appeared from time to time in the kosher meat trade."

As if to offer atonement for the contempt and neglect toward Rabbi Yaakov Yosef during his lifetime, some 100,000 Jews set out from Lower Manhattan to accompany the Rabbi to his eternal resting place. It was the biggest funeral the city had ever seen, and the state of mourning was genuine. They mourned not only the man who had departed, but also the idea that had carried great promise and the movement that had kindled hopes in the hearts of many Eastern European Jews living in the Land of Golden Opportunity.

Yet even his levayoh did not pass without incident and strife. When the funeral procession passed by the R.H. Hugh & Co. Building, where printing presses were manufactured, antisemitic workers from the Ukraine rained garbage, rocks and pieces of metal upon the funeral marchers and sprayed the mourners with high- powered jets of water from fire hoses. A skirmish broke out and the police were apparently unable to distinguish the attackers and the victims. Many Jews were hurt by police batons in addition to the flying rocks.

Later the disorder caused widespread political reactions. Newspapers were irate not only at the instigators of the riots, but the atmosphere that allowed such antisemitic outbursts. There was a general consensus behind the Jews' outrage and the press expressed hope that such riots would not be repeated or tolerated any longer.

After the incident, miraculously, order was restored and the mourners regrouped to continue accompanying Rabbi Yaakov Yosef on his last earthly journey. The surviving remnants, now numbering approximately 25,000, finally reached the cemetery where Rabbi Yaakov Yosef-- along with the idea of a chief rabbinate for America-- came to rest.

With poignant tears the Jews of New York laid out their requests for forgiveness before Rabbi Yaakov Yosef's coffin. Stirring hespeidim were delivered calling on the listeners, and essentially all of American Jewry, to show remorse for their sins.

During his remarks Rov Moshe Zivich directed a series of rhetorical questions to "the hundreds of people from Yurburg and Zhagovy and the thousands of people from Vilna" who remembered Rabbi Yaakov Yosef and knew him well from his earlier years in Eastern Europe: "Did you know him? Did you feel who was with you during the time he was among you, when his circumstances declined and he was deprived of a livelihood and you told him to scale down his living quarters? When the guarantor for his household goods compelled him to appear in court . . . After the stroke had taken hold of him and half of his flesh had atrophied, did you feel then to whom you had done this?"

HaRav Aharon Gurwitz, who had known him in Vilna, said, "I knew all the afflictions of his heart, what no other man in the world knew. I was with him recently. He didn't say a word, he just looked at me with eyes full of tears as if to say, `What has become of me?' And he grasped my hand until I left him brokenhearted."

A Source of Inspiration

Although Rabbi Yaakov Yosef only received the honor he deserved on the day he first set foot on American soil and on the day he was buried in it, his petiroh served as a source of inspiration for an important display of kovod haTorah. The night following his levaya, America's leading rabbonim, who had traveled to New York from New Haven, Rochester, Boston, Pittsburgh, Cleveland, St. Louis and other locations, gathered for chizuk and to close ranks. They held a discussion on the state of religious education and mitzvah observance in the U.S. The result was the founding of the Agudas HaRabbonim.

Rabbi Yaakov Yosef's petiroh sealed a distinguished chapter in the chronicles of American Jewry. This was the first known trial faced by Eastern European Jewry in trying to establish communal unity and united action. And although it failed to achieve its objective, it stirred forces and activated public energies that would one day fulfill a vital role in shaping the character of New York Judaism.

NOTE: This article is based on material in the book Story Lines by Hanoch Teller. The pictures of the cemetery were taken by Rabbi Dov Ruo.