Episode 13: Rachel the Scholar and Her Daughter Devorah Leah

00:01 As part of our study of the history of Chassidus, we are tracing the chain of generations from the Maharal of Prague to the founder of Chabad Chassidus, Rabbi Shneur Zalman. Along the way, we are also learning about several matters connected with the teachings of Chassidus itself. Today we return to the story of Rachel, the daughter of Rabbi Baruch Batlan, who married Shneur Zalman, the son of Rabbi Moshe, a descendant of the Maharal. Rachel tells her daughter Devorah Leah how her father, Rabbi Baruch Batlan, taught her Torah. And this is the story. Rachel, the Alter Rebbe’s grandmother, was a woman of great learning. Her greatness lay not only in her learning, but also in her steadfast loyalty to the path of her father, Rabbi Baruch Batlan. He was a student of the Baal Shem Rabbi Yoel of Zamosc, and was therefore connected with the hidden tzaddikim and Kabbalists of that time. In speaking with her daughter Devorah Leah, Rachel also shared her memories of that world. Rachel’s mother, Rabbi Baruch Batlan’s wife, was an exceptional woman, learned and deeply righteous. She certainly played a major part in shaping and educating her daughter Rachel to be meticulous in observing mitzvos and to have yiras Shamayim.

01:59 She instilled a love of Yiddishkeit in her children from the moment they were born. Her influence on Rachel was very great. She was especially careful about washing hands upon waking. Even before a baby was a month old, they made sure to wash the baby’s hands whenever the child woke up, whether at night or during the day. At night, she kept a vessel of water beside her bed. When she needed to nurse the baby, she washed her own hands alternately, then the baby’s hands, and only then nursed the baby. This particular care with washing hands after sleep followed the instruction of the tzaddik Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem, who would say that it concerned not only the observance of halachah but also the child’s health. Twice a day, from the child’s earliest years, the father or mother would bring the child close to the mezuzah to kiss it: once in the morning upon waking and once in the evening before going to sleep. Rabbi Baruch Batlan’s family name was actually Portugali, since he was descended from those expelled from Portugal, but the nickname Batlan had stuck. It was a term of praise. For a long time, Rachel thought it was her family name. Rachel tells her daughter Devorah Leah: “When I began to speak, Mother taught me to say every morning Modeh Ani, Shema Yisroel, Baruch Shem, and Torah Tzivah. By the time I was three, I already knew the blessings said before enjoying food. I would wash my hands for a meal and say the blessings over washing and over bread, and at the end of the meal, the Birchas Hamazon that begins ‘Brich Rachamana.’ When I was four and my brother was not yet three, I taught him the blessings and also taught him to read the letters of the alef-beis with their vowel marks: kamatz alef, ‘o,’ and so on.” Rachel continues telling her daughter: “My father, my father Baruch, possessed every virtue. He was an outstanding scholar, very wise, patient, and good-natured, and above all, exceedingly modest and humble. No one ever found

04:51 Father studying, because he shut himself in his room and spent his days and nights there learning Torah. But when someone knocked on his door, he would close the sefer, put it in the bookcase, and then open the door and welcome everyone warmly. Father never argued with anyone over a point of learning to show off his brilliance. He loved hearing other people’s Torah insights, but he revealed his own—of which hundreds of written pages remained after him—only occasionally and very briefly. Father would often say in the name of an ancient sage, ‘It is good to be apart while among people, and to be alone while among human beings.’ That is, a person should strive always to follow the middle path, the golden mean. He should not withdraw from people and live in isolation, nor should he be boisterous and waste his time in idle talk. Among people, he should take an interest in whatever is needed, yet at the same time remain apart and inwardly alone. This saying of Father’s was a foundation of the way he lived. When I was little,” Rachel relates, “and even as a girl, I did not understand it. But when I grew older, I came to understand it and saw that even Father’s expression and movements showed that, when he was with others and among people, he remained apart and inwardly alone. His radiant face, the compassion etched upon it, the natural smile playing on his lips, and his deep black eyes gave him a special grace that captivated all who saw him. Father told me,” Rachel relates, “that when he was ten, he was already engaged in providing interest-free loans. His parents gave him a sum of money, and he would lend it to poor merchants. When he returned from yeshivah and became engaged, he set aside a tithe of the dowry he was given and contributed a portion to a fund for interest-free loans. After he married my mother, he established a private loan fund and lent to merchants without taking any benefit in return. Father was loved by everyone, regardless of

07:44 their standing or circumstances. Great Torah scholars and ordinary people, rich and poor alike, all loved Father and treated him with great respect. Even those who opposed the wisdom of Kabbalah and the path of the hidden tzaddikim—as you know from the earlier stories,” Rachel tells her daughter, “Father was a longtime student of the tzaddik Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem of Zamosc, studied Kabbalah, and was very fond of the hidden tzaddikim—even those opponents held Father in great esteem. The townspeople called him Rabbi Baruch Batlan. When I was a child, I heard people call Father Rabbi Baruch Batlan. They called me Rachel, the daughter of Rabbi Baruch Batlan, and my brother Binyamin, the son of Rabbi Baruch Batlan. So I innocently thought that Batlan was our family name, just as my young friends were called Brandeis, Klober, and Shapir. A friend of our family named Reb Shimon Aryeh was a distant relative of my mother’s. He was a cheerful man and liked to tease me. Sometimes he would call me Ruchele, the tiniest little girl, and sometimes he would address me grandly as ‘Madam Rachel Portugali,’ and I would run away from him. Once he upset me terribly by calling me Rachel Portugali once, twice, three times, and I cried. When Father heard me crying, he came out of his room and asked why I was crying. I told him that Reb Shimon Aryeh was teasing me by calling me Rachel Portugali. ‘Batlan is our family name, so why does he call me by another name? I’m your daughter, and if your name is Rabbi Baruch Batlan, then my name is Rachel Batlan.’ Father calmed me down. He said nothing; only a slight smile crossed his lips. But when I grew a little older, I learned that our family name really was Portugali. Batlan was the name the townspeople had given Father. It was a mark of honor, meaning that because of the greatness of his

10:18 lofty qualities, everyone, scholars and wealthy men alike, was humbled before him.” Rachel continued her story: “Father did nothing—whether in his business, his way of life, or the running of his home—without asking the advice of his teacher, the tzaddik Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem, and following his instructions.” Devorah Leah turned to her mother and asked: “Mother, you told me that if I don’t understand something you tell me, I should ask you right away and not put it off until I forget the question. You have mentioned the tzaddik Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem several times in your stories. Why is he called Baal Shem? Is that a general title, a family name, or is he the only one called that?” Rachel said: “The name Baal Shem has two meanings. Anything exceptional among others of its kind is called a baal shem, something with a name. As we read in the Mishnah in tractate Peah, an olive tree that has a name among the olive trees in a field is one that stands out from the other trees. Perhaps it produces more olives than other trees, or its olives contain more oil, or it stands in an especially good place. For such reasons, that tree becomes well known. The same is true of everything in the four categories of inanimate objects, plants, animals, and human beings: when something has a special distinction, it is called a baal shem. That is the general meaning. But the tzaddik Rabbi Yoel is called Baal Shem for another reason as well. He is versed in Kabbalah, and through his knowledge of it he performed wonders, as I told you about driving away the evil ones or healing the sick. That is why he is called Baal Shem. Hakadosh Boruch Hu is Master of the world. He has several names, including seven that we know of, and we mention these names in our prayers. Sometimes we call our Father in Heaven by one name and sometimes by another, as the Men of the Great Assembly established for us, who

12:55 They knew, through the Kabbalah handed down to them from generation to generation since Moshe Rabbeinu, the meanings of the Names. Each Name has its own particular effect in the world, and one must know how each Name works and how to pronounce it in the permitted way. The tzaddik Rabbi Yoel knew the descriptions of the Names, how to pronounce them and what they did. That is why he was called a Baal Shem: he knew how to direct his intention when using the Names of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and through them to perform wonders. Devorah Leah asked, “Did your father, Grandfather, also perform wonders? Since he was a longtime student of Rabbi Yoel, surely he too knew the Names and could perform wonders like him?” “Certainly,” Rachel replied. “My father also knew some of the Names as they are written in the books of Kabbalah. But he certainly did not use them to perform wonders, because only someone who has been given permission, or commanded to do so by the great heavenly court, may use the Names of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And even someone granted permission by the great heavenly court may not use the Names for his private needs, but only for the good of the public and to sanctify Hashem’s Name.” This explanation of what a Baal Shem is and of the Names of Hakadosh Boruch Hu made a deep impression on Devorah Leah, who had never heard it before. Although she had been davening for several years and mentioned Hashem by different Names in her prayers, she had never paid attention to it. She had also heard several times about the great heavenly court, but had not understood the matter very clearly. Even now, some things remained unclear to her, so she asked her mother, “You told me, Mother, that Hakadosh Boruch Hu acts through the calling of Names, and that pronouncing those Names is reserved for a select few. What, then, is the point of prayer, and how does it work for people who do not know how to direct their intention with the Names?” “Oh, that is an important question

15:26 you have asked, my daughter,” Rachel said. “Know this, my daughter: nothing is finer than simple faith in the blessed Creator, and nothing is more praiseworthy than sincerity of heart. Simple faith and sincerity of heart in the one G-d, Who creates and governs His world with kindness and mercy—that is the way of a Jew. And when a Jew prays sincerely to our Father in Heaven, his prayer is heard even if he does not know how to direct his intention with a Name. Let me give you an analogy. A father provides for his child’s material and moral needs. The child does not have to call his father by name and say, ‘Father, provide for me; Father, feed me.’ But when the child has a special request, something out of the ordinary, he must persuade his father, call out to him in different ways and plead with him until his father grants his request. And sometimes, perhaps for one reason or another, the father will grant his child’s request only when someone else comes to ask on the child’s behalf. My father, Rabbi Baruch, who was a longtime student of the tzaddik Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem, was very fond of ordinary people who feared G-d in a simple way. He would say that he felt more reverent awe before the simplicity of Reb Beilev Shaul the wagon driver [unclear] than before the remarkable insights of Rabbi Shloime Leib, the prodigy from Prague [unclear]. That is the way of those who study the wisdom of Kabbalah and follow the ways of the hidden tzaddikim: they cherish an act that comes from a sincere heart, regardless of whether the person doing it is a man or a woman. For in the hidden dimension of souls, they all have one Father. And Father, with his great wisdom, observed the workings of my soul,” Rachel said, “and understood that he should teach me Torah. He hired a teacher to teach me. Father was careful, though, that this not become known. Over five years I managed to gain a good knowledge of Tanach with its commentaries, and of Mishnah, Seder Zera’im, according to the Rashbam and the Rambam. When I was twelve, I began to study Gemara. At the same time, Father placed on me the

18:13 household duties of cooking, baking and laundry. I carried on that way until I married your father, when I was nineteen. Your father is four years older than I am.” As mentioned, Rabbi Baruch Batlan was careful that his daughter Rachel’s learning should not become known. So careful, in fact, that when Rabbi Schneur Zalman married her, even he did not know how extensive her knowledge was. Rachel took particular care to conceal it when she discovered that her husband was among those who held that a woman should not study Torah. In the city of Posen, the custom was not to go out on Shabbos wearing gloves where there was no eruv, unless the gloves were sewn to the sleeves. There was an eruv within the city, so people did go out there with gloves that were not attached to their sleeves. A short time after Rachel and Schneur Zalman married, the whole family was walking home from shul on Shabbos. The men—Rabbi Baruch Batlan, his son Binyamin and his son-in-law Rabbi Schneur Zalman—walked in front, with the women, including Rachel, behind them. The women wore unattached gloves, and Binyamin carried books under his arms. Suddenly the community shamash came running and announced that the eruv had broken. Everyone was at a loss. What should they do with the gloves and the books? The men began debating the halachah based on their knowledge of the Gemara and its commentaries, but they could not reach a clear conclusion. Rabbi Baruch said, “We spend too much time studying the Gemara and its commentaries and neglect the clear rulings in the works of the poskim. So when a practical halachic question arises, we are at a loss.” As he said this, he turned to his daughter: “Well, Rachel, you know the Shulchan Aruch thoroughly. Tell us, then, what we should do.” Rachel’s husband, Rabbi Schneur Zalman, stared in astonishment. He could not believe his ears. On second thought, he supposed his father-in-law was joking with him. Rachel blushed. She knew very well that her husband would be greatly surprised to discover

20:56 how learned she was, and she feared he might be displeased. But her father was standing there waiting for her answer. Rachel had no choice, and she clearly recited all the relevant rulings in Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim, sections 266 and 303. The whole group followed Rachel’s ruling. When they reached home, Rabbi Schneur Zalman and Binyamin hurried to look it up in the Shulchan Aruch. They saw that Rachel was right. Rabbi Schneur Zalman said, with a touch of annoyance, “Our Sages say that the wife of a chaver is like a chaver. But here we have a wife of a chaver who is herself a chaver, so her standing does not depend on her husband.” Rabbi Baruch said to him with a smile, “The Jerusalem Talmud says that the wife of a bandit is like a bandit. The choice always remains with the husband whether his wife will be the wife of a chaver or the wife of a bandit.” Well, over time Rabbi Schneur Zalman came to terms with his wife’s learning, which became increasingly evident to him. His esteem for her grew greatly when he saw that it had made her more righteous and more G-d-fearing, not the opposite, G-d forbid. Later, Rabbi Schneur Zalman learned that his daughter Devorah Leah, too, had acquired considerable knowledge from her mother and, with time, had almost reached her mother’s level of learning. By then, the matter no longer upset him. If anything, it gave him satisfaction.