Episode 136: The Matchmaking of the Moishe Family with the Family of Reb Baruch the Batlan

00:00 We now come to the next part of the story: how the two families came together. On one side was the family of Rabbi Baruch Batlan, a chossid of Rabbi Yoel of Zamość, who also studied and spread the teachings of Kabbalah. On the other was the family of Moshe, the Maharal’s grandson, who, for reasons we have already discussed, had become a staunch opponent of Kabbalah. But Moshe held Rabbi Baruch Batlan in very high regard, and Rabbi Baruch had exceptionally gifted children. So Moshe did not see the study of Kabbalah as an obstacle to a marriage between the two families. This brings us to the story of their shidduch. At that time, the elderly scholar Reb Yonah Shmuel the Porush fell ill. All of Poznań was talking about it, for the scholarly Porush was well known in the city and loved by its residents. Yonah Shmuel had once been a friend of the scholar Asher Yonasan, who, as we remember, had been Moshe’s teacher and the head of the Poznań community. Yonah Shmuel was not endowed with extraordinary talents, but his diligence in Torah study was immense. From early childhood, he sat and studied Torah day and night. He never spoke of mundane matters or wasted even a moment. While still a child, everyone had already given him the title “the Porush.” As he grew older, he left his home entirely and took up residence in the beis midrash on Portuguese Street. We remember Portuguese Street from the unusual house that had once been taken over by evil spirits. Perhaps Rabbi Yonah the Porush settled in that very beis midrash, or perhaps in another one. In any case, it was not far from Rabbi Baruch Batlan’s home. From then on, he never left the beis midrash. When he grew older still, fell ill, and could no longer stand, people wanted to move him to a house where he would have a comfortable bed

02:40 and proper care, but he refused. He lay on a bench in one of the rooms near the entrance to the beis midrash, and the young married men who studied there cared for him. Even as he lay ill, Yonah Shmuel did not stop studying Torah. His weakness steadily increased until he could no longer study with his accustomed diligence. This, of course, distressed him greatly. So from time to time he would call over one of the men in the beis midrash to sit and study beside him, allowing him to remain close to Torah study by listening. Among those who studied in that beis midrash were Kaddish, whom we already know, Tzvia’s son, and Binyamin, Rabbi Baruch Batlan’s son. All the students, including Kaddish and Binyamin, took turns sitting beside Yonah Shmuel, so that the Porush could listen to words of Torah at all times. He did not merely listen: now and then he would offer a novel Torah insight, raise a question, or suggest an answer, either his own or his teacher’s, much to the delight of the young men studying there. Distinguished visitors often came to see the ailing Porush and fulfill the mitzvah of visiting the sick. Among them was Moshe, the head of the community. The visitors enjoyed listening to the Torah insights Yonah Shmuel shared with the young men sitting beside him. On one occasion, Moshe noticed the sick man becoming particularly animated. Yonah Shmuel was engaged in a vigorous Torah debate with one of the young men, and many of those present had gathered around to listen. Moshe took an interest in what they were discussing. The ailing Yonah Shmuel astonished everyone with his sharp reasoning and breadth of knowledge, and this time the debate went on for a long while. For three hours, an intellectual contest unfolded between Yonah Shmuel and the young man debating him: Kaddish, Baruch Batlan’s nephew and Tzvia’s son. Moshe and some of the other Torah scholars

05:14 who happened to be there were also drawn into the spirited Torah debate. But to everyone’s surprise, it ended with a victory for Kaddish, the young man. In the end, everyone agreed with him. Moshe, who had not known Kaddish until then, looked at him in amazement. Kaddish was only nineteen, and Moshe had never seen such breadth of knowledge and sharp reasoning in someone so young—enough to prevail over a great scholar. More than anything, Moshe was impressed by Kaddish’s character. Throughout the debate, he had remained measured and calm. He spoke thoughtfully and with restraint, and even after winning, he showed no sign of pride. He returned to his place and immersed himself once more in his Gemara, as though nothing had happened. Moshe asked about the young man and learned that he was Rabbi Baruch Batlan’s orphaned nephew. A few days later, Moshe visited Yonah Shmuel the Porush again. The Porush was now very weak and could barely take part in the studies of the young men beside him. But Moshe had another reason for this visit. He approached Kaddish, who was studying with his cousin Binyamin, Rabbi Baruch Batlan’s son. They were discussing a particular Talmudic passage in depth. Moshe sat down beside them and joined the discussion. Both young men amazed him with their knowledge. After that, Moshe visited the beis midrash several more times, and each time he discussed Torah with Kaddish and Binyamin. They had made a deep impression on him. One day, Moshe spoke with his wife Sarah. He told her it was time to think about a shidduch for their daughter Freidel. He had two candidates in mind: Kaddish and Binyamin. He liked them both very much. But he had a quiet concern about Binyamin. After all, he told himself, Binyamin was Rabbi Baruch Batlan’s son. True, Moshe knew

07:51 Rabbi Baruch Batlan well and even admired him. He knew that Rabbi Baruch combined Torah scholarship with stature. But he was, after all, a chossid of Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem of Zamość, whom Moshe did not exactly hold in high regard. And Moshe himself opposed the path of Kabbalah. How could he marry his daughter to such a man’s son? Kaddish was different. His late father had indeed followed the path of Kabbalah and had lived in the community of Kabbalists in Eretz HaChaim; he was also Rabbi Baruch Batlan’s brother. But he had not gone as far as Rabbi Baruch. Moshe knew that Kaddish, too, leaned toward the path of Kabbalah, but he told himself that the young man could surely still be influenced. Moshe hoped that once Kaddish married his daughter and lived at his table, he would certainly change. For all these reasons, Moshe decided to choose Kaddish over Binyamin. Sarah agreed with her husband’s decision. She added that she knew Tzvia the seamstress, Kaddish’s mother, very well, and that she was a truly righteous woman. At the same time, she told her husband, “Don’t think Kaddish will live at your table, my husband. I know very well that this young man intends to follow his own path in life. He also has no intention of leaving his widowed mother’s home. Besides,” she said, “Tzvia earns a comfortable living from her work and does not need your help supporting the couple.” None of this changed Rabbi Moshe’s decision. Within a few months, the engagement of Kaddish, Tzvia’s son, and Freida, the daughter of Rabbi Moshe and Sarah, was celebrated. Rabbi Moshe promised a generous dowry, and it was agreed that the couple would live in Tzvia’s home. Instead of supporting them at his table, Rabbi Moshe entrusted the couple with a large sum of money, enough to support them for many years. Freida, who had learned to sew, helped her mother-in-law with her work.

10:17 Kadish continued to study Torah diligently. For a time, he studied together with his cousin Binyamin, but the time had come for Binyamin to marry as well. Many people wondered, some even aloud, what extraordinary match awaited the son of Rabbi Baruch Batlan. A wealthy Torah scholar with such an accomplished son could secure the very best match. Matchmakers of every kind would knock on Rabbi Baruch’s door. One left and another came in; matchmakers arrived even from far away, for Binyamin’s reputation had spread far and wide. But Rabbi Baruch refused to consider any of their proposals. He wanted to hear the opinion of his teacher, Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem of Zamosc, and made a special journey to consult him. Then, at Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem’s suggestion, Rabbi Baruch arranged for his son to marry the daughter of Rabbi Aharon, a poor teacher who was one of Rabbi Yoel’s students. When the news became known, the entire community of Poznań was in an uproar. Such an outstanding young man, from such a distinguished family, marrying the daughter of a poor teacher of young children! True, Rabbi Aharon was known as an expert teacher, but he was nevertheless desperately poor. He could have taken the children of the wealthiest families into his cheder and received high pay in return. Everyone wanted to entrust their children’s education to him, for he was remarkably successful in his holy work—not only in teaching Torah, but also in instilling good character traits in his students’ hearts. But Rabbi Aharon had his own order of priorities. He first accepted the children of the very poorest families. If there was room left, he took children from families of modest means. The last place, or the last two places, he gave to the children of the wealthy. So it is understandable that terrible poverty prevailed in Rabbi Aharon’s home. Were it not for the help of his wife, who worked as a midwife and cooked at weddings, they would have had nothing to eat. In addition, all his children had died

12:51 during his lifetime; only one daughter remained. Rabbi Aharon was exceedingly humble. From his youth, it seemed that he had devoted his entire life to one task alone: teaching Torah to Jewish children and educating them in Torah and good deeds. His humility was so great that when all the people of Poznań showered him with wishes of mazal tov on the golden match he had made for his daughter, Rabbi Aharon lowered his head and answered barely above a murmur, as though they were not speaking to him. The Jews of Poznań thus had plenty to talk about for a long time, but further surprises awaited them. Rabbi Baruch Batlan was one of Poznań’s prominent citizens and, as we have said and mentioned many times, one of the chassidim of Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem of Zamosc. He wanted to show that his son Binyamin’s match was no ordinary match, even though Rabbi Aharon, the teacher whose only daughter was betrothed to his son, appeared to everyone to be a simple teacher. Rabbi Baruch wanted the celebration of the tena’im to be magnificent and impressive. Even before the celebration, a Jew arrived in Poznań as a special emissary of the Baal Shem of Zamosc, to help plan the celebration and take part in it as the Baal Shem’s representative. Naturally, this gave Rabbi Baruch Batlan another reason to make the tena’im as splendid and uplifting as possible. He prepared a grand meal to which all the leading citizens of Poznań were invited. Rabbi Moishe, the head of the community, was of course among the guests. Rabbi Aharon the teacher, the bride’s father, humbly refused to sit at the head table, but they insisted, and it was clear that this caused him distress. The emissary of Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem was also seated at the head of the table, and Rabbi Baruch spoke with him. Binyamin, the groom, delivered a Torah discourse. Everyone present, including Poznań’s foremost Torah scholars, was deeply impressed by his sharpness and breadth of knowledge. They all debated

15:41 and argued over the subject of the discourse, each demonstrating his Torah learning—among them Rabbi Baruch Batlan, Rabbi Aharon the teacher, and even Rabbi Moishe, the head of the community. The only one who did not utter a word was the emissary of Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem of Zamosc[?]. To look at him, he did not appear to be a Torah scholar at all. From the fact that he sat silently while everyone else engaged in learned debate, one might have concluded that he could barely follow what was being said. Rabbi Moishe, as we know, disagreed with his mechutan Rabbi Baruch about Kabbalah and its study, and was certainly not among the Baal Shem’s admirers. So Rabbi Moishe watched the emissary of Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem of Zamosc[?] more closely than anyone else did. Sitting there, Moishe wondered why his mechutan Rabbi Baruch was so devoted to Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem, why he obeyed his instructions concerning his children’s matches, and why he paid so much attention to the emissary of that Baal Shem, who by all appearances was a very simple Jew. Rabbi Moishe was certain that Rabbi Baruch’s match with Aharon the teacher had been made on the Baal Shem’s instructions. He went on to think that, if so, surely his own family’s match with Rabbi Baruch had also been made on the Baal Shem’s instructions. And here, Moishe said to himself, is something I find puzzling. I am well known as an opponent of the Baal Shem. Why, then, would the Baal Shem want Rabbi Baruch’s daughter to marry my son? But Moishe’s thoughts, which had carried him far afield, were interrupted by something happening at the table that caught his attention. What was it? The time had come for bentching. Rabbi Baruch handed the cup for the zimun to his mechutan, Aharon the teacher, and honored him with leading the zimun. Rabbi Aharon rose to his feet and said, “Gentlemen, in truth, I

18:12 am nothing but hyssop growing on a wall. I would not even have dared to dream of making a match with a cedar of Lebanon—the brilliant son of Rabbi Baruch, the wealthy benefactor of distinguished, holy lineage. And surely it would never have occurred to Rabbi Baruch to make a match with a poor and destitute man, considered as nothing, like Aharon the teacher. What happened, then? Our holy teacher and guide, Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem of Zamosc[?], instructed Rabbi Baruch and me, Aharon, to make this match between our families. The words of our holy teacher are holy of holies to us. We both do as he commands. And we have merited to have the emissary of our holy teacher here among us. We know that a person’s emissary is like the person himself. So, with the permission of my mechutan Rabbi Baruch, I have the honor of handing the cup for the zimun to the Baal Shem’s emissary and honoring him with leading bentching.”