Rabbi Yehuda Loew – the Maharal of Prague

Rabbi Yehuda Loew ben Betzalel – the Maharal of Prague (Morenu Ha-Rav Rabbi Loew) – (our teacher Rabbi Loew). Yahrzeit - 18 Elul Resting place - Prague, Czech Republic The Maharal descended from the House of King David and was his direct descendant in the 95th generation on his father's side. Rabbi Loew's ancestors were renowned rabbis who had lived, from the 12th century onward, in Alsace and the Rhineland. He was the youngest of 4 brothers. He married late, at the age of 32, to Perl, and was the father of 6 daughters and one son, named Betzalel after the Maharal's father. The Maharal was born in the Polish city of Poznań, on the night of the Passover Seder in 1525. Born During a Blood Libel The priest stared intently out the window at the gate. It was clear he was impatiently waiting for someone. He paced the room like a madman and finally exclaimed angrily: "Curse that vile drunkard!" Suddenly the gate opened, and a muscular peasant with disheveled hair walked into the yard. – Ah, Peter, – the priest exclaimed, brightening. – Welcome! The priest offered him a glass of wine, and Peter drank it down in one gulp. – Well, did you like the wine? – asked the priest. – Yes, Father, – Peter said, licking his lips and eyeing the jug. – My son! – the priest raised his voice, – I am entrusting you with a task, for which you will receive two barrels of this very wine, and a great deal of money. Almost in a whisper, the priest began to lay out his plan. Peter was to catch a Christian boy, kill him, and under cover of night's darkness plant the body in the home of a respected Jew. Such a devoted act would make it possible to slander the Jews with the traditional blood libel and incite a pogrom. If Peter had any doubts about the righteousness of this plan, they dissolved instantly at the sight of the little sack of money the priest handed him. – This is a down payment, – the priest promised, – you'll get the rest after the job is done. The Jews were preparing for the festival of Pesach. A festive Passover atmosphere reigned in the home of Rabbi Betzalel of Worms as well. The rabbi, his sons, and several guests had returned from the synagogue. Everyone sat down around the table; the rabbi read the Passover Haggadah and everyone repeated after him. Suddenly the rebbetzin felt labor pains beginning. She tried with all her strength not to disturb the festive ritual, but she could not hold back, and a deep groan escaped her chest. Those present rushed to fetch the midwife. At that very moment, Peter, the priest's messenger, was making his way to plant the sack with the body in the yard of the universally respected Rabbi Betzalel. Peter could not understand how these Jews had found out what he intended to do and had set off in pursuit of him. He turned and fled in a panic. His running, with the sack flopping on his back, caused a commotion, and soon people were chasing him and surrounding him. The crime was exposed. And in Rabbi Betzalel's house there was double joy: the rebbetzin had given birth to a boy, Yehuda Loew, who would later become famous under the name the Maharal. The newborn's father said: "This is our comforter! For his very appearance in the world foiled a blood libel, clearly hinting at his role in the world: to save his fellow Jews from their wicked enemies." And so it turned out to be. He became renowned not only for his great scholarship, but also for his deep concern for his people. At the age of 28 he was chosen as rabbi of the city of Nikolsburg and Chief Rabbi of all of Moravia. He held this position for 20 years. In 1573 the Rabbi moved to Prague – a city that had by then become the capital of the Habsburg Empire. And although the Maharal returned to Poznań several more times, where he first served as the city's rabbi and later as Chief Rabbi of all of Poland, it was Prague that became the city where his yeshiva operated and where all his major works were published. To this day, in Josefov – the Jewish Quarter of Prague – the ancient "Old-New Synagogue" still stands, where the Maharal prayed, and not far from it, the building of the yeshiva he opened in 1573, known as the "Klaus." The yeshiva was built with funds from the banker and philanthropist Mordechai Maisel. The Maharal remained the unbroken head of the yeshiva for 36 years and raised dozens of outstanding students. One of them – Rabbi Yom-Tov Lipmann Heller, author of the famous commentary on the Mishnah. The Maharal's teachings became classics of Judaism: many "universally accepted" ideas and commentaries that are used everywhere without attribution actually originate with him. For example, the Maharal was the first to write that the human body reflects the universe. Each of the 613 principal organs of the human body corresponds to some part of creation and to a specific mitzvah of the Torah – for the Torah, as is known from the Midrash, served the Creator as the blueprint for the creation of the world. Among the works left by the Maharal: "Tiferet Yisrael" – on the greatness of the Torah and the mitzvot, "Netivot Olam" – the mussar work "Be'er HaGolah," "Netzach Yisrael" – on exile and redemption, "Or Chadash" on the Book of Esther, "Ner Mitzvah" – on Chanukah, "Gevurot Hashem" – on the Exodus, and others. The Golem An artificial man made of clay was created by the Maharal to protect the residents of the ghetto from enemies and their blood libels. On the Golem's forehead the Rabbi wrote one of the secret names of G-d – and the clay figure came to life. It carried out various tasks and struck terror into the enemies of Prague's Jews. When the blood libels stopped, the Maharal told his son-in-law, Rabbi Yitzchak Cohen, and his student Rabbi Yaakov Levit, that the Golem's services were no longer needed. A question arose: does the Golem, after its 'death,' cause ritual impurity like all people, or not? The Maharal explained that even if flesh and bones remained after the Golem's death, as with all people, it would not cause impurity, because it had not been born but created. Moreover, the Golem would revert to a lump of clay and earth, as it had been before. Therefore the Maharal took his son-in-law with him up to the attic to destroy the Golem, even though he was a Kohen. At midnight on Lag BaOmer, 18 Iyar 1590, the Maharal told the Golem to carry his bed with its bedding up to the attic of the great synagogue and to sleep there. The three of them went up to the attic. The Maharal also allowed the old shamash, Rabbi Avraham-Chaim, to come with them. He told him to hold two lit candles, standing at a distance. The Golem was asleep. Following the Maharal's instructions, they performed everything in reverse order from what they had done at its creation. At its creation they had stood by its feet – now they stood at its head. Then they had circled around it seven times from right to left, now – seven times from left to right. Now, too, they recited the same verses, but in reverse order. (G-d-fearing Jews who know the "Sefer Yetzirah" – the book on the creation of the world – thoroughly, understand the secret of creation and also know the secret of undoing a creation.) After this ritual, the Golem turned into a hardened lump of earth in the shape of a man. The Maharal called the old shamash over and took the candles from him. They undressed the Golem, leaving only an undershirt on it, wrapped its body in old tallitot, tied them, and laid it beneath a pile of worn-out tallitot, books, and other sacred items so that it would not be noticeable that someone lay there. The Maharal instructed the old shamash to burn the Golem's bedding and clothing. In the morning a rumor spread through the city that the Golem had taken offense and had run off in the night, no one knew where. A week later the Maharal had it announced to everyone that he strictly forbade anyone from entering the attic, lest a fire break out if someone carelessly lit a candle. The Maharal said that the spirit of the Golem would be resurrected at the time of the revival of the dead, but not in its first body, that of Joseph, an impure spirit, and not in its second body, that of Yosele the Golem, but in a third body. It would not be created as before – it would be born to a great tzadik before the coming of Mashiach in order to accomplish a great and important task. However, it might also be that it would be given the opportunity to revive its two previous bodies. The Bayonet Rabbi Chaim, the shamash of the Prague Alt-Neu Shul (Old-New Synagogue), had a custom of going up to the attic of the ancient synagogue about twice a year with a full basket of worn-out prayer books, tattered tallitot, tefillin straps, and other sacred items. He would open the side door in the corridor, climb the ancient steps, and reverently open the metal doors with a large iron key. Step by step, trembling with fear, he would enter the dim attic, lit only by two small windows set just beneath the roof. He would move slowly toward the place where the Golem's remains lay: a pile of clay beneath a heap of worn-out sacred items. A metal chain stretched around this pile gave the "grave" the appearance of a memorial monument. Rabbi Chaim would empty the basket and leave. This custom was established by the famous Maharal over four hundred years ago. In all those years, an enormous number of baskets had been emptied there, but – astonishingly! – the size of the pile never changed. In 1939, before the Nazis occupied Czechoslovakia, Rabbi Chaim carried up a full basket for the last time. During the nightmare of the Second World War he was moved from one concentration camp to another, and he remained – among the few fortunate ones – alive after the Holocaust. As soon as the Allied forces liberated him, he hurried to Prague, to the Old Town, to the "Alt-Neu Shul," to the place where the Jewish ghetto had once been, and where this synagogue had been built in the thirteenth century. He stopped by the synagogue and gazed at it for a long time. From the outside it had hardly changed. Thank G-d, the Nazis had not dared lay their hands on the oldest synagogue in Europe. He prayed silently and hoped that those beasts had not changed the inside either. He knocked on the door of the old Czech caretaker. The old Czech had faithfully continued his work. He barely recognized Rabbi Chaim, who had aged beyond recognition, but his height left no room for doubt. Rabbi Chaim had once been the tallest man in the synagogue, and now his stooped figure and bent shoulders were merely a shadow of himself. The old caretaker was overjoyed that the Rabbi had returned to the world of the living. He opened the door. Rabbi Chaim entered the synagogue, so familiar to him, looked around, and his eyes filled with tears so that he could see nothing. His lips whispered a prayer. He thanked G-d for keeping him alive and for granting him the chance to see this holy place once again. Once he had composed himself, he noticed a few changes. Instead of candles, electric bulbs now lit the synagogue, and the floor had been covered in concrete. Everything else remained as it had been. The old Czech explained that this had been a Nazi propaganda operation, undertaken in the early days of the occupation to prove that they were not the barbarians everyone believed them to be. They had made improvements to the synagogue, filled it with Jews brought from the concentration camps, ordered them to put on tallitot and pray, and photographed the scene to show what a cultured people they were, one that protected ancient synagogues and granted Jews complete freedom to observe their religion. Rabbi Chaim was relieved that the Nazis had not made any additional "improvements." – And what's up there? – he asked. – Come, I'll show you, – the caretaker replied. He opened the door, and they climbed the steps. The caretaker opened the heavy iron door. Rabbi Chaim stopped, looked around anxiously, stepped forward, and… froze. He stared, stunned, at something strange protruding from the pile of sacred items covering the Golem. It was the handle of a bayonet, plunged into the pile. – What is this? – burst from his lips, – Oh, that's a story! – the Czech replied, not the least bit embarrassed. – Listen to this. The day after the occupation of Prague, two German generals appeared, accompanied by a group of armed soldiers. One of them, the older one, turned to me: – We've heard the legend of the Golem. Is it true that it's buried in the synagogue attic? I answered that the story of the Golem was not a legend, but the truth. – Then take us up to the attic! – the general ordered. I tried to stop them, so that they wouldn't do anything malicious, but the general cut me off impatiently. There was nothing left for me to do but lead them up to the attic. – Where is it? – the general asked. I pointed to the pile of sacred items. The generals came closer, looked at it, and one of them exclaimed in disappointment: – That's just a pile of trash and nothing more! – G-d forbid, – I retorted, – it's not trash, it's worn-out religious items, and beneath them lie the remains of the Golem. – Clear away the junk, – the general ordered in a threatening tone. I begged them: – My lords, my benefactors, it is strictly forbidden to touch this. So commanded the holy rabbi who created the Golem, and who later laid it here to its eternal rest. Allow me to say, with all due respect, that desecrating this holy place is dangerous and brings great misfortune. – Nonsense! – the young general snarled, – clear away the junk right now, or… He drew his revolver, aimed it at me, and repeated the order. – I cannot, – it is forbidden, – I begged and pleaded for mercy, but I did not move from the spot, despite the loaded revolver aimed at me. – Leave him be, – the older general said to his young colleague. He called one of the soldiers over and ordered him to clear the pile. The soldier approached and drove his bayonet into the pile of sacred items. But a second later a loud scream filled the room. The soldier fell backward, his whole body convulsing. He remained lying there, lifeless. Both generals were shaken. They quickly left the attic. Two soldiers hastily carried away the body. – After that incident, the Germans never dared visit the synagogue attic again, – the old Czech finished this astonishing story. Rabbi Chaim did not stay in Prague. There was nothing left for him there. The Jewish world that had been so dear to him was gone. He made his way to America, alone and grieving, carrying many memories with him. The most striking memory he carried within him was the bayonet, a symbol of the murderous Nazi regime, plunged into the pile of sacred items over the Golem's grave, in the attic of the "Alt-Neu Shul" synagogue in Prague. The Emperor's Dream In 1592, Emperor Rudolf II, who had a passion for alchemy and Kabbalah, invited the Maharal to an audience at his palace. The sage's personality made a tremendous impression on Rudolf. It may well be thanks to this that the Jews of Prague managed to avoid expulsion from the city, something the local nobility and the Catholic Church had been pressing for persistently. Many wondrous stories are told about the great gaon and kabbalist Rabbi Yehuda Loew, Chief Rabbi of the renowned Prague community. Here is one such wondrous story. One fine winter day in the year 5352 (1592), a royal messenger arrived early in the morning at the Maharal's house and invited him to come at once to Emperor Rudolf II at the royal palace. After the rabbi arrived at the palace, the emperor shut himself away with him for a long while, and no one but the two of them was present in the royal chamber. No one knew why the Maharal had been summoned by the emperor, or what subject they had discussed for so long. However, several years later, the following story was told in Prague. Not all the ministers at the royal court were well-disposed toward the Jews. Some of them found it unbearable to see the great respect shown by the residents of Prague, both Jews and non-Jews, to the Chief Rabbi of Prague, the Maharal. They were also greatly irritated by the prosperity and growth of the Jewish community under the wise leadership of the Maharal, whom they regarded as a holy man. In short, they wished to expel the Jews along with their revered rabbi. However, knowing that the emperor would not agree to such cruelty without a compelling reason, the ministers turned to the empress, hoping she could influence Rudolf. In the evening, the empress came to Rudolf and handed him a sheet of paper – a decree expelling the Jews. Everything was ready except for the emperor's signature. The empress pressed him, but the emperor flatly refused to sign the decree. After much pleading, Rudolf took the paper, saying he would think it over and sign the document in the morning. That night the emperor fell into a deep, heavy sleep, and in his dream he waged war against a neighboring kingdom. But, to his misfortune, he was defeated and taken prisoner. He was thrown into prison, where he was to spend the rest of his life. Only death could free him from his confinement. And so Emperor Rudolf sat in prison year after year, eating meager prison fare, gazing longingly through the bars at freedom. One day, a charming elderly Jew happened to pass by. He paused, resting his gaze for a long moment on the imprisoned emperor. The emperor was overjoyed at such a rare visitor and called him closer to the bars. – I am Rudolf, Emperor of Bohemia, – he called out to the old man. – Don't you recognize your emperor? – The emperor has changed a great deal, – the old man answered sadly. But the emperor swore that he was indeed the same man, and begged the old man to free him from his confinement. The old man struck the prison wall several times with his staff, and – behold, a miracle! – the wall split apart, and the emperor stepped out. – Come, Your Majesty, to my home, – the old man said to the emperor. – It would hardly be fitting for the ruler of Bohemia to appear at court looking like this. I will send at once for a barber, to trim Your Majesty's hair, and for a tailor, to sew suitable royal garments, and meanwhile let the emperor wash up and rest a while in a comfortable bed. Emperor Rudolf needed no further urging. He went into the old man's house, washed, and lay down on the bed. The old man told his attendant to bring two silver trays and set them beside the bed. – And what are the two trays for? – Rudolf asked, stretching his aching bones on the comfortable bed. – One tray is for Your Majesty's hair, and the other for your nail clippings, – the old man replied. – No one has the right to see the emperor in such a state. – I shall be forever grateful to you, – said Rudolf, and his eyes filled with tears. When the emperor awoke from the nightmare, his eyes were red from weeping. He sat up in bed and, to his utter astonishment, saw two silver trays on the nightstand! "Only this holy man, the Chief Rabbi of the Prague community, can interpret my dream," thought the emperor. At that moment there was a knock at the door; a servant entered and announced that the royal barber had arrived, and the court tailor as well. – Let them wait, – Rudolf commanded, – and you, send for the Chief Rabbi at once; ask him to come to me without delay. I must see him right now. As soon as the Maharal appeared, the emperor said mockingly: – How is it that the Chief Rabbi did not recognize his emperor last night? – Yes, but the emperor has changed a great deal, – came the Maharal's meaningful reply. – I want to hear more, – said the emperor, and the rabbi continued: –The emperor went to sleep last night with evil thoughts. And what did the emperor place under his head before falling asleep? Now the emperor remembered the paper the empress had slipped to him before he went to sleep. He took the decree expelling the Jews out from under his pillow and tore it up. – I swear that I will never issue decrees against the Jews, – the emperor solemnly promised. – The Almighty will reward Your Majesty for your treatment of the Jews, – the Maharal told the emperor, – for the Creator, blessed be He, repays according to one's deeds. By saving my brethren from great danger, the emperor saved himself from danger as well, as was revealed to him in his dream. From that time on, Emperor Rudolf became even friendlier toward the Jews than before. He was a personal friend of the Maharal, who stood guard over the interests of the Jews of Prague. The emperor never forgot his nightmare and always helped the Maharal to thwart the schemes of the Jews' enemies. Yosele the Golem – Let them in, – King Rudolf II nodded to his chamberlain. The red curtain, embroidered with an ornate pattern, was drawn aside. Four men entered, bowing low, continually bowing to the king. – Welcome, – the king responded, – Father Petros, Count Bartimiluus, the noble scholar of the House of Garbuz, and Cardinal Lotegrus! You may speak. Count Bartimilius stepped forward, bowed once more, and said: – Your Highness, after an open debate with the Prague rabbi, we became convinced that he is an extraordinary man. He is learned in all the sciences: mathematics, natural science, geography, astronomy, philosophy, history, and theology. He knows many languages, and he even has access to knowledge of the human soul. There was not a single subject in which he did not shine, not to mention his mastery of the Jewish Talmud and the esoteric teachings of that ancient people. He stood alone against three hundred great scholars and defeated them. He surely possesses hidden powers as well. We have therefore decided to bring to Your Majesty's attention that the Prague rabbi may be able to reveal to our emperor how to turn base metal into gold and enrich the royal treasury with untold riches. Then the esteemed guests, bowing obsequiously, withdrew from the king's chambers. Rabbi David Gans, a student of the Maharal, writes in his work "Tzemach David": "King Rudolf invited the gaon the Maharal to his palace. Two ministers delivered the invitation, and the Maharal rode to the palace in a royal carriage sent by the king. Rudolf received the Maharal with great honor." And here is what we read in the writings of the Maharal's son-in-law, Rabbi Yitzchak Katz, who accompanied his father-in-law in his activities: "The Maharal came home cheerful and joyful, and said to us: – I have managed to prevent the calamity of the blood libels more than halfway. I hope that, with G-d's help, I will manage to annul it entirely." Ten days later, a supreme decree was sent out to every court in the land: 1. In every case of blood libel, the king permits only the person who has been established as the actual murderer to be prosecuted. 2. In every case of blood libel, a Jewish rabbi of that city, or another Jew recommended by the leadership of the Jewish community, must be present. 3. The court's ruling in a case of blood libel must be submitted to the king for confirmation, "From that time on, – writes the Maharal's son-in-law, – the situation of the Jews improved greatly, for fear of the Maharal fell upon their enemies. But the blood libels did not disappear entirely." The Maharal passed away to the World to Come in 1609, at the age of 84, and was buried in the Old Jewish Cemetery of Prague. His gravestone still stands to this day among 12 thousand ancient gravestones crowded onto a small plot of land in the center of the Jewish Quarter. According to tradition, the Maharal's soul contained within it the wisdom of all 600,000 Jewish souls that stood at the foot of Mount Sinai. (https://dailyzohar.com/tzadikim/75-Rabbi-Yehudah-Loew-of-Prague, Reb Zalman Leib Abelsky, "The Maharal of Prague," "The Golem of Prague, Legends of the Jewish Ghetto," Harald Salfellner)