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Ostrow Mazowiecka was fortunate to have the Gaon Rabbi Meir Dan Plotzky [Plocki] presiding there with distinction for several years. He was one of the great lights in the constellation of the rabbinate in recent generations, a gaon and a Hassid, a tzadik with superlative virtues, a man of action and a man of Halacha. He was a rare and multi–faceted figure like few in his generation, a personality that was elevated above his contemporaries, a spiritual giant who merited admiration in the worlds of the Torah, the rabbinate and Hassidism combined, who became a legend in his time.

“Rabbi Meir Dan”, as he was called and known among the Jews of Poland, was a giant among rabbis. He served as the rabbi of the community of Dvart [Warta], the rabbi of the community of Ostrow Mazowiecka, and in his last days as head of the Metivta [or Mesivta] yeshiva in Warsaw, the capital of Poland. But holding these positions per se did not add luster to his name; rather it was because of his great personality that these communities themselves became renowned. This personality sprouted and grew in the very heart of Hassidic Poland. He was educated in the lap of pure Hassidism to become a pillar of Torah and education.

Rabbi Meir Dan was born in Kutno in the year 5627 [1866–1867] to his father Rabbi Chaim Yitzchak Plotzky, a scholar and ardent Hassid, one of the followers of the Hassidic rebbe Rabbi Chanoch Henich of Alexandrow^[1]. After the latter's death he became one of the important followers of the rebbe of Ger, the author of S'fat Emet [The Language of Truth]^[2], and was among his inner circle. His mother, Mrs. Gela, was a distinguished woman and one of the most righteous and well known women of Kutno, who implanted in her beloved son the love of Torah and the fear of God from the moment he could understand, even before he went to cheder.

When he was only eleven months old Rabbi Meir Dan came down with a mortal disease. The doctors in Kutno refused to treat him any further, as they saw no possibility of saving his life. His father Rabbi Chaim Yitzchak rushed to the house of his teacher, Rabbi Chanoch Henich Hacohen of Alexandrow, and bitterly poured out his heart about his terrible trouble. The rebbe gave him a blessing for a complete recovery, but Rabbi Chaim Yitzchak remained there, immersed in pain. He knew what the doctors of Kutno had said before he left his house. He had left his baby son at the very edge of death.

“Why are you worried? You will yet derive much pleasure from him. He will be a great rabbi in Israel,” the great rebbe said. Rabbi Chaim Yitzchak pulled himself together at that moment, and no longer hurried to get back to the bed of his sick child. He stayed for a while in Alexandrow in the presence of his teacher and rabbi. Then the little Rabbi Meir Dan gradually regained his strength. When he grew up and gained understanding, he was found to have exceptional abilities, an unusual acuity of mind. He was already thought of as a prodigy even before he was brought to the cheder.

His father Rabbi Chaim Yitzchak was never a wealthy man. He barely made a living as a clerk and trusted employee, a bureaucrat for wealthy Jews who owned great woodlands in western Poland. Generally his work, whether in the forest or in a village, was located close to where they felled trees. Rabbi Chaim Yitzchak wandered from place to place along with his family and his brilliant son. But his mother was concerned about his studies. So she went out and sold her jewelry and engaged exceptional teachers, who stayed in the villages with her family and taught the little Rabbi Meir Dan. He rapidly progressed in the levels of Torah study to the point where he was considered a great prodigy. When Rabbi Meir Dan eulogized his mother after her death he highlighted the greatness of her spirit, her rare moral qualities and the extraordinary deeds of a young woman who would sell her jewelry in order to have higher caliber teachers, who shared their high level of knowledge.

When Rabbi Meir Dan was nine years old he was no longer in the hands of wandering teachers. Even the best of them had nothing more to teach the young prodigy. So despite his young age his parents sent him

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to Kalish, to the yeshiva of the Gaon Rabbi Chaim Eliezer Wachs, the rabbi of the city and author of Nefesh Chaya [The Living Soul]. At first visitors to the rabbi's house had doubts about what such a young child was doing there and attending the rabbi's lectures, even if he were gifted. But once Rabbi Wachs examined Rabbi Meir Dan he immediately included him in the group of his best students. From that time on he never stopped loving him and caring for his needs. After a few years Rabbi Meir Dan moved to Sochachow [Sochaczew], to the yeshiva of the Hassidic rebbe Rabbi Avraham, author of Avnei Nezer [Stones of the Crown]^[3], a place where exceptional scholars and giants of the Torah tended to concentrate. The lectures of the gaon of Sochachow were replete with such sharpness and depth that even adult students with great abilities at times found them difficult to comprehend. Nevertheless, the young Rabbi Meir Dan quickly succeeded in becoming part of this elite group. When he was thirteen years old his father arranged a Bar Mitzvah celebration in Kutno and invited all the leaders of the city to the event. Rabbi Meir Dan himself composed a discourse, which overwhelmed all those who heard it with its acuity and profundity. Word of the talk reached his teacher and rabbi, the rebbe of Sochachow. When Rabbi Meir Dan returned to his yeshiva he was asked to reprise his discourse that had become known. This veteran prince of the Torah listened to his young student and said, “One can debate what he said, but he built a beautiful structure and it would be a shame to bring it down when it is just as likely that it will stand….”

In Dvart, located in this district, a city full of wise men and sofrim [scribes; authors], great Hassidim and excellent scholars, there lived at that time Rabbi Mordechai, a Hassid and a learned man, a wealthy man and a man of good deeds. His wife was Mrs. Sheina Reizel, a righteous woman who grew up in the house of her uncle, the Gaon Rabbi Chaim Auerbach^[4], chief of the rabbinical court of Linschitz [Leczyca].

Rabbi Mordechai had three daughters. The two older of them were married to great scholars who eventually served as rabbis. The first was Rabbi Yosef, chief of the rabbinical court of Kletcheva [Kleczew], and the second the Gaon Rabbi Menachem, chief of the rabbinical court of Kozminka [Kozminek]. For the youngest of his daughters, the talented and outstanding Tziril, Rabbi Mordechai sought an exceptional young man who was known as an outstanding gaon of note. In Sochachew at the yeshiva of the rebbe Rabbi Avraham he found the young Rabbi Meir Dan and took him as the groom for his daughter.

Rabbi Mordechai spent much money on the dowry and gifts. In the year 5642 [1882] Rabbi Meir Dan married his bride when he was just fifteen years old. His father–in–law Rabbi Mordechai spent a great deal of money so that Rabbi Meir Dan could acquire a large library and also took care of all his needs. For ten years Rabbi Meir Dan worked at studying Torah and became a great scholar, having no worries about his subsistence or that of his family, being reliant on the support of his father–in–law. In his book, Chemdat Yisrael [The Delight of Israel], Rabbi Meir Dan says, “I am morally obligated to mention for good and blessing at the beginning of my book the name of my dear rabbinical, righteous and just father–in–law, who walked a straight path and loved Torah and its students, Rabbi Mordechai, may his memory be a blessing, and my dear and righteous mother–in–law, Mrs. Sheina Reizel, may she rest in peace, who supported me for ten years, when all my needs were dependent upon them in all matters, and I was able to study and teach worthy students.”

The grandfather of Rabbi Meir Dan, his father's father, was an outstanding gaon and Hassid and multi–talented man, named Rabbi Yisrael. He died in the year 5643 [1882–1883] when Rabbi Meir Dan was seventeen. On the day of his death the grandfather called for his grandson, asked him to put his hand on his heart and to swear that he would study with all his heart and soul and that he would cultivate innovative and profound ideas about the Torah. His grandfather's request never left the memory of Rabbi Meir Dan up until his final day. (This information is found in the introduction to his book, Chemdat Yisrael, Volume I, where he adds that he named his book after his esteemed grandfather.)

For a short time Rabbi Meir Dan studied in Dvart by himself. But soon a number of young men came to him, and he began to deliver his lectures to them. From that time on there was never an absence of a yeshiva around him. In the house of his rich father–in–law, surrounded by love and devotion, Rabbi Meir Dan dedicated himself to learning and teaching, day and night. He was always found in the midst of his studies. His yeshiva grew, and it became famous in the surrounding area and beyond. Its students were deeply attached to their teacher, the young gaon, whose name became well known in the entire world of Torah as one of the sharpest minds of his generation, a genius in Halacha and a genius in understanding. He diligently and rapidly went through both of the two Talmuds^[5] and the early and later commentators.

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He was a gaon whose sharpness of mind did not detract from the breadth of his knowledge and whose breadth of knowledge did not diminish his acuity.

His method of study, like that of his teacher, the rebbe of Sochachow, author of Avnei Nezer, was to go into depth in his studies. But this was not for the sake of finding the logic or the beauty of this penetration or depth, but rather to find the very truth of the reasoning and of the Halacha. For even more than one has to work hard to understand the reasoning, one has to work hard to understand the Halacha and everything that emanates from it. Rabbi Meir Dan did not reject the method of sharp pilpul^[6], built layer upon layer, full of sparks of acuity and based on the sharpness of the mind, in the manner of the rebbe of Ostrovtse [Ostrowiec] , Rabbi Meir Yechiel^[7]. He only used it only if the pilpul would point to the truth and would not distract from the topic under consideration. The main thing was that it would contribute something of substance to the clarification of a particular Halacha, or that it would point out some pathway in the sea of the Talmud or the early commentators, but not pilpul for its own sake, whose only purpose is to highlight the sharpness therein per se, when such acuity only distracts from the understanding of the essential plain meaning.

Rabbi Meir Dan did not object at all to the mixing of Halacha with Agadah [legend; non–Halachic parts of the Talmud], or of pilpul with plain meaning, if the purpose was to advance the student towards the truth in his studies. In his view the entire Torah, whether in its literal sense, its allusions or in its hidden meanings, comprises one single structure. Only through systematic study–– when at first it might appear that the simple meaning contradicts the legend or vice versa––does one who delves deep discover that there is no contradiction or difference between the different paths and ways of understanding the Torah. In his books and in his teaching he began to use both sharpness and breadth of understanding, deep study and pilpul. He sailed directly towards the target with all the weapons of the Torah at his disposal, something which only an outstanding gaon like him is able to do and carry through. The prodigy in him combined with the scholar laden with knowledge thanks to his extensive studies. The search for a clear outcome in Halacha combined with his desire to clarify the complexities of the issue that are hidden from superficial view.

Rabbi Meir Dan was a Hassid in every fiber of his being. He adhered to pure Hassidism with all his heart and soul and to his studies with enthusiasm and awe, with holiness and purity. He related to every iota of the Torah with fear and trembling, but also with love and soulful devotion. Study was never for him a matter of pleasure, but rather a holy undertaking. The Torah obligates every part of one's body, not just the mind and intelligence. Therefore he worked in the field of Torah with literally with all his strength. He approached the study of the Torah with a real hunger, as if he had never studied it before. Every day he would set aside time to infuse into his heart the love of Torah. Thus, there was no limit or parallel to his love of the Torah.

He was one of the devoted and sharpest Hassidim of Ger. He had a permanent place at the house of prayer of the Hassidim of Ger in Dvart, which was full of extraordinary men of learning and Hassidim, both old and young, enthusiastic in their service to God. His limitless devotion to Hassidism was planted in his heart by his father, Rabbi Chaim Yitzchak, and by his grandfather, Rabbi Yisrael. And so he maintained this precious heritage in every aspect. From a very young age he would frequently visit the holy ambience to be found at the court of the Hassidic rebbe Rabbi Aryeh Leib of Ger, author of the S'fat Emet [The Language of Truth]. After the latter's death he accepted the authority of the Hassidic rebbe Rabbi Avraham Mordechai of Ger.

The rebbes of Ger had a deep love for this young and exceptional gaon. There were very few like him in his generation. At the same time, every word that came out of the mouth of the rebbe was like a law for him, and every demand or request an obligation for which he was prepared to go through fire and water to fulfill. Rabbi Meir Dan viewed Hassidism as an integral part of the obligations incumbent upon every Jew of recent generations. Only Hassidism would prevent deviations in thought and action in our bereft generations, assuming that Hassidism was directed by a true tzadik, a saint of Israel.

Every person needs some real submission, and not only of the heart. Just as prayer needs to be expressed with your mouth, so, too, every submission needs to be expressed in actions. A person who has no teacher, no rabbi, and does not submit to anyone only diminishes his own stature. No matter who he may be there is a higher power above him and God helps him, Rabbi Meir Dan posited. Thus, he viewed in Hassidism an activity which supplemented his study of Torah and good work, and without which everything is deficient. Later in his life, when he was on a mission in America, he was asked by one of the Mitnagdic rabbis, “A gaon like you, who has mastered

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every aspect of the Torah, why do you need to travel so much and why do you need to submit to the rebbe so much?” Rabbi Meir Dan replied, “We learn that ‘thunder was created in order to straighten out the crookedness of the heart’. This teaching seems surprising and incomprehensible. For a person who infuses into his heart much Torah, his work consists of prayer, fear and love of God, the fear of sin and adherence to the blessed Creator. Is he not yet able to rid the crookedness from his heart with the strength of his Torah and fear of God? Must he wait until a day of rain, thunder and lightning storms in order to be able to expel the crookedness?”

“From this analogy we understand,” Rabbi Meir Dan went on, “that this crookedness, which is the fertile source of all poison and bitterness, cannot be cured by the person himself. Rather he needs help. The Hassid does not wait until a stormy day. He travels to the rebbe, who guides and directs him and prunes the wild growths that envelop the heart and soul of a person. He learns to know submission, its nature and substance. He absorbs his rebbe's Torah and teachings like a pupil before his master. He learns from his manner, his conversation and his conduct of affairs. His Torah knowledge is not diminished thereby, but rather his stature is only straightened.”

While Rabbi Meir Dan was in Dvart, serving there at the time as rabbi and chief of the rabbinical court in his later years was the Gaon Rabbi Yosef^[8], son of the Gaon Rabbi Moshe, the Maggid [famed preacher] of Zalozhits [Dzialoszyce], author of Mishpat Tzedek [Righteous Judgment], a commentary on the Book of Psalms. Rabbi Meir Dan became fond of the elderly rabbi and sought out his company, basking in his Torah. The rabbi appointed the sharp gaon to be a dayan [religious judge] and teacher, and as his substitute in the rabbinate. In the year 5651 [1890–1891], after the passing of Rabbi Yosef, Rabbi Meir Dan was chosen as the chief of the rabbinical court of Dvart, when he was but twenty–four years old.

After a year Rabbi Meir Dan no longer accepted support from his father–in–law. But for some reason he waived any income from the meat slaughtering fund, even though it was the usual entitlement of the rabbi to receive income from slaughtering. Contrary to the opinion of many of the great lights of Israel of his generation, he opposed the transfer of funds from the slaughtering fund for purposes of running the community. The salary of the shochet should come rather from the community's funds. Rabbi Meir Dan favored such an arrangement. In his view the rabbi, as well as the shochet, should in every community receive his salary from communal funds. All income, including the slaughtering fund, should be centralized in the hands of the communal fund. He therefore refused to receive any money from the slaughterers' fund, but rather made do with the limited salary that came from the community itself, all of whose limited income came from taxes on the residents.

After many years, after World War I and the rise of the Republic of Poland, while Rabbi Meir Dan was serving as rabbi of Ostrow Mazowiecka, the community decided, with his encouragement and under his influence, to transfer the funds of the slaughtering fund to its own authority. The rabbi was gratified by the decision, and viewed it as an important sign post in guaranteeing complete kashrut [keeping kosher] and in providing organized communal governance in the city. The shochtim [pl. of shochet] in Ostrow Mazowiecka sharply objected to this decision. They solicited a number of great rabbis to side with them. They even called a strike. But Rabbi Meir Dan was not intimidated, despite his very friendly ties with the slaughterers of the city. He asked the leaders of the community not to yield. Finally both sides agreed to arbitration, which was held under the auspices of the Gaon Rabbi Moshe Shatzkes in Lomza, who decided in favor of the community. The shochtim had to acquiesce.

As his family and his expenses grew markedly, Rabbi Meir Dan agreed to conduct arbitrations in the surrounding areas, both near and far, in order to balance his personal budget. Despite his limited income he spent considerable amounts on tzedakah [charity] out of all proportion to his income. He always gave generously and willingly, and sometimes gave his last penny to charity. And if he were asked but did not have anything to give at that time, he became very sad. He did not rest or sit silently by until he could get a loan with which to contribute to tzedakah. Even as a young rabbi he was open to any debate on Halacha, for ideas and information to combat and to stand his ground. But while there was a bit of aggressiveness in all this, he could never let a poor man leave without alms.

Once when he was presenting his set morning lecture to his students, a needy visitor appeared. Rabbi Meir stopped his lecture and took his visitor into a separate room. The visitor left and the rabbi returned to his discourse. But his heart and soul were not in it. The students discerned that he was full of sadness and pain and found it difficult to deliver his words.

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Charity and Righteousness

Every day at the same time the postman brought letters for the rabbi, which remained unopened until the afternoon. Once he finished his lecture he turned to dealing with the mail. But this one time he deviated from his custom, and stopped his teaching and quickly went to open the letters. And lo and behold but in one envelope there were twenty–five rubles, fees for an arbitration that one of the parties was paying him. He immediately sent two of his students to look around town for that needy visitor and give him this money. Only then did he return to his teaching with joy and enthusiasm, his face understandably aglow.

Rabbi Meir Dan suffered much. Countless torments were visited upon him without breaking his spirit or detracting from his enthusiasm for matters of holiness, without diminishing his burning faith or the light in his face. When he was immersed in Torah he was able to recover from his troubles. He often approached his lectures broken and crushed with his eyes red from crying, after tragedies afflicted his family, but he ended his lecture with a glowing face, full of faith and hope that all would be well. To his pious and righteous wife, Mrs. Tziril, who cried bitterly after the death of their eldest son, the outstanding Gaon Rabbi Eliezer Yehuda^[9], who had barely turned eighteen, Rabbi Meir Dan said, “It is said that just as one should recite a blessing for good things, so, too, should one recite a blessing for the bad. For one who recites a blessing on the good is convinced that the good came upon him because he deserves it, that it is his due. So, too, should the one who recites a blessing on the bad should know that he deserves the bad as well.”

The tragedies that afflicted his family did not depress his spirit, although he mourned the death of children deeply. As was mentioned his oldest son, Rabbi Eliezer Yehuda, died as just a young man, eighteen years old, without leaving behind a son. Rabbi Meir Dan deeply grieved the loss of his beloved son, a young gaon who resembled him in every way. He was sharp and broadly knowledgeable, exacting in his great diligence, an enthusiastic Hassid who did not avail himself at all of any of the pleasures of this world, and never in his short life did he enjoy any material things. Despite his young age he assisted his father in the writing of his first book, Chemdat Yisrael, which contains many of his own novella^[10].

Rabbi Meir Dan appended to his book, Chemdat Yisrael, novellae on the Torah that came from his son, the young prodigy, in a special pamphlet, Beit Yehuda [The House of Judah]. Afterwards he published a second volume of his son's teachings also called, Beit Yehuda. In the few pages of these pamphlets, written by a young man who had not even lived eighteen years, the greatness in Torah of Rabbi Eliezer Yehuda, his broad knowledge and especially is great acuity, were apparent. Rabbi Meir Dan had hoped that this son would be his continuity. His premature death shocked the gaon to the point where he never forgot about his wonderful son for a single day of his life. He was once asked why, twenty years after his passing, he still spoke of his tragedy as if it had occurred only yesterday. He replied that when a father walks behind's his son's coffin and brings it to be buried he finds comfort for the tragedy in his mind. It is as if he is making a sacrifice to the Creator of the World. We are commanded to make daily sacrifices. So when I recall my great tragedy, when it recurs to me, it seems as if I am making a new sacrifice.

But this was not the only tragedy that afflicted his family. Two of his daughters, Mrs. Chana and Mrs. Sarah, died young, leaving behind young orphaned boys and girls. And it fell to the gaon and his wife to educate and support them. Rabbi Meir Dan and his righteous wife accepted these afflictions with love. They carried these burdens in silence until their final days. The issue did not influence the great rabbi's teaching or prayer or his work on behalf of the public.

In the year 5663 [1902–1903] Rabbi Meir Dan published his book, Chemdat Yisrael, to which some of the greatest rabbis of the generation gave their enthusiastic endorsements. Among them were his teacher, Rabbi Avraham of Sochachew, the Gaon Rabbi Chaim Soloveichik, chief of the rabbinical court in Brisk [Brest–Litovsk], the Gaon Rabbi Eliyahu Chaim Meisel, the rabbi of Lodz, and others. They adorned the rabbi–author with the greatest of titles, they crowned him as being an awesome gaon, a prince of the Torah. But Rabbi Meir Dan, in printing their endorsements, edited out all the compliments that were directed at him, but made do only with references to “the rabbi.”

Most of the hours of the day he devoted to his holy work. He delivered several lectures to the students in his yeshiva per day. But in addition to this he was aware of everything that was going on in his community, Dvart. He served as the address for every bitter soul and every trouble

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that afflicted the people of the city or its environs, and never stinted in any effort to assist anyone who asked for help. He saw himself as responsible for the well being and health of all the poor and suffering, the widows and orphans in his community and the surrounding area. He never ceased in his devotion to the downtrodden.

But he viewed his most important duty as defending Halacha and the ramparts of Judaism. Even in Dvart in those days there arose groups of “progressives”, outright secularists and partial secularists, who sought to change the entire face of Judaism, who sought to introduce improvements and changes in the traditional vineyard of the House of Israel. There were also those who sought such disintegration by means of games and public plays to encourage Jewish youth to enter into the circle of their activities and ideas which negated the bases of Judaism. Rabbi Meir Dan viewed his battle against these groups as an integral part of his rabbinate.

In Dvart a Zionist circle arose, comprised primarily of people who had already discarded the obligations of Judaism. Some people joined who, while their lifestyle was religious, their approach to religion was very compromising and tepid. Rabbi Meir Dan, who rejected the political Zionist movement from the very day of its founding, was not afraid to come out openly in opposition to this group. He did not negate the aspiration to emigrate to Zion. On the contrary, he was a lover of the Land of Israel and always cared about her situation. He was concerned as much as possible with the Jewish communities in the Land of Israel, and with the Fund of Rabbi Meir Baal Haness^[11]. Every request that came to him that was related to the Land of Israel he related to in a most positive way. But he viewed political Zionism as a negative and dangerous force that would ultimately likely undermine the ramparts of Israel and bring about a spiritual and moral catastrophe to our people, one worse and more dangerous than any other calamity.

In his lectures, which also found expression and an echo in his books, Rabbi Meir Dan argued that there is no other basis for the survival of our people than the Torah, the Halacha and Judaism that is tied to it exactly as it is with no changes at all. Those who seek to change the spiritual basis of our people resemble those who seek to destroy the economic basis of the Jews, or the right to their physical existence. They are like an enemy who seeks to destroy a holy nation. In general, the concern for assuring the physical existence, economic well being or political existence of a nation cannot in any way come at the expense of the destruction of its spiritual and essential existence. Rabbi Meir Dan offered this analogy: a vineyard owner attempts to save one of his plants that is being knocked over by storms and winds. The vineyard owner finds the roots of the plant. He saws them off and uses them as supports for the other vines, without realizing that he is condemning the one he came to save to destruction.

His attitude towards anti–religious Zionism was the same in regard to religious Zionism. For in his mind there is no place for religious life if the Torah is not at the center, controlling all ways of life. He who places religion in second place is as bad as one who puts it outside the realm of activities altogether. One who battles against pure religion

The Gaon Rabbi Meir Dan

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and moderate and who loved peace, was not afraid to do battle without compromise on behalf of Torah, to fight for every jot and tittle of the Torah, for custom and tradition. For those who determined that “a custom in Israel is like a law” are those who assured the survival of Judaism and the people of Israel.

In those days there arose among the Jews socialist and revolutionary popular movements. Hunger, want and discrimination that were the lot of the masses of Jews served as motivating factors for joining those new movements. Rabbi Meir Dan felt the pain of every miserable and depressed person, as he viewed with trepidation the war for survival of the exploited workers and the overburdened artisans. But he absolutely rejected the new movements which came as if to free the masses from darkness to light, to assure them of a rosy and beautiful future, a tomorrow full of light. The agitation increased and created conditions for a mass uprising and revolutionary acts, especially among Jews who were opposed to the cruel and oppressive tsarist regime in the year 5664 [1903–1904]. Rabbi Meir Dan continued to speak out in public against those movements, and was not intimidated by the threats of the revolutionaries.

He did not advocate loyalty to tsarist rule. He more than once took a risk in leveling withering criticism against the oppressive regime, which he hated with all his heart and about which he had not a good word to say. He was disgusted by all those who could sit side–by–side with those who represented that evil government at any level. It was not loyalty to the rule of the tsar that motivated him. On the contrary, it was his loyalty to the masses of Jews, to their future and well being.

We are among non–Jews, we are in exile, the rabbi repeated again and again. These non–Jews are corrupt to their very souls, cruel, callous, evil hearted, bloodthirsty and seeking sacrifices, anti–Semites. When things are bad for the non–Jew and he is distracted, he is not preoccupied with and has no time for the Jew. But when the non–Jew is otherwise sated, he can turn his full cruelty upon the Jew. If a revolution would bring prosperity, it would bring it to the non–Jews, while the Jews would remain negatively discriminated against. Why are we Jews getting involved in their ways of life and governance?

In order to free man from his suffering one needs a change in values, restraint by the one who rules, the extraction of the animal of prey from within him, the negation of the animal instinct that has penetrated into him. Man must first repair himself before he can repair others. And until people correct their own actions they cannot correct the world, countries and states. Without Torah, without Judaism a person is not able to correct his flaws or to restrain himself. Revolutionary movements that strip Jews of all holiness, from every spark of Judaism, will only lead its followers to the brink of disaster. They will empty him of all content. One can never satisfy a person who has no values.

Rabbi Meir Dan was a gaon who like to delve deeply into matters, to examine all sides of the coin. He read all the propaganda of the socialists and Zionists, perused their books and publications, so that he might know how to reply to them. He felt that it was first and foremost the obligation of a rabbi in Israel to propound the views of Halacha about all issues so that he might make relevant rulings concerning them. In order to counter the opposition one must know the essence of what he says. Such material was to be found in his house for short periods of time. He would hide it on the upper shelves of his bookcase and instruct his students not to go there. So when he went out to do battle at the gates he would know what his enemies, the enemies of Torah Judaism, were saying. There were those young men who may have glanced into this secular literature and who were harmed, but Rabbi Meir Dan restored them to health, as he knew how to remove every thorn that penetrated the heart of a naïve young man who was unable to understand matters in depth.

In his battle against the movements that were attempting to destroy the ramparts of the House of Israel Rabbi Meir Dan was not satisfied in conducting a war of ideas alone. He was not deterred from any activity that would assure that the anti–religious, revolutionary or even partially secular movements would not sink deep roots in Dvart, or that they would not take over the community, but rather that they would remain within a limited framework. But even their limited influence would not let the rabbi rest. He was ready and willing to attack them, and would ignore no opportunity to do so.

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Once, on the eve of the holiday of Shavuot [the Feast of Weeks], the rabbi was walking in the street in Dvart when he came upon a poster announcing that a traveling artisans' choir was going to be visiting the city, and that on the holiday of Shavuot it would be presenting a play entitled, L'vavot Sh'vurim (Broken Hearts), to the public at large, which was invited to attend. The rabbi immediately sent his students all over town to announce that on the day of the holiday the rabbi was going to lecture on the synagogue on the topic of L'vavot Sh'vurim between the morning (shacharit) and supplementary (mussaf) services. As he was the religious leader of the community people felt that it was obligatory to attend. So it was ordered that all the synagogues and houses of prayer would be closed at that time and the entire community was asked to come and listen to the sermon of the rabbi.

The next day the majority of the residents of the city gathered at the synagogue, some surprised to hear the lecture, other curious as to what its meaning was. The rabbi mounted the pulpit, raised his voice and broke out in tears. “Today is the memorial day for King David, peace be unto him, who in the Book of Psalms presented to us a portrait of the broken and depressed heart, with which we have approached the Creator for thousands of years, before whom we present our pleadings and supplications. The Creator will not mock the broken and depressed heart of King David. And today, the very day we remember him, people come and make a mockery of and scorn this broken heart, rendering it a mere display of laughter and frivolity. The one thing that we have of him as a keepsake, the broken heart, they make into a morbid game.”

The tears of the rabbi, his shouts of pain shocked the local residents. The organizers of the play kept trying to explain themselves, that it was not their intention to hurt the feelings of anyone who was broken hearted. They canceled the play, and gave in to the rabbi. Sometimes the rabbi, for lack of an alternative, would organize a group of learned people of Dvart, from among those who were his adherents and friends, and would lead them to the place where a play was being put on. And because of the presence of the rabbi and dignitaries of the city the organizers of the plays would generally cancel them, albeit reluctantly. They did not dare to dishonor the rabbi.

The community of Dvart was not among the largest or most important in Poland. But the reputation of the rabbi reached the far corners of the country and beyond. Many boasted and took pride in this famous gaon, a prince of the Torah, the definitive decisor, the true Hassid who fought the good fight, who was active in all areas and who was not afraid of doing anything that would accord honor and glory to the rabbinate and to Polish Jewry. Many saw him as the very symbol and the role model for a rabbi in Israel, whose shoulders towered above those of others, one who was ready and willing to sacrifice, who eschewed glory but rather was one whom glory pursued, who detested graft in any form.

There was a case where two well known lumber merchants got into a dispute with one another. One of the parties invited Rabbi Meir Dan to serve as an arbitrator for him. The rabbi agreed to do so. His salary from the community of Dvart was extremely limited and he would therefore do arbitrations. After a number of sessions the arbitration fell apart. One of the sides rescinded his willingness to participate. The other merchant presented Rabbi Meir Dan with a respectable sum of money to pay for his efforts, even if they had come to naught. He further promised to help him and to stand by his side and that “whatever the rabbi thought in his heart or mind about having he would provide.” Rabbi Meir Dan heard this and refused to accept the money, saying “I am not looking to acquire anything.” The wealthy man then offered a much smaller sum, arguing that the rabbi had dispersed money for his travel and lodging, which he was entitled to under any circumstances. But Rabbi Meir Dan refused this money as well, asserting that, “In each ruble of yours there are embedded kopeks of bribery.” Two years later, when he was again asked to sit as an arbitrator for another wealthy merchant, whose opponent was the very same merchant who had try to “acquire” him, the rabbi refused, saying who knows if there is still not a tinge of resentment in my heart against that merchant? Therefore I recuse myself, as I might not be able to decide the matter truthfully.

In the year 5672 [1911–1912] the Hassidic rebbes and leading rabbis of Poland assembled to deal with the fund for poor Polish Jews in the Land of Israel, as complaints and criticism on the part of the poor who came from Poland and were living in Jerusalem about the administration of the fund and the activities of its directors had mounted. The participants in the assemblage decided to send a delegation of prominent rabbis to the Land of Israel that would investigate matters in Jerusalem and decide on any necessary measures. So in that year Rabbi Meir Dan Plotzky left on that mission along with the Gaon Rabbi Shaul Moshe Zylberman, the rabbi of Vyershuv [Wieruszow], and the Gaon

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Rabbi Chaim Naftali Zylberberg of Warsaw. They worked hard to bring about peace and to prevent a rift between the funders and the recipients of the distributed funds. Upon his return to Poland Rabbi Meir Dan refused to speak about the nature of the dispute and its origins. He argued that after the delegation of the rabbis did what it did there was no point in rehashing the complaints and replies to them. To do so would only serve to slander the Land of Israel, or to say that there were people in Jerusalem who were involved in conflict, and that it was equally forbidden to tell that tale.

His novel interpretations of the Torah, which he came up with during his stay in the Land of Israel, were very dear to him. He recorded them in his book, Klei Chemdah [Instruments of Delight], after his return to Poland. He wrote, “The ideas that I came up with when I was in our Holy Land are very precious to me. I wrote them down when I returned from the Holy Land….” In the Land of Israel Rabbi Meir Dan came into contact with all the giants of the Torah in Jerusalem, and established ties of friendship among them which lasted for years long after his return home. He was particularly fond of the scholars of Jerusalem, who sat and learned despite the difficult circumstances they were under. They got by on the very minimum, but never left the confines of their religious studies and work. “There are among them,” he wrote, “exceptional scholars the likes of whom you would be hard pressed to find in the Diaspora.”

In that same year [in May 1912] there gathered in Kattowitz [Katowice] rabbis and communal leaders from many countries in Eastern and Central Europe with the goal of establishing an international organization of Orthodox Jews that would work in a united fashion for the rule of the Torah in all spheres of activity of the Jewish people and would rebuff the assaults on the faithful of the House of Israel. Rabbi Meir Dan joined this new organization with enthusiasm, for which, he said, he had waited for a long time. He was prepared to do everything he could to insure its success and firm establishment. But before this new movement, Agudat Yisrael [or Agudas Yisroel, the Association of Israel], could strike deep roots in Poland, World War I broke out, which prevented any organizational work.

As early as the first few months of the war the imperial German Army succeeded in capturing Dvart and its environs. Compared to the suffering that the Jewish people in central and eastern Poland underwent as a result of the actions of the Russian army and its officers, those Jew haters, Dvart and its surrounding area were relatively quiet. Rabbi Meir Dan was in Dvart, cut off in fact from the vast majority of Jewish communities in Poland. He then wrote his book, Klei Chemdah, on the Torah, which received wide attention in the entire Torah and rabbinic worlds, and prepared the second volume of his book, Chemdat Yisrael, for publication.

During this time there appeared in Poland a book of the Jerusalem Talmud dealing with matters of holiness that had never hitherto even been known to exist. The author of the book, one Shlomo Friedlander, presented himself under false circumstances. He claimed that the book was authentic and that it was uncovered by him. He succeeded in obtaining the endorsement of some leading rabbis in Galicia and Hungary for its printing as a book of the Jerusalem Talmud, and to which he added a gloss of his own. He presented a garbled and counterfeit volume, and continued to deceive the rabbis from whom he extracted endorsements without their having examined the character of the author and his work.

Rabbi Meir Dan published a special booklet in which he proved the author's fraud beyond a doubt. At first the fraudster still tried to defend himself, but he quickly disappeared when he could not stand up to the shattering criticism of this great gaon, who exposed his true identity and the nature of his deeds. The rabbis who had endorsed him quickly retracted their endorsements.

Before the last world war ended the position of the rabbinate in Ostrow Mazowiecka became vacant. The rabbi of the community, Rabbi Yosef Kalish of Amshinov, was chosen as the Hassidic rebbe and chief of the rabbinical court of Amshinov in place of his father, the Hassidic rebbe Rabbi Menachem, who had just died. The people of the community of Ostrow Mazowiecka chose the Gaon Rabbi Meir Dan as their rabbi and teacher. As usual, Rabbi Meir Dan took no final step until he had consulted with his teacher and rabbi, the Hassidic rebbe Rabbi Avraham Mordechai of Ger. When the rabbi came to ask his question, the rebbe replied, “For a few years, why not?”

Rabbi Meir Dan no longer hesitated. He left Dvart and went to Ostrow Mazowiecka, where his reputation was

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as a great gaon, a prince of the Torah, a devoted rabbi and courageous fighter, one of the greatest rabbis of his generation, and a paver of the paths to Torah Judaism. In Ostrow Mazowiecka, as in Dvart, he immediately took the lead in all communal activities. He stood at the gates as a father and patron, responsible for everything that occurred within. He did not flinch before anyone, nor did he put up with anyone. He saw in the rabbinate a holy mission whose responsibilities must be fulfilled with devotion.

These were days of chaos and confusion. The Russian tsardom had fallen. An independent Poland arose and anti–Semites again reared their ugly heads. They attacked the Jews and carried out bloody pogroms. Many Jews became impoverished. They lost all their property. Their source of income was gone. Rabbi Meir Dan did not see himself as limited to matters of Jewish law, but rather as an address for all who needed help and support and all who were depressed. He never turned anyone away, nor did he ever evade giving assistance to anyone who asked for it. In the first months of his presence in Ostrow Mazowiecka he devoted days and nights to helping the poor and the suffering.

As the situation in Poland calmed down, the question of the organization of traditional Judaism once again rose to the fore. Rabbi Meir Dan was co–opted to this service, and was appointed as one of the leaders of Agudat Yisrael. The founders of this new movement were faced with a difficult problem, that of establishing a budget for the organization's activities. Without adequate financial resources it was clear that it would be impossible to establish a mass movement, with centers, hundreds of branches, and thousands of educational and other institutions.

Therefore it was by decided by the organizers of the Organization of the Faithful of Israel (a/k/a Agudat Yisrael) to send a high level delegation to England and the United States to encourage orthodox Jews to organize and offer their full support to the new movement. Chosen as head of the delegation was Rabbi Meir Dan Plotzky. Its members consisted of the Gaon Rabbi Asher Lemel Spitzer, chief of the rabbinical court of Kirchendorf [Kirchdorf], Rabbi Dr. Meir Hildesheimer of Berlin, Germany, Dr. Nathan Birnbaum, Rabbi Yosef Lev, who later served as rabbi in London, and Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Levin, may he live and be well, who headed the delegation only in England^[12].

Rabbi Meir Dan was everywhere received royally. Rabbis and those knowledgeable about the Torah trembled before this great gaon, who was rightfully thought of as a prince of the Torah and a pillar of education. But the delegation did not succeed in raising the needed sums. Rabbi Meir Dan, who had a kind and gentle soul, did not succeed, as he was not adept at the games of honorifics by which fundraising was accomplished in America in those days. He did know how to flatter people, especially the nouveau riche, who were ignorant of Torah, did not have the fear of Heaven, and did not have the same charitable impulses to which Rabbi Meir Dan was accustomed.

Many communities in the West had offered him the position of rabbi and promised him very generous salaries. One community competed with the other in offering the rabbi compensation. But Rabbi Meir Dan rejected all the offers, even though his income in Ostrow Mazowiecka was very limited, not sufficing to support his family and himself, given his open–handedness to charity. But the rabbi refused to consider emigration to the wealthy countries of the West. As he told one delegation that had offered him a very remunerative position:

“As we learn in Pirkei Avot [The Ethics of the Fathers]^[13], a story is told of Rabbi Yosi ben Kisma, who met a man who suggested that he live in his locale, for which he would give him a thousand thousands of gold dinars. He replied that even if you give me all the silver and gold in the world I would not live any place other than in a place of Torah. This story, Rabbi Meir Dan said, is incomprehensible. How did Rabbi Yosi ben Kisma know that the place which the man had proposed that he move to in exchange for a great fortune was not a place of Torah so that he quickly rejected his offer? He passed up a thousand thousand dinars so lightly?”

“However, the rabbi went on to explain, everything necessary in the world, without which you cannot live and cannot do without, like air and water, bread and so on, is cheap or free. Otherwise it would be impossible to live in the world. So if a man came to Rabbi Yosi and offered a thousand thousands gold dinars for his Torah knowledge, it is a sign that the Torah is not considered necessary, like air to breathe,

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to the residents of that place, otherwise it would not be so expensive.” Thus, he rejected their proposal, saying that all the gold and silver in the world cannot compare with the value placed on the Torah by those who deem it as a necessary thing, like air to breathe.

Rabbi Meir Dan then returned to Poland. But a great shock now befell the state that had just attained its new political independence, after more than a hundred years of subjugation to Russia, Germany and Austria. The Bolshevik Red Army invaded Poland and attempted to conquer her anew. The Polish Army quickly retreated westward. In a relatively short time the soldiers of communist Russia had arrived at the gates of Warsaw.

The undisciplined Polish Army retreated. It was commanded by corrupt, Jew–hating officers. It attacked Jews without restraint in the cities and towns. The Jews were accused of treason, were portrayed as Russian spies as exemplified by Leon Trotsky, who was of Jewish origin and who was the Commissar in command of the Red Army. The communist soldiers robbed and pillaged everything there was to steal and plunder, and did not spare the Jews at all. When the Polish Army mounted a counter attack and the Red Army withdrew back in chaos to the Russian front, the communist soldiers emptied entire communities in the course of their retreat. And the Polish Army, when it returned and re–captured the cities and towns, once again began to launch wild attacks on the Jews. Soldiers cut the beards off Jews who fell into their hands. They made up accusations against them. Any Pole who wished to would now fabricate an accusation against a Jew that he was acting as a spy. The testimony of a single Pole, no matter how flawed, was sufficient for officers of the Polish Army, hungry for Jewish blood, to convict the poor sacrificial lamb to death by hanging or shooting. All efforts to save those condemned to death for no reason failed. The Poles were interested in killing Jews without any justification. The wild, riled up Polish mobs rejoiced at the sight of a hanged Jew.

In Ostrow Mazowiecka the Poles captured a young Jew named Moshe Zlatovsky, a native of Siedlce, and accused him of criticizing the Polish government in its pursuit of the war with the Bolsheviks. To no avail the Jews endeavored to prove that the whole story was based on a lie. Without success the leaders of the community appealed to the representatives of the authorities that there was no law that prohibited criticism of the government. Neither were the tears and wailing of the relatives of the poor innocent of any use either. A few junior officers sat as judges, acting as a field court, and quickly issued a death sentence by hanging for the young man.

In the forest on the road to Komorowo thousands of Poles gathered, exultant and rejoicing, as they came to witness the lynching of a Jew. Moshe Zlatovsky, may God avenge his blood, was brought to the site and with him was Rabbi Meir Dan, who did not abandon him in his last moments. He recited with him the confessional, Sh'ma Yisrael [Hear, O Israel], and the prayer for justification of God's judgment until his holy soul departed. Broken and depressed, the rabbi returned to the town. The dreadful scene shook the rabbi to his core. Upon his return home he could not even stand upright. He took seriously ill and for several months could not arise from his bed.

When he recovered Rabbi Meir Dan returned enthusiastically to his studies, his work and his efforts on behalf of the community. He published his book, Klei Chemdah, on the Torah, which quickly captured the hearts of the Torah community in Poland and beyond. Major endorsements were given to this book by leading contemporary Torah scholars. Among them were the Gaon Rabbi Yosef Rosen, the Gaon Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk, the Gaon Rabbi Yosef Engel and others. The book was quickly sold out and made the name of its author famous as one of the sharpest geonim [pl. of gaon]. He also published the second volume of his book, Chemdat Yisrael, which included rabbinic responsa, lectures and moral discourses that Rabbi Meir Dan had delivered since he was appointed as rabbi and chief of the rabbinical court. These were only a few of the thousands of responses that the rabbi had sent to communities near and far, to hundreds of rabbis and dayanim [pl. of dayan] who had turned to him with all manner of serous issues and complicated questions. He responded quickly, precisely and clearly to every inquirer. He did not avoid deciding difficult matters of Jewish law, although he occasionally surrounded his replies with other topics, meandering through the Talmud and the early and later decisors in the course of clarifying the law.

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He was thought of in those days, while serving as rabbi in Ostrow Mazowiecka, as one of the first rank of decisors of his generation. In addition he was deemed one of the giants of the Torah who helped carry the burden of responsibility in the Torah community, and his heart was aware of every communal problem.

The rabbis of Poland had organized themselves into a nation–wide association in order to cooperate in raising the level of the rabbinate, to strengthen religion, to alleviate the plight of agunot^[14], and to operate in every other sphere of the rabbinate. At its first convention in 5682 [1921–1922], at which hundreds of rabbis took part, Rabbi Meir Dan was elected as chairman of the executive committee of the Association of Rabbis of Poland. He functioned in this framework principally in matters revolving around issues of Halacha. He refused to get involved in any activity that involved improving the economic status of rabbis. He left this matter to other rabbis.

The Jewish communities in Poland were organized on a democratic basis. The government of Poland officially recognized the communities and established regulations for their functioning. Every Jew was obliged to pay a special tax to the community in which he lived. Every five years there were general elections under the supervision of the authorities. The number of officers was determined by the number of members of the community. In the larger communities a council was elected, which in turn chose an executive body. The law gave the rabbi of the community the right to participate in the meetings of the executive as an equal member. Rabbi Meir Dan was opposed to this law. The rabbi is not an elected representative; his place was not among the representatives, he contended. The salaries of rabbis were also determined according to special regulations. The level of salary was determined by the size of the community. According to this governmental regulation the community of Ostrow Mazowiecka was required to add 1,800 zlotys to the rabbi's salary per year. When the community of Ostrow Mazowiecka presented its budget for 5684 [1923–1924] to the government for approval, the government official demanded that the discrepancies in the salary of the rabbi that he was entitled to be added as per the law. But Rabbi Meir Dan refused to accept the raise just so that he could balance his own personal budget. He stated clearly that he was not a rabbi of the government, but rather of the community. The arrangements of government bureaucrats were of no interest to him. His limited income did not prevent the rabbi from being the first among the donors to charity and among the largest.

The Gaon Rabbi Meir Dan was active and involved in the organization of the Agudat Yisrael movement in Poland. Its firm establishment was important to him, and he did much on its behalf. The rabbi saw Agudat Yisrael, then known as The Organization of the Faithful of Israel, as very serious force for the strengthening of the ramparts of religion, for saving future generations for Judaism, for the prevention of the domination of anti–religious movements in the Jewish community, and for the rule of Torah in the life of the nation. Therefore he sharply opposed and totally rejected the wish of certain rabbis to appear politically unaffiliated. “At a time when full loyalty to the Torah has become a political party matter, how can a rabbi who fulfills his Torah mission see himself as unaffiliated? What rabbi can remain indifferent to the question of whether the Torah is that which determines all the ways and means of the life of the nation, or whether other factors, national or class ones, do?” he asked.

Even within the orthodox Agudat Yisrael movement Rabbi Meir Dan had his own distinct ideas and approach. A fundamental debate was then being undertaken in the new movement on the following question: who has the right to join Agudat Yisrael? The debate originated in Germany, Slovakia and Hungary, where separate orthodox communities existed [independent of the general Jewish community]. There were those who argued that only members of such separate communities could join Agudat Yisrael, since following the rulings of the giants of the Torah of the previous generation separate orthodox communities had been established. This would oblige every orthodox Jew to join these separate entities. There were even those who forbade joining the general communities, which included the non–religious and even the anti–religious, and whose provisions did not comply at all with the explicit Halacha. As opposed to them there were those who argued that it would be inappropriate to limit the world organization to the framework of the separate communities, and that it was incumbent upon Agudat Yisrael to include all Jews who observed the word of God, and not to prevent any Jew who indentified with its principles to join. Rabbi Meir Dan joined in this debate. As soon as he returned from the Agudat Yisrael mission to England and the United States he ceaselessly demanded that the gates of Agudat Yisrael should be opened to the maximum extent

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in order to attract the masses to its ranks. Everything should be done so that the masses would join the movement in every locale, without being overly concerned with the minutiae of their observance. The very fact of their joining and being active within the framework of Agudat Yisrael under the authority of the leaders of the Torah would bring about a turning point in their lives and in all their actions. He voiced this opinion on every occasion, whether in the conferences of Agudat Yisrael or in the meetings of the Moetzet G'dolei Hatorah [The Council of Torah Greats]^[15], to which body he was elected on the very day of its founding.

Alongside the establishment of Agudat Yisrael in Poland was also founded the Tz'irei Agudat Yisrael [Young Agudat Yisrael]. Clubs were set up for young orthodox [men], along with libraries for its members and other religious youth. Many of the leading Hassidic rebbes and other rabbis in Poland were strongly opposed to the very idea of setting up of religious libraries. A religious youth should study Torah. So, too, should the working youth devote every free hour to Torah and its works, and not waste time reading books of literature, meaningless stories, which may contain poison dangerous to the soul.

But the young orthodox activists, who worked to establish clubs and libraries for the religious working youth, found a champion in Rabbi Meir Dan Plotzky, who saw this as an imperative of the times. “The libraries for youth will prevent the reading of forbidden and dangerous books that corrupt the soul, and do not, Heaven forefend, prevent the study of the Torah,” he ruled.

When in 5682 [1922] the national convention of Agudat Yisrael in Poland convened in Warsaw, Rabbi Meir Dan delivered an enthusiastic and fiery speech. He demanded of the masses to sanctify the name of Heaven by committing themselves to this undertaking. He energized the thousands who attended the convention who applauded enthusiastically. At the conclusion of his words a resounding sound blasted forth from the mouths of thousands, Sh'ma Yisrael Adoshem Elokeinu Adoshem Echad [Hear O Israel, the Lord Our God the Lord Is One]. This scene uplifted Rabbi Meir Dan. This lecture found particular favor in his eyes, to the point where it was printed in his book, Klei Chemdah (in the section dealing with the weekly biblical portion of Nitzavim)^[16].

During his decades at his yeshiva in Dvart, to which many young men streamed, and during his service as rabbi of Ostrow Mazowiecka, he nurtured thousands of students. As he approached sixty he began to pine for the days of his youth, before he had burdened himself with the onus of the rabbinate and when his time was completely free for spreading the Torah, for learning and teaching. When he was approached to accept the post as head of the Metivta yeshiva in Warsaw, at which hundreds of young men studied, he responded positively. He even agreed to travel once again to the United States to raise the money needed to expand the yeshiva, to absorb hundreds of additional students, and to secure its existence. Thus, in the year 5686 [1926] the Gaon Rabbi Meir Dan left on this mission to the United States and remained there for many months.

Upon his return from the United States Rabbi Meir Dan resigned his position as rabbi of Ostrow Mazowiecka, to the distress of many of its residents who were tied to the rabbi with strong bonds of love and friendship. A spacious apartment was rented for him at 7 Marianska Street in Warsaw. The rabbi began his new job as head of the Metivta yeshiva and began to give his opening lectures on the Laws of the Sanctification of God's Name of the Rambam^[17] [Maimonides]. The rabbi hoped that in Warsaw, the capital of Poland and the largest Jewish community in those days, he could contribute to the Jewish and religious community, whether in the framework of Agudat Yisrael or the Association of Rabbis, etc.

Rabbi Meir Dan refused at first to have a synagogue in his home. He would attend one of the many Hassidic houses of prayer of Ger in Warsaw, as just one Hassid among many. “From now on I am no longer a rabbi and am free from any of the requirements of praying at any one particular place,” he said gratefully. He was fortunate in his new position, and planned to expand the framework of the yeshiva, to raise its status, and to transform it into a center of Torah learning in Poland. Thus, many young men began to stream to Warsaw, applying to the Metivta, the reputation of whose head was widely spoken of. Hundreds of young men, sharp and excellent, from all over Poland wanted to study Torah directly from the mouth of the leading gaon of the generation.

But the happiness of Rabbi Meir Dan did not last long. Just a few months after his arrival in Warsaw he fell ill with a disease from which he never recovered. The disease got worse day by day, to the distress of his many admirers, students and friends.

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Even has he lay in his sick bed the gaon did not stop learning with enthusiasm, innovating ideas about the Torah. In the Compendium of Sermons that was published by the Association of Rabbis in Poland, Volume IX, in the year 5690 [1929–1930], page 16, the Hassidic rebbe Rabbi Yitzchak Zelig of Sokolow wrote, “Our colleague, the Hassid and Gaon Rabbi Meir Dan, chief of the rabbinical court of Ostroveh, just a few days before his death wrote me a letter reminding me to pray with him that he would be cured of his illness. He also wrote a note to clarify the text of the Mechilta on the weekly Bible portion of Vayakhel^[18]. I replied to him briefly to gladden him with words of Torah, knowing that words of Torah would make him feel better and that the light of the Torah will make him live. My reply did not reach him before he went up to heaven, to our great regret. I greatly loved his words of Torah that he innovated when he was beset with pain (may we not know of such), and this was Torah that he taught despite all this and remains to his credit.”

It is told that shortly before his death an expert physician, one of the great doctors of Poland, stood at his bedside. The doctor said to him that if you invest all your desires in a particular matter, and you derive maximal unlimited pleasure from it, it will stimulate strength within you that will help fight the disease and you might be able to overcome it.

When the doctor left, the Gaon Rabbi Meir Dan said, “In fact I have been fortunate to be counted among the type of rabbis who are sufficiently knowledgeable to deal with very serious and complex questions. So if I invest all my strength in this, it is clear that I will derive great pleasure from it, that I will be strengthened. But this will not be strength but rather pride, conceit, egoism. It is better to die than to fall into the morass of pride….”

In his last days he even wrote a will, saying that it might even help to lengthen his days. In his will he asked his sons, the Gaon Rabbi Yisrael Natan and the Gaon Rabbi Chanoch Henich, to publish the lectures that he gave on the observance of the Sabbath and to print his many Torah novellae. His pain grew from day to day, but it did not detract from his great concentration until the last moment of his life.

On the sixth day of Nissan 5688 [March 27, 1928], the Gaon Rabbi Meir Dan departed for on high, not quite attaining the age of sixty–two. There was much mourning after the death of this gaon and honored one of his generation. Many eulogies were given about him all across the Jewish world.

U.S. passenger ship list records confirm that Rabbi Plotzky made two trips to the United States:

1. He arrived in New York City on the S.S. Adriatic from Southampton on May 27, 1921 (under the name Majer Don Plocki, age 54, Rabbi [written over “Priest”], from Ostrowo, Lomza Gubernia, Poland), traveling with Rabbi Josef Srul Lew, another member of the Agudat Yisrael delegation (see below). They were both marked as non–immigrants on three–month visits, with their trips being financed by the “Israel World Organisation” [sic]. Their destination was 194 Henry Street, New York.
2. He arrived on the S.S. Mauretania from Cherbourg on May 14, 1926 (under the name Majer–Don Plocki, age 58, Rabbi [written over “Rev'd.”], from Ostrow, Poland, Warszawska 22). He was marked as planning to remain permanently, with his destination being Congregation Beth–Chasidim of Poland. He was also listed as having a medical condition, a hernia.

Left to right: Rabbi Asher Spitzer, Rabbi Dr. Meir Hildesheimer, Rabbi Meir Don Plotzky, Rabbi Joseph Lev, and Dr. Nathan Birnbaum, upon their arrival in America in 1921 Reproduced with permission from Agudath Israel of America According to one source, on one of his visits to America, Rabbi Plotzky pronounced Manischewitz matzah to be thoroughly reliable (“there is none more faithful to be found”). See Rebecca Kobrin, ed., Chosen Capital: The Jewish Encounter with American Capitalism, New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2012.

The Jewish records of Dvart (Warta) indexed by Jewish Records Indexing (JRI)–Poland record the following births for the children of Rabbi Plotzky:

Lajb Lajzer (name given in the above chapter in Hebrew as Eliezer Yehuda), birth recorded in 1884, death recorded in 1902.

Binem, birth recorded in 1886.

Genoch (name given in the above chapter as Chanoch Henich), birth recorded in 1892; perished in the Holocaust with his wife Yiska, as recorded by a Page of Testimony at Yad Vashem in Jerusalem and in the Yizkor book of the town of Turek.

Izrail Nason (name given in the above chapter as Yisrael Natan), birth recorded in 1894; perished in the Holocaust with his family, see p. 93 below.

Chana Genendel, birth recorded in 1894; described in the above chapter as having married and died young.

Sura, birth recorded in 1894; described in the above chapter as having married and died young.

Mordka, birth recorded in 1902.

Ginda, birth recorded in 1902.

Rabbi Plotzky is buried in the huge Okopowa Street Jewish cemetery in Warsaw, sharing a matzevah (headstone) with his father, Rabbi Chaim Yitzchak son of Yisrael, d. September 5, 1909. His Hebrew name is given as Meir Dan Refael. The name Refael, Hebrew for “God has healed,” may have been added during his final illness as a prayer for his recovery.

The death of Rabbi Plotzky's wife, Tziril (Cyrla), was recorded in Ostrow Mazowiecka in 1930.

Editor's notes:

1. Rabbi Chanoch Henich Hacohen Lewin (b. Lutomiersk, 1798, d. Alexandrow Lodzki, 1870). Return
2. Rabbi Yehuda Aryeh Leib Alter, the second Gerer rebbe (b. Warsaw, 1847, d. Ger, 1905). Return
3. Rabbi Avraham Borenstein (b. Bendin, 1838, d. Sochachew, 1910). Return
4. (1755–1840), author of Divrei Mishpat [Words of Judgment]. Return
5. The Babylonian Talmud and the Jerusalem Talmud. Return
6. A kind of close, often hairsplitting form of analysis that some may deem to be sophistry. Return
7. Rabbi Meir Yechiel Halstock (1852–1928). Return
8. Rabbi Yosef Gershon, who served as rabbi of Warta from 1851–1891. He was the son of Rabbi Moshe of Zaloshits [Dzialoszyce], author of Tikunei Shabbat [Regulations of the Sabbath]. Return
9. (d. Dvart, 1902). Return
10. Chidushim in Hebrew, novel interpretations of sacred texts. Return
11. A charitable fund established in 1796 that supports the basic needs of orthodox Jews in Jerusalem. Return
12. For more about Rabbi Plotzky's trips to the United States in 1921 and 1926, see Appendix I to this chapter. Return
13. A volume of the Mishnah (the earlier part of the Talmud, a collection of rabbinic traditions redacted by Rabbi Yehuda Hanasi in Israel at the beginning of the third century of the Common Era) that is devoted principally to ethical teachings. Return
14. “Chained women” who had been abandoned by their husbands or whose husbands were missing and who, lacking a “get” or divorce document, were therefore unable to remarry. Return
15. The supreme governing body of Agudat Yisrael consisting entirely of leading orthodox rabbis. Return
16. Deuteronomy, 29:9–28; 30. Return
17. Acronym for Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, preeminent Sephardi Jewish philosopher, rabbi and physician (b. Cordoba, Spain, ca. 1135 [or 1138], d. Egypt, December 12, 1204). Return
18. Exodus, 25–28:20. Return

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