2008 Woodie Awards
"Dr. Menachem Kasher of Yeshiva University"
Asa Kasher
Issue date: 4/18/05 Section: Features
- Page 1 of 1
I have always been fascinated by my grandfather, the late Rabbi Menachem M. Kasher, his works and his world. I have always been interested in becoming aware of every book or booklet he published, every speech he delivered, every project he proposed or carried out. I think I know much, but every once in a while I am delighted to discover something new about my beloved father's father. One pleasant surprise is directly related to Yeshiva University.
My basic image of my grandfather has always been that of a rabbinical scholar. When we met, the most common verb in our conversation was "publish": He enjoyed telling me what he had just published and what he was about to publish and what he dreamt to eventually publish. He never spent much time with us in the living room. After a while he apologized for being busy and left for his study, a whole floor upstairs. I loved joining him, watching the piles of books on his amazingly long desk, then browsing through his numerous books. My father, Shimeon, told me once that when, on some occasion, he had asked his father who his friends are, my grandfather took him to his library and pointed at books by the Rambam. "If I feel an urge to be told something by a friend," he said, "who could be a better one then the Rambam?"
On such a background, I remember how surprised I was one day to see the caption of a picture of my grandfather in the New York Times: "Dr. Menachem Kasher of Yeshiva University." The title "Doctor" had never occurred to me as befitting my grandfather, all the more so after I myself became Dr. and later Prof. Kasher. There was something odd verging on the surreal in the combination of the medieval European title of "Doctor" and the present rich, vivid, exciting, individualistic personality of my grandfather, Rabbi Kasher.
The source of the caption was, indeed, a press bulletin from Yeshiva University. The story was fascinating: "Seven thousand 2"x2" microfilm plates, smuggled out of Nazi dominated Europe over a decade ago [i.e. in the 1940s], and discovered here last month [i.e. April 1954], represent the most important addition to Talmudic literature in modern times, it was made known today [May 24, 1954]."
Those were commentaries of the "Gaon of Rogatchov," Rabbi Joseph Rosen of Dvinsk, Latvia, on the Bible, the Talmud and other writings, including those of Maimonides. My grandfather, who had known the Rogatchover, was the first scholar to realize their importance and undertake the project of deciphering, publishing and analyzing those pearls of Jewish scholarship. The commentaries are quite laconic. No wonder Yeshiva University established a research institute where more than a dozen scholars, headed by my grandfather, worked quite a number of years on the manuscripts.
The Rogatchover wrote his commentaries the way he wrote his answers to questions people asked him. My father had a postcard he had received from the Rogatchover when as a young boy he asked him a question. I was amazed to see that the answer consisted of some polite words accompanied by a long series of references to the Talmud, Maimonides and other sources. Most prevalent was the word "see" [Hebrew word "ayin"].
The Yeshiva University bulletin that served as the source of the NYT article described Rabbi Menachem Kasher and his rabbinical scholarly achievements, but at several points it referred to him as "Dr. Kasher." Moreover, in the biographical part of the bulletin, the reader is told that "he holds a doctorate of Divinity degree from Yeshiva University, awarded in 1947."
The Yeshiva University Archives shed light on the story. Menachem Butler sent me the text of a speech, addressed to Rabbi Menachem M. Kasher, which ends as follows: "In witness, therefore, I cause to be placed on your shoulders the hood of the degree of Doctor of Divinity honoris causa, and I hand you this diploma."
I have never seen the diploma, but I know where to look for it. I regret not talking to my grandfather about it, when I had a pertinent reason for doing it. (I was requested to ask him whether he would be willing to be honored by another honoris causa degree by another university. I asked him and he declined, saying that from a certain age on he decided not to be involved in the sphere of public honor.) I wish I asked him about what he experienced during the ceremony.
Come to think of it, I know much about my grandfather's views, but I know very little about his emotions. My father died, 54 years old, when my grandfather was 73 years old. I spent with him every minute of the shiva, but only months later, when I opened a new volume of "Torah Shlema," I found a preface describing the virtues of my late father accompanied by special expressions of my grandfather's grief. My grandfather lost his firstborn son, Shimeon, my father. 32 years later, I lost my firstborn son, Maj. Yehoraz, who was 25 years old. My grandfather's grief became part of my own grief. I watch the pictures of the three of them, side by side, every time I enter my study at home or my office on campus. The blessed memory of each of them is part of the meaning of my life.
Asa Kasher, PhD, is the Laura Schwarz-Kipp Professor of Professional Ethics and Philosophy of Practice at Tel Aviv University and Academic Advisor of IDF College of National Defense. Professor Kasher was awarded the Prize of Israel, many years after his grandfather had been awarded it. He has recently been given an honoris causa degree as well.
My basic image of my grandfather has always been that of a rabbinical scholar. When we met, the most common verb in our conversation was "publish": He enjoyed telling me what he had just published and what he was about to publish and what he dreamt to eventually publish. He never spent much time with us in the living room. After a while he apologized for being busy and left for his study, a whole floor upstairs. I loved joining him, watching the piles of books on his amazingly long desk, then browsing through his numerous books. My father, Shimeon, told me once that when, on some occasion, he had asked his father who his friends are, my grandfather took him to his library and pointed at books by the Rambam. "If I feel an urge to be told something by a friend," he said, "who could be a better one then the Rambam?"
On such a background, I remember how surprised I was one day to see the caption of a picture of my grandfather in the New York Times: "Dr. Menachem Kasher of Yeshiva University." The title "Doctor" had never occurred to me as befitting my grandfather, all the more so after I myself became Dr. and later Prof. Kasher. There was something odd verging on the surreal in the combination of the medieval European title of "Doctor" and the present rich, vivid, exciting, individualistic personality of my grandfather, Rabbi Kasher.
The source of the caption was, indeed, a press bulletin from Yeshiva University. The story was fascinating: "Seven thousand 2"x2" microfilm plates, smuggled out of Nazi dominated Europe over a decade ago [i.e. in the 1940s], and discovered here last month [i.e. April 1954], represent the most important addition to Talmudic literature in modern times, it was made known today [May 24, 1954]."
Those were commentaries of the "Gaon of Rogatchov," Rabbi Joseph Rosen of Dvinsk, Latvia, on the Bible, the Talmud and other writings, including those of Maimonides. My grandfather, who had known the Rogatchover, was the first scholar to realize their importance and undertake the project of deciphering, publishing and analyzing those pearls of Jewish scholarship. The commentaries are quite laconic. No wonder Yeshiva University established a research institute where more than a dozen scholars, headed by my grandfather, worked quite a number of years on the manuscripts.
The Rogatchover wrote his commentaries the way he wrote his answers to questions people asked him. My father had a postcard he had received from the Rogatchover when as a young boy he asked him a question. I was amazed to see that the answer consisted of some polite words accompanied by a long series of references to the Talmud, Maimonides and other sources. Most prevalent was the word "see" [Hebrew word "ayin"].
The Yeshiva University bulletin that served as the source of the NYT article described Rabbi Menachem Kasher and his rabbinical scholarly achievements, but at several points it referred to him as "Dr. Kasher." Moreover, in the biographical part of the bulletin, the reader is told that "he holds a doctorate of Divinity degree from Yeshiva University, awarded in 1947."
The Yeshiva University Archives shed light on the story. Menachem Butler sent me the text of a speech, addressed to Rabbi Menachem M. Kasher, which ends as follows: "In witness, therefore, I cause to be placed on your shoulders the hood of the degree of Doctor of Divinity honoris causa, and I hand you this diploma."
I have never seen the diploma, but I know where to look for it. I regret not talking to my grandfather about it, when I had a pertinent reason for doing it. (I was requested to ask him whether he would be willing to be honored by another honoris causa degree by another university. I asked him and he declined, saying that from a certain age on he decided not to be involved in the sphere of public honor.) I wish I asked him about what he experienced during the ceremony.
Come to think of it, I know much about my grandfather's views, but I know very little about his emotions. My father died, 54 years old, when my grandfather was 73 years old. I spent with him every minute of the shiva, but only months later, when I opened a new volume of "Torah Shlema," I found a preface describing the virtues of my late father accompanied by special expressions of my grandfather's grief. My grandfather lost his firstborn son, Shimeon, my father. 32 years later, I lost my firstborn son, Maj. Yehoraz, who was 25 years old. My grandfather's grief became part of my own grief. I watch the pictures of the three of them, side by side, every time I enter my study at home or my office on campus. The blessed memory of each of them is part of the meaning of my life.
Asa Kasher, PhD, is the Laura Schwarz-Kipp Professor of Professional Ethics and Philosophy of Practice at Tel Aviv University and Academic Advisor of IDF College of National Defense. Professor Kasher was awarded the Prize of Israel, many years after his grandfather had been awarded it. He has recently been given an honoris causa degree as well.