Rabbi: Witkow, Lachowics, Frankfurt
Author: Hafla'ah, Panim Yafos, Hamakneh
4 Tammuz 5565
Near the city of Frankfurt-on-the-Main in Germany is a small town called Klieva, also known as Cleves. More than 200 years ago, a controversy was sparked there about the Halachic validity of a particular 'Get' - the Jewish document of divorce. This is the story.
A family that lived in Frankfurt made a match for their son with a girl of a family from Klieva. The wedding duly took place there, in the bride's town. The morning after, the new Chassan packed up his Tallis, Tefillin and clothing, and set off on the main road that led to Frankfurt. As soon as the Kallah told her parents, they made an enormous fuss and sent agents to chase after the runaway Chassan. They soon caught up with him, and brought him back to Klieva.
The bride's mother was extremely upset. How could her new son-in-law do such a thing? It must be that he is mentally unstable, and this strange behavior proves it. By no means will she allow her daughter to suffer her whole life with a crazy husband! She ran to the town Rabbi, Rabbi David Weitzen, and insisted that he immediately arrange a divorce. He did so, with all the involved parties present.
When the family of the Chassan found out what had transpired, they stormed up in protest. Of course such a divorce is not valid, they argued; their poor son was forced to give it against his will, and a Get given by force is not legitimate. They went to their Rabbi and told him the whole story. They insisted that their son was perfectly normal. It was not uncommon for a young Chassan to become terrified the morning after the wedding, or even to suffer some sort of breakdown. Presumably he'll get over it, just like all the others. Meanwhile, they had forced him to give a Get against his will, so of course there is no validity to it.
Their Rabbi consulted with the other Rabbis and scholars of Frankfurt. There was general agreement with the parents of the Chassan that the divorce had no basis. At this point the storm of controversy blew to the neighboring cities and surrounding Countries. Throughout the Rabbinical world, sides were taken. Some insisted that the Rabbi of Klieva was correct and the Get was kosher, while others agreed with the Rabbis of Frankfurt that it was not right and should be disallowed.
The highly respected scholar Rabbi Pinchas Horowitz, later to be known as the Ba'al Hafla'ah, received letters of appeal for support from both sides. After studying the case, he sat down and wrote a long responsum, in which he supported the position of the Rabbi of Klieva. Before he quite finished, he was called out of his room to attend to something urgent. When he returned, he saw that a cat had jumped on the table and knocked over the ink bottle, splattering large blotches onto his carefully prepared Halachic ruling and making it totally illegible. He said to himself, "surely this is a sign from Heaven that I shouldn't mix into this dispute."
A few years after that, the Jewish community of Frankfurt needed to hire a new Chief Rabbi. This was a highly prestigious position, and many leading Rabbis and scholars hoped expectantly for the offer. The selection committee invited several of them to come visit so everyone could meet and experience them firsthand, but first they screened and rejected all those who had sided with the Rabbi of Klieva in the Get controversy.
One of the candidates was Rabbi Pinchas Horowitz. They had checked through all the relevant correspondence and responsa, and saw that he had not taken part in the dispute at all. In 1771, he was offered the position, which he held in glory for several decades.
One day the neighborhood butcher came to the study of Rabbi Pinchas Horowitz, with a Halachic question. A defect had been discovered in the lung of a slaughtered ox, raising the possibility that it might be treif, forbidden by Torah law to be eaten. It was a complex borderline case, and the Rabbi spent many hours studying the rulings of the great Halachic authorities, several of whom were inclined to forbid the meat under such circumstances. Finally, Rabbi Pinchas issued his ruling: the ox was kosher.
Later, one of his disciples asked him: “Rabbi, why did you go to such lengths to render the ox kosher? After all, the Shach (Rabbi Shabsai HaKohen, a great 17th-century Rabbi) deemed it treif. Would it not have been more advisable to simply throw away the meat rather than risk transgressing such a serious prohibition?”
Rabbi Pinchas smiled and replied: “You know, for every person there comes the day when he must stand before the Heavenly court and account for his life. I imagine that when that day comes for me, I shall have to defend the decision I arrived at today. The ‘prosecution’ will undoubtedly call a most prestigious witness to testify against me: the Shach himself will question how I permitted the eating of meat whose kashrus is in serious doubt. I shall have to respond by citing the opinions of his lesser colleagues who ruled that the ox is indeed kosher, and by explaining why I preferred their rulings over his. You can be sure that the prospect fills me with trepidation.
“But what if I had ruled that the meat is treif? Then I would have to contend with another accuser - the ox. He will take the stand against me and bellow his rage: ‘How many hungry mouths might I have fed!’ he will cry. ‘How many hours of Torah study and prayer might I have sustained! How many good deeds might I have energized! And this man consigned me to the garbage heap, while there were grounds for rendering me kosher.’ To be sure, I could call on the great Shach to defend me. But, all things considered, I would rather take my chances against the Shach than confront an angry ox in court.”
