Nearly 250 years ago, in the time of the Vilna Gaon, a serious threat arose from the Karaite sect. The Karaites claimed that they alone were the “true Jews,” rejecting Torah She’baal Peh and accepting only the Written Torah. Their practices reflected this rejection: they would not light candles on Shabbos, they would sit in darkness, and they held interpretations that ran directly counter to the mesorah of Chazal.
Seeking legitimacy and power, the Karaites approached King Stanisław of Poland, demanding a public theological debate with the Rabbinic Jews. The stakes were terrifyingly high. The king decreed that whoever lost the debate would be forced to abandon their faith. If the Karaites won, the Rabbinic Jews would have to become Karaites; if the Jews won, the Karaites would be forced to convert to Christianity.
Word of this decree reached Vilna, and the Jewish leaders immediately turned to the Vilna Gaon. The Gaon, however, said that he himself would not attend. Instead, he appointed a Torah scholar named Rabbi Aryeh Leib Maitis to represent the Jewish people.
Before sending him, the Gaon gave him two instructions. “First, you must answer with wisdom. Second, know that this is pikuach nefesh.” The lives of the Jewish community quite literally depended on the outcome.
The debate was scheduled for Shabbos. The Karaites, who denied the Rabbinic laws of Shabbos, had no problem signing the formal agreement that day. The Jewish representative, however, was faced with a grave dilemma. Refusing to sign would immediately forfeit the debate. Remembering the Gaon’s words—that this was pikuach nefesh—Rabbi Aryeh Leib signed.
Then something unexpected happened.
As he entered the royal palace for the debate, Rabbi Aryeh Leib removed his shoes and carried them in his hands as he walked inside. This behavior immediately drew ridicule. The Karaites mocked him openly, claiming he lacked basic etiquette and was even insulting the king’s dignity. King Stanisław himself was visibly angered, interpreting this as disrespect toward the monarchy.
The king demanded an explanation.
Rabbi Aryeh Leib calmly responded. “Your Majesty, the Torah commands us to remove our shoes when standing on holy ground. To us, a place where matters of Torah and life are decided carries sanctity.” The Karaites scoffed. “Show us where that is written in the Torah!” Rabbi Aryeh Leib replied, “This teaching comes from Torah She’baal Peh; something you deny.”
The king, intrigued, pressed further. “If so, why are you holding your shoes? Why not leave them outside?”
Rabbi Aryeh Leib answered. “We have a tradition that when Moshe Rabbeinu removed his shoes at the Burning Bush, they were left behind, and taken by the Karaites. From this, we took on the practice that when standing among those who deny the Oral Torah, one must guard his shoes carefully.”
At that moment, the Karaites erupted. “This is nonsense!” they shouted. “Moshe Rabbeinu lived thousands of years before Karaites even existed!”
And with that outburst, the truth became undeniable to all those around and to the king himself.
“You have just disproven yourselves,” the king said. “You admit that your movement arose long after the Torah was given. How, then, can you claim that only you preserve its original meaning?”
The debate ended before it truly began.
Through a single act of chochmah, Rabbi Aryeh Leib exposed the internal contradiction of the Karaite claim and the Jewish people of Vilna were saved. And on his tombstone it is written that he performed a teshuah gedolah b’Yisrael, a great salvation for the Jewish people, and saved the city of Vilna through his wisdom.
Wisdom and integrity go a long way. Sometimes, they even save lives.
