Rav Chaims Decision
The Torah Anytimes | October 14, 2025
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Rav Chaims Decision

The Torah Anytimes | December 10, 2025

The great gaon and tzaddik, Rav Chaim Kanievsky zt”l, was entirely devoted to his sefarim. Writing them was not merely an intellectual exercise; it was his life’s calling, his avodas hakodesh, his means of spreading Torah throughout Klal Yisrael.

Rav Chaim was not a Rav of a community, nor was he a Rosh Kollel, a Rosh Yeshivah, or a regular rebbe. His sefarim were his way of spreading Torah to the world.

Among his many works, his final major project was the monumental Derech Emunah, a five-volume commentary on the Rambam’s Seder Zeraim (the laws of agriculture in Eretz Yisrael), written in the style of the Mishnah Berurah. It became a beloved classic among the Jewish community across the spectrum. Following its success, Rav Chaim began a similar work on Seder Kodshim (the laws of sacrifices and the Beis Hamikdash), titled Derech Chochmah. It was meant to span five or six volumes, but he completed only one. Not due to frailty or waning strength, but by choice.

The question is why. Why did Rav Chaim, after seeing the tremendous need and success of Derech Emunah, stop writing Derech Chochmah?

Chazal teach that each of the Four Species taken on Sukkos represents a different segment of Klal Yisrael.

The esrog, which has both taste and fragrance, represents Torah and good deeds, the spiritual elite. The lulav, from the date palm, has taste but no smell, reflecting Torah without deeds. The hadas has fragrance but no taste, referring to good deeds without Torah. The aravah has neither, representing the simple Jew.

Yet, when we recite the blessing on the arba minim, we specify the Lulav—“Al Netilas Lulav.” Why the lulav and not the esrog, the most distinguished of the four?

The Gemara (Sukkah 37b) explains that the lulav is gavoha mikulam, the tallest of them all. But what does height have to do with holiness? Greatness in Torah is not measured in inches. Many of the gedolei Yisrael were small in stature, but towering in spiritual stature.

The answer is profound. The lulav is “gavoha” not in size, but in spirit. The lulav willingly binds itself together with the hadas and aravah; those who lack its taste and fragrance. It humbles itself to join the others, to elevate them, to teach, to inspire, and to carry them. The esrog, though greater in intrinsic holiness, stands alone. The lulav, by contrast, becomes greater through unity; through its willingness to give of itself for the sake of others. That is true greatness.

A similar idea appears during the creation of the world, when Hashem separated the upper and lower waters. The upper waters remained above, basking near the Kisei HaKavod (Throne of Glory), while the lower waters were sent below into this physical world. The lower waters cried out, “It is not fair! Why should we be distanced from Hashem in Heaven?”

Hashem comforted them with two mitzvos: melach (salt) and nisuch hamayim, the water libation offered on the Mizbeach during Sukkos. Through these mitzvos, the lower waters would also ascend spiritually. But what truly satisfied them was the realization that their descent had purpose; that they were helping others serve Hashem. By being here on earth, they enabled korbanos, tefillah, and avodah. They achieved holiness not by being close to Heaven, but by uplifting others on earth.

Rav Chaim Kanievsky embodied this lesson. He once explained why he discontinued Derech Chochmah. Letters were pouring in from all over the world and people were coming to him, asking for guidance, for halachic rulings, for clarity. He realized that answering these questions — helping others — had become his new figurative Derech Chochmah.

Even though he deeply loved writing and understood the Torah value of completing the sefer, he made a deliberate choice. He put aside his own spiritual project to lift others. He would respond to hundreds of letters a day, all while maintaining his schedule of finishing Kol Ha-Torah Kula (the entire Torah) each year.

He chose, like the lulav and the lower waters, to bind himself to the people.

The Chasam Sofer writes in his introduction to Yoreh De’ah that one who helps others, even at the expense of his own spiritual growth, will not lose out. Hashem grants him the merit of what he could have achieved on his own, and more.

So too with Avraham Avinu. Though he was not on the prophetic level to be shown the destruction of Sodom, Hashem said, “I will reveal it to him, for he is busy with My children, guiding them, teaching them, uplifting them.”

Likewise, Rav Chaim was granted siyata d’Shmaya far beyond measure. By sacrificing personal accomplishment for the sake of others, he reached the highest level; the greatness of the lulav and the mayim tachtonim. And that is true greatness.

The great gaon and tzaddik, Rav Chaim Kanievsky zt”l, was entirely devoted to his sefarim. Writing them was not merely an intellectual exercise; it was his life’s calling, his avodas hakodesh, his means of spreading Torah throughout Klal Yisrael.

Rav Chaim was not a Rav of a community, nor was he a Rosh Kollel, a Rosh Yeshivah, or a regular rebbe. His sefarim were his way of spreading Torah to the world.

Among his many works, his final major project was the monumental Derech Emunah, a five-volume commentary on the Rambam’s Seder Zeraim (the laws of agriculture in Eretz Yisrael), written in the style of the Mishnah Berurah. It became a beloved classic among the Jewish community across the spectrum. Following its success, Rav Chaim began a similar work on Seder Kodshim (the laws of sacrifices and the Beis Hamikdash), titled Derech Chochmah. It was meant to span five or six volumes, but he completed only one. Not due to frailty or waning strength, but by choice.

The question is why. Why did Rav Chaim, after seeing the tremendous need and success of Derech Emunah, stop writing Derech Chochmah?

Chazal teach that each of the Four Species taken on Sukkos represents a different segment of Klal Yisrael.

The esrog, which has both taste and fragrance, represents Torah and good deeds, the spiritual elite. The lulav, from the date palm, has taste but no smell, reflecting Torah without deeds. The hadas has fragrance but no taste, referring to good deeds without Torah. The aravah has neither, representing the simple Jew.

Yet, when we recite the blessing on the arba minim, we specify the Lulav—“Al Netilas Lulav.” Why the lulav and not the esrog, the most distinguished of the four?

The Gemara (Sukkah 37b) explains that the lulav is gavoha mikulam, the tallest of them all. But what does height have to do with holiness? Greatness in Torah is not measured in inches. Many of the gedolei Yisrael were small in stature, but towering in spiritual stature.

The answer is profound. The lulav is “gavoha” not in size, but in spirit. The lulav willingly binds itself together with the hadas and aravah; those who lack its taste and fragrance. It humbles itself to join the others, to elevate them, to teach, to inspire, and to carry them. The esrog, though greater in intrinsic holiness, stands alone. The lulav, by contrast, becomes greater through unity; through its willingness to give of itself for the sake of others. That is true greatness.

A similar idea appears during the creation of the world, when Hashem separated the upper and lower waters. The upper waters remained above, basking near the Kisei HaKavod (Throne of Glory), while the lower waters were sent below into this physical world. The lower waters cried out, “It is not fair! Why should we be distanced from Hashem in Heaven?”

Hashem comforted them with two mitzvos: melach (salt) and nisuch hamayim, the water libation offered on the Mizbeach during Sukkos. Through these mitzvos, the lower waters would also ascend spiritually. But what truly satisfied them was the realization that their descent had purpose; that they were helping others serve Hashem. By being here on earth, they enabled korbanos, tefillah, and avodah. They achieved holiness not by being close to Heaven, but by uplifting others on earth.

Rav Chaim Kanievsky embodied this lesson. He once explained why he discontinued Derech Chochmah. Letters were pouring in from all over the world and people were coming to him, asking for guidance, for halachic rulings, for clarity. He realized that answering these questions — helping others — had become his new figurative Derech Chochmah.

Even though he deeply loved writing and understood the Torah value of completing the sefer, he made a deliberate choice. He put aside his own spiritual project to lift others. He would respond to hundreds of letters a day, all while maintaining his schedule of finishing Kol Ha-Torah Kula (the entire Torah) each year.

He chose, like the lulav and the lower waters, to bind himself to the people.

The Chasam Sofer writes in his introduction to Yoreh De’ah that one who helps others, even at the expense of his own spiritual growth, will not lose out. Hashem grants him the merit of what he could have achieved on his own, and more.

So too with Avraham Avinu. Though he was not on the prophetic level to be shown the destruction of Sodom, Hashem said, “I will reveal it to him, for he is busy with My children, guiding them, teaching them, uplifting them.”

Likewise, Rav Chaim was granted siyata d’Shmaya far beyond measure. By sacrificing personal accomplishment for the sake of others, he reached the highest level; the greatness of the lulav and the mayim tachtonim. And that is true greatness.

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