Rabbi Yitzhak of Radziwillow, Poland, was active as a hassidic master in the early 19th century. His father, the maggid (preacher) Rabbi Yehiel Mikhel of Zloczow (1731-1780s), was a hassidic leader in the nascent days of Hassidism. Each of Rabbi Yehiel Mikhel’s five sons went on to become a hassidic master. In hassidic lore, these five sons were compared to the Five Books of Moses.
As the second son, Rabbi Yitzhak saw himself as the Book of Exodus, saying his father had told him that his life would be “constantly in exile, [going] from place to place and involved in disputes” (Or Yitzhak, p. 97). Indeed, Radziwillow was not the only town associated with Rabbi Yitzhak. He also spent time in the Polish towns of Nadworna, Opoczno, and Rymanow, as well as in Romania in Falticeni and Botosani.
In one passage of the surviving manuscript of his teachings, Rabbi Yitzhak turned to his readers and referred to himself as being from Nadworna: “My brethren, certainly in the world of truth they will ask you, that there was a person in your town in Radziwillow, a certain Reb Itzikl Nadvorner, who taught you the true path to the will of the Creator, blessed is He, and you did not want to go and hear the words of truth, that are from God” (Or Yitzhak, p. 190).
Understandably, as long as Rabbi Yitzhak was living in Radziwillow, he would not have been referred to as “of Radziwillow,” since everyone in that town was in some way “of Radziwillow.”
Alas, it appears the manuscript was damaged, and it is not entirely clear which “words of truth, that are from God” Rabbi Yitzhak was saying and the people of Radziwillow were ignoring.
It is apparent, however, that he was rebuking his community for not taking his Torah to heart. “Woe to us on the day of judgment, woe to us on the day of rebuke, ‘and he will place a veil over his face’ (Exodus 34:35) from the great embarrassment that you removed your ears from hearing true words” (Or Yitzhak, p. 191).
BEING COMPARED to the biblical Book of Exodus was not just about being relegated to an exilic life of wandering from place to place. The comparison also had a perk, as Rabbi Yitzhak’s father explained: “The Torah will also be within you, since the Torah was given in this very book” (Or Yitzhak, p. 97).
Rabbi Yitzhak’s teachings were edited by Rabbi Yeshaya Muszkat (1783-1868) – a hassidic master and, from 1849, the rabbi of Praga, a suburb of Warsaw. Alas, Rabbi Muszkat’s manuscript – titled Or Yitzhak (“the light of Isaac”) – was not immediately published, and the teachings of Rabbi Yitzhak of Radziwillow remained unknown.
Hassidic lore recalled a few tales about Rabbi Yitzhak. Thus, for example, a tale that appears in the writings of Rabbi Yitzhak Yehuda Yehiel Safrin of Komarno (1806-1874) recounted how the Maggid of Zloczow was in an extreme state of devekut, a mystical trance, and his daughter raced to call Rabbi Yitzhak to help save their father from expiring in that mystical state. Rabbi Yitzhak grabbed his father, who fell on his son’s shoulders, and recited the Shema as his soul departed.
Apart from such vignettes, the teachings of Rabbi Yitzhak of Radziwillow were unknown until 1961, when the manuscript was first published in Jerusalem. The great scholar of Jewish mysticism, Gershom Scholem (1897-1982), must have been excited by this new addition to the hassidic library. In his personal copy, he scribbled that Rabbi Yitzhak passed away in 1824/5 – a detail that is unconfirmed.
More importantly, Scholem offered a brief assessment of the book, noting that the work includes material from the final years of the author’s life, and “it is entirely filled with specifically Kabbalistic teachings, according to the ways of Hassidism.”
"God will prepare for you words that are needed for that moment."
In this volume, we find an intriguing passage about how Rabbi Yitzhak – the son of the Maggid of Zloczow most identified with Torah – arrived at his insights and teachings: “My brethren, my beloved, believe me, truthfully, I do not know what I am saying” (Or Yitzhak, pp. 96-97).
Rabbi Yitzhak quickly explained this cryptic declaration: “For thus my holy father, of blessed memory, instructed me with the following words: ‘My son, you should know that you will be a teacher for the masses. But you should not entertain the idea when you are thinking calmly regarding which subject matter or which style you wish to preach. Rather, at the beginning of the sermon, open your mouth without any particular focus, and God will prepare for you words that are needed for that moment.’”
It seems that Rabbi Yitzhak heeded the words of his father, the Maggid of Zloczow, as he concluded: “And this is my meaning when I say to you that I do not know anything, just what God prepares for me on each Shabbat, without [my having] a focused mind at all.”
In this way, Rabbi Yitzhak served as a medium for the divine word. His teachings were a mystical encounter rather than a prepared and structured intellectual journey. In Mosaic fashion, God spoke through his mouth.
IN 2016, the Rebbe of Toldos Aron, Rabbi David Kahn (b. 1947), recounted this tradition, though he softened the mystical gravitas of Rabbi Yitzhak’s statement by offering a psychological explanation for the practice of improvising Torah teaching:
“When a person prepares the teaching by himself in advance, he might develop a subtle sense of haughtiness, that he might say that this is his teaching. Therefore, it is better not to prepare oneself beforehand, and whatever God will put in his mouth, that is what he should say.”
In the eyes of the Toldos Aron Rebbe, not preparing engenders humility and prevents a sense of exclusive ownership over Torah teachings.
While being lax about preparation could reflect a lack of respect for the forum and a disdain for the audience, we can also discern positive spiritual aspects of such an approach. Yet these advantages are somewhat slippery.
On a psychological level, it could generate humility, as speakers realize that their words are not their own. Of course, this could also be a pitfall, as speakers haughtily might think that they are so talented that they have no need for preparation.
On a spiritual level, a lack of preparation might set the stage for allowing the Almighty to communicate through the throat of the speaker. Yet, who says that God is unable to provide divine inspiration in the middle of teaching despite dedicated preparation?
Or perhaps the Almighty can provide inspiration and guidance to Torah teachers while they are preparing their teachings?
Regardless of whether Torah teachers prepare their talks or wing it, they should teach with a sense of humility, as they share Torah that belongs to all and seek to be a conduit for the divine voice.
The writer is a senior faculty member at the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies, a senior lecturer at Bar-Ilan University’s Faculty of Law, and a rabbi in Tzur Hadassah.