Jewish History (2013) 27: 221240 Springer Science+Business Media Dordrecht 2013DOI: 10.1007/s10835-013-9187-5

Whats in a Name? The Dilemma of Title and Geographyfor Contemporary Hasidism

SAMUEL C. HEILMANQueens College and the Graduate Center of CUNY, Queens, USAE-mail: heilman@qc.edu

Abstract This paper examines the importance of branding in hasidic life. It considers theimpact of place names associated with the title of a particular rebbe or tsadik and his followers.When there is more than one claimant to succeed to the role of rebbe for a particular group ofhasidim, the competition is often intensified because even though each claimant may have hisown followers, there is only one name available for the group and its leader. This situation,different from the one that existed earlier in the history of Hasidism, makes the circumstancesof succession today more fraught than they once were.

Keywords Hasidism United States Twentieth Century Geography Succession

Introduction

As Hasidism became a multigenerational mass movement, the hasidimceased to think of themselves as unaffiliated adherents of a particular form ofpietistic religious behavior and ideology. Rather, one had to be associatedwith a specific tsadik or hasidic court.1 While the tsadiks ideology, prac-tices, and charisma accounted for his appeal, his capacity to work miracles,bring blessings, and provide other practical benefits to his followers werelikewise important. Finally, the institutions he oversaw would become an im-portant part of his power and appeal. Often overlooked in considering whatmade a particular tsadik or rebbe a success was his geographic propinquityand accessibility to his followers.2 People had to be able to get near to thetsadik and spend time with him in order to be affected by him and establisha bond, both spiritual and material, to become his hasidim. While tales abouthis unique quality and works attributed to him as well as the reputation of his

1See David Assaf, Hasidism: Historical Overview, Yivo Encyclopedia of Jews in EasternEurope (New Haven, 2008), 1:664; Arthur Green, Typologies of Leadership and the HasidicZaddik, in Jewish Spirituality, vol. 2 (New York, 1987), 153 n. 2.2For an interesting discussion of hasidic geography in early modern Poland-Lithuania andits influence on the spread of Hasidism, see Adam Teller, Hasidism and the Challenge ofGeography: The Polish Background to the Spread of the Hasidic Movement, AJS Review 30,no. 1 (2006), 129.

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institutions and the numbers he attracted could pique their interest, a face-to-face encounter and sharing a presence among the assembly of his followerswere essential.

In time, the town or village where the rebbe held forth or where hemade himself best known became the name by which the hasidim and theirtsadik became known. To signal their attachment to the rebbe, his hasidimwould take upon themselves the name of this locale which would becometheir brand. Thus, for example, rather than being known as the hasidimof Yitshak Meir Alter, his followers were known as Gerer hasidim, afterthe town of Ger (Polish: Gra Kalwaria [Calvary Mountain]) about fifteenmiles southeast of Warsaw, where the tsadik established himself as a religiousleader. By the third or fourth generation of the movement, similar brandingoccurred with most other hasidim. These place names, moreover, took on akind of numinous charactera sanctity that was enhanced by the destructionthey suffered in the Holocaust.

As Hasidism expanded and differentiated itself, new locations for courtswere established and they added to the names by which rebbes and their ha-sidim became known. In the nineteenth century, hasidic leaders could, andoften did, move from place to place (especially if they also served as rabbis),quite naturally changing their locale identifier and expanding their pool ofsupporters with each move (e.g. Simhah Bunem, the Vurker Rebbe, who be-came known as the Otwocker Rebbe when he moved to Otwock, or MenahemMendel of Pshitik [Przytyk], who became known as the Rymanwer Rebbewhen he moved to Rymanw, or Yitshak Meir of Warsaw, who becameknown as the Gerer Rebbe when he moved to Ger). To be sure, the socialsignificance and spiritual connotations of these names were connected tothe man who had established himself there rather than to any intrinsic valuethat the place itself had. Nevertheless, geography was not meaningless. Fora tsadik to be in a town like Ger, near the large Jewish population of War-saw, was clearly better than to be in one far from large Jewish populations orinaccessible to them. Thus, while the fifth Lubavitcher Rebbe, Shalom DovBer, fleeing the German armies during the First World War, moved to thesmall Lubavitcher outpost of Rostov-on-Don, his son the sixth Rebbe, YosefYitshak, soon realized that he was better off moving to Leningrad where therewere more Jews, more human and material resources, more opportunities foreconomic support, and better access to political authorities. Similarly, to bein a place where hostile forces were in control could spell the end of a hasidicgroup or its transformation as it sought to remove and reconstitute itself else-where. The case of Amdur [Indura] Hasidism in the Grodno region of whatis now Belarus offers an example. Their location in a bed of anti-hasidic hos-

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tility and their failure to move elsewhere led to their demise by the end of theeighteenth century.3

The case of the famous Levi Yitshak, who served as rabbi in Pinsk[Pinsk] beginning in 1775 but as a hasid ultimately fell victim to anti-hasidicpressures in Lithuania, and in 1785 settled in Berditchev [Berdyczw] inVolhynia, illustrates the other side of the geographic equation. That is, geog-raphy became not only a basis for title, but in many cases it actually allowedfor the resolution of, or at least the mitigation of, conflict and instead led toexpansion. As Levi Yitshak of Berditchev, he was able to become even betterknown and more influential than in his previous rabbinic posts.4

In general, a would-be hasidic leader who sought to promote a way oflife or his own ideas but who found it impossible to do so in the place wherehe found himself (because of competition, hostility, or inaccessibility to largenumbers of followers) could do so by finding a location where such obstaclesdid not exist and establish (or re-establish) himself there (either via a formalrabbinic appointment or by making himself prominent in other ways) andthereby attract the needed followers. If he succeeded, he and his followerseventually became known by the place name, or more precisely by a Yiddishvariant of it. In those days, the man and his followers gave the name its sig-nificance and worth. Names had not yet become brands; that is, they had notyet taken on a life of their own but were subservient to the charismatic powerof the rebbe, and new courts could therefore be established throughout theJewish world.5

The number of rebbes multiplied with the popularity of Hasidism; newnames grew in number. With new locations and names to match, a particulardynasty or hasidic movement might not only enlarge its influence, with sons(or sons-in-law or even stellar disciples) establishing new courts that were re-lated to the original one, like branches to the root. But such movement couldalso allow for divergence and differentiation, and most importantly, it coulddo so in ways that did not necessarily lead to daily conflict and tension. Thus,

3David Assaf and Gadi Sagiv Hasidism in Tsarist Russia: Historical and Social Aspects inthe present volume. See also W. Z. Rabinowitsch, Lithuanian Hasidism (New York, 1971),esp. 12143, in which the author claims that Amdur Hasidism ended there because of suchopposition.4Ibid.5Ibid. Similarly, in the yeshivah world, the name of the town in which the institution was lo-cated would also come to stand for it. Thus, while the yeshivah founded in 1803 in Volozhin[Woozyn] by Rabbi Hayim came to be called Ets Hayim, it was more commonly known as theVolozhiner Yeshivah. On the subject of names and success in the yeshivah world see JewishHistory 13, no. 1 (Spring 1999), which was devoted in its entirety to the issue of rabbinic suc-cession, especially Shaul Stampfers paper: Inheritance of the Rabbinate in Eastern Europein the Modern PeriodCauses, Factors and Development over Time, 3557.

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for example, we find that the Ruzhin hasidic dynasty was founded by YisraelFriedmann, a third generation descendent of the Maggid of Mezerich. RuzhinHasidism dealt with the fact that several of Friedmanns offspring choseto pursue the family business and become rebbes in their own right byevolving offshoots, including Buhush [Bohus] (led by Friedmanns grandsonYitshak, son of Shalom Yosef), Sadigura [Sadogra] (led by a son, AvrahamYaakov), Boyan [Bojany] (led by another grandson named Yitshak, son ofthe Sadigura Rebbe), Chortkov [Czortkw] (led by a son, Dovid Moshe) andHusiatyn (led by a son, Mordecai Shraga).6 While each of these could anddid compete for prominence and prestige with the others, the location in dif-ferent places could diminish the intra-familial tension over matters of lead-ership and prominence. Moreover, the fact that none of these place nameshad yet established a distinct brand of its own allowed for the competitionto be gradual. Finally, because distances mattered so much in those days, thecompetition was minimized.

A similar pattern emerged when Lubavitch Hasidism experienced a dis-pute over who would inherit the leadership following the death of the thirdrebbe, Rabbi Menahem Mendel Schneersohn, known as the Tsemah Tsedek.At the time, a dissenting court located itself in Kopust [Kopys] under his el-dest son, Yehudah Leib, who became known as the Kopuster Rebbe (his suc-cessor ending up in Bobruisk), in addition to the court of his youngest son,Shmuel, that would remain in Lubavitch [Lubawicze], and to two other sonswho established independent courts at Nizhin [Niezyn] and Liady. Each ofthese rebbes took the name of his town, even as they all remained attachedto Habad texts, ideas, customs, and traditions.7 This geographic dispersionand the names associated with it provided positions for a number of lead-ers simultaneously. In short, the geographic dispersion and the availability ofnew names as brands could mitigate conflict and competition, even thoughhard feelings and some elements of rivalry might have remained.

This struggle over a name was not the classic basis of disputes amonghasidim in their formative period. In those days, the issues that divided themmight often be ideological or spiritual. Thus, for example, the hasidim ofYaakov Yitshak of Pshiskhe [Przysucha] challenged and separated from thoseof his teacher and predecessor, Yaakov Yitshak Horowitz, the so-called Seerof Lublin, over their opposition to what they saw as the vulgarization of Ha-sidism.8 Names, in contrast, were then easy to come by, for it was the tsadik

6See http://www.nishmas.org/gdynasty/chapt15.htm, accessed February 6, 2009. On theRuzhin/Sadigura dynasty, see David Assaf, Derekh hamalkhut. R. yisrael meruzhin umekomobetoledot hahasidut (Jerusalem, 1997), esp. 44966. For the history of Israel of Ruzhin, seethe abridged English version of the same work, The Regal Way: The Life and Times of RabbiIsrael of Ruzhin, trans. David Louvish (Stanford, 2002).7Assaf, Hasidism, 666.8Ibid., 663.

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or rebbe who was the center of attachments, and wherever he came to estab-lish himself and his court, that place name would in time come to denote himand his followers.

Gradually, however, certain names gained a cachet and standing of theirown, endowing the one who succeeded in attaching himself to them with au-thority and esteem that framed anything personal he brought to his position asleader. In part, this branding was an inherited prominence or what Max We-ber has called the charisma of office. As Weber explained, originally theholder of genuine charisma . . . . would be ennobled by virtue of his own ac-tions and personal following; but with someone who inherited the charismaof office, legitimacy, and prominence came by virtue of inheriting the posi-tion or title that had become the institutionalized expression of the charismapossessed by its previous incumbent.9 To be sure, the one who inherited theoffice or brand name had to be deemed worthy of it in some way (a matteropen to dispute), but overwhelmingly it was the office or name that endowedhim, his actions, and his ideas with the consideration that allowed for thatworthiness to emerge.

As charisma of office became an inalienable part of the position of lead-ership, the names of places associated with hasidic groups increasingly tookon iconic power and meaning. Thus it was not enough to be attached to aparticular rebbe; one wanted also to connect him and his followers to one ofthese famous place names. The leader and the place name became a singleentity of symbolic import, a focus of cohesion and source of identification.This became a distinctive feature of twentieth century Hasidism, in contrastto the more casual association between the courts name and any of its placesof residence that had prevailed previously. For up until the Great War, it was,as we have seen, not uncommon for the name of a hasidic court to changewith its leaders move to a new place of residence, especially if he was aminor tsadik and did not belong to an established dynastic line. Only withthe mass dislocation and urbanization of east European Jewry in the courseof the twentieth century did real geography become secondary to the iconicplace names that came to define the identity of each hasidic court, whereverit was located. Thus, the Lubavitchers never chose to call themselves Rostov,Leningrad, Otwock, or eventually Crown Heights hasidim, despite the factthat since the inter-war years, their court had been resident in all these places.Once one had possession of the name, one could take the court wherever onewanted.

As Hasidism became a more institutionalized element of Jewish life, theplace names that became synonymous with the rebbe and his followers tookon this charisma of office. Moreover, the more distinguished the list of those

9Max Weber, Economy and Society, vol. 1, ed. G. Roth and C. Wittich (Berkeley, 1978), 1139.

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who took on this name became, the more powerful and important did thename become. By the inter-war period, many hasidic leaders had settled inmajor central and east European metropolitan centers, but none of them wasever known as the Warsaw, dz, Vienna, or Odessa Rebbe. One obviousexplanation for this is that the presence of several rebbes in the same cityprecluded the possibility that any one of them would derive from its namea sufficiently distinctive brand or specific identity, and none could claim theentire city as his own. Accordingly, the smaller town name (even when itwas close to the big city) became the name of choice, a place a rebbe couldclaim as his own. Thus, for example, Gra Kalwaria (Ger), relatively close toWarsaw, gave its name to the famous rebbe, many of whose followers wereactually in Warsaw, a city that Gerer hasidim came to think of as their own.

As the ability to endow new place names with authority and esteem de-clined, because the places where Jews who might be attracted to Hasidismdiminished or became concentrated in fewer locations, certainly by the lateinter-war period, this, too, added to the social and symbolic power of theestablished names. Finally, the Holocaust and the victory of Soviet Commu-nism, both of which wreaked wholesale destruction on centers of Hasidism,to say nothing of the cultural movement of many if not most Jews away fromtraditional Orthodoxy, endowed the established names of hasidic courts thatsurvived into the middle of the twentieth century not only with charisma butalso with a kind of sacred nostalgia that made the thought of exchanging themfor others or even enlarging their number unthinkable. No rebbe wanted to, oreven imagined that he could, begin his reign without the endowed charismaof an established name. By the time Hasidism had been relocated to Amer-ica (which for many years was viewed as a trefe medina or unholy state, incontrast to Jewish places in Europe) or even to the modern Zionist state thatmany saw as a religious affront, new names were impossible to institute.

To be sure, there were a few hasidim, like those who followed LeviYitshak Horowitz of Boston (19212009), a descendant of the Lelov hasidicdynasty, who took names from America. Horowitz, the so-called BostonerRebbe, whose father, Pinchas David, first established himself as a hasidicpresence in the tiny Jewish Orthodox community of Boston in 1915 beforemoving to Brooklyns Boro Park in 1939, was one of two brothers who calledthemselves by this name. Moshe, who took the name to New York, did notestablish as large a following as Levi Yitshak who remained in Boston. Whilethere are today Bostoner hasidim in Israel and New York as well, this groupis small and like the Pittsburgher hasidim (descended from Nadvorna ha-sidim and located in Ashdod, Israel, after two generations in Pennsylvania)and Clevelander hasidim (today mostly in New York and Raanana, Israel),

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exceptional in its use of an American name.10 All of these groups, how-ever, took their names before the Holocaust had effectively turned the EastEuropean names into a kind of holy franchise. That only these three verysmall hasidic groups have chosen to use American place names for them-selves (and of them only the Bostoners still have a court in Boston) demon-strates that American place names did not succeed in becoming attached toHasidism in spite of the many hasidic courts located in the United States. In-deed, after Levi Horowitzs death in 2009, all three of his sons were crownedBostoner Rebbe, even though one was in Betar Ilit in Israel, a second in HarNof (Jerusalem), and a third in Brookline (Boston) Massachusetts.

By the 1950s, then, Hasidism, uprooted from its East European origins,found itself in a new geographic reality and unable to provide itself withnew names or brands for any rebirth it might effect in the new times, eventhough it managed to replant itself in many new places. Names like Boston,Pittsburgh, or Cleveland could no longer enter the canon. At best one mightadopt a name of some place from Europe and try to enhance its importanceex post facto, but even that was most rare.11 This meant that while in the past,groups could defuse the tension of competition or mitigate the consequencesof a split by using geography, as the challenger went elsewhere and took anew name, by the 1950s that could no longer happen. As the century woreon and the number of hasidim and hasidic communities grew beyond whatanyone would have predicted after the Holocaust had so decimated them, theinability to create new names lent a greater social value to those that alreadyexisted and were prominent, but it also increased tensions when there wasrivalry over succession. Indeed, it was precisely because the office or brandname came to hold so much value that the question of who could inherit itbecame an ever greater source of tension.

Consider two recent cases that illustrate this process.

10Indeed, many of its adherents are first-generation hasidim. See Moshe Sherman, OrthodoxJudaism in America: A Biographical Dictionary and Sourcebook (Westport, 1996), 946.11For the singular case of the Jerusalem Jew who came from a mitnagdic family and whoadopted the name of the East European town of Kolomyya [Kolomei, Koomyja], where therenever was a resident hasidic leader, and to which he had no personal connection, and thenestablished himself in Jerusalem as the Kolomyer Rebbe, see David Assaf, Hasidut polino hasidut bepolin? Liveayat hageografyah hahasidit, Gal-Ed 14 (1995), 200. The case ofthe Vyelipoler Rebbe of Brooklyn is another where a minor European hasidic locale has beenresurrected if not invented. European names, even of doubtful provenance, were still preferableto American or Israeli ones.

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Satmar12

The Satmar dynasty traces itself to Rabbi Moshe Teitelbaum (17591841),called the Yismah Moshe after his most famous book of homilies. Teitelbaumis credited with bringing Hasidism to Hungary from Poland, where he hadbeen a disciple of the famous hasidic master, the Seer of Lublin. One of hisgrandsons, Yekutiel Yehudah (180883), also known by his Yiddish name,Zalman Leib, as well as by the title Yetev Lev, his commentary on the Torah,established himself in Sighet [Sighetu Marmatiei], a city in Transylvania,where he was appointed as a rabbi in 1858. His position was inherited by hisson Hananyah Yom Tov Lipa, who, having been a rabbi in the town of Tesh[Ts] for nineteen years, came back to Sighet in 1883 where he was alsoknown as the Kedushat Yom Tov, the title of his commentary on the Torah.Those who followed the Rabbis Teitelbaum, however, came to be identifiedas Sigheter hasidim, and in time their leader came to be called the SigheterRebbe. Following a childless first marriage, the Sigheter Rebbe married asecond time and became father to two sons. The elder, Hayim Tsvi (18841926), also known by the name of his commentary, the Atsei Hayim, wouldsucceed him as the Sigheter Rebbe. The younger son, Yoel (18871979)often called Yoelishwas also judged to have the qualities necessary forrabbinic leadership. But the title Sigheter Rebbe and the town were taken byhis brother. Accordingly, Yoelish went about 200 miles away to Nagykaroly(Krole in Yiddish), where he served as a town rabbi and the rebbe of thosewho were hasidim, until in 1932 he moved to take up an invitation to be rabbiin nearby Satu Mare (Satmar). Although he had established a reputation inKrole, it was in Satmar that he managed to draw more followers, build aninstitutional base, and gain greater stature and prominence. Thus, he becamethe Satmar Rebbe.

His first wife, Havah, who had borne him three daughters, died young andhis second wife, Alte Feige, who survived him, remained childless. By thetime the Rebbe Yoelish, who survived the Holocaust and re-established hisSatmar court in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, had died in 1979 at age 92, all hisdaughters had pre-deceased him. But by now, his followers, known as Satmarhasidim, were among the largest groups of hasidim in America.

With no obvious successor, the Satmar hasidim turned to his nephew,Moshe Teitelbaum, until then the Sigheter Rebbe. The Sighet hasidic court,once the most prominent one in the Teitelbaum family, had however fallenon hard times after the Holocaust, and was eclipsed by its Satmar branch.Indeed, Moshe Teitelbaum, living in nearby Boro Park, Brooklyn, had spentmost of his time running a nursing home business rather than being a full

12I thank David Pollock for help in gaining access to the Satmar community.

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time tsadik. But now, as a son of the Atsei Hayim and by virtue of his lin-eage, Moshe could be brought in to claim the leadership of Satmar.

Nevertheless, there ensued a dispute over succession. Moshes selectionhad been opposed by many of those who had been attached to Yoelishswidow, Alte Feige, and her candidate, Nahman Brach. Feige, as she wasknown, the closest thing to a woman rebbe, had sought to retain the influ-ence she had amassed during her husbands physical decline in the closingyears of his reign, when she had essentially ruled, often through her controlover the disbursements of funds and blessings. The staff that had surroundedthe late rebbe now attached itself to her, knowing that if the crown went toMoshe, he would bring his own people into leadership.

The elevation of Moshe, which most of the Satmar hasidim came to sup-port, would ultimately strip Feige, as a kind of dowager rebbetzin, and herfollowers of their power. But the widow held onto the late rebbes residenceand maintained a coterie of hasidim who resisted Moshes leadership and be-came known as the Bney Yoel, sons of Yoel. At the time, there also hadbeen violence and tension. The fact that all these people continued to liveside by side, or at most a short train or bus ride away, exacerbated the ten-sions.13 Eventually, however, the opponents of Moshe (sometimes also calledmitnagedim) declined in number and importance (although they would returnin another guise in the years ahead), and he became recognized as the SatmarRebbe, while the Sighet name faded from view.

In April of 2006, when Moshe Teitelbaum diedindeed even as his healthdeteriorated during the last years of his lifethe problems of succession ap-peared again. Now, two of his sons found themselves in a struggle to inherithis title and with it the leadership of the Satmar hasidim, by this time per-haps the largest hasidic sect in America.14 While there are Satmar hasidim inplaces as far afield as California and Israel, the bulk of them (about 70,000)reside in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and nearby Kiryas Joel in Orange County,New York (about 22,000 according to 2008 U.S. population figures). Thereare also smaller concentrations of Satmar hasidim elsewhere in Brooklyn andGlendale, Queens, a few miles away. Unlike Yoelish, the younger son, whocould go away from Sighet to make his reputation and build a following un-der the new banner of Satmar, and unlike Moshe who really had no familyrivals, these two sons were stuck in one geographic area and fighting over atitle and brand that neither of them had the power to change or abandon.

Citing a verbal will dated from 1996 (5756), supporters of the elder son,Aaron (b. 1948), claimed that he alone would be the new Rebbe of Satmar.

13Hasidic Rabbi Beaten by Hasidic Youths, New York Times, June 28, 1990.

14Andy Newman, Rabbi Moses Teitelbaum is Dead at 91, New York Times, April 25, 2006.See also Bob Liff, Feuding Satmar Hasidim Draw Cops into Dispute, New York Daily News,October 6, 1999.

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Aaron, who had moved from the main enclave and seat of the Satmar courtin Williamsburg to Kiryas Joel in the early 1980s, had served as the head inthis Satmar enclave for a number of years. As the community grew, he couldact almost like a full-fledged tsadik or at the very least the Crown Prince. Formost of that time, the assumption was that as the first-born, he would inheritthe office of his father, having already served at least as a Rebbe-in-waiting.Now, with his fathers demise, Aaron sought to claim what he consideredhis rightful position as leader in Williamsburg, and authority at the seat ofthe Satmar court, too. If Williamsburg did not have the cachet of the town ofSatmar, it had a kind of borrowed sanctity. Williamsburg was the new Satmar,re-established by the first Satmar Rebbe.

However, while Aaron had become the local Satmar authority in KiryasJoel, his younger brother, Zalman Leib (b. 1952; also known as YekutielYehudah), the third son, had remained near their father before moving brieflyto Jerusalem, and effectively led the Brooklyn community from 1999 on,while his fathers health and mind deteriorated. Moreover, in 2002, Moshehad written a letter in which he appointed Zalman Rabbi and Head of theBeth Din [Rabbinical Court] of our holy Congregation and to stand at thehelm of our holy institutions here in Williamsburg.15 Moshe undoubtedlybelieved he had found a way to situate two of his sons in the family business(a third brother, Lipa, ran the school).

Aarons supporters claimed, however, that the 2002 letter had been ca-joled out of an infirm Satmar Rebbe by his gabbai, Moshe Friedman, andargued that the father had confirmed his wish to have Aaron reign in 1996.16Neither side was prepared to accept the legitimacy of the claims of the other,each presenting a narrative that made it clear that their man was the trueSatmar Rebbe and heir to the office and title.17 The scene was set for bat-tle, and indeed not only was there legal and verbal disputation, but fistfightsbroke out between supporters of each man. Had this sort of situation existedin an earlier time, Aaron, whose community in Kiryas Joel had grown ex-ponentially since its founding in 1974, might have been content to remainthere and take the name of this rapidly growing hamlet as his own. But that

15Signed 20 Adar 5762 (March 4, 2002).16

The House of Satmar, Jerusalem Post, September 7, 2007. This in itself was striking inlight of the principle among hasidim that the living rebbes words and commands are invio-lable. To say that he was demented and his words were not to be taken seriously could be seenas heretical. Indeed, making such medical/psychiatric claims would have been unthinkable inthe early years of Hasidism when Rebbes were generally unchallengeableand certainly notby their hasidim.17Andy Newman, Amid Mourning, Satmar Succession Goes to Court, New York Times,April 26, 2006.

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was not possible in the hasidic world in which he grew and lived. The vil-lage of Kiryas Joel was a suburb and an outpost of Satmar of Brooklyn, not aplace with its own distinct hasidic identity, and people moved back and fortheasily and regularly between it and Williamsburg. The previous rebbes hadlikewise moved between the two placesa ride of under an hour. Kiryas Joelshared its existence with Williamsburg. The geography was too condensedto allow for a separation between the places, and there was really no othername than Satmar available. Moreover, would the one who saw himself asCrown Prince of Satmar and whose position was enhanced by this name andbrand be content to take on another and newer name? Even more question-able, would his followers be ready to rename themselves, and thus lose thecachet and historical eminence of Satmar? When asked, all were clear theywould not.18

A similar case had occurred among Vizhnitzer hasidim. Aarons father-in-law, Moshe Hager of Bnei Brak in Israel, himself had been engaged in afeud with his younger brother, Mordechai, who lived in Monsey, New York.Both called themselves the Rebbe of Vizhnitz.19 Indeed, there were a vari-ety of rabbis in many locations who had come to call themselves the Rebbeof Vizhnitz: not only the aforementioned two brothers in Bnei Brak and inMonsey, but also a cousin, Eliezer Hager, in Haifa.

In the early 1980s, at the height of the battle over who would be the fifthVizhnitzer Rebbe, on the evening after the fast of the Ninth of Av (a day thatcommemorates the destruction of the two Holy Temples in ancient times,events that occurred, according to talmudic tradition, because of baseless ha-tred among Jews), Rabbi Mordechai, at a celebration at which, as always onthis date, he completed the study of a tractate of Talmud, announced to hishasidim that in the spirit of reconciliation, he had decided henceforth to beknown not as the Vizhnitzer Rebbe, a title he would cede to his brother, but

18Aaron, who had for years seen himself as the heir apparent, and sought to claim the throne asbefitted the oldest son, was clearly peeved by what he viewed as a power grab by his youngerbrother, as were his hasidim. For his part, however, Zalman could easily point to a number ofcircumstances of hasidic (and Jewish) succession that favored younger sons, and his hasidimindeed did this. While the feud between Aaron, the eldest brother, and Zalman, the youngest,took most of the headlines, there were also claims made briefly on behalf of the middle brother,Lipa, who headed a small synagogue in Williamsburg and administered the Satmar schools,as well a son-in-law, Chaim Yehoshua (Shia) Halberstam, who became the Satmar leader inMonsey, another relatively small settlement of Satmar hasidim. Shulem, another brother, wasnot among the contenders.19See Chaim Shneider, The Two Viznitzs, http://www.hasidicnews.com/index.php/history/72-the-two-viznitzes.html (accessed August, 15, 2013) and S. Gimpel Viznitz Rebbe Broth-ers Reconcile after an 18 Year Bitter Conflict, http://www.hasidicnews.com/index.php/news/58-viznitz-rebbe-brothers-reconcile-after-an-18-year-old-bitter-conflict.html (accessed Au-gust 15, 2015).

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rather as the Rebbe of Monsey. The declaration struck the assembled, in thewords of one, like a thunderbolt. Several days later, one of the prominenthasidim came to Rabbi Mordechai to tell him that this decision could notstand. He argued that first, he was already known as the Vizhnitzer Rebbeand it was inconceivable that he should suddenly change his title. Then hedelicately explained to him that he could not do what other rebbes had donebefore World War II, for this generation had no right to abandon the nameVizhnitz. It was obviously now resonant with a symbolic and spiritual mean-ing that could not be replaced by the name Monsey. Finally, he told him hishasidim would never stand for it, for they saw themselves as Vishnitzer ha-sidim and nothing less. Quietly, the matter was dropped.20 Rabbi Aaron ofKiryas Joel thus knew from this example the limits of what could be doneabout names.

A variety of explanations were offered for the new Satmar conflict. Someclaimed ideology, arguing that Aaron was not sufficiently anti-Zionistopposition to Zionism having become a core value of Satmar Hasidism forseveral generations. The fact that he may have spoken Modern Hebrew athome and that he had married the daughter of the Bnei Brak VizhnitzerRebbe, a man who participated in Israeli politics, were offered as signs ofthis crypto-Zionism.21

Within Satmar, other opponents of Aaron claimed that he had been heavy-handed in exerting his authority in Kiryas Joel, while Zalman had shownhimself to be warmer, less regal, and more socially adept than his brother.22Some charged Aaron with corruption.

The supporters of Aaron offered an alternative narrative. To them, Aaronwas a greater scholar and, as someone with his own charisma, not afraid totell the people what to do. Like a true shepherd of his flock, he ordered themto study the Torah lessons which he distributed daily, to abide by the newdirectives he issued demanding that they limit the expense of their weddingsand bar mitsvah celebrations, and he sent out counselors to help marriagesthat were in trouble. He was not afraid to take a stand or give an opinion; hethus acted like a true rebbe. Zalman, they argued, was unable to take a stand

20I thank Rabbi Shlomo Gelbman for sharing this story with me. Interview March 16, 2009.21Aarons brothers-in-law, who had married the other daughters of Moshe Hager, were promi-nent hasidic leaders. They included David Twersky, the Skverer Rebbe, of nearby New Square,New York, and Issachar Dov Rokeah, the Belzer Rebbe of Jerusalem. This, too, added toAarons stature.22That Aaron was really supreme and solitary in his Kiryas Joel principality, and Zalman hadto operate in the shadow of his father, might have led to the latters ruling with a lighter hand;however, followers claimed that the reasons for the difference were matters of personalityrather than the structure of the situation.

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because he was not a genuine leader and therefore seemed to be more light-handed in exercising his authority.23 To Zalmans supporters, their leaderlearned to shape the community not by edict but by restructuring. He led witha quiet authority that, they said, reflected the charisma of the late Yoelish.24

The conflicts continue to morph into a variety of forms, often hidden inwhat seems to be a fight about something else. For example, during Passover,the wheat from Arizona that Aarons hasidim use in baking their matzahs waslabeled deficient by supporters of Zalman, and notices lining up prominentrabbis with this point of view were widely disseminated. In retaliation, theAaronites lined up their own list of distinguished rabbis to argue that Arizonawheat was the superior one.25 But all this was probably a smokescreen: thereal issue was possession of the Satmar brand name.

This rivalry was not simply a contest over a designation and the honorthat comes with it, of course; nor was it over political and moral leadership,although that certainly was central. It was mostly a dispute over who wouldcontrol the resources, organizationseven competing newspapers, real es-tate worth hundreds of millions of dollars, and economically valuable insti-tutions of the sect; as well as its political influence, its approximately 100,000members, and who would inherit the Satmar charisma of office. The conse-quences of the dispute were obvious: Construction work on the grand, newSatmar synagogue in Williamsburg had stopped. A building meant to pro-vide one place where all the hasidim could gather with their rebbe was now arusting skeleton. Aarons followers built a large synagogue at the edge of theWilliamsburg enclave, while Zalmans held on to the old synagogue that wasin the geographic and symbolic heart of the neighborhood. The rival forcesstruggled over that building and its borrowed sanctity, and they did so in theNew York courts. Indeed, less than two hours after the death of Moshe, sup-porters of Aaron were in the courts in Orange County, obtaining an order thatwould support his claims of leadership.26

Since both groups claim to be Satmar hasidim with their own rebbe, thequestion of how to refer to them naturally arises. In the everyday references,the followers of Aaron have come to be called Aaronis, while those who seeZalman as their leader are known as the Zalis. These of course are informaltags, for to formalize them would legitimate the schism and give up the all-important title of Satmar Rebbe and Satmar hasidim. That title has grown

23Interview Moshe Indig, Aaron supporter, March 18, 2009.24Interview Shlomo Gelbman.25See Arizona Wheat Controversy, in Vos iz Neias http://www.vosizneias.com/29446/2009/03/26/kiryas-joel-ny-arizona-wheat-controversy/ accessed March 26, 2009.26Newman, Amid Mourning. See also Michael Powell, Sons of the Father: After the Sat-mars Grand Rebbes Death, a Tzimmes Grows in Brooklyn, Washington Post, June 4, 2006.

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all the more important because it resonates with a tradition and legitimacyassociated with the Old World, the primary locus and spiritual root of Ha-sidism. To own that name is to share in that heritage, which no new name,with origins in America (or even Israel), could claim.

In fact, all of the other issues could probably be worked out through asharing of resources. But in the struggle for followers, the supporters ofeach man continued to champion their leader; few really switched sides.The title Satmar Rebbe could never be shared, for ultimately it was attachedto the ownership of the main synagogue and the yeshivah, Yetev Lev ofWilliamsburg, an institution founded in 1948 by Rabbi Yoelish Teitelbaum;this was the symbolic gold ring, and neither would give up a claim to it.27Moreover, it was important not only for the two men who were vying for thetitle of Satmar Rebbe but also for their supporters, for whichever man suc-ceeded in gaining the title, his supporters would be identified as true Satmarhasidim.

For now, the two groups of Satmar hasidim continue to make competingclaims for dominance in Williamsburg and Kiryas Joel. There seems to bea tacit understanding that the Zalis dominate the former, where they holdonto the original synagogue on Rodney Street and their Rebbe lives nearbyin the center of the neighborhood, though not in Yoelishs house, while theAaronis built their Williamsburg outposts at the corner of Kent and Hooperstreets, on the margins of the area. In Kiryas Joel, the Aaronis hold sway,though there are Zalis to be found too. To be sure, Williamsburg, the place

27As the court framed the issue in the case (http://www.lexisnexis.com.central.ezproxy.cuny.edu:2048/us/lnacademic/mungo/lexseestat.do?bct=A&risb=21_T5924690313&homeCsi=6323&A=0.3544522294038477&urlEnc=ISO-8859-1&&citeString=2004%20U.S.%20Dist.%20LEXIS%2025432&countryCode=USA"\t "_parent"). Williams v. Congregation YetevLev, 2004 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 25432 (S.D.N.Y., Dec. 15, 2004): Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum diedin 1979 and was succeeded by Rabbi Moses Teitelbaum. In 1984, Rabbi Moses Teitelbaumappointed his son, Rabbi Aaron Teitelbaum, to be the Rabbi and leader of CongregationYetev Lev DSatmar of Kiryas Joel, Inc. Aaron Teitelbaum remains in that position today.In 1999, Rabbi Moses Teitelbaum appointed another son, Rabbi Zalman Leib Teitelbaum tolead the Brooklyn Congregation. Moving defendant assert that at all times since the foundingof Kiryas Joel, the Brooklyn Congregation and Kiryas Joel have operated as distinct entities,each with its own board of directors and officers, who were responsible for the businessaffairs of their respective congregations. The Brooklyn Congregation contends that at alltimes, Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum acted and Rabbi Moses Teitelbaum acted only as spiritualleaders of the Brooklyn Congregation and Kiryas Joel. Neither involved themselves in thebusiness or financial matters of either their own or the other congregation. Likewise, movingdefendant asserts that Aaron Teitelbaum has acted only as the ecclesiastical head of KiryasJoel, and that Zalman Leib Teitelbaum has acted only as the ecclesiastical head of theBrooklyn Congregation. Although plaintiff alleges, that these corporate entities were linked,at all times, the Brooklyn Congregation and Kiryas Joel have never shared corporate officersor directors, and have not even shared spiritual leadership for nearly a decade.

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where Satmar was resurrected, remains the prize, and control here seemstantamount to control over the brand, which is why so much of the conflictoccurs in Brooklyn.

Were the name not so famous, important, and exclusive, the strugglewould likely have resolved itself in the emergence of two rebbes, each withhis own institutions and followers, who shared some common practices andhistory, but gradually grew into separate entities. The tension continues pre-cisely because the matter of the name cannot be finally resolved, and thename (and of course the resources and assets that go with it, namely controlof the Congregations synagogues, cemetery, charitable, educational, and re-ligious institutions, and even its corporate name) remains symbolically cru-cial.28 As the filing in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District inNew York put it, The similarity of names of several Satmar organizations,and their relationships, are at the heart of this dispute.29

Bobov

The Satmar hasidim are by no means the only ones who have recently had todeal with problems of succession complicated by names. Bobover hasidim,perhaps the fastest growing sect in Brooklyn over the last twenty-five years,recently found themselves embroiled in a similar and bitter feud over whowould take on the mantle of Rebbe. Established in the village of Bobov[Bobowa], Poland, these hasidim were themselves an offshoot of the Galiciantsadik Hayim Halberstam (17971876), the Rebbe of Sanz [Nowy Sacz] alsoknown as the Divrei Hayim.30 His grandson, the first Bobover Rebbe, ShlomoHalberstam (also known as the Ateret Shlomoh), like many of his cousins whofound that they could establish their own courts only by going to anotherplace outside of Sanz, first moved to Vishnitsa [Nowy Wisnicz] in Poland.While his original supporters were hasidim of his grandfather, in time thegrandson established his own credentials. He accomplished this first by es-tablishing a yeshivah in Vishnitsa in 1881. Later, when he repaired to Bobov,he moved the yeshivah there and it was here that he, and later his son, ac-quired more followers. By establishing a yeshivah, and thereby in a sensecreating his own disciples and students from an early age, Halberstam man-aged to become a rebbe on his own, taking the name of Bobov. His son, Ben

28Michal Lando, Brothers Battle in Secular Courts for Control of NY Satmar Communityand Its Assets, Jerusalem Post, October 21, 2007.29Williams v. Congregation Yetev Lev, et al., U.S.D.C., S.D.N.Y., No. 01 Civ. 2030 (GBD),cited above, n. 29.30See Assaf, Hasidism, 666.

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Zion, enlarged the movement in part by establishing other branches of theyeshivah throughout Galicia. Bobover hasidim now had an identity separatefrom that of Sanz. Then came the Holocaust and wiped much of this away.

The third Bobover Rebbe, also named Shlomo Halberstam, survived thewar with his son, Naftali. After he managed to restore his wounded faith,he resurrected Bobov in Brooklyn. When the third Rebbe died at age 92 in2000, Naftali at the age of 69, became the new Rebbe.31 Ill and infirm withParkinsons Disease, Naftali died in 2005. The question of succession be-came troubling for the Bobovers, who by then had claimed a membership ofover 120,000 worldwide.32

Naftali had a half-brother, Ben Zion, the only son of the new familyShlomo Halberstam had created in America after the Holocaust.33 To manyBobovers, Ben Zion seemed to be the logical choice. He had sat at Naftalisside and before that at his fathers at all the gatherings of the Bobovers, aposition that marked him as the Rebbe-in-waiting. In a sense, he too was theonly son of his father, albeit second in line after the Polish-born first son.Like his half-brother, he was the next generation after the third Rebbe.

But Naftali had two daughters, and the husband of one of them, MordechaiDovid Unger, son of the Dombrover Rebbe, was seen by some hasidim as alegitimate claimant to the Bobover crown. They reasoned that once the crownhad passed to Naftali Halberstam, Bobov became his to pass on. Moreover,although Unger was married to a daughter of Naftali and hence of the nextgeneration, he was born in 1954, a year before Ben Zion Halberstam; howcould the older man be passed over for leadership, and how could the off-spring (Ungers wife and children) of Naftali be cut off from Bobover lead-ership? Indeed, what else would Unger do if he was not the Rebbe of Bobov,living as he did at the court in Boro Park? Given this geographic reality, andthe fact that he had cultivated a following as his ailing father-in-laws viceroy,he could not, many Bobovers believed, be denied his position of leadership.

To be sure, Shlomo Halberstam had a son-in-law, Ben Zion Blum, whomhe dispatched to lead the Bobover community in Londons Stamford Hill.34But this alternative of going to another placelike the founder of BoboverHasidismto establish a new court was not available for Naftalis son-in-law. There was no other place to go where sufficient Bobover hasidim lacked

31Grand Rabbi Shlomo Halberstam, 92, Is Dead, New York Times, August 3, 2000.

32Rabbi Shlomo Halberstam: After Escaping from the Nazis He Revived an Entire Jewish

Sect, Lawrence Joffe, The Guardian, September 2, 2000, p. 22.33Naftali was the son of Shlomo and his wife (also his cousin), Bluma Teitelbaum, who per-ished in the Holocaust. Ben Zion was the son of Shlomo and his second wife, Friedel Rubin(also a cousin).34Joffe, The Guardian, p. 22.

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a leader or where he could establish a court. Moreover, his own father, BenZion Unger, remained the Dombrover Rebbe (living in Boro Park), and hisson could not challenge him for leadership. In addition, Bobov is a biggerand therefore more important community, and the young Unger had alreadyentered into its elite. For better or worse, Mordechai Dovid Unger was stuckin Bobov and in Boro Park. Trapped by geography and committed to theBobover court, he and his supporters decided to make a claim on Boboverleadership.

Following Naftalis death in 2005, therefore, the Bobovers split, withsome following Unger, who set up a rival headquarters and beit midrash(study and prayer hall) a few blocks away from the Bobov main building inBrooklyns Boro Park.35 Others remained with Ben Zion Halberstam. Bothrebbes considered themselves as rightfully leading Bobover hasidim, andboth maintained the traditions and customs of the sect. Like the first BoboverRebbe and his attachment to the Hasidism of Sanz, so now they held ontoBobover practices. With no place to go and no alternative identity, bothrebbes set up court in the same neighborhood. The split divided families andallegiances with profound consequences and deep feelings.

Around the time of the Jewish New Year in 2007, Bobovers tried to re-solve the contest by acceding to a rabbinic courts decree that demanded asurvey, which seemed something like an election, to see which of the groupshad the most support among the hasidim.36 But even here the name Bobovremained off the table, as some insiders explained.37 The name would notbe determined by quantitative criteria; there was no precedent for such aneventuality.

Because both groups continue to call themselves Bobovers, and becausethey remain anchored side by side, they too have had difficulties in identify-ing and distinguishing their public outer identity. Yet, like the various Satmarhasidim, they must have some way of differentiating themselves, especiallybecause to the uninformed (which includes both the press and local politi-cians), they appear indistinguishable from one another. Thus, as the Satmarsare known as Aaronis and Zalis, so in Bobov, the followers of Halberstam

35Andy Newman, Borough Park Journal: A Battle for Succession Takes No Holiday, NewYork Times, March 26, 2005.36Shlomo Shamir, A Hasidic Sect Discovers Democracy, Haaretz, September 24, 2007.37See, for example, a trademark lawsuit filed April 21, 2005, published in The OfficialGazette of the U.S. Trademark and Patent Office Sept 12, 2006. http://74.125.113.132/search?q=cache:VENcX7NxzIIJ:www.likelihoodofconfusion.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/bobov-78614126-monsey.pdf+Bobover+din+torah&cd=13&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us, ac-cessed April 13, 2009 and http://chaptzem.blogspot.com/2005/06/first-round-of-bobover-din-torah.html (accessed April 13, 2009).

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are sometimes called Bobov of 48th Street, the original Bobover headquar-ters, while those who went with Unger are identified as Bobov of 45th Street,where a new parallel headquarters has been set up.

In fact, were the uninformed, seeking one of the rebbes, to walk into agathering around the other, they would hardly be able to tell into which ofthe two Bobov camps they had come. For example, on the interim days of theSukkot holiday, when the Bobovers traditionally play violins at their rebbestable, an observer would find two identical gatherings, along with the req-uisite fiddlers playing the same tunes, gathered in two remarkably similarsukkahs simultaneously singing and eating with their rebbes, both of whomare referred to as the Bobover. This sort of replication within Bobov occurredon other occasions as well. It was by no means unique to Sukkot.

Conclusion

While it would be wrong to say that the contest in Satmar and Bobov isonly over names, it is conceivable that were other legitimate and acceptablenames available to would-be leaders in each group, a face-saving way couldhave been found despite their fierce competition for followers, of avoiding theopen conflict engendered by the desire to capture the name and the charismaof office that comes with it.

Complicating the competition over the name is the crucial element of ge-ography. For the two Bobover and Satmar groups, living in overlapping geo-graphic areas makes the issue even more complex. The need to create parallelstructuresschools, synagogues, and other institutionsin the same placeheavily taxes the communities resources. Yet because all these structuresare a tangible as well as symbolic expression of the existence and power ofthe court, people have been willing to support their creation, even at greatexpense. Although each of the two communities has continued to grow byvirtue of a high birthrate (and in some cases their success in attracting newfollowers from the hasidic pool, where allegiances often switch, particularlywith the transition from one generation of leaders to another), the competi-tion between them ultimately undermines each communitys ability to sustainitself.

This propinquity along with the fact that both groups use the same iden-tity tag also creates confusion for outsiders, particularly in the political realm.Thus, for example, local city and state officials looking to gain the allegianceor favor of the Bobovers or the Satmars find the process of knowing whom tolook to for authority as complex and difficult as do the Bobovers and Satmars

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seeking to exert political influence upon them.38 This is a matter of conse-quence, since a visit by some high official to any one of the contenders canserve symbolically and politically as evidence of his dominance.

In both the Satmar and the Bobover cases, there remains a powerful at-tachment to a contemporary headquarters because it is the place where thegroup first reconstituted itself after the Holocaust. But this place shares a bor-rowed sanctity with the east European site of the groups origin, whose nameconfers on it the sanctity and prestige that its own name cannot generate (ex-cept for 770 Eastern Parkway for the Lubavitchers, a place that representstheir missing rebbes and the Hasidism they revitalized at this world head-quarters, which has acquired its own aura of sanctity). In contrast, the factthat the new trio of Bostoner Rebbes are all in new and independent locations(even the Boston address is not the original one), relatively distant from oneanother, and the fact that together Bostoners represent a very small and notterribly prestigious dynasty, may account for the apparent lack of conflict thathas emerged as they take the same name.

If the victor in the most intense contests is the one with the most fol-lowers, as some in Bobov have tried to suggest, then some universally ac-cepted method of counting hasidim must be found, although these numbersare themselves subject to being contested. Moreover, questions remain: whowould be countedmen and women, adults and children, newcomers andold-timers; who would do the counting, and what would constitute victory?The Bobover survey still remains unexecuted, and Satmar has no interest insuch a mechanism for resolving the conflict. Beyond all these questions, suchan approach assumes that the followers of each rebbe are mutually exclusive,which may not always be the case. Families are often divided in their loyal-ties among both hasidic groups, and marital ties make allegiances even moredifficult to sort out.

There are also those who argue that the crown has nothing to do with thenumber of followers but belongs rather to the man who shows greater powersof leadership, charisma, Torah scholarship, and the likeoften articulated bysaying that the new pretender is most like the last universally accepted rebbe.These attributes, however, are not easily or quantitatively measured and de-fined, nor are there many if any neutral authorities available to determinethem.

Marriages arranged for the offspring of each of the contending rebbesare also sometimes used as evidence. Presumably the more prestigious thematch of the son or daughter, the more it attests to the recognition of the

38See for example, Gershon Tannenbaums column, My Machberes, in Jewish Press,September 19, 2007. http://www.jewishpress.com/pageroute.do/25115/ (accessed January 27,2009).

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fathers stature and his position as a rebbe. Here, too, a look at who attendsthe wedding and associated celebrations becomes part of the contest. Thewillingness of other rebbes to meet with, or better still to pay a visit to, acontender likewise can be used as evidence of his acceptability as a rebbe,which is why a great deal is made of such visits.

Yet in the absence of some definitive resolution of the conflict over a title,the tension often builds and saps the strength of the movement rather thanleading to development. In some cases, the conflict may resolve itself simplybecause one faction might wither while the other may continue to grow, eitherbecause it manages to command more resources and supporters or because itsleadership turns out to be stronger. But if that is not the case, then perhaps,in time, as hasidim recognize the high price of these conflicts, they mightinstitutionalize the practice of multiple incumbents sharing a single nameas already has been done in a number of other hasidic groups: the Vizhnitzersmost famously and most recently the Bostoners. This new nomenclature maytake on a life of its own, and hasidim may begin to talk about Rebbes with atime-honored name but add to that a suffix that indicates location. Indeed, theappended identifier, for example Vizhnitz of Monsey, may in time come tobe the last name that eclipses the importance of the time-honored one. Whenthat happens, we shall have one important bit of evidence of the evolutionand development of Hasidism in its new places.

Yet for the moment, the dearth of new names, and the geographic limi-tations of contemporary hasidic life, have made ownership of the name animportant part (albeit not the whole) of the story of succession, and a signthat hasidim are still shackled by their past.

Acknowledgements I thank David Assaf, Menachem Friedman, David Myers, and DavidPollock for helpful comments on earlier drafts of this paper. Of course, I am responsible forthe results.

What's in a Name? The Dilemma of Title and Geography for Contemporary HasidismAbstractIntroductionSatmarBobovConclusion