Notes for Speech on July 1, 2023

July 1, 2023

Updated June 4, 2025

Notes for a Shiur I gave at Chabad of East Lakeview.   It is based on a Shiur given by Rabbi Meir Yaakov Solovechik in his April 2023 lecture series on the Jews and the Civil War

Rabbi Sabato Morais

Rabbi Sabato Morais Sermon given on July 4, 1863 at his Shul, Mikvah Israel, Philadelphia

President Abraham Lincoln

Gettysburg Address – Four score and Seven Years ago

Rabbi Meir Yakov Soloveichik is Rabbi of Congregation Shearith Israel, America’s first Jewish congregation, founded in 1654 by 23 Jews of Spanish and Portuguese descent

Rabbi Dr. Meir Y. Soloveichik
msoloveichik@shearithisrael.org
212-873-0300 x206

Rabbi Dr. Soloveichik joined the Shearith Israel family in 2013 and is our tenth minister since the American Revolution.  From the very start of his tenure, Rabbi Soloveichik’s sermons, public events, and classes have drawn enthusiastic crowds, and our beloved congregation has grown and flourished under his leadership.  Passionate about Shearith Israel’s tradition and values, his ambition is to chart a future worthy of our congregation’s extraordinary history.  Rabbi Soloveichik simultaneously showcases our unique traditions while also championing the unity of klal yisrael, all Jewish people, a value that Shearith Israel has always embraced.  He is staunchly committed to strong outreach, community building, and higher Jewish education for men and women.

After graduating from Yeshiva College, Rabbi Soloveichik obtained his Rabbinic ordination from the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary of Yeshiva University.  He holds a Ph.D. from Princeton in Religion and currently serves as the Director of the Zahava and Moshael Straus Center for Torah and Western Thought at Yeshiva University.  His wife, Layaliza, is an Assistant U. S. attorney, and together they are the proud parents of six beautiful children.  In addition to meeting the demands of a full-time pastor and dedicated father, Rabbi Soloveichik manages to consume vast quantities of sushi, watch The Simpsons, and continue his elusive search for the perfect homburg.

Four score and seven years ago

Four score and seven years ago is perhaps the most famous phrase in the English language and is the most celebrated in America.  On November 19, 1863 President Lincoln attended the dedication of a cemetery for Union soldiers who several months earlier fought at Gettysburg on July 1st through July 3, 1863.  The central attraction for the dedication ceremony was Edward Everrett, one of the most celebrated orators in America, who spoke for several hours and his words have been largely forgotten.  Lincoln meanwhile delivered brief but immortal remarks that are known to this day. The first half of the Gettysburg address described the essence of the American founding and explains that the war was being fought to preserve and advance all that America embodies and that what America embodied can be found in the words of the Declaration of Independence that had been approved by the Continental Congress  87 years before.  But Lincoln at Gettysburg did not say 87 years before. Instead he uttered a phrase that utilizes the word “score” referring to 20 years, so four score is 80 years plus seven equals 87 years.  This is the most math in this presentation

This Is how Lincoln began. “Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.  Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.  We are met on a great battlefield of that war.” 

These words have been studied, pored over, discussed, and debated for generations.

Today we engage them again but in an unusual way.  We will join Abraham Lincoln, the most famous American in US history, and that of a Rabbi that has been largely forgotten even among American Jewry, the community to whom he once ministered. 

We analyze the Gettysburg address by telling the tale of Rabbi Sabato Morais. We begin by describing his biography, drawing on the excellent account of Rabbi Dr. Alan Corre, who served as Rabbi of Mikvah Israel from 1955 – 1963.   We then turn to one specific sermon given by Rabbi Sabato Morais, which will allow us to then conclude with an analysis and a deeper understanding of the Gettysburg address.

Rabbi Sabato Morais and President Abraham Lincoln.

In the above picture of Rabbi Sabato Morias, he is not wearing a yarmulke. I asked Reb Moshe Soloveichik about this and he said that Italian Jews only wore yarmulkes for religious matters.  Otherwise they went bareheaded.  Similar to German Jews who in the public sphere did not wear yarmulkes.

Sabato Morais (Hebrew: שבתאי מוראיס; April 13, 1823 – November 11, 1897) was an Italian-American Rabbi of Portuguese descent, leader of Mikveh Israel Synagogue in Philadelphia, pioneer of Italian Jewish Studies in America, and founder of the Jewish Theological Seminary, which initially acted as a center of education for Orthodox Rabbis.

Sabato Morais was born on April 13, 1823 in Livorno (or Leghorn, as English sailors called it), just south of Pisa on the western coast of the northern Italian duchy of Tuscany. Sabato was the third of nine children, the oldest son,  with one younger brother and seven sisters. He was raised “in quite humble circumstances” and educated in Livorno.  His native language was Italian, and he acquired a good knowledge of Spanish and French early in life.

Morais’ father Samuel descended from Portuguese Marranos who arrived in London in the 1650s, perhaps from colonial Brazil, and settled in Livorno around 1730. Sabato’s mother Buonina

Wolf was of German-Ashkenazic origin and it was she who decisively influenced her young son to pursue his religious vocation. Both Morais’s father and his paternal grandfather, Sabato, after whom he was named, were Freemasons and immersed in rebellion spurred by the Napoleonic invasion in June 1796. “It was [Sabato, the paternal grandfather] who instilled a feeling for liberty into his compatriots. It was he who exclaimed ‘Up for liberty; down with tyrants . . . [and] in his son Samuel Morais was found

a devoted Republican, a man who even suffered imprisonment for his political opinions, who was wont to exclaim ‘Even the boards of my bed are Republican.’ Imbued from childhood with a tradition of political engagement, and through his own involvement as a Freemason in the Risorgimento (the

movement for Italian national unification), Morais became devoted to the republican ideals of Giuseppe Mazzini, Italy’s “Prophet in Exile.” Mazzini found safe haven in London after 1837, along with other exiled Italian nationalist leaders, including a number of Jews from Livorno.

 Upon young Sabato early rested the responsibility of aiding in the support of the family. While still a child he earned a little by teaching Hebrew hymns and prayers to other children, meantime pursuing his own studies under Rabbis Funaro, Curiat, and others, and then under his Hebrew master and favorite pupil of  Rabbi Abraham Baruch Piperno, and gaining honorable mention in belles-lettres under Prof. Salvatore de Benedetti. In addition to Hebrew and Italian, he acquired familiarity with Aramaic, French, and Spanish.

Morais arrived in London in 1845 from Livorno at the age of twenty-two.  Spurred by economic hardship, he came to London as a poor young scholar, seeking his first appointment as assistant to the leader of religious services at the city’s most prestigious congregation, the Sephardic Sha’ar Shamayim at Bevis Marks in London. He failed to win the post, principally due to his unpolished English, but so favorably impressed those who interviewed him that within a year he would return to take the position of Master of the congregation’s Orphan school. 

Keep Morais’s English in mind for it will be important for the next part of our story.

Morais learned English by taking a Tanach and comparing the Hebrew words to the English words of the King James Bible.

Morais lived in London from 1846 until 1851 and came to know many prominent Jewish families through his congregational work and as the Hebrew and Italian tutor of their children. The Jewish philanthropist Sir Moses Montefiore was a native of Livorno who befriended Morais. In London Morais met Mazzini and later corresponded with him.  Morais reportedly turned over his passport to Mazzini before leaving London for America, enabling the exiled leader, who faced an outstanding arrest warrant from the Austrian imperial authorities, to travel surreptitiously to the continent and back to Italy.

Giuseppe Mazzini (UK: /mætˈsiːni/,[1] US: /mɑːtˈ-, mɑːdˈziːni/;[2][3] Italian: [dʒuˈzɛppe matˈtsiːni]; 22 June 1805 – 10 March 1872)[4] was an Italian politician, journalist, and activist for the unification of Italy (Risorgimento) and spearhead of the Italian revolutionary movement. His efforts helped bring about the independent and unified Italy in place of the several separate states, many dominated by foreign powers, that existed until the 19th century.[5] An Italian nationalist in the historical radical tradition and a proponent of a republicanism of social-democratic inspiration, Mazzini helped define the modern European movement for popular democracy in a republican state.[6]

Elected Hazzan in Philadelphia

Rabbi Morais’s next opportunity was in the new world.  In 1850, owing to the withdrawal of Rabbi Isaac Leeser who had served since 1829 the pulpit of the Mikveh Israel Synagogue congregation at Philadelphia and Morais was an applicant for the post. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isaac_Leeser   Isaac Leeser was the most prominent Jewish intellectual in America.  Why did Rabbi Isaac Lesser leave?  Why did the position open?    An argument broke out between the clerical leadership of the Synagogue and lay leadership over the Rabbi’s contract.  By 1849 as one version has it, Lesser had demanded a lifetime contract, a larger salary, and greater authority in the congregation.  He had also antagonized many members of the congregation. 

In 1851 Rabbi Sabato Morais became Rabbi of Mikvah Israel.  He entered a Synagogue that was split between those that supported Isaac Leeser and those that did not.  Morais’s job as minister of the congregation was to both lead the services and preach.  But Morais was well aware of the fact that the community appreciated one of these tasks more than the other.  As he wrote “during nine months of the year I give weekly instruction from this pulpit.  When the summer season begins I generally cease speaking in the vernacular and confine myself to reading the established ritual meaning Hazzunit.  Some would prefer my following the last named course at all times, I have reason to believe.”

Why would Morais say this?  Why didn’t the congregation like his sermons?  One reason could be that English was not his first language.  The other reason was that Rabbi Sabato Morais was a man of principle and of political beliefs.  Morias often put his principles and political beliefs above his professional well being.  This was first manifested in 1858 in an episode known as the Mortara Affair, the Baptism of an Italian Jewish child named Edgardo Mortara in Bologna, a papal state.  He had been taken from his home to be raised as a Catholic because his nurse had claimed that she had baptized him when he was ill.  This galvanized Jews around the world into action and the Jews in America appealed to their President at that time, James Buchanan, “otherwise known as the worst President in the US (Meir Yaakov Soloveichek)”.  President Buchanan responded that this was a matter involving foreign nationals and he was not going to get involved.  

Morais had defiantly refused to recite the prayer for the nation in protest over President James Buchanan’s indifferent response to the abduction.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mortara_case

Morais was undoubtedly doubly offended by this.  First as a Sepherdic Jew of Italian origin this was extremely personal to him, but secondly, Morais had fallen in love with this new country precisely because it stood for something larger, a universal doctrine of human rights, something he felt Buchanan had failed.  So on the next Sabbath Morais pointedly omitted the prayer for the welfare of the President and the government.  Apparently he felt that someone not standing up for human rights was not worth praying for.  The congregation was scandalized by this. The Adchunta – a Spanish word referring to the lay leadership of the congregation – the governing body of the congregation, met the very next day and demanded that he restore the prayer for the government. On December 2, 1858 one of the lay leaders sent Rabbi Morais a letter that was marked, strictly private, and alluded to “your refusal to recite the prayer for the members of the government as you hitherto done.”  This lay leader added the following ”you are aware that the Adchunta can suspend you from office which would only be a step to discharge.  You know that  the Board can command a majority to any measure their wisdom may induce them to think correctly.  Are you prepared to be hurled from a position of pecuniary independence to one of unrequited labor in which you may find it difficult to earn a pittance?”  To translate his eloquence into modern parlance, that is a nice rabbinic position you have there, it would be a shame if something happened to it. 

In 1861 James Buchanan  was replaced by a man who was infinitely more to his liking, Abraham Linclon.  Morais’s affection for Lincoln can be seen in a poignant prayer that he delivered in 1862 on the death in the White House of Lincoln’s son Willy.   He did pray for Lincoln and with love.

He said the following:  Bless the president of the United States.  Bless him for his sterling honesty.  Bless him for his firmness and moderation.  Rekindle with joy his domestic hearth.  Pour on him the balm of divine consolation.   Grant that the end of his career be the maintenance of this government.  

Unimpaired and unsullied as bequeathed by our illustrious ancestors.  Morais’s words were sent to Linolcon by a synagogue representative.  Lincoln responded in the following letter thanking the Synagogue, the only known letter written by Abraham Lincoln to a Synagogue.   

The text of the letter:

My Dear Sir:

Permit  me to acknowledge the receipt of your communication of April 23 containing a copy of a Prayer recently delivered at your Synagogue, and to thank you heartily for your expression of kindness and confidence.

I have the honor to be your obedient servant.

A.Lincoln

Morais’s trouble with his laity was only beginning.  For during the war he emerged as a full fledged Republican and an opponent of slavery.  Many of his congregants were Northern Democrats for whom Lincoln had to be replaced and the Southern demands accommodated in order for the Civil war to cease.  These people, Northern Democrats, were known as Copperheads, an American species of a venomous snake. This was initially an insult to them, but they embraced this term and wore a copper penny with the head of liberty.    This came to a head when on November 1, 1864 Maryland joined the Union, and voted to forever ban slavery.  Soon afterwards Morais delivered a sermon celebrating this event.  

“Not the victories of the Union, but those of freedom, my friends, dowe  celebrate.  What is Union with human degradation?  Who would again affix his seal to the bonds that consigned millions to thraldom.  Not I, the enfranchised slave of Mitzrayim.  Not you, whose motto is progress and civilization.  Cast then your vision yonder and behold the happy change wrought by the hand of Providence .  .  .”

He indulged in rabbinic puns.  He said “thy name shall no longer be called Maryland but Merry-land, for thou has verily breathed a joyous spirit in all the inhabitants.” 

In response to this political sermon, the leadership of the congregation banned the Rabbi from giving  sermons for several months, unless approved by the Parnass – the President of the congregation.  The gag rule held for two months.  Several members petitioned the Board and on February 5th of 1865 Morais was again allowed to give sermons but must be religious discourse, no politics on one Sabbath of each month and on holidays.  Before Pesach of that year Morias appealed to be able to speak as he saw fit.

What is fascinating is that we have a small comment by Morais himself.  A Victroian habit that Morais must have picked up in Europe was the habit of keeping a scrapbook wherein he would paste all of his printed and published sermons and his Divrei Torah.  Historians knew about this scrapbook, but it was lost.  This was sad because Morais was wont to write notes on some of his printed speeches which led to a larger historical context. 

 Enter a South New Jersey business man by the name of Marvin Weiner.  Wiener as his son recounts had a method to his collecting.  If a periodical refereed to another periodical he would work to acquire the other periodical.  He had the idea  that he would duplicate the library of Thomas Jefferson, and use it as his guide.He loved the idea that he was holding in his hand the same material as the founding fathers.  

One day in the 1950s Marvin Weiner was perusing a junk store in West Philadelphia, called Sam Kleinman’s School Kill bookshop and he came across a large ledger which turned out to be Morais’s scrapbook.  This was one of the great random or providential discovery of American Jewish history.  It is kept in the Katz Center in Philadelphia.  Rabbi Soloveichik held it.  There is pasted to one of the pages a printed version of the Merryland sermon.   In the bottom right Morais wrote a history connected with it.  “Copperheads became so enraged by reason of it that I got a hornet’s nest around my ears.  Men would have stopped my speaking altogether, but I appealed to my constituents and after 3 months of silence renewed my free speech as formerly.”

Marvin Wiener’s collections are at the University of Pennsylvania, Katz Library and at Florida AtlanticUniversity (FAU) in Boca Raton.   My granddaughter, Tovah, will be starting at FAU in the fall as a Jewish History major.

One year before the Merryland sermon on Saturday, Rabbi Sabato Morais on  the 4th of July 1863 ascended the pulpit to deliver the Sabbath sermon.  Remember we said earlier that Morias did not speak during the summer months.  But today was different.  In advance of July 4th, the Philadelphia Union League, a Republican organization dedicated to supporting Lincoln and his policies, had requested that on July 4, 1863  clergy deliver celebratory sermons throughout the city utilizing as their unified theme the verse from Leviticus that was emblazoned on the celebrated Bell that sat in the that very same city. “Proclaim Liberty throughout the Land unto all the inhabitants thereof.”

Rabbi Morais did not give a celebratory speech for several reasons.  1) that shabbat was the 17th of Tammuz when the Romans breached the walls in Jerusalem and begins the three week morning period for the Jewish people and an entirely celebratory sermon was not appropriate.   There was another pressing reason, unforeseen by the Union League and as to why Morais felt a more somber sermon was required.  2)  For the past three days, an epic battle was being fought south of Pennsylvania by Union and Confederate forces at Gettysburg. Morais knew that the battle was being fought but on July 4th had no idea who had won because he was Orthodox and did not receive the news that Shabbat morning. If Lee was victorious, the Confederate Army could soon be marching to Philadelphia.

Therefore Morais said in his sermon that he could not speak in a joyous mood.  “Can it be then reasonably expected that I should expatiate upon a joyful therme!   .  .   .

Instead of focusing on American independence, he focused on what happened millennia earlier in Biblical Jerusalem. He compared Biblical Jerusalem to his own city of Philadelphia. He asked that the fate that befell the former, not occur to the later.

There is one remarkable sentence in the speech.  He mentioned that the declaration of independence occurred 87 years ago, however, he used the phrase “four score and seven years ago.”  He knew that Mikvah Israel was down the block from Independence Hall.

Morais had taught himself English from the text of the King James  Bible.  This is how Morais talked.

This is most famously found in Psalms 90:10

יְמֵֽי־שְׁנוֹתֵ֨ינוּ בָהֶ֥ם שִׁבְעִ֪ים שָׁנָ֡ה וְאִ֤ם בִּגְבוּרֹ֨ת ׀ שְׁמ֘וֹנִ֤ים שָׁנָ֗ה וְ֭רׇהְבָּם עָמָ֣ל וָאָ֑וֶן כִּי־גָ֥ז חִ֝֗ישׁ וַנָּעֻֽפָה׃   

King James Bible Translation:

The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.

The July 4, 1863 Sermon is on the followings three pages:

Please note that the first page of the sermon shows the Philadelphia Inquirer, Wednesday April 23, 1862.  This was not the paper where his sermon was printed.  The sermon was printed in the Jewish Messinger.  I assume that the April 23, 1862 was Morais’s blessing to President Abraham Lincoln on the death of his son.

For most Americians language of “score” is reserved for the Bible.  No one spoke this way off the cuff, including Abraham Lincoln.  Lincoln knew of the July 4th Gettysburg victory unlike Rabbi Morais. Lincoln also knew of the Union victory at Vicksburg. 

On July 7th President Abraham Lincoln made the below informal remarks a few days after two important Union victories. Earlier that day he received General Grant’s dispatch announcing the capture of Vicksburg, Mississippi. Later on he appeared dejected during a Cabinet meeting because General Meade failed to pursue Lee after the battle of Gettysburg. Lincoln’s audience this evening was a crowd outside the White House, accompanied by a band. Unknowingly, they all got a foretaste of the Gettysburg Address, to be delivered four months later in southern Pennsylvania.

 In speaking to them Lincoln reflected as follows  

The full text of his July 7,1863 words can be found at  Abraham Lincoln’s Response to a Serenade on July 7, 1863 (abrahamlincolnonline.org)

We see in these impromptu words the roots of the Gettysburg address.  Lincoln is pondering the significance of the fact that these greatest victories occurred on the 4th of July and that the civil war is being fought for the very doctrine declared on the first 4th of July, that all men are created equal.  This, he says, is a glorious theme for a speech and resulted in the Gettysburg address.  One thing he does not say is four  score and seven years ago, because he did not naturally talk this way. Several months later when he spoke at Gettysburg his language had changed, “Four score and seven years ago”.  Could Lincoln have been inspired by Morias’s sermon?  We do know that the sermon had been published and we do know that previously Morais’s words were sent to Lincoln. There is a strong possibility that Lincoln had seen this speech.

Jonathan Sarna discusses this in a 2015 interview:

EC: It was inter­est­ing that a ser­mon deliv­ered by Rab­bi Saba­to Morais in Philadel­phia on July 4th, 1863 used these words as he remind­ed his con­stituents that inde­pen­dence is ​“the event which four score and sev­en years ago brought to this new world light and joy.” Do you think Lin­coln bor­rowed this phrase for his Get­tys­burg Address?

JDS: No pre­vi­ous Lin­coln schol­ar noticed that the Rab­bi used that phrase. We do know that some of Morais’ ser­mons were sent to Lin­coln and that he read them. Good politi­cians are known for bor­row­ing phras­es that will res­onate with the pub­lic. So it is pos­si­ble. All we know for sure is that Morais used the phrase before Lin­coln and that the pres­i­dent had read some of Morais’ sermons.

From a Jewish Action book review on Jonathan Sarna’s book on Lincoln and the Jews:

Remarking on the similarity of the phrase in this sermon to the opening line of the Gettysburg Address which was delivered four months later, the authors of Lincoln and the Jews: A History write, “Whether Abraham Lincoln borrowed the phrase ‘fourscore and seven years ago’ from Morais for the commemorative address that he delivered at Gettysburg on November 19 cannot be known . . . . It is also possible that Lincoln read Morais’s sermon, which was published in the Jewish Messenger.” They proceed to prove that “other Morais speeches certainly made their way to the president.”

We cannot be sure if the President used these words because he saw Morias July 4th speech, but if not, the coincidence is uncanny and either way the story of Morias’s sermon sheds light on the Gettysburg address. 

Morias spoke this way because he learned English from the King James Bible.   If Abraham Lincoln did not speak this way naturally but chose to begin his remarks with four score and seven years ago, this is because he wished for the Gettysburg address to take on a Biblical tone to the ears of Americans. Lincoln had previously spoken in Biblical terms in a speech in 1861 at Liberty Hall. 

President Lincoln is quoiting from Psalms 137:5 and 6:

אִֽם־אֶשְׁכָּחֵ֥ךְ יְֽרוּשָׁלָ֗͏ִם תִּשְׁכַּ֥ח יְמִינִֽי׃

If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, Let my right hand forget her cunning.

תִּדְבַּֽק־לְשׁוֹנִ֨י ׀ לְחִכִּי֮ אִם־לֹ֢א אֶ֫זְכְּרֵ֥כִי אִם־לֹ֣א אַ֭עֲלֶה אֶת־יְרוּשָׁלַ֑͏ִם עַ֝֗ל רֹ֣אשׁ שִׂמְחָתִֽי׃

Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, If I remember thee not; If I set not Jerusalem Above my chiefest joy.

He then broke a glass, no he didn’t, just joking (MYS).

We have in this speech at Independence Hall another reference to a Pasuk in Psalms.  Independence Hall in Lincoln’s rhetoric is America’s Jerusalem; the declaration, the creed – that all men are created equal, was America’s covenant.  Two years later at Gettysburg Lincoln invokes language that sounds biblical. Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. 

Lincoln is seeking to achieve a Biblical inspired moment of covenantal remembrance and restoration.   

Lincoln had mastered the sound of the King James Bible so completely that he can cast abstract issues of constitutional law in Biblical terms, making the idea that there should be one post office from New Hampshire to Texas sound as if it came out of Genesis.

Whether or not the Gettysburg Address was influenced by a Rabbi who had mastered the English of the King James version of the Bible is not known, but  the striking linguistic link allows us to appreciate either way that the Gettysburg address is itself a sermon inspired by the Bible.

Indeed one other much discussed linguistic feature of the Gettysburg Address in the much discussed second part of Lincoln;s remarks.  “ We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.  But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

Focus on the phrase of “that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom.”  There are five known copies of the Gettysburg address in Lincoln’s handwriting, two from before the speech and three he wrote for individuals after delivery of the speech who requested a copy of the Gettysburg address from him, refer to pages 28 – 31.

The versions written before the speech was spoken, which includes the copy he read from while delivering the speech, do not say” under God”.  The three written after the address do say under God.   The transcription of the press report the words “under God” in the speech.  Historian Richard Holzer has suggested that Lincoln had not written under God in his original draft,  but said them in the moment  and incorporated those words in his own version of the address in the following days. As Rabbi Meir Yakov Soloveichik  says Lincoln was “caught in the prophetic moment”.  He added the words “under God ” on his own.  For Lincoln this is a Biblical sermon.  The blood of the battlefield is suddenly the blood of the covenant. The people gathered cannot sanctify the fields because the soldiers’ blood  already sanctified the battlefield. Sanctified for America’s central principle, that all men are created equal.  It  is our obligation for Lincoln to those who died to ensure that their blood was not shed in vain. 

Rabbi Sabato outlasted his critics and in 1868 was granted a lifetime contract from the Synagogue. as Rabbi Meir Yaakov Soloveichik said, an inspiration to Rabbis everywhere.  The 17 day of Tammuz, July 4th sermon is largely forgotten, but if we put ourselves in Rabbi Sabato’s shoes, standing at the pulpit,  not knowing if the battle at Gettysburg was won or lost,  we gain a renewed appreciation of  the perilous nature of the moment.  It easily could have gone a  different way.  Lee did not march on Philadelphia, but he might have. He might have and then the victory of Vicksburg may have mattered little.  

This a new lesson that can be derived from Morias which also relates to the 17th of Tammuz. If you look in the Hebrew calendar, you realize that the first 4th of July  1776 also fell out on the 17th of Tammuz.

There is a deep message.  If the decisive point of the Union survival also occurred on or around the fourth of July which is also Sheva Assur B’Tammuz, then this is a reminder that the American experiment is fragile, so fragile that it  can so easily be lost, it can experience destruction in battle or just from failure to remain loyal to the true lessons of the American creed.  But we owe the Declaration’s preservation to the past, to those who came before.  We are obligated as Lincoln said to ensure that these men shall not have died in vain.

The possible literary  link between Morais recalling of Jerusalem and Lincoln’s Gettysburg address and the knowledge that of the biblical themes that were inspiration for Lincoln’s words makes it all the more striking that is is the Jews today of Judea and Jerusalim who in their own civic celebrations make manifest the lesson Lincoln’s words that we have to link independence and its celebration with the blood and sacrifice  of those who fought for that freedom, those whose blood obligates us.  Just as the battle of Gettysburg concluded on July 3rd and the next day July 4th, Independence day, Israel’s independence day is celebrated right after their memorial day commemorations.  On the morning of the 4th of Iyur a siren is sounded throughout the land, everyone pauses their activities in reverent memory of those who died.  There are few more stunning images of Israel today on highways where thousands of cars grind to a halt and travelers bow their heads in commemoration.  Then throughout the day cemeteries are visited and only in the evening does the somber day gives way to the joy of the next day, independence day.  These two days define one another. Those assembled in the cemeteries facing the unbearable loss of loved ones do so in the knowledge that the sacrifice of their family members makes the next day celebration of Independence possible. And the celebration of independence is done with the acknowledgement of millions of citizens that those who lie in the cemeteries who in Lincoln’s words “gave their full measure of devotion” oblige the living to ensure that the dead did not die in vain.

However, in America, while we have a memorial day remembering those killed in battle defending America, the fourth Monday in May, that day is not linked to July 4th.

Therefore, there is no denying that the Israelis insistence on linking their independent day to their memorial day observance is not only fitting, it is actually more American, it is a truer fulfillment of Lincoln’s message at Gettysburg.  

The joining of Sheva Assur B’Tammuz and the fourth of July in 1776; and four score and seven years later in Morias’s post Gettysburg sermon of July 4, 1863 is a reminder that Gettysburg and July 4th 1776 must always be joined in our minds and civic observance. It is unlikely that memorial day will be moved to the 3rd of July but that should not prevent us from learning from the Israeli experience and Lincoln’s words.    Imagine if millions of Americans pause on their leisure day of July 3rd to remember Gettysburg day and all the soldiers who sacrificed for America’s freedom, July 4th would be affected and marked in a manner worthy of this great country.  Surely this would be more true to Abraham Lincoln’s  great legacy that he left us.

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Supporting Articles

JUNE 2018 HISTORY

The Full Measure of Devotion

Jewish Commentary

by Meir Y. Soloveichik

On July 4, 1863, Rabbi Sabato Morais of Philadelphia’s Mikveh Israel congregation ascended the pulpit to deliver the Sabbath sermon. Those assembled in the synagogue knew that over the previous few days, Union and Confederate forces had been engaged in an epic engagement at Gettysburg, but they had no idea who had won or whether Confederate forces would continue onward to Washington or Philadelphia. That year, July 4 coincided with the 17th of Tammuz, when Jews commemorate the Roman breach of the walls of Jerusalem. Morais prayed that God not allow Jerusalem’s fate to befall the American capital and assured his audience that he had not forgotten the joyous date on which he spoke: “I am not indifferent, my dear friends, to the event, which, four score and seven years ago, brought to this new world light and joy.”

An immigrant from Italy, Morais had taught himself English utilizing the King James Bible. Few Americans spoke in this manner, including Abraham Lincoln. Three days later, the president himself reflected before an audience: “How long ago is it?—eighty-odd years—since on the Fourth of July for the first time in the history of the world a nation by its representatives assembled and declared as a self-evident truth that ‘all men are created equal.’” Only several months later, at the dedication of the Gettysburg cemetery, would Lincoln refer to the birth of our nation in Morais’s manner, making “four score and seven years ago” one of the most famous phrases in the English language and thereby endowing his address with a prophetic tenor and scriptural quality.  

This has led historians, including Jonathan Sarna and Marc Saperstein, to suggest that Lincoln may have read Morais’s sermon, which had been widely circulated. Whether or not this was so, the Gettysburg address parallels Morais’s remarks in that it, too, joins mourning for the fallen with a recognition of American independence, allowing those who had died to define our appreciation for the day that our “forefathers brought forth a new nation conceived in liberty.” Lincoln’s words stressed that a nation must always link civic celebration of its independence with the lives given on its behalf. Visiting the cemetery at Gettysburg, he argued, requires us to dedicate ourselves to the unfinished work that “they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.” He went on: “From these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion,” thereby ensuring that “these dead shall not have died in vain.”  

The literary link between Morais’s recalling of Jerusalem and Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address makes it all the more striking that it is the Jews of today’s Judea who make manifest the lessons of Lincoln’s words. Just as the battle of Gettysburg concluded on July 3, Israelis hold their Memorial Day commemorations on the day before their Independence Day celebrations.  On the morning of the Fourth of Iyar, a siren sounds throughout the land, with all pausing their everyday activities in reverent memory of those who had died. There are few more stunning images of Israel today than those of highways on which thousands of cars grind to a halt, all travelers standing at the roadside, and all heads bowing in commemoration. Throughout the day, cemeteries are visited by the family members of those lost. Only in the evening does the somber Yom Hazikaron give way to the joy of the Fifth of Iyar’s Yom Ha’atzmaut, Independence Day. For anyone who has experienced it, the two days define each other. Those assembled in Israel’s cemeteries facing the unbearable loss of loved ones do so in the knowledge that it is the sacrifice of their beloved family members that make the next day’s celebration of independence possible. And the celebration of independence is begun with the acknowledgement by millions of citizens that those who lie in those cemeteries, who gave “their last full measure of devotion,” obligate the living to ensure that the dead did not die in vain.  

The American version of Memorial Day, like the Gettysburg Address itself, began as a means of decorating and honoring the graves of Civil War dead. It is unconnected to the Fourth of July, which takes place five weeks later. Both holidays are observed by many (though not all) Americans as escapes from work, and too few ponder the link between the sacrifice of American dead and the freedom that we the living enjoy. There is thus no denying that the Israelis’ insistence on linking their Independence Day celebration with their Memorial Day is not only more appropriate; it is more American, a truer fulfillment of Lincoln’s message at Gettysburg.  

In studying the Hebrew calendar of 1776, I was struck by the fact that the original Fourth of July, like that of 1863, fell on the 17th of Tammuz. It is, perhaps, another reminder that Gettysburg and America’s birth must always be joined in our minds, and linked in our civic observance. It is, of course, beyond unlikely that Memorial Day will be moved to adjoin the fourth of July. Yet that should not prevent us from learning from the Israeli example. Imagine if the third of July were dedicated to remembering the battle that concluded on that date. Imagine if “Gettysburg Day” involved a brief moment of commemoration by “us, the living” for those who gave the last full measure of devotion. Imagine if tens—perhaps hundreds—of millions of Americans paused in unison from their leisure activities for a minute or two to reflect on the sacrifice of generations past. Surely our observance of the Independence Day that followed could not fail to be affected; surely the Fourth of July would be marked in a manner more worthy of a great nation.

“Four Score and Seven Years Ago” – A Jewish Connection to Gettysburg

JULY 4, 2013MARC SAPERSTEIN

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July 4, 1863 was a Saturday, and Rabbi Sabato Morais, a Sephardi immigrant from Italy serving as religious leader of Philadelphia’s Mikveh Israel Congregation, delivered his Sabbath morning sermon. His sermon contains a phrase that might well have influenced the most celebrated speech in American history.

This particular Sabbath 150 years ago was unusual for several reasons. It was the American Independence Day, an occasion for celebration. However, in the Jewish calendar, it was also the 17th Day of Tammuz, a traditional day of mourning, commemorating the Roman breaching of the walls of Jerusalem in 70 CE, beginning a three-week period of solemnity that culminates with the 9th of Av, when the Temple was destroyed. This contrast in moods between the American and the Jewish calendars created a significant challenge for the preacher.

But there was a third complicating component that made the 1863 date unique: it followed immediately upon the conclusion of the Battle of Gettysburg. On Saturday morning of July 4th, the news of the outcome of the battle was not yet accessible to Morais in Philadelphia — it would not be published until special-edition newspapers that afternoon. When he prepared the text of his sermon, and when he delivered the words from the pulpit, it was still unclear to the preacher and his congregants whether the Confederate Armies that had penetrated into Pennsylvania would break through the Union lines and threaten Philadelphia, Baltimore, or Washington, D.C.

Morais’ sermon attracted enough attention to be published in a New York Jewish weekly six days later. The headline states that it had been delivered “at the request of the Philadelphia Union League.” This patriotic organization was founded in December 1862 in strong support of the war effort and President Lincoln’s policies. Weeks in advance, the League had urged all Philadelphia clergy to devote their July 5th Sunday morning sermons to a celebration of the July 4th national holiday. Following news of the victory at Gettysburg, the mood of those Sunday sermons was unambiguous. But for Morais, preaching on the 4th, the task was much more complex.

In his sermon, Morais confirms that he was officially asked to recall Independence Day, and that “A stirring oration on political topics may perhaps be anticipated as the most fitting manner of complying with the request.”

Yet Morais says that — both because of the date in the Jewish calendar and the bleakness of the current military circumstances–he cannot give the up-beat, inspirational, patriotic address that the Union League plainly desired. For his biblical text, [rather than selecting the verse recommended by the Union League for all sermons by Philadelphia clergy — the Liberty Bell verse from Leviticus, “Proclaim liberty throughout the land, unto all the inhabitants thereof Morais reflected the prevailing mood (which would change so dramatically in just a few hours)] by choosing King Hezekiah’s words spoken during the Assyrian siege of Jerusalem: “This is a day of trouble, of rebuke, and derision” (Isa. 37:3). Morais continues with an alarming allusion to the great battle some ninety miles away.

But the preacher could not totally ignore the July 4th occasion being commemorated throughout the North. And so he says, ‘I am not indifferent, my dear friends, to the event, which four score and seven years ago, brought to this new world light and joy.’

Three days later, Abraham Lincoln spoke to a small group and, according to the New York Times, he said, “How long ago is it? — eighty odd years — since on the Fourth of July for the first time in the history of the world a nation by its representatives assembled and declared as a self-evident truth that ‘all men are created equal’.” [2] Morais also could have said “eighty odd years ago”; instead he used wording that echoes the King James translation “threescore years and ten” (Ps. 90:10), evoking an unusual event with what was then a highly unusual phrase — followed by “brought to this new world…”

Needless to say, some three months later, for the dedication of the Gettysburg cemetery, Abraham Lincoln elevated the level of his discourse from “eighty odd years” to “four score and seven years, our fathers brought forth to this continent,” possibly borrowing from the published text by the Philadelphia Sephardic preacher who, without knowing it, may have made a lasting contribution to American rhetorical history.[3]

[This article is based on the Preface to my Jewish Preaching in Times of War, 1800 – 2001 (Littman Library, 2008)]

Marc Saperstein relocated to England in 2006 for a five-year term as Principal of the Leo Baeck College after teaching Jewish history and thought for 29 years at Harvard, Washington University in St. Louis, and George Washington University in DC. He is currently Professor of Jewish Studies at King’s College London. He was a Visiting Professor at Harvard in 2012 and Yale in 2013. A leading expert on the Jewish sermon as a source for history and religious culture, his most recent book is Jewish Preaching in the Times of War, 1800-2001. He is the brother of Rabbi David Saperstein.

The Gettysburg AddressGettysburg, PennsylvaniaNovember 19, 1863On June 1, 1865, Senator Charles Sumner referred to the most famous speech ever given by President Abraham Lincoln. In his eulogy on the slain president, he called the Gettysburg Address a “monumental act.” He said Lincoln was mistaken that “the world will little note, nor long remember what we say here.” Rather, the Bostonian remarked, “The world noted at once what he said, and will never cease to remember it. The battle itself was less important than the speech.”There are five known copies of the speech in Lincoln’s handwriting, each with a slightly different text, and named for the people who first received them: Nicolay, Hay, Everett, Bancroft and Bliss. Two copies apparently were written before delivering the speech, one of which probably was the reading copy. The remaining ones were produced months later for soldier benefit events. Despite widely-circulated stories to the contrary, the president did not dash off a copy aboard a train to Gettysburg. Lincoln carefully prepared his major speeches in advance; his steady, even script in every manuscript is consistent with a firm writing surface, not the notoriously bumpy Civil War-era trains. Additional versions of the speech appeared in newspapers of the era, feeding modern-day confusion about the authoritative text.

Nicolay Copy

Named for John G. Nicolay, President Lincoln’s personal secretary, this is considered the “first draft” of the speech, begun in Washington on White house stationery. The second page is writen on different paper stock, indicating it was finished in Gettysburg before the cemetery dedication began. Lincoln gave this draft to Nicolay, who went to Gettysburg with Lincoln and witnessed the speech. The Library of Congress owns this manuscript.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle field of that war. We come to dedicate a portion of it, as a final resting place for those who died here, that the nation might live. This we may, in all propriety do.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate we can not consecrate we can not hallow, this ground The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have hallowed it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here; while it can never forget what they did here.

It is rather for us, the living, we here be dedicated to the great task remaining before us that, from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here, gave the last full measure of devotion that we here highly resolve these dead shall not have died in vain; that the nation, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.


Hay Copy

Believed to be the second draft of the speech, President Lincoln gave this copy to John Hay, a White House assistant. Hay accompanied Lincoln to Gettysburg and briefly referred to the speech in his diary: “the President, in a fine, free way, with more grace than is his wont, said his half dozen words of consecration.” The Hay copy, which includes Lincoln’s handwritten changes, also is owned by the Library of Congress.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met here on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of it, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But in a larger sense, we can not dedicate we can not consecrate we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but can never forget what they did here.

It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they have, thus far, so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom; and that this government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.


Everett Copy

Edward Everett, the chief speaker at the Gettysburg cemetery dedication, clearly admired Lincoln’s remarks and wrote to him the next day saying, “I should be glad, if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion, in two hours, as you did in two minutes.” In 1864 Everett asked Lincoln for a copy of the speech to benefit Union soldiers, making it the third manuscript copy. Eventually the state of Illinois acquired it, where it’s preserved at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives, that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here, have, thus far, so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.


Bancroft Copy

As noted above, historian George Bancroft asked President Lincoln for a copy to use as a fundraiser for soldiers. When Lincoln sent his copy on February 29, 1864, he used both sides of the paper, rendering the manuscript useless for lithographic engraving. So Bancroft kept this copy and Lincoln had to produce an additional one (Bliss Copy). The Bancroft copy is now owned by Cornell University.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives, that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion – that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.


Bliss Copy

Ever since Lincoln wrote it in 1864, this version has been the most often reproduced, notably on the walls of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington. It is named after Colonel Alexander Bliss, stepson of historian George Bancroft. Bancroft asked President Lincoln for a copy to use as a fundraiser for soldiers (see “Bancroft Copy” below). However, because Lincoln wrote on both sides of the paper, the speech could not be reprinted, so Lincoln made another copy at Bliss’s request. It is the last known copy written by Lincoln and the only one signed and dated by him. Today it is on display at the Lincoln Room of the White House.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Abraham Lincoln
November 19, 1863

November 23, 2024

Updated May, September, and November 2025

Rabbi Meir Yakov Soloveichik

Abraham Setsuzo Kotsuji

Jundai Yamada

Pictures Given Out at the Shiur

Commentary Article from March 21, 2023

Rabbi Moshe Shatzkes

On Saturday night, I took my granddaughter to Boca Raton Synagogue and we heard a beautiful shiur from Rabbi Meir Yakov Soloveichik.  The topic was:  “The Japanese Abraham and the Japanese Soloveichik:  A Personal Tale of My Family and My Journey to Japan.”  The hero of the story is Setsuzo Kotsuji.  He converted to Judaism in 195 and took the name Abraham.  He wrote an autobiography titled From Tokyo to Jerusalem.  It is out of print and he is a forgotten hero.  A used copy is available on Amazon for $435.01.  Koren plans to republish from Tokyo to Jerusalem with additional notes from Rabbi Meir Yaakov Solovechik and Jundai Yamada.   In late 2025, Koren republished the autobiography under the title Kotsuji’s Gift through Maggid Press with a foreword by Rabbi Meir Yaakov Soloveichik.

Jundai Yamada, a Japanese actor, discovered the story in the early 2000s and was determined to bring the heroism of Setsuzo Kotsuji to the public.   In 2013,  he wrote a book in Japanese about Setsuzo Kotsuji, who helped the Jewish refugees arriving at Vladivostok at the Trans-Siberian Railway under the persecution of Nazi Germany and traveled to the country of desire, Inochi no Visa o Tsunaida Otoko — Setsuzo Kotsuji to Yudaya Nanmin (A Man Who Connected the Visa of Life — Setsuzo Kotsuji and the Jewish Refugees) and debuted as a non-fiction writer.[   This was translated into English and published in the above Koren book.

Notes from the Lecture:

This past summer, Rabbi Meir Yakov Soloveichik, his wife, and Rabbi Ari Berman, president of Yeshiva University, traveled to Tokyo.  Rabbi Soloveichik wanted a kimono and walked into a kimono store.   They looked at him up and down and said we do not stock kimonos for men over six feet tall.  He ordered one and it was ready for Shabbos.  Friday night he had a Shabbos meal, Japanese style.  Meir Soloveichik wore his Kimono and they sat on the floor at a low Japanese dining table.  

One of the nights he went to a bar with Jundai Yamada.  He is the Japanese actor who brought back the story to the Japanese public.  They drank Japanese whiskey, Suntory.  They went to tour a Suntory whiskey brewery.  My daughter-in-law works for Suntory.    

Jundai Yamada asked Rabbi Soloveichik if Rabbi Soloveichik knew about Hakaras Hatov – gratitude.  The way Jundai Yamada said it, it sounded Japanese.  Rabbi Soloveichik asked him where did you hear these words?   Jundai responded that he had walked into Mir Yeshiva in Jerusalem and asked to see if anyone knew Setsuzo Kotsuji.  He was directed to Rabbi Chaim Shmulevitch’s daughter, Rivka,  married to Rabbi Yitzchok Ezrachi.  Rivka told Jundai Yamada that she was at the conversion meal, which was attended by her father; see top right picture on page 6.  She expressed her gratitude and told Jundai  Yamada that her father had tremendous Hakaras Hatov to Setsuzo Kotsuji. 

Later in the evening Jundia Yamada pulled out a Mezuzah and asked Rabbi Solovechik to discuss what a Mezuzah is and why.  Rabbi Solovecok asked, where did you get the Mezuzah?  It was given to him by Setsuzo Kotsuji’s daughter and was from his apartment in Israel.  The next day they went to visit one of Setsuzo Kotsuji’s daughters in a nursing home one hour outside of Tokyo.  She was elderly and he was not sure how much she understood.  They talked and he told her thank you and that her father saved his grandparents.

The next two pages feature pictures from the lecture.  Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet gave a shiur on May 12, 2025, from which I have expanded information on these pictures.  

https://www.yutorah.org/lectures/lecture.cfm/1135065  Rabbi Rakeffet goes through the entire story in his Shiur.  He mentioned Kotzk.com and some of what I wrote.

The picture at the top of the page features Setsuzo Kotsuji, the hero of the story, second from the left. The Amshinover Rebbe to the right of Setzuzo Kotsuji and Rabbi Shatzkes is to the right of the Amshinover Rebbe.   Rabbi  Moshe Shatzkes was known as the Lomsher Rov and later Rosh Yeshiva at YU (see the end of the blog post about Reb Moshe Shatzkes.) This picture was taken at the meeting with the top Japanese military leadership when they asked the Amshinover Rebbe and Rabbi Moshe Shatzkes, “Why do the Germans hate you so much?”  The Amshinover Rebbe, Rabbi Shimon Sholem Kalish, answered, Because we are Asian, just like you. The person on the far right is Leo Hanin who was head of the Jewish committee who helped from Kobe, Japan.  He later worked with Chiune Sugihara in the Jewish owned store in Japan.   

From the internet: Leo Hanin, born in 1913 in Vilnius, Lithuania, describes his family; his parents’ decision to escape increasing persecution in Europe and move to Harbin, China, where they had a relative, in 1916; the lively Jewish community but not having many relations with the native Chinese; attending a Russian school in Harbin until 1929; moving with his brother to Shanghai around 1934 to attend a British school; getting married in 1936 and moving to Kōbe-shi, Japan to do work for a textile firm; assisting the Joint Distribution Committee in New York to arrange for funds to be sent to Japan to support refugees coming over from Europe; his participation in a Zionist organization and moving to Israel in 1948; staying in Israel for two years and then moving back to Japan; his experiences with helping people adjust to life in Kōbe-shi and immigrate to the United States; and dealing with the rumors that the Jewish leadership of Kōbe-shi stole money donated to them to help refugees.

Picture at bottom Left – Setsuzo Kotsuji after conversion with Talis and Tefillin.

Picture at bottom Right – Setsuzo Kotsuji’s gravesite at Har Hamenuchos.

Top Left – 1940 Hebrew Dikduk book written in Japanese by Setsuzo Kotsuji.

Top Right – At the November 1959 Seudas Mitzvah meal after Setsuzo Kotsuj’s conversion.

To the right of Seitzku  Kotzuji is Rabbi Chaim Shmulevitz, Rosh Yeshiva of Mir Yeshiva in Jerusalem.  

The person sitting on the right of Rabbi Chaim Shmuelevitz is Rabbi Dr. Hugo Mantel. 

Picture at Top Left – 1940 Hebrew Dikduk book written in Japanese by Setsuzo Kotsuji.

Picture at Top Right – At the November 1959 Seudas Mitzvah meal after Setsuzo Kotsuji’s conversion.

To the right of Seitzku Kotzuji is Rabbi Chaim Shmulevitz, Rosh Yeshiva of Mir Yeshiva in Jerusalem.   The person sitting on the right of Rabbi Chaim Shmuelevitz is Rabbi Dr. Hugo Mantel. 

Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet, at minute 34:44 of his lecture on May 11, 2025, on this topic, talked about Rabbi Dr. Hugo Mantel.  Rabbi Rakeffet said, “I will give a nickel to anyone who can tell me who he was.” Rabbi Rakeffet met Rabbi Dr. Hugo Mantel when Rabbi Rakeffet came on Aliyah to Israel. Hugo Mantel lived in Mattersdorf.  Hugo Mantel was a YU Musmach of 1934.  He went on to get a doctorate in Jewish history.  He was an expert in Gemora Sanhedrin. He was a chaplain in the US Army in WWII and wound up in Japan.  Later, he went back to America, taught, and made Aliyah.  He was on the Bar Ilan faculty.  When Professor Avrohom Setsuzo Kotsuji wanted to convert, Rabbi Hugo Mantel, who already knew the Japanese mentality, taught Setsuzo Kotsuji for the conversion.  Hugo Mantel was a very bright guy.  Rabbi Rakeffet met him through Ruby Gross, who lived in Mattersdorf.  They were neighbors and good friends. “I met Professor Hugo Mantel; he was a historic figure.  It is just unbelievable that at the age of 60, Setsuzo Kotsuji went through circumcision at Shaare Tzedek and converted.  The Seudah Mitzvah after the conversion was in Yerushalayim with Rabbi Chaim Shumlevitz attending the Seudah and other people from Mir.”

1948 Press Photo Rabbi Hugo Mantel, Chaplain, Marine Hospital Brighton:  https://www.brightonmarine.org/campus

Bottom Picture – the person with the arrow is Rabbi Soloveichik’s grandfather, Reb Shmuel Warshvshik.  I remember him when his daughter married Rabbi Eliyahu Soloveichik, father of Meir Soloveichik.  The third person from the left in the bottom row is Rabbi Shmuel Doivd Walkin, the father of Rebbitzin Chaya Small.

The names of Rabbinim I believe are listed in the bottom row:

Rabbi Rockove

Rabbi Luski

Rabbi Schmuel Dovid Walkin – father of Rebbetzin Chaya Walkin Small, bottom row, third from the left.

Rabbi AD Gelbfish – father in law of Rabbi Dovid Zucker, Rosh Kollel Lakewood Kollel, Chicago

Rabbi Peretz Yogel – Rav Peretz Yogel was the son of the legendary Rav Shabsai Yogel, the Rosh Yeshiva of Slonim (one of the prized talmidim of the Netziv of Volozyn), and he served alongside his father in Slonim after being fashioned and molded for many years (later 1920’s-early 1930’s) in the Mirer Yeshiva in Poland.  In 1932, he received exceptionally laudatory semichos from the Roshei Yeshiva and Rabbanim of the Mir, and that year became the son-in-law of Rav Elya Perelman, the son of the “Minsker Gadol.” He then assumed the Rabbinic position of his father-in-law in a town near Poland. In those years leading up to the war, he was also extremely active in klal work—arousing the admiration of none of than the gadol hador, Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzensky. 

He was fortunate to escape with the Mirer yeshiva to Shanghai and made his way to Canada in 1943. In 1945, he took the helm of Brooklyn Torah Academy, a fledgling new yeshiva, simultaneously serving as the Rov of Anshei Slonim in Crown Heights.  Rav Peretz was the Rosh Yeshiva, the bochein, and the maggid shiur for the highest shiur—in which capacity he shaped hundreds of talmidim who remember him fondly and venerably.

The Brooklyn Torah Academy was a feeder high school to Yeshiva University.  It was the Brooklyn equivalent to the Manhattan Torah Academy (MTA).  In the 1970s, the Brooklyn Torah Academy closed and merged into MTA.  

Towards the end of his life, he would daven at the Gerer shtiebel in Flatbush. Upon his passing in 1987, he was mourned by a large gamut of the olam hayeshivos in America and in Eretz Yisroel. 

Rabbi Boruch Sorotzkin – son of Rabbi Zalman Sorotzkin.  ttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baruch_Sorotzkin

Rabbi Zalman Sorotzkin was the Zionist Rosh Yeshiva.  At the 1937 Agudah Kenssa Gedolah, he read the Psak from the leadership of Agudah, known as the Moetzes, supporting the founding of a State in Palestine.  He took heat for this.  His family basically settled in Israel after WWII

Rabbi Shmuel Shchedrovitzky

Rabbi SD Marogolis

Rabbi Yakov Neiman – Rabbi Neiman after the war ended up living in Chicago.  He became a Rov in Chicago at the Adas.  When I grew up, the Adas was the largest Orthodox shul in Albany Park.  On Simchas Torah, the Adas was the most popular place to go.  After all the Shuls finished, people ended up at the Adas.  He was also the eighth-grade Rebbe at Arie Crown and I had him in 1966 – 1967.  He merited living to 100.  Rebbitzen Chaya Small told me that in Shanghai, her family lived on the first floor and the Neimans lived on the second floor.  The two families shared one chicken for Shabbos.  When the families made it to the US, they landed in San Francisco and took a train cross-country to end up in New York.   Several families got off in Chicago to become Rabbis and teachers.  Rabbi Neiman and his family got off in Chicago, where he became a successful Rabbi, teacher, and businessman.

Rabbi Shimon Romm – Born in Vysock, Rabbi Romm—orphaned from his father while yet an infant, nonetheless became known as an illui while still a young boy.  From Vysock he traveled to Slonim to learn under Rabbis Shabsai Yogel and Fain zt’l. There he met another illui, a young boy named Samuel Belkin, who was also bereft of his father, and, for a time, they literally shared a bed and a pair of shoes. After Slonim, Rabbi Romm studied under Rabbi Horowitz ztl, founder of the Navardok Mussar movement, and then under Rabbi Aharon Kotler zt’l in Kletzk. Subsequently, he attended the yeshiva in Mir, where he received semikhah from Rabbi Kamai zt’l and where he established a close friendship with the famed mashgiach, Rabbi Yeruchem Lebowitz zt’l.  His reputation at Mir led to a shidduch with Kala Eisenbod, the daughter of the Rabbi of Vasilishik.

Rabbi Romm traveled with the Mir Yeshiva during its remarkable journey to Shanghai but left the yeshiva and was able to go to Israel in 1942. He lived there until 1948, when he was invited to teach at Yeshiva University.  At Yeshiva University, Rabbi Romm taught shiurim at the highest level until his passing. During this time, he also served as the rabbi of Congregation Noda B’Yehuda in Washington Heights, NY, and was a leading Torah adornment for Mizrachi.

Renowned for his sweeping knowledge of Torah and no less recognized for his great ethical character, Rabbi Romm represented to his students the ideal of a Rebbe. To others he was known as an orator par excellence and gomel chesed. An acquaintance, talmid, and friend of many of the century’s leading talmidei chachamin, he incorporated within him the wisdom and ideology of each of the g’dolei Yisrael with whom he learned into a comprehensive whole.  Source – YU Torah online.

Article in Commentary Magazine:

The Japanese Abraham

An extraordinary autobiography by a Japanese Jew is out of print today, but his story deserves to be remembered. 

March 21, 2024

There’s a bestselling book by the psychologist Robert Cialdini titled Pre-Suasion: A Revolutionary Way to Influence and Persuade. In one point in this largely non-Jewish book, we are shown a photograph from 1941 of two rabbis from Eastern Europe who found themselves in front of the Japanese foreign ministry in Tokyo. They were two of the leaders from a group of thousands of yeshiva students who had been given transit visas by the Japanese consul in Kovno, Lithuania. His name was Chiune Sugihara. The visas allowed the students to flee across Europe and Asia and land in Kobe, Japan. Two of them were my maternal grandparents, Rabbi Shmuel Dovid and Nachama Warshavchik.

Germany was, of course, then allied with Japan. Cialdini writes, “The Nazis had sent Josef Meisinger, a colonel in the Gestapo known as ‘the Butcher of Warsaw’ for ordering the execution of 16,000 Poles, to Tokyo. Upon his arrival in April 1941, Meisinger began pressing for a policy of brutality toward the Jews under Japan’s rule—a policy he stated he would gladly help design and enact. Uncertain at first of how to respond and wanting to hear all sides, high-ranking members of Japan’s military government called upon the Jewish refugee community to send two leaders to a meeting that would influence their future significantly.”

Two rabbis came down from Kobe to Tokyo, and, in what must have seemed a surreal moment, met with the Japanese generals. The rabbis received an utterly unanswerable question: Tell us, why do the Nazis hate you so much? One of the rabbis was frozen, terrified, but the second, Shimon Kalisch, known as the Amshinover Rebbe, remained calm. Cialdini writes:

Rabbi Kalisch’s knowledge of human nature had equipped him to deliver the most impressive persuasive communication I have encountered in over thirty years of studying the process: “Because,” he said calmly, “we are Asian, like you.”

The older rabbi’s response had a powerful effect on the Japanese officers. After a silence, they conferred among themselves and announced a recess. When they returned, the most senior military official rose and granted the reassurance the rabbis had hoped to bring home to their community: “Go back to your people. Tell them we will provide for their safety and peace. You have nothing to fear while in Japanese territory.” And so it was.

Rabbi Solovecihik added during his lecture that Setsuzo Kotsuji boss was

tried for war crimes after the war.  It is an interesting dichotomy.  

The photograph featured in Cialdini’s book is (at least in my Kindle version) incomplete, cut off; in the original, there is a Japanese gentleman standing to one side of Rabbi Kalisch. This man’s name is Setsuzo Kotsuji, and his tale is told in his extraordinary 1962 autobiography, From Tokyo To Jerusalem, which is entirely out of print. Kotsuji’s obscurity is an enormous shame, because the book is much more than a memoir. It is, in a certain sense, a religious classic, the story of a man raised in the religion of his ancestors who turned to the Jewish faith while still retaining a deep respect for his own Japanese past. These elements merged together to form one of the great heroic personalities of the 20th century.

Kotsuji was truly an Asian Jew: From Tokyo to Jerusalem is not published under the name Setsuzo Kotsuji, but rather Abraham Kotsuji, the name he would ultimately adopt in converting to Judaism. This is apt, as one of the mesmerizing themes of the book is how his own life mirrors that of Abraham, and how his heroism allows for the Abrahamic journeys of so many others to come to fruition. Discovering Kotsuji’s story has given me a better understanding of my own Abrahamic familial identity.

Setsuzo Kotsuji was born in Kyoto in 1899 to a family that was bound up with the Shinto faith and with the Kamo Shinto shrine of Kyoto, where for many generations his own family had served as priests. “I was raised,” he tells us, “in that ancient religion of Shinto, a religion existing already at the dawn of the history of Japan.” He adds that the “Kotsuji family, according to tradition, dates back to 678 A.D., when the Kamo shrine in the Kamo section of Kyoto was dedicated.” By his generation, the Kotsujis were no longer priests, but his father did dedicate himself, and then train his son Setsuzo, to perform for the family one of the major rites of Shinto, the “lighting of the sacred fire.”

Writing about himself in third person, he describes one of the earliest and elemental memories of his life:

The first of these images is symbolic and prophetic. The baby Setschan is perhaps four. He sees two flickering lights—whether they are oil lamps or candles he cannot tell. He hears a voice reciting words unintelligible to his small mind, but it’s recognizable as the voice of his father. The image is a pair of oil lamps, wavering on the Shinto altar, and the voice is the short prayer of evening. The image will haunt Setschan for the rest of his life. He needs merely recall it to invoke a mood of solemnity, of awe, a deep religious feeling which neither teacher nor preacher could ever have taught him.

What this means is that even as Kotsuji would ultimately embrace a different faith, the experience of Shinto as a child, and his reverence for the past, would continue to guide him on his journey. The same can be said, he tells us, for the moral code he encountered in his community and his family: Bushido. This is “the way of the samurai,” and Kotsuji insists it is misunderstood as relating merely to military matters, for it is actually a code of honor and chivalry. Bushido is far more than a code of war,” he writes. “It is difficult not to love and respect the man who adheres to the genuine Bushido code.”

This, then, is the early life of Setsuzo Kotsuji. But suddenly an Abrahamic element introduced itself. Though Abraham was called by God at the age of 75, the rabbinic tradition describes how his own religious journey to monotheism began through his own questioning as a child. The same can be said for Kotsuji. He happened to come upon a Bible in a bookstore and started to read. He was, he tells us in his memoir, confused by its description of a single God creating the world, but then, he writes, one passage in particular suddenly moved him.

“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” What God? I asked myself. What does the combination “Lord God” mean in the second chapter?… I skipped a few pages, turning at random, and stopped without plan or design at Chapter 12. There my eyes fell upon the words, “Now the Lord said unto Abram. Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house, unto the land I will shew thee. And will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee. I will bless those that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee; and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed.”

At that moment something great and deep took hold of my empty mind. I knew almost nothing about Israel and her destiny, nothing of the history of the Jewish people. Yet the pages of the book I read to that point seemed to culminate in this great call…. I did not understand it exactly, and I was not sure precisely what was meant by the blessing. Yet the notion of Abraham breaking away from his home to go on a journey from which he could not return, as the chosen instrument of the Lord, inspired me and moved me deeply.

Thus did Setsuzo Kotsuji discover the beginnings of the Jewish people, when Abram is asked in Mesopotamia to journey to a faraway land, to a holy land. While this Bible he had discovered contained both Jewish and Christian scripture, he was drawn particularly to the texts of the Old Testament, because “there was something familiar about it to my young Japanese mind.”

One of the most striking aspects of Kotsuji’s memoir is the fact that he was particularly inspired by the section of the Hebrew book that many modern Jews, let alone non-Jews, find irrelevant. That is Leviticus, which describes the ritual to be performed in the Tabernacle, and ultimately the Temple in Jerusalem. The rituals involve an altar, incense, and the kindling of the oil lamps in the temple candelabra. It is therefore not surprising, given his own past, that the book struck him. “Leviticus,” he writes, “reminded me of Shinto,” adding that in Shinto, “there is a distinction made between holy and unclean, equivalent to the Hebraic kodesh and tame. It is not an exaggeration to say that the religion is a kind of Hebrew Shinto.”

In discovering this Hebrew faith, he knew he wished to embrace it. Weeping, he told his mother that he could not participate in Shinto rituals because he found what he called “the Shinto of Israel.” While his mother had never heard of “Israel,” her response was striking. “Well,” she said, “whatever the name and whatever the religion, I have faith in your good nature. You cannot grow up to be a bad man.” His father responded likewise. His mother told him: “Your father admits that you are doing well these days. He thinks it may be due to the book you are so eagerly reading. He says that if this is so, it must be an excellent book, and the religion in it is good. And if God is only One, he would have it only that way. You may go ahead with your new faith, only remember your ancestors, and be proud of your great heritage.”

This, in turn, had an impact on Setsuzo for the rest of his life: “My parting from the Shinto ritual was a grave loss for both her and my father; yet out of love for me they found the goodness to make it a peaceful one, one which did not rupture our relationship. Their intelligent attitude left me forever with a good feeling about Shinto.”

Kostsuji originally embraced Christianity, the only biblically based faith he found in Japan. In 1916, he went to Kyoto, where he studied in an American Presbyterian college for seven years. There he learned English, Latin, German, and Greek—but not the language of the people with whom he had been for so long fascinated. He then journeyed to Hokkaido, the northernmost of the four islands of Japan, and met and married a woman of the Christian community there, Mineko Iwane.

As a Christian, Kotsuji embraced the role of a minister of the Gospel in Gifu, a town in central Japan, but his ultimate dreams led him to America, where he felt he could find someone qualified to teach him Hebrew. And here another amazing parallel to the original Abraham emerges. The original covenantal Abraham, as we know, had a covenantal partner, Sarah; and Kotsuji’s own wife Mineko sought to support his journey with her one source of wealth: exquisite kimonos that her father had given her through the years. He describes the conversation with his wife:

I will sell my kimonos.

No, I said, I can’t allow you to give up anything  so important to you.

Did Abraham’s wife carry many kimonos with her when she followed her husband from Ur? she demanded.

No, I admitted.

Then I will follow the example of Sarah, she said.

Thus, just as Abram in Genesis went with Sarai his wife far away from his father’s home in Mesopotamia to the other end of the known earth, Setsuzo and Mineko went far away from the land of their forefathers.

In 1927, they sailed for San Francisco, where he first learned of Judaism existing in communal form. “To me, this simple fact was a stirring piece of news,” he writes. “It was confirmation that the religion of the Old Testament was alive, was immediate, and was practiced in some measure at least as it had been thousands of years before.” He then went on to Auburn Theological Seminary in New York. Hebrew was not part of the required curriculum, so he had to take that as an addition, or as he put it, “I resolved to study my Hebrew from eight at night until two in the morning.”

He finished all Auburn had to offer in a year and a half, and then chose to study with a Semitics scholar at the Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley. He learned to drive and bought an old Oldsmobile for forty bucks. It could barely move, and driving with his wife through Gallup, New Mexico—known in American musical lore as one of the places you can stop if you want to “get your kicks on Route 66”—with only 16 cents left to their name, the car died on the main street. And then, as with Abraham, a miracle occurred:

Despair in my heart, I looked around and saw that I had been vouchsafed a miracle. The car had given up the ghost directly in front of a Japanese restaurant. During the several days we spent in Gallup, waiting for money to come from a friend in Berkeley, the townspeople received us cordially and took good care of us. If they still live, my gratitude goes out to Mr. Yoshimi and Mr. Hayashi, of Gallup.

Thus were they saved by two Japanese Americans living in Gallup, and another biblical parallel was made manifest. For if there is any element that appears in the biblical tale of Abraham’s family, it is that angels, literal angels or human messengers of the Divine, present themselves at various moments to help figures on their journey.

In Berkeley, Kotsuji finished his thesis on Semitics. He and his wife returned to Japan in 1931 and taught Old Testament and Semitic languages at Ayoma Gakuin University in Tokyo. Soon, however, he was struck with typhoid, which led him to lose his job. In 1934, he founded his own institute in Tokyo, the Institute of Biblical Research. In 1937, he published what was the first Hebrew grammar in Japanese and set the stage for his becoming the greatest Hebrew authority in Japan—or in a certain sense, the only Hebrew authority in Japan.

Then, at the end of the 1930s, he was offered a job by a man by the name of Yosuke Matsuoka, who was the head of the South Manchuria Railway. Knowing that there was a substantial Jewish presence in Manchuria, Matsuoka felt he needed a guide to Jewish issues. Of course, Kotsuji didn’t know any Jews at the time, but in Manchuria he actually found himself among a vibrant Jewish community. Soon after, however, he lost his job, when Yosuke Matsuoka became the foreign minister of wartime Japan; because Matsuoka had hired him, he writes, he was bound by tradition to depart as well. Again, we might have thought this would have been a professional setback for Kotsuji, but the fact that he had gotten to know the future foreign minister of Japan would prove providential.

Kotsuji moved to Kamakura, a town in Tokyo Bay. It was then that he heard of the arrival of the Jews in Kobe: Jews who, having received the visas from Sugihara in Kovno in the beginning of the 1940s, suddenly found themselves on an Abrahamic journey of their own. They, too, had been called to leave their home and to make their way across the ends of the earth to a place Providence had prepared. Jews who had never been anywhere in their lives boarded the trans-Siberian railway, crossed Europe and Asia to Vladivostok, and then for three days took a ferry across the Sea of Japan.

We have to imagine what it was for these Jewish rabbinical students and rabbis to discover Japan, how different from Poland it was. And perhaps one difference stood out above all: In Japan, trains left and arrived on schedule. The ferry arrived at the coastal city of Tsuruga on Friday afternoon, with the Sabbath only several hours away. As Marvin Tokayer describes in his book The Fugu Plan, the Amshinover Rebbe refused to board. Tokayer tells us of one of the Jews who had come to greet him: “Rebbe,” he said, “you needn’t worry about not being safely in Kobe by 5:23. Japanese trains are extremely punctual. We will arrive at 4:15, in plenty of time.” Tokayer adds, “The old man had no experience with Japanese trains, but he had had a great deal of experience with Polish trains.” They never went anywhere on time.

As the train began pulling out at exactly the time for which departure had been called, the Rebbe changed his mind: 

With more hope in his heart than confidence, he stepped aboard the train as it inched forward. As if suddenly released from an invisible force, the refugees raced for the train, jumping through the doors, scrambling through the windows, clinging to the railings as it slowly gathered momentum. By the time the final car had passed the end of the platform, even the slowest had managed to get aboard. The engineer shook his head in amazement at the customs of these strange foreigners and accelerated to normal departure speed.

Thus did these Jews arrive in Kobe. But they faced a terrible problem. Sugihara’s visas were transit visas, officially given for those traveling to Curaçao (in the Eastern Caribbean, off the coast of Venezuela) as an ultimate destination. But these transit visas would expire after 10 days. Of course, they had nowhere to go. Thus it was that in desperation these Jews, arriving in Japan, turned to a Japanese person who had had experience with Jews.

Kotsuji tells us that “the Kobe Jewish committee had heard of me through my work in Manchuria…was it possible, they asked, for me to intervene.” To represent foreigners in Japan was at this point dangerous. But in perhaps the most important passage in his memoir, one that reveals profoundly who this remarkable man was, Kotsuji tells us his two sources of inspiration in deciding to take action. First, the Bushido, the samurai moral code his parents had taught him; and second, the Hebrew Bible: “There is a Bushido saying which goes ‘it is cowardice not to do, seeing one ought’; running way from the trouble went against the grain of my youthful samurai trained notions of honor. Further supporting me were words of the Old Testament: ‘the grass withereth, but the word of God shall stand forever.’”

We must pause to ponder the passage, to marvel at the merging of two different cultures and traditions in this act of heroism, the small boy merging with the profound moral adult.

Kotsuji went to the foreign ministry and met everyone, but in vain. Then he met his former boss, the foreign minister, Yosuke Matsuoka, and said, “Now I have come to the minister himself, to tell him of my sorrow.” Matsuoka asked to meet for lunch, far away from the foreign ministry. During this meeting, he advised Kotsuji that if he really wanted to extend the Jewish visitors’ visas, he should seek instead the approval of local authorities in Kobe, the police there. Thus, for a period of several months, Kotsuji became the most unusual of commuters, traveling from the Tokyo suburbs every 10 days, wining and dining the local officials. In so doing, he became an intimate of the Eastern European Jews who had arrived there. As he tells us, “I traveled from Kamakura to Kobe—a trip of twelve hours—once or twice a week….The police became most cooperative. They allowed the refugees to open a Talmud Torah [a Jewish school] and were as helpful as they dared to be.”

Thus did Kotsuji help ensure the well-being of my grandparents and so many others, until, later in the year, when they were moved by Japan to occupied Shanghai. Throughout, he tended to their needs, including when the lay leaders of the Jewish community were telephoned in Tokyo and asked to send some of their most prominent figures to meet with the department of military affairs. Incredibly, Kotsuji then chose to publish a book in Japan during the war, a book responding to Nazi calumnies against the Jews. He titled his book The True Character of the Jewish People—which led to much hardship and great risk to his life during the war.

At the end of the 1950s, he chose to convert to Judaism, journeying to Jerusalem to do so:

Some of my Jewish friends questioned my decision. Why adopt a religion which is so likely to bring troubles and sorrow? My response was that I would come to Judaism with joy and pride. From my suffering for the Jewish cause, my attachment to Judaism had grown and grown, and with it had grown my affection for the Jewish people. My unshaken belief in One God lived together in my heart with the love of his people. It seemed only natural for me to become one of them.

Kotsuji was circumcised when he was almost 60, taking the Jewish name of Abraham. As documented by David Mandelbaum in his book From Lublin to Shanghai, after his conversion, Kotsuji was welcomed as a Jew by one of the most famous rabbis in Israel, whom he had first met in Kobe, Chaim Shmuelevitz. Then Kotsuji delivered a speech in Hebrew, the Hebrew he loved, citing Ruth: “My people shall be your people, and your God my God.”

When he passed away 50 years ago, Kotsuji was buried on a mountain in Jerusalem, known as Har HaMenuchot. On another mountain in Jerusalem lies the grave of my grandfather, who after the war went from Shanghai to America and then Israel. Both of them—Kotsuji and my grandfather—had made journeys of faith around the world, journeys from their original home, just like the original Abraham. And just like the original Abraham, both their journeys ended in the Holy Land. And the intersection of these Abrahamic journeys had a direct effect on my own life.

Here we have a man raised to honor his ancestral heritage but who cherished the scripture of Israel; a man who knew Japanese and Hebrew; a man who loved Abraham’s journey and suddenly found Jews on a miraculous journey of their own; a man inspired to act by the combination of samurai sayings and Semitic scripture; a man who paved his own unique path and suddenly was providentially positioned to help thousands of others in one precise moment.

Do I not owe Kotsuji the gratitude, as a descendant of those Jews, to include him in the picture that is my own life, my own sense of self? If Kotsuji is cut out of the picture of Cialdini’s book, if he is largely unknown, does that not make me all the more obligated to include him in the picture that is my own family history?

The story of Kotsuji, interestingly, has been recently more publicized in Japan than in America, thanks to the gifted Japanese actor Jundai Yamada, who recently wrote a book about him. And in 2022, a member of the Israeli Knesset traveled to Japan to bestow a letter of recognition upon Kotsuji’s then 91-year-old daughter.

But we in America need to remember Kotsuji again, especially in the difficult time facing the Jewish people, when the anti-Semitism that Kotsuji stood against is rearing its ugly head around the world. We also know that Kotsuji would have seen, in the J resiliency and unity now reflected in the Holy Land, in Israel, and around the world, what he called in his book the “true character of the Jewish people.” Thanks to his book, I will remember Abraham Kotsuji, a beacon of moral clarity in a dark time, illustrating how, then as now, we Jews remember who stood against anti-Semitism, who stood with us at difficult moments.

It is reported that when Setsuzo Kotsuji passed away he recognized the complexity of his story by leaving this final statement to his family: “Perhaps in a hundred years, someone will understand me.” It is now 50 years since his death. Let us seek to understand, and commemorate Kotsuji’s life with gratitude and reverence.

This essay was originally published in Commentary.

Reb Moshe Shatzkes:

In his September 15, 2025 Shiur, Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet, in which he started talking about Rabbi Israel Salanter and the Mussar movement, he mentioned Rabbi Moshe Shatzkes. Rabbi Israel Salanter had three main students. 1 –  Rabbi Yitzchak Blazer, who became the chief rabbi of St. Petersburg and published Salanter’s writings; and 2 – Rabbi Naftali Amsterdam, who served as the chief rabbi of Helsinki. 3 – Rabbi Simcha Zissel Ziv (Broide), who led yeshivas in Kelm and Grobin and promoted the study of Musar.

Reb Yitzchok – known as Reb Itzile Blazer was married and had no children. He was 50. His wife advised him to give her a divorce, referred to with the Rabbinic aphorism as a “divorce of love” and marry a younger person and have children. He gave her a divorce, after which she moved to Israel and lived in Tel Aviv until she was almost 100 years old. They used to ask her, how did you merit a long life. She answered because my husband blessed me with a long life when he gave me the divorce. Reb Itzelie Bazer went on to marry a widow with four small children. They had four children together. Within a few years, the man who initially had no children became the father of eight children. The one of the eight children who was the most famous was Reb Moshe Shatzkes. Known as the Lomza Tov. Rabbi Rakeffet knew him and said he was the great one among great ones. He made it to America in 1941 and was appointed Rosh Yeshiva at Yeshiva University. When Reb Aaron Lictenstein came from Chaim Berlin to YU, his first Rebbe was Reb Moshe Shatzkes. The Rov used to say about Reb Moshe Shatzkes that he knew every Shach and Taz in Yoreh Deah. He died in 1958. His son, Avrohom Aaron Shatzkes was also a Rosh Yeshiva at YU and died in 1983.

From YU’s website:

Rabbi Shatkes was born in Vilna. His father, Rabbi Avrohom Aharon Shatzkes zt”l, was known as the Illui from Mizetal. The younger Rabbi Shatkes studied under the guidance of his stepfather, Rabbi Yitzchok Blazer zt”l (known as Rav Itzele Peterburger). He studied at the yeshivotin Slobodka and Telshe and went on to receive semikhah from Rabbi Raphael Shapira zt”l of Volozhin, Rabbi Eliezer Gordon zt”l of Telshe, and Rabbi Elazar Rabinowitz zt”l of Minsk.

He served as rabbi of Lipnashek and Ivia, both in the Vilna district. In 1931, Rabbi Shatzkes was chosen to become rav and Av Beit Din of Lomza. Forced to flee when the Russians captured Lomza in 1940, he came to Vilna where he was appointed rosh yeshiva of the yeshiva in Grodna, succeeding Rabbi Shimon Shkop zt”l.

In 1941, he reached America by way of Japan and was appointed a rosh yeshiva at Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, where he taught hundreds of students until his death. In 1910, he published a pamphlet entitled Anaf Pri, containing his chiddushim on the Pri Yitzchok of Rabbi Yitzchok Blazer.

HaRav Hagaon R. Avraham Aharon Shatzkes zt”l 1915-1983

Rabbi Shatzkes

Rabbi Shatzkes was born in Evia, Vilna. His father was Rabbi Moshe Shatzkes zt”l. The younger Rabbi Shatkes studied at the yeshiva in Grodna with Rabbi Shimon Shkop zt”l, and then at the yeshiva in Mir. He received semikhah from Rabbi Tavil Meltzer zt”l, Rabbi Chanoch Henoch Agus zt”l of Vilna, author of the Marcheshet, and Rabbi Eliezer Yehuda Finkel zt”l, rosh yeshiva of Mir. In 1941, he came to America and was accepted as rabbi of Kehillat Chochmat Adam-Anshei Lomza in New York. In 1944, Rabbi Shatzkes was appointed a rosh yeshiva at Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, where he taught for 40 years. His writings were published in various Torah journals. He left a sefer entitled Tifferet Aharon, which is still in manuscript form.

Shabbos Parshas Chukas – Balak

July 1, 2023

Kiddush for my Father’s 21st Yahrzeit

Torah on Parshas Balak

Walked to Chabad of East Lakeview.  It was over 70 degrees when I left the house at 8:30 AM.   I made it to Shul at 10:30 AM before Shemona Esra.  I leined the Haftarah.  Eli, Sholem, and Tzvi came for the Kiddush.  It was a pleasure to see them.   The Rabbi asked that I say a few words about my father and boy did I say a few words.  I spoke about my father, his life before the war, the war years, the Chicago years and the LA years.  I also mentioned that he married my mother, a marriage that should never have happened.  I said that my family says it is always about me and I will talk about me.  I disrespected my father.  When I got to yeshiva at age 14, I was embarrassed to tell people that my father had a feather business and that he drove a cab.  I barely understood it.  I remember the big bales of feather that had large vacuums, vacuuming up the feather.  My father went to farms and also purchased old pillows and comforters for the feathers. My first mistake was that any job performed with honesty, where someone went to work to provide for his family is one to be proud of.  I also did not realize that in Europe, in the city of Kielce, my father’s wife’s parents had a feather company from which they exported throughout the world and were very wealthy. My father saw the potential of turning his company into what he saw in Europe. This was my immaturity and took me many years to understand my father in this aspect of his life.

At 2:00 PM I gave the class at our Dr. Leonard Kranzler Memorial Class and spoke over Rabbi Meir Yakov Soloveichik’s lecture on “The rabbinic Roots of the Gettysburg Address.”

At 3:40 PM I walked home and got home at 5:40 PM.  It was over 80 degrees and very humid.  It drizzled lightly most of the way and I came home soaked.

At 7:15 PM I learned the first Medresh in Balak.  I thought about it and tied it into President Abraham Lincoln and Rabbi Soloveichik’s lecture.

First Midrash on Parshas Balak:

וַיַּרְא בָּלָק בֶּן צִפּוֹר (במדבר כב, ב), זֶה שֶׁאָמַר הַכָּתוּב (דברים לב, ד): הַצּוּר תָּמִים פָּעֳלוֹ כִּי כָל דְּרָכָיו מִשְׁפָּט, 

“And Balak son of Zippor saw”: The Torah says (Deuteronomy 32) “The Rock–perfect is His work for all of His ways are justice.”

לֹא הִנִּיחַ הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא לְעוֹבְדֵי כּוֹכָבִים פִּתְחוֹן פֶּה לֶעָתִיד לָבוֹא לוֹמַר שֶׁאַתָּה רִחַקְתָּנוּ, מֶה עָשָׂה הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא, כְּשֵׁם שֶׁהֶעֱמִיד מְלָכִים וַחֲכָמִים וּנְבִיאִים לְיִשְׂרָאֵל, כָּךְ הֶעֱמִיד לְעוֹבְדֵי כּוֹכָבִים. הֶעֱמִיד שְׁלֹמֹה מֶלֶךְ עַל יִשְׂרָאֵל וְעַל כָּל הָאָרֶץ, וְכֵן עָשָׂה לִנְבוּכַדְנֶצַּר, זֶה בָּנָה בֵּית הַמִּקְדָּשׁ וְאָמַר כַּמָּה רְנָנוֹת וְתַחֲנוּנִים, וְזֶה הֶחֱרִיבוֹ וְחֵרֵף וְגִדֵּף, וְאָמַר (ישעיה יד, יד): אֶעֱלֶה עַל בָּמֳתֵי עָב.

 Hashem did not give the non-Jews an opening to say in the future “You have distanced us.” What did Hashem do? Just like He set up kings and sages and prophets for the Jews, He set these up for the non-Jews. He set up Shlomo as a king over the Jews and the entire earth, and He did the same for Nebuchadnezzar. This one built the Beit Hamikdash and said “How many praises and supplications there are!” and this one destroyed it and scoffed and said (Isaiah 14): “I will ascend to the heights of the clouds.”

 נָתַן לְדָוִד עשֶׁר וְלָקַח הַבַּיִת לִשְׁמוֹ, וְנָתַן לְהָמָן עשֶׁר וְלָקַח אֻמָּה שְׁלֵמָה לְטָבְחָהּ. 

 He gave David riches, and he took his house for His Name. And he gave Haman riches, and he took an entire nation to be slaughtered.

כָּל גְּדֻלָּה שֶׁנָּטְלוּ יִשְׂרָאֵל אַתְּ מוֹצֵא שֶׁנָּטְלוּ הָאֻמּוֹת כַּיּוֹצֵא בָּהּ, הֶעֱמִיד משֶׁה לְיִשְׂרָאֵל, וּבִלְעָם לְעוֹבְדֵי כּוֹכָבִים. רְאֵה מַה בֵּין נְבִיאֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל לִנְבִיאֵי עוֹבְדֵי כּוֹכָבִים, נְבִיאֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל מַזְהִירִין אֶת יִשְׂרָאֵל מִן הָעֲבֵרוֹת, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (יחזקאל לג, ז): וְאַתָּה בֶן אָדָם צֹפֶה נְתַתִּיךָ וגו’, וְנָבִיא שֶׁעָמַד מִן הַגּוֹיִם הֶעֱמִיד פִּרְצָה לְאַבֵּד אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת מִן הָעוֹלָם, וְלֹא עוֹד אֶלָּא שֶׁכָּל הַנְּבִיאִים הָיוּ בְּמִדַּת רַחֲמִים עַל יִשְׂרָאֵל וְעַל עוֹבְדֵי כּוֹכָבִים, שֶׁכֵּן יִרְמְיָה אוֹמֵר (ירמיה מח, לו): לִבִּי לְמוֹאָב כַּחֲלִלִים יֶהֱמֶה, וְכֵן יְחֶזְקֵאל (יחזקאל כז, ב): בֶן אָדָם שָׂא עַל צֹר קִינָה, וְזֶה אַכְזָרִי עָמַד לַעֲקֹר אֻמָּה שְׁלֵמָה חִנָּם עַל לֹא דָּבָר. לְכָךְ נִכְתְּבָה פָּרָשַׁת בִּלְעָם לְהוֹדִיעַ לָמָּה סִלֵּק הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא רוּחַ הַקֹּדֶשׁ מֵעוֹבְדֵי כּוֹכָבִים, שֶׁזֶּה עָמַד מֵהֶם וּרְאֵה מֶה עָשָׂה.

 All the greatness that the Jews took, you find that the nations took. Another example: He set up Moshe for the Jews and Bilaam for the nations. Understand what the difference is between Jewish prophets and non-Jewish prophets? Jewish prophets exhort the people about their sins, as it says (Ezekiel 3): “And you, son of man, I have appointed you as a watchman etc.” And the prophet from among the nations caused a breach to drive the creations from the world. Not only this, but all the prophets were [given prophecy] from the attribute of mercy on the Jews and the non-Jews, as Yirmiyah said (Jeremiah 48): “My heart to Moav is as pipes moan.” And as Yechezkel said (Ezekiel 27): “Son of man, lament for Tyre.” And this cruel one stood to uproot an entire nation for no reason. Therefore the passage of Bilaam was written, to make it known why Hashem took away the holy spirit from non-Jews, for this one was from them and see what he did.

Analysis:

The below Medresh tells us that God gave kings, prophecy and riches to both the Jewish people and the non-Jewish people.  Shlomo Hamelech built a place to worship God, to bring blessing to the world.  The non-Jewish king, Nebuchadnezzar, destroyed the temple.  Jews built, non-Jews destroyed.  Understand what the difference is between Jewish prophets and non-Jewish prophets? Jewish prophets exhort the people about their sins, as it says (Ezekiel 3): “And you, son of man, I have appointed you as a watchman etc.” And the prophet from among the nations caused a breach to drive the creations from the world. Not only this, but all the prophets were [given prophecy] from the attribute of mercy on the Jews and the non-Jews, 

It is true that there were bad kings and false prophets in Israel. In fact when corruption became rampanet and the people did not live up to Jewish ideals as espoused by the Torah and its righteous men, God destroyed both temples and exiled its people.  The DNA of Jews and the Jewish leadership is rooted in faith in God and to do righteousness.  The Jewish people’s DNA starts with King David  and Shlomo.  Both were rooted in justice.  As it says about King David that he ruled with justice for forty years.    The Israeli government and its people’s DNA goes back to Dovid Hamelech and all of its great leaders who promote justice and fairness.  Israel just wants to do good.   In 1948 Israel was willing and able to export its know-how in agriculture and other industries to third world countries.   Israel does have to protect itself in a world where being nice and conciliatory is viewed as a weakness, so it has to be harsh.  However, Israel is a leading country in improving the world with its cutting edge technology, research, and an open society.

The DNA of the non Jewish world are kings who were dictators, evil people.  Look at the kings and queens of the dark ages. 

 Today we have three basic forms of government in the world; democracy, Communism, and dictatorships.   Democracy in America is rooted in our founding fathers and Abraham Lincoln.  They were religious men who believed in following the goodness of God and the creed that all men are created equal.  They were wrong about slavery and it took a courageous President in Abraham Linoch and a civil war with over 550,000 dead Americans to get it right and we still have work to do. Despite everything, America is a great country.  

The next system of government is communism rooted in the evil Stalin. Their DNA is death and destruction.   There is nothing redeeming and there will be nothing redeeming about communism.   

The third is dictatorships, military control, and despots.   Their DNA is the worst in human nature.  Their willingness to exercise raw naked power, kill or torture anyon who gets in your way.  

Look at the Arab world.  The Arab world which wants to destroy the world and uses their billions not to improve their own people’s lives, but in attaining weapons to control their own people and to destroy others.  Be a woman or a gay person in the Arab world.  Be a regular person in the Arab world. 

This is the lesson of the medresh.  We have to tap into our righteous DNA, the DNA of justice, freedom.  This Is the DNA of America brought to its ultimate by President Abrahm Lincoln.