EVERY WORD COUNTS

To commemorate twenty years since the founding of the Beis Moshiach Magazine, editorial board member R’ Menachem Ziegelboim sat down with R’ Elchanan Nir, editor of the Makor Rishon Shabbos supplement, and discussed their work in writing and editing, revealing a few secrets of the trade. They deliberated over a variety of journalistic possibilities, and they agreed on the tremendous responsibility attached to every written and printed word.

Translated by Michoel Leib Dobry

During the recent High Holiday season, in commemoration of twenty years since the founding of the Beis Moshiach Magazine, I conducted an interview in the home of Rabbi Elchanan Nir, editor of the Makor Rishon Shabbos supplement, a forum for discussions on Torah, Jewish thought, literature, and art.

First of all, I would like to present him to our readers:

Rabbi Elchanan Nir (34), a pleasant and warmhearted Jew and an exciting conversationalist, is a rosh mesivta with the hesder yeshiva “Siach Yitzchak” in Efrat, a highly regarded writer, and as mentioned, the editor of the Makor Rishon Shabbos supplement. He has won numerous literary prizes, among them the 2010 Ramat Gan Prize for Literature and the 2011 Prime Minister’s Art Award.

Rabbi Nir is a descendant of national Torah nobility. He is the son of Rabbi Chagai Nir, who served for two decades as the rav of the Binyamin settlement of Maale Michmas, and he is the son-in-law of Rabbi Binyamin Elon, the former head of Yeshivas “Beit Orot” on Har HaTzofim, who also served three terms as a Knesset Member, including a stint as minister of tourism.

Rabbi Elchanan Nir has written a seifer on Chassidic philosophy, Im Ratz Libcha, dealing with the Chassidic concept of “ratzo v’shuv” in a manner that crosses all sectorial boundaries. He even produced three successful and well-received songbooks, and the Yediot Acharanot literary critic dubbed him “one of the most prominent and boldest writers of our generation.” In his insightful Torah classes, he integrates Chassidus, Kabbalah, art, literature, and psychology.

About ten years ago, he founded the book section in the Makor Rishon Shabbos supplement, where he also publicizes literary and Torah articles. Nearly three years ago, he was appointed the supplement’s editor, a role he fills to this day. It is in connection with this role (among other things…) that I chose to meet with him for a discussion, to get acquainted and exchange different views and approaches, not to mention a few points of agreement.

Rabbi Z.: I want to thank you for agreeing to have a discussion on the subjects of writing and editing, which we each deal with in our daily lives.

I would like to open our discussion with the thoughts that accompany me as I sit in front of the computer screen and edit weekly articles and columns for the Beis Moshiach Magazine. I am aware that you regularly read our publication and critique my work.

Sometimes, I sit alone and write in a quiet atmosphere in the front of the computer, with no one else around. Suddenly, I get a hold of myself and think: At this very moment, I am essentially speaking to a crowd of thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of people who turn from their daily affairs and listen to the messages I try to convey. This is done through Chassidic stories and a variety of interesting articles that appear in the magazine. When a Chassid reads, he doesn’t do so merely to pass the time ch”v, rather in order to receive greater vigor, power, and intensity – to find something that will strengthen him. We’re not talking about just one or two people, but many thousands. We hold influence over whole worlds, and therefore, the weight of responsibility falling upon me is great indeed.

Let’s consider when someone goes to the doctor. The doctor examines him, makes a diagnosis, and prescribes the necessary medications for his ailment. The person goes home, takes his medicine, and recovers. To a certain degree, we find that writing is a much loftier form of cure, as there is a very large cross-section of people for whom the same text relates to their inner soul.

From the feedback and responses I receive, I often learn about the sheer revolutions that writing creates in people’s lives. Not long ago, I heard about two Jews who called their sons “Menachem Mendel” after reading my seifer Stories From The Rebbe’s Room, a collection of thrilling stories about the Rebbe from inside his holy chamber. These Jews were not Chabad Chassidim; nevertheless the seifer led them to make this important decision. And this is just one example among many.

 STANDING IN THE MIDDLE

Rabbi Nir, I would like to know a little more about you, if I may.

You wear a large knitted yarmulke on your head and serve as editor of a vitally important newspaper supplement that is considered “religious Zionist” in nature. However, as I look at your library shelves, I see numerous Chabad s’farim, all of which are on our Rebbeim. I also know that you teach Chassidus in your yeshiva, and even as editor of the Makor Rishon Shabbos supplement, you write with a spirit of Chassidus.

Rabbi Nir: In fact, I was raised in a home steeped in the teachings of Merkaz HaRav. However, a little in-depth information on the essence of Merkaz HaRav is first necessary. I will give a brief introduction. In practical terms, the national religious community consists of two sectors: a) Mizrachi, and b) Merkaz HaRav, founded by Rabbi Kook. While the Mizrachi faction came into existence first, it was the latter group that provided its ideological voice. The religious Zionists’ work created the link between religious Jews and Zionism, the army, and a secular state headed by non-religious Jews. It received a far more inner meaning in the merit of the teachings of Rabbi Kook, reverberating with even greater potency since the Six Day War, when they moved from the beis midrash into practical application.

Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda emphasized the general national outlook, and this was transmitted to his students, who were my teachers at Yeshivas Merkaz HaRav. However, in recent years, a more personal and individual question has been raised within religious Zionist circles: Where am I in this whole story? Where is my Avodas Hashem, my holiness? What is the answer for my distress, my solitude, and my downfalls? Within the realm of ideology, Jewish souls today are looking for what I would call “dialogue.” They want intimacy, mysticism, substance, creativity, and freedom. Yes, a lot of freedom – to reveal the holiness of freedom and independence.

I first became exposed to Chassidus when I was sixteen years old. This treasure of knowledge had not been in my parents’ and grandparents’ homes, although they all had prominent Chassidic backgrounds – my father’s family was from Bobov, and my mother’s was from Belz. Chassidic teachings there endured their own form of exile, and this is the worst possible thing from the outlook of Merkaz HaRav. My discovery of Chassidus didn’t just come out of nowhere. There were numerous figures working then to formulate this bond. Among them I recall Rabbi Adin Even-Yisroel (Steinsaltz). I heard him in my youth on many occasions, and afterward I was even privileged to teach for about ten years in his spiritual center with Rabbi Menachem Froman and my teacher, Rabbi Shimon Gershon Rosenberg-Shagar, the rosh yeshiva who essentially created the spiritual theology I live by and teach to others.

In many ways, what we have here is a new sub-movement that we can call neo-Chassidic or ChaBaKook – an acronym for Chabad, Breslov, and Kook. This sector wants to restore vitality to religious observance, to the claim for inner authenticity and the holy intensity within Torah, as revealed mainly in Chassidic teachings. It has no single widely accepted spiritual leader or official institutions, although it does have its own style of avoda and intellectual approach. In fact, there are already a number of yeshivos identified with this branch and its methodology toward life, prayer, and Avodas Hashem. They have their own brand of Chassidic humor and mischief, combined with seriousness and depth, and as the Alter Rebbe brings in Tanya (Igeres HaT’shuva, Chapter 11): “Weeping is lodged in one side of my heart and joy is lodged in the other.”

Since discovering Chassidus, I’m practically standing in the middle. My father’s house is based on the traditions of Rabbi Kook, while I live and breathe the profound teachings of Chassidus. I even feel that the air and the teachings of Eretz Yisroel enhance and enrich Chassidic philosophy, giving it a new and influential platform. It requires that I also express this through the Shabbos supplement I edit and the Torah classes I give over.

EDITORS AND THEIR SECRETS

Rabbi Z.: I don’t have to tell you my secret (Nu, one of my secrets…), one that you certainly know yourself. We often get material sent to our offices or receive suggestions on possible articles. First, we give them consideration according to our personal standards, and we either approve them or reject them.

Sometimes I make a special effort and manage to put my own opinions on the side in order to look at things objectively. But what can we do? We are absolutely in a position to judge and critique. This apparently is another reason why we earn our salary…

The idea that someone suggests a certain article or interview and I don’t find it appropriate is a distinct possibility which will have an effect upon many others – and this sometimes troubles me. Suddenly, I say to myself: Just a minute, this magazine isn’t just you…

Rabbi Nir: It’s quite true. Each week, we receive dozens of articles written by our readers to share with the general public. We’re talking about a wide range of subjects, angles, approaches on life, Torah, and troubling questions on the connection between them.

Rabbi Z.: As an editor, are there things that you wouldn’t put in your paper? I don’t mean things that are clearly improper, rather things that are fitting and kosher, yet you decide that they have no place in the newspaper you edit…

Rabbi Nir: Yes. If I read an article, and I feel that the writer wrote it as someone on the outside, speaking about the matter albeit not from within, I won’t be in such a rush to publicize it. I want the “inside stuff,” the cry rising from the heart, the plea of deep personal feeling. In short, the thing itself.

Rabbi Z.: How do you identify this in the writer’s work?

Rabbi Nir: That’s an excellent question. I try to pay attention and I often seek advice. I have a marvelous staff and organization. Writing must be in a manner of “Anochi” – as is explained in Gemara in the acronym “I Myself wrote [these words and] gave [them to you].” The person has to put himself and his soul into what he writes.

Look, once a week a person sits and reads the Shabbos supplement. The week has been very intense – work, family, personal troubles, daily runaround – and then he has a moment to relax. Perhaps he even looks to Heaven, asking himself what he really wants to do here in this world. However, in most cases, it happens when he reads the paper. He wants something that will move him, uplift him, and give him that extra neshama – a little Atzilus in the whole world of Asiya, the lowest level of Asiya for all the days of the week. I want that when he reads the Shabbos supplement; I want him to find something in it that will challenge him and shake him up a bit.

Rabbi Z.: To tell you the truth, R’ Elchanan, I also sit the whole week behind my editor’s desk. The only difference is that you can write about a long list of people and subjects, develop public debates, open discussions on rather sensitive matters, and bring positions from numerous schools of thought. I edit for a weekly magazine that by its very nature is quite restricted in scope. Our publication has a very clear agenda: strengthening the reader’s overall Chassidic experience, connecting him more to the Rebbe, and arousing constant interest in the magazine’s ever-present headline: Moshiach and the Redemption.

As a Chabad editor, I pass up straightaway on the chance to interview exciting world figures, unless they are affiliated in some way with a “Chabad” program. This essentially is the declared purpose of Chabad media: bringing out the “inner” content. As a result, the work of the editor of a Chabad magazine is far more difficult and complex than for any other publication due to its limited mandate.

Yet, I must say here openly and enthusiastically that despite all the limitations and although there’s no “news from 770,” we manage to put out new, absorbing, varied, and enriching articles each week, together with traditional and historical material from generations past. The wealth of information is incredible and astounding.

With your permission, I’d like to tell our readers a secret: You are a subscriber to the Beis Moshiach Magazine. What exactly do you find in it?

Rabbi Nir: It’s the Rebbe’s shofar, a platform for Chassidic thought and connecting with the great Chabad personalities throughout the generations. It arrives in my mailbox each Thursday morning, and there’s nothing like that moment when I take it out of its wrapper, eager to start examining its valued content.

SPREADING THE WELLSPRINGS IN THE LAND OF THE RISING SUN

Rabbi Nir: Menachem, Chabad Chassidim often quote the saying “Spread your wellsprings outward.” What does this mean to you in connection with the level of your commitment in editing and writing in Beis Moshiach and your s’farim?

Rabbi Z.: Look, writing down words is quite easy. In these times, anyone can sit in front of a computer and put in writing whatever enters his mind and his heart; that’s easy enough. From my vantage point, writing must be used to positively influence others, and as you said previously, to uplift and strengthen them – even if it’s just an inch, it’s something. A good and qualified writer is someone who can influence through his writing, capable of reaching people’s hearts and minds, striking an emotional nerve.

There’s a story that the Rebbe Rayatz used to tell: Once he brought a book of stories to his father, the Rebbe Rashab, on the Chabad dynasty, “Beis Rebbe.” His father was very pleased and he told his son: “I appreciate this more than if you would have brought me the Rebbe’s own handwriting.” Now, just imagine to yourself how precious such handwriting was to the Rebbe Rashab, who worked with great self-sacrifice to obtain it. Nevertheless, a book of stories on “Beis Rebbe” was even more precious to him.

There are many Chassidic suspense stories (naturally, their heroes have beards), and there are many stories on thought and meditation. However, Chassidic writing for a targeted Chassidic audience is in another league entirely. When a person reads a book, he turns away from his other pursuits and directs his attention to the book’s content and the messages it conveys. It’s no wonder that they say how Chassidic stories illuminate and bring warmth to the Chassidic household, and its influence is considerable. The Rebbe Rashab even says that “Chassidic stories are for the benefit of all, giving a person good middos and making him into a servant of G-d.” If that’s the way it is with adults, then it surely applies to children, who receive and internalize all reading material with great gusto. The influence goes very far, right to the heart and soul.

I’d like to ask you the very same question that you asked me: What does “Spread your wellsprings outward” say to you?

Rabbi Nir: It means getting a real good look at the operating system of Torah, life, holiness, and physical existence. It creates a working Torah platform on what it means to be a Jew today within all sectors of modern-day culture: What is Jewish culture, or to put it simply, how can we truly reveal in everything so that there is nothing else besides Him and there is no place void of Him?

Rabbi Z.: I heard a rumor that you are also involved with the Noachide community, which is naturally connected with the Rebbe’s universal vision for all humanity. Can you tell us something about these activities in your life?

Rabbi Nir: You heard correctly. For more than seven years, I have been in touch with the members of the Japanese Makoya Movement. This is a spiritual pro-Jewish association founded after the Second World War, identified with the causes of postwar Japanese renewal, belief in the Tanach, and the Land of Israel for the People of Israel. They assist us as much as they can, and their help has included supporting us during the Yom Kippur War, donating thousands of trees after the giant Carmel forest fire, and a solidarity march in the streets of Tokyo during Operation “Protective Edge.” My wife and I also stay in close touch with them through my wife’s wonderful parents and grandparents, including through classes, lectures, and joint holiday celebrations in our home.

We traveled to Japan following the recent tsunami disaster, and we conducted three seminars there. Each one was attended by about two thousand Japanese Gentiles, seeking to learn how to rehabilitate themselves and achieve spiritual growth after such a crisis.

Once when we were on our way to one of the seminars, they suddenly made a most unusual request. They asked me not to speak about post-crisis growth in the spirit of the Tanach, as I had planned. Instead, they wanted me to bring them the message of Chassidus… It was simply marvelous. Thousands of Japanese whose homes had been destroyed and whose lives had been washed away, literally and figuratively, sat glued to their seats as they thirstily listened to the holy teachings that the Baal Shem Tov had introduced to the world. At the conclusion of my talk, they began to dance with great joy. This was an actual demonstration of “Recount in the nations His glory.”

Rabbi Z.: A few words in conclusion, R’ Elchanan, if you please.

Rabbi Nir: I bless the readers of the Beis Moshiach Magazine that we should all merit the ultimate holiness of the Beis HaMikdash in our own daily lives, filled only with goodness, peace, and tranquility.