Rabbi Yehuda Meir Shapiro was born in Shatz, Poland, on March 3, 1887. He was a descendant of renowned Chassidic Rebbes on both sides of his family. Although he initially had difficulty learning to read, he began to excel once he was taught to read words rather than letters. With his incredible memory and depth of understanding, he was soon renowned for his genius.

His mother, Rebbetzin Margulya, devoted herself to helping her son become a Torah scholar. Every single day, she would remind him that a day without learning Torah is a day that is lacking. Rabbi Shapiro described that shortly before they moved to a new city, his mother was concerned that her son would be unable to learn Torah on the day of the move.

Despite the natural stresses involved in moving, his Torah learning remained a priority. She decided to contact the teacher in the new city to ask him to meet them at the city entrance and learn Torah with her son as soon as they arrived. However, upon their arrival, he was nowhere to be found. Rebbetzin Margulya sat down near their wagon and cried. Her son tried to calm her down and said, “Mommy, don’t cry – I’ll learn tomorrow!” His mother responded, “Meir’el, you don’t yet realize what it means to miss a day of studying Torah!”

Those words, coming from the depths of his mother’s heart, would resonate for Rabbi Shapiro throughout his life and may have inspired the Daf Yomi movement he created.

Recognizing His Role

In 1906, when he was 19, Rabbi Shapiro married the daughter of Yaakov Dovid Brightman, a wealthy Jew from Tarnopol, which was a center of Torah learning in Galicia. Upon his arrival in Tarnopol, Rabbi Shapiro became a close follower of Rav Yisroel of Chortkov and remained a Chortkover Chassid all his life.

In fact, the Chortkover Rebbe helped create the mechanech and gadol Rabbi Shapiro would eventually become. Rabbi Shapiro once asked his teacher if he should become a chazzan since he had a beautiful voice. Recognizing Rabbi Shapiro’s greatness, the Chorkover Rebbe told Rabbi Shapiro that his mission was to teach and spread Torah by educating the next generation of the Jewish people.

Rabbi Shapiro’s father-in-law had committed to providing financial support so his son-in-law could study Torah for his entire life. Yet, Rabbi Shapiro decided to study full-time only until he felt ready to become a community rabbi.

At the age of 23, Rabbi Shapiro became the rabbi of a city called Galina. His mother-in-law was devastated and felt his greatness would now be compromised. She brought 20,000 gold coins to him and placed them before him, saying, “This is yours. You don’t need to go.” He responded gently, “If 20,000 gold coins would change my mind, then you are right. I should not go into the Rabbinate.” But it didn’t change his mind, and he would soon make his mark in Poland’s Jewish community, and eventually on the entire world.

A Member of the Polish Parliament

In 1922, elections were held for the Polish Parliament, the Sejm — and 35 Jews were elected, making them over 10% of the Polish Parliament. Out of the 35 elected, six were members of Agudas Yisroel, including Rabbi Meir Shapiro.

He was one of the youngest members of Parliament, yet he took on the role of defender of the Jewish people in the face of open antisemitism.

Rabbi Shapiro was renowned as a gifted speaker, although he was initially limited by his lack of fluency in Polish. Within a short time, he mastered that and was so eloquent that even his enemies would come to listen to him speak.

A member of the Sejm, intending to insult the Jews, commented that a sign in a park in Silesia prohibited Jews and dogs from entering it. Rabbi Shapiro responded with his sharp wit, “Then neither one of us can enter that park.” Rabbi Shapiro’s political career continued until 1928, when he left politics to have more time to focus on the Jewish community.

Daf Yomi

At the age of 36, Rabbi Shapiro introduced his idea for Daf Yomi at the First Knessiah Gedolah of Agudas Yisroel in Vienna on August 16, 1923. There was overwhelming approval for this idea, and the first cycle of Daf Yomi commenced on the first day of Rosh Hashanah in 1923.

The Gerrer Rebbe, who had the largest Chassidus in Poland at that time, helped give Daf Yomi a strong start by publicly studying the first page of Daf Yomi with his Chassidim following the Rosh Hashana davening.

The first Siyum Hashas was celebrated in 1931 in Lublin, with Rabbi Shapiro in attendance.

Poland’s Yeshiva: Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin

A second significant accomplishment of Rabbi Shapiro was the creation of a new model for yeshivas with the founding of Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin in 1930.

He felt that it was crucial to emphasize the importance of Torah study by establishing an institution with a respectable building, regular meals, a dorm, and a high level of study.

Until this point, yeshiva bachurim would often sleep in shuls and receive meals by eating in community members’ houses on a rotation basis. Rabbi Shapiro had shared the idea for this yeshiva at the same Knessiah Gedolah at which he had initiated Daf Yomi. He suggested that Jews set aside a small coin every time they studied the Daf, and in this way, every Jew could have a portion in “their Yeshiva.”

He named the yeshiva “Chachmei Lublin” after the “wise men of Lublin” who had lived in generations past, including Rabbi Shlomo Shachna, the Maharam of Lublin, the Rema, the Maharshal, and the Chozeh of Lublin.

Rabbi Shapiro built a magnificent building on a piece of land generously donated by a wealthy Jew in Lublin, Rabbi Shmuel Eichenbaum. The impressive structure was built with funds raised worldwide and still stands today. It was taken over during the Nazi occupation and then was used by the Medical University of Lublin for many years after the Holocaust. In 2003, it was finally returned to the Jewish community of Lublin.

The opening of the yeshiva in June of 1930 was celebrated with nearly 100,000 Jews arriving from all over to participate. In addition to a dining room and dormitory, the building housed a magnificent library with over 30,000 volumes

Rabbi Shapiro also commissioned Rabbi Chanoch Weintraub to create a breathtaking and detailed replica model of the Bais Hamikdash (Temple in Jerusalem) housed in a special room in the yeshiva.

Applying to the yeshiva was challenging, to say the least. To even be considered for acceptance, one had to know at least 200 pages of Gemara by heart. The yeshiva’s learning was on a very high level, and the students it produced were tremendous talmidei chachamim.

“Never Laugh at a Child’s Dream”

Rabbi Shapiro once was traveling and met a man who introduced himself as Rabbi Yaakov Halberstam. He explained that he was a son-in-law of the Shatzer Rebbe, a rabbi in Rabbi Shapiro’s hometown of Shatz. After greeting him, Rabbi Shapiro asked Rabbi Halberstam if his wife had accompanied him on the trip. Surprised, Rabbi Halberstam answered in the affirmative. Rabbi Shapiro asked to speak to her.

When the rebbetzin came over, Rabbi Shapiro asked if she remembered them playing together as young children, and the rebbetzin said she did. Rabbi Shapiro then said, “You might also remember that I was enamored with the idea of creating a program through which Jews all over the world would learn the same page of Gemara every day … and maybe you also remember how the children would make fun of me and my dream?”

The rebbetzin nodded.

“I want you to know,” Rabbi Shapiro continued, “that the laughter almost dissuaded me from bringing this idea to reality, but I decided to try to do it anyway. Always remember,” he concluded, “Never laugh at a child’s dream.”

Final Days

Rabbi Shapiro died suddenly after a short illness when he was only 46. His death was a severe blow to Polish Jewry, for whom he was both a caring leader and an inspiring visionary.

My late grandmother, who lived in Poland then, told me, “When Rabbi Shapiro passed away, all of Poland went into mourning.”

He was buried in Lublin, and his was the only grave remaining when the Holocaust ended. In 1958, under the guidance of the Moetzes Gedolei HaTorah of Agudas Yisroel, his body was reinterred in Jerusalem in the Har Hamenuchot cemetery.

Although he had no children, his legacy would be his “son,” Daf Yomi, and his “daughter,” Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin.

A Final Story – The Eternal Jewish People 

With over three million Yiddish-speaking Jews in Poland before the Holocaust, there were various publications to cater to its populace. The two most well-known newspapers were Heint and Moment, both of which were secular. At the time, frum Jews printed their own newspaper called Der Yid (the Jew).

Rabbi Shapiro once passed a newsstand and asked to purchase a copy of Der Yid. The storekeeper nonchalantly asked him why he would buy Der Yid, instead of the more sophisticated Heint or Moment, pointing out that Der Yid was on the bottom of the pile.

Rabbi Shapiro responded with a smile. “Heint means today, and Moment means a minute. Both will soon disappear. I am choosing Der Yid, because even if he is downtrodden, a Yid is a Jew, and a Jew is eternal.”

Rabbi Menachem Levine is the CEO of JDBY-YTT, the largest Jewish school in the Midwest. He served as Rabbi of Congregation Am Echad in San Jose, CA, from 2007 to 2020. He is a popular speaker and writes for numerous publications on Torah, Jewish History, and Contemporary Jewish Topics. Rabbi Levine’s personal website is https://thinktorah.org A version of this article was originally published in Hamodia’s Inyan Magazine. 

Before beginning my “deep dive” into Gaza, here’s the long and short of it:

1. Israel, the United States, and Arab powers in the region all want the war in Gaza to end; but

2. every element of peace, including international stabilization forces and reconstruction is impossible until Hamas disarms and dismantles its power structure; and
3. Hamas is ideologically incapable of doing so voluntarily.

All of this leads to an inescapable conclusion: the path to peace may very well lie on the other side of renewed combat.

Here’s the full story:

US President Donald Trump, speaking before the Israeli Knesset on October 13, announced the end of the war in Gaza and the “historic dawn of a new Middle East.”

All remaining live Israeli hostages held by Hamas returned home, and the Israeli people responded with an elation that continues to this day. Yet that euphoric moment marked only the beginning of a train of problems, obstacles, and deadly battles that seem to be growing only worse over time.

This doesn’t mean the end of Trump’s self-named “Great Peace,” but merely the beginning of a very Middle Eastern process.

During the two weeks since Trump’s declaration of peace, Hamas failed to return the bodies of many of the deceased hostages as it had agreed to, launched attacks against IDF positions resulting in several injuries and deaths, and brutally executed dozens of Palestinians, many of them publicly, while blindfolded and kneeling in the street.

For its part, Israel responded with limited but severe air strikes. Nonetheless Trump, Israel and Hamas all continue to insist that a ceasefire is still in effect, a sentiment that Trump summed up succinctly, “They [Hamas] killed an Israeli soldier. So the Israelis hit back. And they should hit back… Nothing is going to jeopardize the ceasefire.”

So it seems we have a ceasefire – but one that includes, well … firing.

Given how the Middle East works, returning to combat may actually be a necessary step toward achieving genuine, regional peace.

Trump’s “Great Peace,” aka “the Deal,” is meant to occur in two phases. Phase 1 involves:

• an immediate ceasefire,
• the return of all Israeli hostages (living and dead),
• a partial pullback of IDF forces, and finally, the release of nearly 2,000 Palestinian security prisoners from Israeli jails, including many convicted and high ranking terror operatives.

Phase 2, which has yet to be fully negotiated, is meant to include:

• Hamas completely disarming and giving up control over Gaza,
• further IDF withdrawals,
• and the implementation of some kind of international governing force that will oversee reconstruction.

Strictly speaking, we are still in Phase 1: Israel has fulfilled its obligations, but Hamas continues to hold the bodies of deceased Israeli hostages, which is of high emotional importance to Israelis. Hamas insists that the bodies are hard to find, yet Israeli intelligence claims that the terror organization has custody of most of the remains. The Israeli claim was evidenced the other day by drone footage which showed Hamas operatives removing an Israeli body from a building, burying it under rubble, and then calling the Red Cross to report their “discovery.”

Trump threatened on October 25 to take some kind of action against Hamas if it did not return the Israeli bodies within 48 hours, yet that deadline has passed, and bodies continue to return only in a trickle.

Phase 1 problems notwithstanding, the disarmament of Hamas presents a critical barrier to Phase 2.

In the wake of October 7, 2023, the largest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, Israel will not tolerate a Hamas controlled enclave on its border. In a further obstacle, neither neighboring Arab countries nor local Palestinian clans will take responsibility for Gaza’s future if that means having to fight against an armed and active Hamas.

Yet the terror group is already refusing to disarm, saying (at best) that the agreement is ambiguous, and in some cases, expressing outright refusal.

Both Jerusalem and Washington seem quite aware of this sticking point: speaking from the White House last month, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu addressed disarmament with the warning, “This can be done the easy way or it can be done the hard way, but it will be done.”

President Trump later echoed the sentiment more bluntly, saying, “If Hamas continues to kill people in Gaza, which was not the Deal, we will have no choice but to go in and kill them.” Trump added further threats against the terror group in recent days, including, “If they don’t disarm, we will disarm them. And it will happen quickly and perhaps violently.”

Some headlines claimed that the United States is pressuring Israel against violating the ceasefire, including comical terms like “Bibi-sitting,” yet the rhetoric coming out of Washington is actually far more aggressive than that coming from Jerusalem. According to non-public sources inside the Israeli government, much of the pressure against resuming combat stems not from America, but from Israel’s desire to return the remains of as many deceased hostages as possible before engaging in an operation that might put them forever beyond reach.

Indeed, events on the ground seem to demonstrate a high degree of coordination between the two countries — a coordination based on the shared understanding that peace requires appropriate enforcement, and that it may prove impossible to remove Hamas’ influence by any means other than combat.

There is precedent for this approach.

Beginning with the famous “pager” operation last year, Israel conducted a series of strikes that devastated the Hezbollah terror organization in Lebanon, finally resulting in a November 2024 “ceasefire” agreement. Under the terms of this “ceasefire,” Israel retained the right to continue firing against Hezbollah as necessary, and has carried out several hundred strikes since that time. Both the government of Lebanon as well as the United States have generally accepted these strikes as being not only consistent with the ceasefire agreement, but also a necessary step toward building a peaceful Lebanese government, safe from Hezbollah’s violent control.

Another example began last April, when Trump gave Iran a 60 day deadline to negotiate the dismantling of its nuclear program. The deadline expired on June 11, and was followed immediately by a devastating Israeli air operation, which culminated in the famous American B-2 bombardment of Iran’s most deeply buried nuclear facilities. The result was a quick and decisive end to what Trump named “The Twelve Day War,” followed by a period of sustained quiet, though Iran is rumored to be rebuilding its capabilities.

The current phase in Gaza is reminiscent of the 60 day Iran negotiation: there is a slim possibility that Hamas might agree to disarm and depart peacefully, but if not, the parties have been clear that combat remains not only an option, but a functional tool for achieving eventual peace.

It is relatively rare that an aggressive dictatorship transforms into a safe and prosperous neighbor, but there are at least two historical examples: Germany and Japan after World War II. In both cases, the previous regime had to be completely defeated and entirely disarmed before reconstruction, much less any hope of a better future. Can one imagine that today’s prosperous, modern Germany would exist if the allies had given the Nazis a role in reconstruction? Can one imagine international partners physically entering Germany to help govern and rebuild, while under the threat of an armed and active Nazi regime?

Until October 13, Hamas held living Israeli hostages — they were enduring abuse, starvation, and rapidly running out of time. Under these circumstances, Israel entered a deal to return the live hostages immediately, while delaying the deconstruction of Hamas, and the reconstruction of Gaza, until later. Yet in many other respects, the situation in Gaza parallels post-war Germany: before the region can hope to imagine a better future, the existing regime must be disarmed, dismantled, and dismissed. The fate of the entire Middle East, and Trump’s “Great Peace,” depend on it.

Daniel Pomerantz is the CEO of RealityCheck, an organization dedicated to deepening public conversation through robust research studies and public speaking.

There are moments in public life when hypocrisy reaches perfect symmetry — when two people so warped by self-righteous delusion collide in mutual validation. The recent conversation between Candace Owens and Norman Finkelstein was one of those moments.

Owens — a professional provocateur who built her career on conspiracies — interviewed Finkelstein, the self-anointed warrior against Israel who insists he’s “not anti-Zionist, just anti-Israel.” She promoted their exchange on X with the line: “Zionism is an illness that perverts.”

However, the true illness that perverts is anti-Zionism itself: a moral virus that twists history, corrodes empathy, and reanimates ancient hatreds under the guise of virtue.

The Cynical Convergence

Norman Finkelstein, by his own account, is the child of Holocaust survivors. His mother endured the Warsaw Ghetto and Majdanek; his father survived Auschwitz. He has invoked that legacy for decades — wielding it as moral license to attack Israel and claim immunity from criticism. He says his parents’ suffering made him “hate injustice,” that he “abhors antisemitism,” and that his opposition is merely to Israel’s “occupation of land seized in 1967.”

That might sound principled — until you see him sitting across from Candace Owens, a figure who traffics in the very antisemitic conspiracies his parents barely survived.

Owens is not merely “controversial.” She has repeatedly flirted with Holocaust denial and revisionism. She once argued that Hitler’s only mistake was wanting to “globalize.” She’s defended Kanye West’s antisemitic tirades as “honest questioning.” She’s suggested that medieval blood libels — the slander that Jews murdered Christian children for their blood — “might not be myths.” She’s even referred to Gaza as a “real Holocaust,” trivializing the murder of over six million Jews, including nearly all of Finkelstein’s extended family.

Owens has also promoted the classic conspiracy that “Zionists control media and finance” — the same poison that fueled centuries of pogroms. And now, she calls Zionism “an illness.” If words mean anything, this is the language of dehumanization — the rhetoric that has always paved the road to persecution and genocide in Jewish history.

The Useful Survivor

Finkelstein, of all people, should know that history. Yet he willingly lent his name, his intellect, and his parents’ memory to a propagandist who is leading the way in making antisemitism fashionable again.

The man who has spent his career accusing others of exploiting the Holocaust handed moral credibility to a woman who treats Jewish suffering as a punchline and a political prop.

It’s a tragic irony. Finkelstein’s life’s work — railing against what he calls “the Holocaust industry” — has itself become an act of exploitation. His parents’ story has become his brand. And by sitting with Owens, he didn’t just betray that story — he turned it into content. He handed the memory of the Warsaw Ghetto and Auschwitz to someone who denies what they meant.

Owens’s worldview is a conspiracy buffet: the “globalists,” the “elites,” the “Zionists,” the “Deep State.” Interchangeable villains for interchangeable hatreds. And now, the man who once prided himself on purportedly exposing propaganda has become its instrument.

The Familiar Script

Owens rails against Zionism, but the sickness isn’t in Zionism — it’s in the movement that demonizes it. Zionism is the national liberation movement of an indigenous people returning home. Anti-Zionism is the ideology that seeks to strip that people of sovereignty, identity, and safety — and to call that “justice.”

It’s the oldest trick in the antisemite’s book — a sleight of hand that turns survival into sin. For centuries, Jews were accused of being both cosmopolitan schemers and insular separatists, both capitalist exploiters and communist subversives. Now, they are labeled “invaders” and “colonizers” — in their own ancestral homeland.

The target shifts; the obsession endures. The aim is always the same: to make Jews and Jewish existence itself appear illegitimate.

When Owens speaks of “Zionism as an illness,” she echoes the language of Soviet propagandists and 20th-century autocrats who used “Zionist” as code for “Jew.” And when Finkelstein nods along, he ceases to be her foil. He becomes her accomplice.

Anti-Zionism’s Moral Collapse

This encounter underscores what has long been true: that anti-Zionism and antisemitism are not distant cousins — they are twins. Anti-Zionism borrows antisemitism’s architecture — the myth of the uniquely evil, globally manipulative Jew — and transfers it from the individual to the collective, from the Jew to the Jewish State. The object of hate changes; the pathology remains.

Finkelstein insists he abhors antisemitism, yet he refuses to recognize it when it hides behind the language of “anti-imperialism” or “human rights.” He confuses moral inversion for moral insight. His blind spot isn’t ignorance — it’s arrogance. And Owens, ever the opportunist, exploited that arrogance to launder her bigotry through the mouth of a Jew.

The True Illness

Despite what Owens may say about Zionism, her anti-Zionism is the true illness. It distorts truth, history, and conscience. It twists the children of survivors into apologists for those who seek their people’s destruction. It turns moral language into a weapon for erasure.

Candace Owens embodies that illness. Norman Finkelstein enables it. Together, they form the perfect symbiosis of hate and ego — the propagandist and the prop, each reflecting and amplifying the other’s lie.

The question isn’t whether they believe what they say. It’s whether the rest of us, knowing our history, have the courage to call their performance what it is: a collaboration in the oldest hatred — repackaged as moral critique, and streamed for profit.

Micha Danzig is an attorney, former IDF soldier, and former NYPD officer. He writes widely on Israel, antisemitism, and Jewish history and serves on the board of Herut North America.