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Achieving the Impossible: Commemorating the 120th Yahrzeit of the Sdei Chemed
A Torah scroll. Photo: RabbiSacks.org.
Hanukkah is a Yom Tov that commemorates Klal Yisroel facing impossible odds and overcoming them. How appropriate that the 19th-century gadol, Rav Chaim Chizkiyahu Medini, known as the Sdei Chemed, passed away just before Hanukkah, since in his own lifetime, the Sdei Chemed lived this concept of achieving the impossible.
His Early Years
Rav Chaim Chizkiyahu was born in 1834 in Yerushalayim. His father, Rav Refoel Asher Eliyahu Medini, was a respected Sephardic talmid chacham, descended from a family that had been in Yerushalayim for generations. In fact, some scholars believe the name “Medini” derives from the word “medina,” indicating that its bearers were legal residents at a time when Jews often faced restrictions on living in Yerushalayim.
The young Sdei Chemed devoted himself wholeheartedly to learning and retained all he learned in his photographic memory. He married his wife, Rivka, while in his teens and continued his dedication to Torah learning. He received semicha at the young age of 19.
His father, Rav Refoel, advised him, “Learn Torah, learn Torah, and learn Torah! Spend your days and nights learning. Be a yirei shamayim and have ahavas Hashem. Above all, heed the words of Hashem and follow them.” His father assured his son that if he followed this guidance, he would not need to worry about finances, as Rav Refoel would provide for the Sdei Chemed and his new wife.
This promise held true until tragedy struck.
In 1853, his father suddenly passed away, leaving the entire family without financial support. At 20 years old, Rav Medini found himself responsible not only for himself and his wife but also for his entire family. Completely ignorant of money matters, the Sdei Chemed had no idea where to turn. Yet, Hashem was guiding him towards the next step on his life’s journey.
To New Shores
The Sdei Chemed turned for guidance to the future Rishon Litziyon, Rav Chaim Abulafia (1775-1861), who was a close friend of his father. Rav Abulafia recommended that the family move to Constantinople and live with wealthy relatives who resided there and would be proud to support the young and brilliant scholar. In this way, the Sdei Chemed would be able to continue learning.
When he arrived in Constantinople, his cousins welcomed them. Recognizing his greatness, the community asked the Sdei Chemed to serve as the city’s dayan, but he refused, preferring to devote his time to study and writing. It was in Constantinople that he published his first work, Michtav L’Chizkiyahu.
Although his cousins were initially generous, when the Sdei Chemed became seriously ill some time after his arrival, they began to see him as a burden.
Realizing he could no longer rely on them, the Sdei Chemed began tutoring children for a few hours each day while continuing to devote most of his time to Torah study. Over time, he became the most sought-after Torah teacher in Constantinople. He was highly respected as a gaon in Torah with an extraordinary breadth of knowledge, and as a rebbi who could teach Torah to children and adults on any level.
The Sdei Chemed and his wife, Rabbanit Rivka, in Crimea
An Invitation for the Rabbinate
By 1866, Rav Medini was so well-known that even visitors to Constantinople sought him out to learn from him. One such visitor was a wealthy businessman from the Crimea, who was impressed not only by Rav Medini’s Torah knowledge but also by his regal bearing. The businessman approached Rav Medini and offered him the position of Chief Rabbi of the Crimea.
At that time, the Jewish community of the Crimea was in the process of rebuilding itself following the devastating Crimean War.
The Crimean Jewish community, known as the Krymchaks, was unique in that they were neither Ashkenazi nor Sephardic. They had been largely cut off from the broader Torah world and had experienced a steep decline in religious observance. Additionally, the Crimea was home to a significant Karaite population, which was actively promoting its misguided theology.
Rav Medini recognized the tremendous challenge of accepting the position of Rav under such difficult conditions. Additionally, the Jewish businessman informed him that the Jewish community in Crimea had not had a rabbi in 40 years! Yet, despite their limited knowledge, the Jews there expressed a strong desire to keep Torah and mitzvos. The businessman assured Rav Medini that if he accepted the position, the community would support him and help him bring about a renewal of Torah observance in Crimea.
Incredibly, Rav Medini accepted the position and moved to Karasubazar (modern-day Bilohirsk), meaning “market on the Karasu River.” In 1867, after a nearly two-week boat journey, the Sdei Chemed arrived in Karasubazar, where he would remain as Chief Rabbi until 1899. At that time, the city had a Jewish population that was 20% of its approximately 13,000 residents.
When he arrived, he found the spiritual situation to be dismal. Few Jewish children could read Hebrew, and even siddurim were almost non-existent in the city, let alone other sefarim. The community was largely ignorant of halacha and minhagim, and the task that lay ahead for Rav Medini was enormous.
Yet, the Sdei Chemed rose to the occasion. His first major project was to establish a yeshiva to serve the entire Crimean Peninsula. He also prepared a simplified siddur and copies of it were sold as quickly as they could be printed. The Sdei Chemed created easy-to-understand pamphlets on halacha and minhagim that covered nearly every aspect of Jewish life. These pamphlets were distributed throughout Crimea, providing halachic guidance for every Jewish home.
Over the years, thousands of children attended the yeshiva, and they and their families became completely observant. Under his direction, Crimea experienced a renewal of Torah observance, replacing the assimilation and ignorance that had prevailed until then.
During his time in Crimea, the Sdei Chemed was a sought-after poseik, receiving visitors and letters with dozens of shailas each week from around the world.
Rav Medini had one son and three daughters. Tragically, his only son died in 1868. In his memory, Rav Medini wrote a sefer titled Or Li. His son’s death was devastating for Rav Medini, and he became very ill and even lost his eyesight temporarily. Yet, with a tremendous desire to continue his work in Karasubazar, Rav Medini had a complete recovery. His three daughters all married observant merchants who helped support the Sdei Chemed and his projects.
Magnum Opus: Sdei Chemed
It was during his almost thirty-three years in Karasubazar that Rav Medini wrote the greater part of his magnum opus, the Sdei Chemed. (Chemed was an acronym of his name, Chizkiyahu Medini.) The work is an encyclopedia of halachic topics, and includes numerous teshuvos on each subject in the order of the alef-beis.
Rav Medini possessed a remarkable photographic memory, and when he learned a sefer, he would memorize it as well. In his brilliance, he not only memorized the sefarim but also arranged them in his mind in an incredibly organized fashion. Rav Medini directed his immense wisdom and knowledge toward his sefer, the Sdei Chemed. The work is mind-boggling in its breadth and scope.
The Sdei Chemed lacked an index for many years, making it challenging to find the topic one was looking for. Today, it has an index, yet some observe that the index needs an index! Similar to the Minchas Chinuch, which was a closed book for many years until it was republished and reorganized by Machon Yerushalayim, the Sdei Chemed is challenging to learn because it has not yet been reformatted in a similar way.
Throughout his life, Rav Medini was renowned for his tzidkus. There was a period in his life when he spent or gave away every last coin he had daily, and would then begin the next day with nothing. This practice left a lasting impression on those who knew him, demonstrating both his care for others and his tremendous level of bitachon.
Both Jews and non-Jews throughout Crimea revered the Sdei Chemed as the “Holy Rabbi,” and all sought his blessing. In fact, when an order was issued in 1887 to expel all foreign nationals from Crimea, Rav Medini was allowed to remain, due to the intervention of high-ranking government officials and well-known Russian non-Jewish academics on his behalf.
Rav Medini remained in Crimea for decades, because he believed that no one of stature would replace him to teach Torah and guide the community.
Time to Return Home
In 1899, Rav Medini decided to leave for Eretz Yisroel, intending to spend his final days there. Despite the pleas of the Crimean Jews and his own painful separation from his children and community, he remained steadfast in his decision. Though he had not lived in Eretz Yisroel for most of his life, he wished, at the very least, to be buried there.
Nearly the entire Jewish community of Crimea, comprising tens of thousands of people, gathered at the docks to bid farewell to Sdei Chemed as he left. They wept as he departed on a boat across the Black Sea towards Eretz Yisroel.
When the Sdei Chemed arrived in Eretz Yisroel in the early summer of 1899, he was greeted with tremendous joy by the rabbanim and community members. They danced around him, joyfully welcoming him home.
He chose to reside in Yerushalayim and remained there for two years.
When he first arrived, the position of Chief Rabbi of Yerushalayim was vacant, and he was asked to become Chief Rabbi. Rav Medini declined, hoping to reside there as a simple Jew, but he found it difficult to withstand the pressure from those seeking his leadership.
Chevron, at that time, was a quiet city and seemed like an ideal place for him to spend his days and complete writing his Sdei Chemed. He decided to move there. Shortly after he arrived, Chevron’s two chief rabbanim, Rav Eliyahu Mani and Rav Yosef Franco, passed away, and the community pleaded with him to become their rav. Recognizing the need and realizing he could lead this smaller community and complete his sefer simultaneously, Rav Medini agreed and served as the rav of Chevron until his passing in 1905.
Despite his advanced age, Rav Medini established a yeshiva in Chevron and supported it with his meager funds, even drawing from money he had set aside for the publication of the Sdei Chemed. When asked how he could do such a thing, he responded that a living Torah scholar is more valuable than a book.
Due to the reputation of the Sdei Chemed, the yeshiva attracted some of the finest young scholars in Eretz Yisrael. One of his students was the renowned Rav Avraham Chaim Naeh.
In Chevron, the Sdei Chemed also focused on the needs of the community as a whole. Each day, he would stay in the shul, saying Tehillim for an hour between Mincha and Maariv along with the rest of the community. When someone asked him why he did this instead of learning, he responded, “If I neglect this community minhag, the whole value and importance of that hour spent saying Tehillim will become meaningless to the kehilla. That is why I must be present — to give it significance.”
Rav Medini’s integrity and greatness earned him the respect of even the Arab inhabitants of Chevron. Due to his influence, many attacks on Chevron’s Jews were averted. When the local rulers summoned the Sdei Chemed for a public tax meeting, they treated him with great respect, apologizing for the summons and occasionally asking for his blessing.
In 1905, Rabbi Medini became very ill. The Rabbanim of Chevron composed a special tefilla, titled “A Prayer for Chizkiya in His Illness,” alluding to the great King Chizkiyahu, who had been gravely ill, recovered, and was granted 15 more years of life. The Sdei Chemed was niftar shortly thereafter, just before Chanukah on the 24th of Kislev. He is buried in Chevron.
A False Accusation
Looking back at his life, the Sdei Chemed offered his own insight on the tremendous siyata dishmaya he had, in what is probably the most famous story about the Sdei Chemed.
It was well known that the Sdei Chemed was outstanding in his Torah learning, and one of his contemporaries became envious of him. In a fit of jealousy, he bribed the non-Jewish cleaning girl to accuse the Sdei Chemed of trying to assault her in the beis midrash. She agreed and ran into the streets shouting that the Sdei Chemed had attempted to act inappropriately to her.
The onlookers were shocked, and yet, the Sdei Chemed ignored the whole scene and continued to learn with tranquility, despite being publicly libeled and shamed. Unsure of how to handle the situation and certain that the Sdei Chemed was innocent, the Rav of the community ordered the cleaning girl fired.
A while later, this cleaning girl had no money left because the bribe money was used up. She also could not work, since, due to this incident, no one would hire her to clean their homes. She approached the Sdei Chemed, admitting that she had made up the whole story because another man had bribed her to accuse him. She suggested that she would tell the entire story in public, that the Sdei Chemed would be cleared, and that she could then have her job back.
Taken aback, the Sdei Chemed thought it over. He realized that although the lady’s confession would clear his own name, it would be a terrible chillul Hashem regarding the man who had bribed her. Therefore, the Sdei Chemed responded that instead of creating a public spectacle, he would find her a new job.
Years later, the Sdei Chemed told over this incident to a talmid. He related that after it occurred, he felt his eyes were opened to learning to a much greater extent than before. He mused that it was either because of his own self-restraint in the face of such humiliation or because of his concern to prevent chillul Hashem that Hashem had granted him so much hatzlacha. The Sdei Chemed also conjectured that it was in this merit that his sefer, Sdei Chemed, was so widely accepted.
Most of us are not capable of writing a Sdei Chemed nor leading an entire community back to Torah and mitzvos. Yet, the Sdei Chemed’s life reminds us that some things that we consider impossible can be within reach if we want it enough. One hundred and twenty years later, this legacy continues to shine brightly.
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 printed in Hamodia’s weekly newspaper on December 10, 2025.
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Gene Shalit, a mensch with a personality as big as his mustache, turns 100
The television entertainment personality Gene Shalit, who celebrated his centenary on March 25, semaphored a Jewish appearance for decades to viewers of NBC’s early morning gabfest The Today Show.
With his Jew-fro hairstyle that fascinated celebrity interviewees and his abundant mustache that outdid Groucho Marx’s mere greasepaint simulacrum, Shalit was one of a kind. Born in New York City in 1926, he clearly aimed to be recognizable even through half-opened bleary eyes of half-asleep viewers. And audible too. Shalit’s precise pronunciation, always at a vigorous decibel level, sought to be comprehensible even during voiceovers. The Canadian comedian Eugene Levy, transfixed by this persona, imitated him on SCTV roaring at high decibel levels.
In one skit, Levy embodied Shalit with haimish affection, hawking a remedy for a migraine presumably caused by his own bellowing. In another, Levy spoofed Hollywood celebrities who were notorious fressers at local restaurants, including the American Jewish actress Shelley Winters (born Shirley Schrift). In still another lampoon, Levy-as-Shalit danced and also kibitzed with the late Catherine O’Hara as the Jewish gossip columnist Rona Barrett (born Burstein).
Shalit apparently kvelled at the notion that he was prominent enough in media culture to be affectionately kidded like other Jewish noteworthies Levy imitated, including Howard Cosell, Henry Kissinger, Menachem Begin, Milton Berle, Judd Hirsch, Jack Carter, James Caan, Lorne Greene, Norman Mailer and Neil Sedaka.
Years later, Levy recalled that when the SCTV comedy troupe was invited to appear on The Today Show, before the segment was filmed, chairs were arranged so that Catherine O’Hara was seated next to Shalit. Suddenly Shalit exclaimed: “Wait a minute, shouldn’t the person who [imitates] me be sitting beside me?” Another Jewish comedian, Jon Lovitz, would likewise attempt to imitate Shalit on Saturday Night Live, but without the zest of Levy’s indelible incarnation.
Shalit once told showbiz reporter Eileen Prose that at first, his looks limited him to radio jobs in more conventional times for TV talent. By the more liberated late 1960s, when long hair and a hirsute upper lip were more common, he was hired as quasi-permanent house Jew on The Today Show. Although his mustache fit the counterculture in the mode of Jewish activist Jerry Rubin’s, Shalit as an aspiring journalist may have grown his facial hair more in tribute to earlier literati like the playwright William Saroyan or the eminent humorist Mark Twain.
At times, Shalit’s appearance could be clown-like or cartoonish, so it was natural that characters inspired by him would appear on animated series such as SpongeBob SquarePants and Family Guy as well as The Muppet Show.
Famous interviewees like Peter Sellers were plainly at ease with Shalit’s persona. A conversation filmed shortly before Sellers’ untimely death was cordial, with the sometimes tetchy actor on his best behavior, acknowledging Shalit as a fellow entertainer. And with Mel Brooks in 1987, Shalit looked to be in paradise.
A warm-hearted empathizer and enthusiast, Shalit was more suited to promoting films than criticizing them. In 1989, a tzimmes occurred when a memo drafted by Bryant Gumbel, a Today Show colleague, deemed Shalit a “specialist in gushing over actors and directors” and added that Shalit’s interviews “aren’t very good.” To his credit, Shalit minimized the controversy, telling The Los Angeles Times that Gumbel’s disses were “not big whacks.”
“Listen, I’ve been interviewing people on the show for 17 years,” Shalit said. “I must be doing something right.”
Part of his inspiration was a sincere appreciation for humor, Jewish and otherwise. His 1987 anthology, Laughing Matters featured contributions by Jewish wits such as Dorothy Parker, S. J. Perelman, Woody Allen, Fran Lebowitz, Samuel Hoffenstein, Philip Roth, Mel Brooks, George S. Kaufman, Milt Gross, Arthur Kober, Leo Rosten, Allan Sherman, Max Shulman, Calvin Trillin, Rube Goldberg, Sam Gross, Roz Chast, B. Kliban, Robert Mankoff, J. B. Handelsman, Jules Feiffer and George Burns. The volume was dedicated to, among others, the Jewish screenwriter Samson Raphaelson, who was Shalit’s instructor at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.
His visceral reaction to Jewish parody was such that during one commuter train ride, Shalit admitted in a preface, Perelman’s story “No Starch in the Dhoti, S’il Vous Plait” caused a conductor to lean down with concern, stating: “A passenger says you’re crying.” To which Shalit retorted, choking and rubbing away tears: “I’m laughing.”
The subliminal message of Shalit’s book was that without Jews, America would have distinctly fewer tears of laughter. And he regretted not being able to include funny Jews like Jack Benny and Ed Wynn whose performances could not be transferred to the printed page.
Shalit also reviewed books for years. Sticking firmly to the content of cultural products with a few brief hints of value judgment, Shalit seemed to have neither the time nor presumably the inclination to subject new items to analysis of Freudian intensity. He clearly preferred boosting things to panning them, and when a film displeased Shalit, he could be uncomfortable saying so.
One occasion when Shalit raised hackles was his response on The Today Show to the 2005 film Brokeback Mountain. Shalit described one of the gay characters as a “sexual predator.” The LGBTQ media group GLAAD objected to Shalit’s characterization as a homophobic stereotype. Shalit’s son Peter wrote an open letter to GLAAD, identifying himself as a gay physician with a Seattle practice helping the gay community. Peter Shalit admitted that his father “did not get” the film in question, but was “not a homophobe.” He might have added that his father had even included an excerpt from Harvey Fierstein’s Torch Song Trilogy in the aforementioned humor collection.
Shalit followed up with his own apology, stating in a mensch-like way that he did not intend to cast “aspersions on anyone in the gay community or on the community itself.” When Shalit finally retired from broadcasting at age 84, with the Yiddish-inflected declaration: “It’s enough, already,” he left behind admiring viewers and decades of bonhomie as one of morning television’s most genial protagonists.
Mazel tov, Gene Shalit. Biz hundert un tsvantsik (May you live until 120)!
The post Gene Shalit, a mensch with a personality as big as his mustache, turns 100 appeared first on The Forward.
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How a song about the food chain became a Seder mainstay
I’m almost positive I heard about the old lady who swallowed a fly before the father who bought a goat for two zuzim.
This occurred to me a few years ago while riding in my sister’s minivan. My niece was in her car seat fidgeting with a toy that plays a catalogue of public domain children’s songs. But unlike the version I’d grown up hearing, where the old lady’s ravenous habit of devouring ever-larger animals is met with the prognostic shrug of “perhaps she’ll die,” the refrain was changed to the more kid-friendly “oh me oh my.”
The Seder tune “Chad Gadya,” which involves a quite similar conceit, has no such timidity when it comes to the ravages of death.
Jack Black once described it as the “original heavy metal song” for the way it progresses along the chain of life from a little goat bought for two zuzim, to the cat who ate the goat, to the dog who bit the cat, all the way up to the angel of death. (“Very Black Sabbath.”)
It is pretty metal — in a kosher Kidz Bop, tot Shabbat kinda way. But why we sing it should, in Jewish circles, be as popular a seasonal question as what a bunny with a clutch of eggs has to do with Jesus’ resurrection. (Some Haggadot explain the greater significance of “Chad Gadya;” my Maxwell House does not.)
Dating the song or rooting out its precise origins is not easy.
As historian Henry Abramson wrote, scholars have noted the song’s similarities to a late Medieval German folk rhyme. While the fact that it is mostly in Aramaic, not the vernacular in Europe in the Middle Ages, suggests an earlier provenance, it is missing from extant Sephardic and Yemenite Haggadot, where one would expect to find texts originating in the language, and the Aramaic itself has many errors.
Abramson reasons that, given the surviving written versions, it was likely adapted sometime in the 14th century from a German children’s rhyme called “The Foreman that Sent Jockel Out,” about an idler named Jockel who a foreman tries to rouse to fieldwork with an escalating series of messengers, ending with a hangman. (Abramson notes the original is characterized by “some Teutonic weirdness,” like a witch sent to subdue a vulture.)
“Chad Gadya” belongs, like its Seder companion “Echad Mi Yodea,” to a genre called “cumulative song,” where verses build with new information a la “12 Days of Christmas.” But “Chad Gadya” stands out for its strangeness and its more oblique message.
Abramson and others see the goat, small and vulnerable, standing in for the Jewish people, and the ensuing parade of antagonists corresponding to historical enemies (Assyrians, Babylonians) and periods of time (Exodus, various conquests), ending with redemption in the Messianic age when the Holy One smites death.
As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote in a commentary for his Haggadah, the song “teaches the great truth of Jewish hope: that though many nations (symbolized by the cat, the dog, and so on) attacked Israel (the goat), each in turn has vanished into oblivion.”
That this truth is conveyed in song, with much banging on the table or animal noises, speaks to the centrality of children in the Passover Seder. And, some think, its inclusion serves a practical purpose: keeping the kids awake through the last leg of a long ritual meal.
My own interpretation is admittedly less lofty. I don’t think of Israel’s tribulations. I do think of the abundance of stray cats in Jerusalem, said to have originated during the British mandate when the city had a rat problem.
And, in the years since my own days as designated Four Questions asker, I’ve been reading “Chad Gadya” into non-Jewish contexts. “The White Cat,” off of Mitski’s new album, Nothing’s About to Happen to Me, contains a lyric that recalls the song, only altered to be a metaphor for the predations of capitalism.
In it, the speaker says she must work to pay for the cat’s house and “for the bugs who drink my blood/and the birds who eat those bugs/so that white cat can kill the birds.”
These cycles speak across cultures and time because they represent a fundamental rule of nature: There’s always a bigger fish (or cat or dog or stick).
To erase death from the equation, like my niece’s toy does with that hapless, insect-ingesting pensioner, is a concession to today’s sensitivities. That’s not to say “The Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly” represents anything more homiletic than a choking hazard warning, but in the case of “Chad Gadya,” death is the story, and an end to death is the hope.
“The Haggadah ends with the death of death in eternal life,” Rabbi Sacks concluded his drash on the song, which ends when God strikes down the Angel of Death. “A fitting end for the story of a people dedicated to Moshe’s great command, ‘Choose life.’”
I know it’s a principle of faith all over the Haggadah, but I’m more agnostic as to that Messianic promise and maybe more in the camp of our old lady. My understanding of Jewishness, which accords with Moshe’s command, says life is best lived knowing that — perhaps — we’ll die.
The post How a song about the food chain became a Seder mainstay appeared first on The Forward.
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Katz: ‘Israel’s Goal in Lebanon is to Disarm Hezbollah’
Then-Israeli transportation minister Israel Katz attends the cabinet meeting at the Prime Minister’s office in Jerusalem, Feb. 17, 2019. Katz currently serves as the foreign minister. Photo: Sebastian Scheiner/Pool via REUTERS
i24 News – Israel’s Defense Minister Israel Katz held a situation assessment Friday with senior military and defense officials, reiterating that the country’s policy in Lebanon remains focused on disarming Hezbollah by military and political means. Katz emphasized that the goal applies “regardless of the Iran issue” and pledged continued protection for Israeli northern communities.
Katz said the Israel Defense Forces are completing ground maneuvers up to the anti-tank line to prevent direct threats to border towns. He outlined plans to demolish houses in villages near the border that serve as Hezbollah outposts, citing previous operations in Rafah and Khan Yunis in Gaza as models.
The Defense Minister added that the IDF will maintain security control over the Litani area and that the return of 600,000 residents of southern Lebanon who had evacuated north will not be permitted until northern communities’ safety is ensured. Katz also reaffirmed that the IDF will continue targeting Hezbollah leaders and operatives across Lebanon, noting that 1,000 terrorists have already been eliminated since the start of the current campaign.
“We promised security to the northern towns, and that is exactly what we will do,” Katz said. He further warned that the IDF will act decisively against rocket fire from Lebanon, stating that Hezbollah “will pay heavy prices.”