As a student and teacher of Musar, I have long been perplexed by the trait of humility. Rabbi Israel Salanter and his eminent disciples taught the necessity of refining one’s character traits (middos) as essential to service of the Creator. But how does one work on humility? If I am plagued by other bad traits — by anger, for example — and if I work on it and improve over time, I can measure my improvement. If certain conditions used to provoke my anger, but no longer do, I can see that my Musar work on this trait is progressing. But humility? If I think I’ve arrived, it’s sure sign that I haven’t. How does one work on the trait of humility?
In this day and age, there is, o so sadly, a surefire method that I wish I could undertake, but living in the Diaspora, my possibilities are limited. Here is the method:
I knock on the door of Jon and Rachel Polin-Goldberg in Jerusalem. Their son Hersh was kidnapped by Hamas on Oct. 7, 2023, and in the process his arm was amputated. The Polin-Goldbergs traveled the world advocating for their son’s freedom. Their love, eloquence, composure, absolute moral clarity and determination were arresting. Even after the evildoers murdered their son some ten-and-a-half months later, they continued to advocate for those still in captivity. I knock on their door. They answer. I stand there. I cannot say a word. How can I even stand in their presence? I am humbled.
I knock on the door of Agam Berger, a young woman. She too was kidnapped. In the tunnels of Hamas, she decided to keep Shabbos. She refused to cook on Shabbos despite the fact that the evildoers threatened her if she didn’t. She refused to convert to Islam. She comforted the female captives with her. When she finally was freed, she held up a sign, “I chose the path of faith, and in the path of faith I returned.” I knock on her door. She answers. I cannot say a word. It is humbling.
I knock on the door of Simcha and Leah Goldin. Their son Hadar was kidnapped, murdered (after a ceasefire) in 2014 and then his body was toyed with by Hamas for 11 years. Hadar Goldin wrote a commentary (at age 19!) on the classic Musar book, Mesillat Yesharim (Path of the Upright). For 11 agonizing years his parents traveled the world to advocate for the release of his body lest it be forgotten and abandoned. The Goldins open the door. I am speechless.
It would not matter whose door I knock on — that of any hostage or of the surviving relatives of a murdered hostage — each and every one teaches humility. The names of so many hostages have become household names in Jewish communities round the world: Perez . . . Damari . . . Chen . . . Miran . . . Sharabi . . . Alexander . . . Kuperstein . . . the list goes on and is long.
It is said that when one chasidic rebbe who survived WW II was asked for a blessing, he replied, “Don’t come to me. Go to someone with numbers on their arms.” The contemporary application is clear.
I imagine myself going to Israel and knocking on these doors and working on humility, because I already have done it. I am experienced. For I knew Fred Englard (1915-2002). He survived Auschwitz. He led a minyan in Auschwitz on Rosh Hashanah. He would say to me: “People say, where was G-d? I say: Did G-d build Auschwitz? Where was man?” He would say: “I did not forget your Name!” (es shimcha lo shachachti). He would jest (“What is the difference between being old and getting old? . . . thirty years.”) A small man, his davening and leining were loud, pronounced, unrushed, powerful. In the midst of dancing on Simchas Torah, Ephraim Englard — exuberant, sweating, smiling, unstoppable — turned to me and said: A person who went through Auschwitz still dances like this? Nothing I can achieve could match this. Humility.
I am motivated to seek the teachers of humility in Israel today because I learned so much from Fred Englard — and R’ Yitzhak Orlansky (1898-1992).
R’ Orlansky was the “spiritual supervisor” (mashgiach) in the Novorodock yeshiva in Pinsk, Belarus in which the legendary Steipler Gaon headed the yeshiva. In 1939, R’ Orlansky was arrested, put on a train with one son, and sent to Siberia. Through the window of the train car he waved goodbye to his wife and other children, whom he never saw again. But in Siberia he did not know their fate. Six years of uncertainty. Slave labor. Torah study and Musar study every night. People’s physiognomies tell their story as they age. Etched in the lines of R’ Orlansky’s face was a permanent smile. He was the happiest man I have ever known. He transcended everything. I cannot match this.
Yes, I had teachers of humility, and now the Jewish people have them again, despite their and our ineffable wish that they had not achieved this rank.
R’ Yisrael Salanter did have a method for teaching humility. He called it “davar be-hippucho, a trait and its opposite.” He illustrated: I am obligated to honor others greatly, but run from honor myself. I am obligated to shower others with material goods, but desire none for myself (beyond basics). I am obligated to build up others, but not myself. By honoring and aiding others, way beyond what I myself have, I learn humility. So it is with the freed hostages and their surviving families; there is no limit to the honor we can bestow on them and no level of theirs we can reach. Humility.
© IJN 2025
