In January of 1973 a young political philosophy professor at the University of Toronto named George Will (PhD) began to write for National Review magazine. While he would eventually go on to win a Pulitzer Prize and to become a staple of American intellectual punditry, he, then, was having trouble coming up with new columns week after week; he approached the magazine’s founder, legendary writer, and father of modern conservatism William F. Buckley. “I asked Bill Buckley what I now know is the question most frequently asked of a columnist: How do you come up with things to write about. Bill’s answer was: “The world irritates me three times a week and sometimes a little more often. I don’t have any problem coming up with ideas.”
Several weeks ago fellow contributor to Ami, Rabbi Mordechai Kamentzky, bemoaned the difficulty inherent in coming up with a relatively lengthy weekly column.
While this is a common concern, and one that I share, somehow it works itself out for him, myself and others, and thousands of magazines are published weekly around the globe with tens of thousands of writers composing new and hopefully informative and interesting content.
Writing a column on the rabbinate, sometimes, brings with it a related but somewhat reverse concern. Because rabbis, like lawyers, maintain the privilege of confidentiality – and may even be sued should they breach that trust – according to NY State law C.P.L.R. 4505, “…a clergyman… shall not be allowed to disclose a confession or confidence made to him…” – the most fascinating experiences that I have been fortunate enough to have been involved in can not be disclosed in these pages. In addition, the more interesting shailos, political quandaries, and counseling issues must never be even alluded to should the people involved become revealed. In fact, soon after I began to write this weekly column some members –and even friends- approached me to share their concern that I can easily reveal too much. Some have been hesitant to share sensitive matters with me. Of course, while an understandable concern, it is has been shown to have been unfounded as I would never disclose sensitive matters.
In fact rabbis learn early on how to keep secrets, even if it harms them. Allow me to give an example: One weekday morning there was an avel in shul. This person was from Eretz Yisroel and came to Buffalo to bury his father. Because there was no minyan in his mother’s home he was planning on davening by us each morning, this day being the first. So the natural question was Do we say tachanun? In other words does a shul take on the status of a bais avel (shiva-house) in which tachanun is omitted, or, do we view it as a beis haknesses that an avel is simply visiting. What is more, many people did not even know that this guest was in the midst of shiva – as he was not acting as the shliach tzibbur, and the tear in his clothing went unnoticed.
To be sure, this question is discussed by the classic sources (e.g. Mishnah Berrura 130:20). Generally a shul will not take on the status of a beis avel and tachanun would therefore be recited. But this halachah is not a zero-sum organism, as certain undisclosed facts can change entirely the final law, as there can be circumstances in which a shul would have a quasi-status of a beis avel and tachanun would then not be said.
Because of certain facts that I could not reveal to my balla battim, gabbaim, and certainly not in these pages I decided that tachanun should not be said. This was based on certain facts as well as a precedent set by Reb Shlomo Zalman Aurbach (See for example Ishei Yisroel, page 266, footnote 75-77 for a comparable ruling).
So when I announced to the gabbai not to say tachunun he had no choice but to follow, although he did not even know an avel was in shul. One guest came over to me and asked the reason behind my ruling. I explained to him that there was an avel davening with us. “So what? The Mishnah Berrura says…” I tried to stop him short by quoting the very same Mishnah Berrura hopeful that informing him of my knowledge in this area would foster some trust and calm him down. This did not work, and this man made a point of putting down his head for tachanun in front of me.
Rabbi Yisroel Reisman is quoted as once remarking “A non-Jew will never know the thrill of not having to say tachanun on Mondays and Thursdays”; apparently this man never got that memo.
Now, I do not completely fault this individual; he did not know me and based on the information he was given, in his mind, I had made a huge blunder. While it would have been freeing to simply explain the facts not known to him, I could not do that and I, although momentary, looked like a fool.
More stressful than the above example is the fact that I cannot reveal things to my wife.
There is a married member in my shul who is –remotely, through Yeshiva University – working on attaining his semicha. A part of the YU semicha process is a wonderful shimush program. So, using me as his ‘mentor’ he is allowed to sit in during meetings and counseling sessions –should the relevant parties consent. (As an aside: what a wonderful image of achdus (unity) to have a musmach from Lakewood work with a candidate musmach from Yeshiva University!)
Some weeks ago he had sat in on a passionate and intense session. It lasted deep into the night and when it was time to go home he asked if he could talk to his wife about what had transpired. After all, he explained, she sacrificed the evening so that he could attend. I explained that this too is part of rabbanus and its training; that however painful it is, one’s wife must not only be kept out of the loop but, and this takes real strength, be convinced that there is nothing even going on.
Much has been written of late of the pressures of the rabbinate, but none hold a candle to this one: the most natural thing to be shared between spouses is work frustrations, yet, for a Rav this must not happen.
We see the idea of confidentiality in many of the events in Sefer Bereishis.
Sarah, so shocked at the suggestion of a future child, laughed. But was not Avraham, at the end of Lech Lcha, already informed about this joyous future event? Would he not have told Sarah already?
According to the meforshim who explain that Yitzchak was ignorant to Eisav’s evil ways: was not Rivka told through a navi at the beginning of the parsha regarding the true nature of her sons? Indeed, that is how she knew to make sure the Yaakov receive the berachos! Why then did she leave Yitzchak in the dark?
The Ramban (18:15 and 27:4) asks these questions. It is beyond this column to go into the reasons that the Ramban offers (see also Netziv as it relates to Rivka), but it suffices for us to make the following remarks: how easily could have Rivka vindicated herself and her subterfuge-like actions! How delighted would have Avraham been to be the one to reveal to Sarah –as soon as he heard –that her dream of bearing a child would soon come true! But, for whatever holy reason, they had to keep quiet and leave their respective spouses in the dark.
What a nisayon!
Many years ago, Rebbitzen Pam z’l was sitting by a wedding when some ladies asked her how she was managing with all that was “going on” in Torah V’Daas during a famously, and public, trying period. Bewildered, Rebbetzin Pam looked at them and said sincerely, “What is going on in the yeshiva?” The whole world was talking about it at their kitchen tables, but Rav Pam – who worked there! – knew to keep quiet, and his wife may have been the one person left who was oblivious to the shameful talking. So, this column shall continue, the best stories concealed, and proper order preserved.
Shul Chronicles 
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