90th Yahrzeit of Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld zt”l

Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld was the leader of Jerusalem Jewry during the first part of the 20th century, at a time when the Jewish community was just beginning to reestablish itself after many centuries of exile. Whether dealing with immigration issues, fending off violence from Arabs, or ensuring the spiritual sanctity of Jerusalem, Rabbi Sonnenfeld stood at the forefront of the battle to protect Jewish values in the Jewish capital. Rav Sonnenfeld was born in the town of Verbo, Czechoslovakia and was niftar 19 Adar 11, 1932. 

The following few stories illustrate Rabbi Sonnenfeld's great wisdom and love in dealing with the many issues which arose every day during this crucial period of Jerusalem's history.

SOLVING THE CRIME

An old and valuable Torah scroll was once stolen from a synagogue in Jerusalem. The family which owned the Torah scroll launched its own investigation and discovered the identity of the thief. A number of family members wanted to hand the evidence over to the Turkish police and have the man arrested, but the head of the family refused to go along until they first consulted with Rabbi Sonnenfeld. Rabbi Sonnenfeld listened to the arguments for having the man arrested, chiefly, that failure to do so would encourage the man to do it again at some other synagogue.

When the arguments had been completed, Rabbi Sonnenfeld [concluded thusly]: On one hand, the man who stole the Torah scroll certainly stole it to sell, since there was nothing else he could do with it. Any synagogue which bought it probably needed it, while the synagogue it was stolen from, with its many Torah scrolls, did not. Accordingly, the Torah scroll itself would not be subject to disgrace since it would most likely be put to better use its new place then in its old one.

On the other hand, if the thief were handed over to the police, the matter would become public and could very well result in a desecration of God's name by those looking to find fault with the Jewish people. This is a responsibility nobody should accept. Furthermore, the Turkish police were known for their brutality and no one could guarantee that the thief would be injured at their hands.

As far as the concern that their silence would encourage the man to repeat this type of theft, Rabbi Sonnenfeld suggested a simple solution. The thief should be quietly told that his crime was known, as this would certainly suffice to deter him from stealing again. It would very likely even convince him to return the Torah scroll he had already stolen.

This prediction was indeed fulfilled, when several weeks later the Torah scroll suddenly reappeared in its old place.

THE MISSING TYPEWRITER

On another occasion, two typewriters were stolen from the offices of a Jerusalem charitable organization. The secretary of the organization was greatly distressed over the loss and came to Rabbi Sonnenfeld. Typewriters in those days were very expensive. Rabbi Sonnenfeld comforted him by saying that he had probably only suffered the loss of one typewriter and that the other one would be found in some nook or recess near the entrance of the building.

The Secretary ran back and sure enough, he found one typewriter hidden in a pile of junk at the base of the building. He returned happily to Rabbi Sonnenfeld, convinced that Rabbi Sonnenfeld had discovered its hiding place through some supernatural power. Not at all, Rabbi Sonnenfeld replied, it was simple deduction. Since it seemed likely that this was the work of a lone thief, it was almost certain that he could not have carried off both typewriters because of their great weight. It was much more probable that he had carried off only one, and hid the other near the entrance to the building to be retrieved at a later date.

CONCERN FOR A WIDOW

Rabbi Nachum Bergman served for many years as the cantor on the High Holidays in Rabbi Sonnenfeld's synagogue. He died just 11 days before Rosh Hashana and it was generally assumed that his son would not succeed him that year, since a mourner is not permitted to be the cantor on Shabbat or holidays. Rabbi Sonnenfeld, however, refused to designate anyone for the position, merely assuring the congregants that he would take care of it. As a result, most people assumed that Rabbi Sonnenfeld himself would take over.

On the first day of Rosh Hashana, however, Rabbi Sonnenfeld went over to the departed cantor's son and told him to go to the cantor's stand in place of his father.

After the conclusion of services, Rabbi Sonnenfeld explained to the wondering circle of people who gathered around him the basis for his decision. The reason a mortar is not permitted it to be cantor on a holiday, he explained, is out of respect for the feelings of the congregation, so that the mourners sadness not mar their holiday spirit.

Imagine, however, how the unfortunate widow sitting in the congregation would feel if, at that point in the service where she had heard her husband for so many years, she heard a new and unfamiliar voice chanting the prayers. The heart of this so recently bereaved woman would certainly ache terribly, and the congregation, then, could be guilty of having brought additional pain upon her. What greater honor for the congregation could there be than for it to ease her sorrow by letting her hear the sweet tones of her son's voice, so much like his father's.