HaRav Aryeh Carmell, זצ"ל By his son, Rav Avraham Chaim Carmell

It is with no small measure of hesitation that I pick up my pen to write an appreciation of my dear father, hareini kaparas mishkavo. He always shied away from publicity, preferring to remain on the sidelines, allowing others to take the credit for the many successful projects in which he was involved. This stemmed in part from the realization that publicity can detract from the lishmah, the purity of intent, of one’s actions. To a large extent, this was due to the fact that he did not consider himself worthy of special credit. Whatever he did was out of a sense of duty to use the resources, his keilim — as Rav Dessler, zt”l — called them, to help others both spiritually and physically.

A year and a half ago my father was sitting with my family for a Yom Tov meal. “I found something today that is important for our family to know,” he announced to his grandchildren. He then pointed to the epilogue at the end of Perek Shirah. It relates a story about an Amora, a talmid of Reb Chanina ben Dosa, who fasted and prayed many days to understand one line in Perek Shirah. A malach appeared to him and said that this secret has not been revealed since it was told to Chabakuk Hanavi. “However, since you are the student of a great man, I will reveal it to you.”

My father continued, “We see from here that in Shamayim they attach importance to the fact that someone was the talmid of a great man. You have a zeide who was zocheh to be the talmid of an adam gadol.”

It struck me as remarkable how, after almost seventy years of far-reaching achievements, my father still felt a need for reassurance that, as a student of a great man, he merited recognition in the eyes of Chazal. This humility and self-effacement is just one of the traits that he inherited from his great Rebbe, Rav Dessler, who writes with surprise about what he himself achieved (See Michtav MeEliyahu Vol. 1 introduction). So would he have wanted me to write about him?

I recall the way he would explain the Mishna in Avos (4:17): “There are three crowns: the crown of Torah, the crown of kehuna (the priesthood of Aharon and his descendents), and the crown of malchus (royalty); but the crown of shem tov, a good name, rises above them all.”

The obvious question is that there seems to be four crowns if one includes shem tov. My father would quote the Maharal, who writes that the three crowns are worn by the person himself. He personally represents the elevated status of a person enriched with Torah knowledge, the refined character of a scion of Aharon, or the respect due to one entrusted with the responsibility of a sovereign. The crown of a good name does not reside with the person himself; it rests with those who are impressed by the actions of a bearer of the first three crowns.

What is the significance of a good name? We are not out to impress people. My father would explain that a shem tov is acquired when one’s deeds inspire others to do likewise. It “rises above them all” because it adds an entirely new dimension to the person’s achievements. He has not only done a good deed; he has sown seeds of goodness that will multiply and make the world a better place.

My father carried, at least in a figurative way, all three crowns. With this in mind, I shall try to record some aspects of his multi-faceted life that can serve as an inspiration to both those who knew him personally, and those who did not. Since he directed his energies to helping others improve the spiritual value of their lives, I hope that this shem tov will be a continuation of his life’s goal and a source of nachas to his neshamah.

My father’s first mentors were learned baalei batim of the Adas Yisrael Congregation in Green Lanes, North London. His family actually was of Chassidic stock. However, a close acquaintance had shared with him a piece of advice he received from his Rebbe before immigrating to England: “The fundamentals of Yiddishkeit are Shabbos, adherence to halacha, and chinuch. Seek out a kehilla that is strong in these areas and join them.” My grandfather took these words to heart and, after my father was born, he left the Trisker shtiebel to join the Adas Yisrael Congregation led by Rabbi Dr. Avigdor Shonfeld, zt”l. This was comprised of German emigrants who lived by the ideals of Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch, zt”l and, as my grandfather noted, were successful in transmitting their dedication to Torah and mitzvos to the younger generation.

When my father was sixteen, my grandfather engaged Rav Dessler — who was then serving as the Rav of a small shul in the East End of London — to teach him in-depth Gemara. For my father, this was a unique opportunity to develop an intimate connection with someone who truly carried the crown of Torah. Rav Dessler’s greatness in Torah knowledge and exemplary character, together with his constant striving for greater perfection, represented a totally new dimension of a Torah personality: not only must Torah ideas reign supreme, but in-depth Torah study must also dominate a Jew’s life. As the Rambam writes, to acquire the crown of Torah one must make Torah study his primary occupation and earning a living secondary.

After his marriage in 1947, my father would put in a full morning seder before going to his office for a few hours in the afternoon. He learnt together with Dayan Aryeh Leib Grossnass, zt”l. For a while, he also learnt with Rav Wasserman, zt”l (a talmid of the Chazon Ish) whom my father was instrumental in bringing to England as the Rav of the Grove Lane shul.

In the evenings he gave shiurim in his home, and was involved in extensive work in kiruv and chinuch. In this lifestyle, he was following the example of Rav Dessler’s family as described in the introduction to Strive for Truth! (Vol. I, p. 10).

He continued to admire the Kiddush Hashem created by the lawyer, professor, or company director who was a shomer Torah and mitzvos in the Hirschian ideal. However, he was a very realistic person and realized that the likelihood of attaining greatness in Torah whilst pursuing a university degree was small. For this reason, beyond hiring private tutors to ensure that whatever secular studies we did in school were done well, he sent us off to full-time yeshiva at fourteen or fifteen. It was a foregone conclusion that we would strive to take up positions in the world of chinuch and Torah.

In the early fifties, my father began giving a shiur in English at his home on Shabbos afternoons for young adults who had no other learning program. What began as a one-hour Chumash shiur developed into a twice weekly Gemara shiur. The Shabbos afternoon shiur was followed by Mincha and Shalos Seudos for at least twenty people, with divrei Torah and lively singing. Former talmidim recall how he would go to great length to ensure that out-of-town engagements did not interfere with the shiur.

His method of teaching Gemara was to make the sugya come to life. He would give each Tana or Amora a historical and geographic setting, sometimes adding an anecdote from the Gemara to show that these were real people, not just names. After presenting the Gemara’s question, he would ask members of the shiur to suggest an answer. He would then skillfully show how one suggestion was Abbaya’s opinion and another Rava’s and so on. This way even a newcomer could feel immediately connected to the experience of Gemara learning.

This involvement with others did not detract from the attention he gave his own children. Before the Shabbos afternoon shiur, he would review with us what we had learned in school. He taught us Nach and dikduk and, after my Bar Mitzvah, began studying Ramban on the Chumash with me. He also hired a private tutor to supplement our studies with Mishnayos which we didn’t learn in school.

On Sunday afternoons he would take the family out to Epping Forest. As we walked through the woods, he would point out to us the wonders of Hashem’s creations and tell us stories of Gedolim and Chassidim.

On moving to Eretz Yisrael in 1972, my father began giving daily shiurim in Yeshivas Dvar Yerushalayim. The yeshiva had been established two years previously by an old colleague in the field of kiruv, Rabbi Boruch Horovitz, shlita, with my father’s assistance.

He now published in book form the stenciled list of Gemara keywords he had prepared for his shiur in London. The printed edition, called Aiding Talmud Study, eventually grew to include some rules of Aramaic grammar, historical and geographic information on the Tana’im and Amora’im and a translation of Rav Shmuel Hanagid’s introduction to the Talmud. The small booklet has become an indispensable companion to most beginners in Gemara.

A baal habayis in England recently told one of my brothers that our father’s booklet had saved him in yeshiva. He was fifteen years old and was making no headway in understanding Gemara. He was ready to give up, when he came across a copy of “Aiding Talmud Study.” That gave him the clarity and confidence to persevere and he remained in yeshiva.

In preparation for the shemittah year 5733/1973, my father began learning Yerushalmi Shevi’is together with Professor Leo Levi who taught optics in Machon Lev in Bayit Vegan. After learning for a few weeks with the standard mefarshim, they realized that they were concluding one sugya after another without gaining clarity. They decided they would go back to the beginning and they would not leave a sugya until they had worked out a coherent pshat. True to the dictum of Chazal, that toiling in Torah is guaranteed to produce results, they began gaining clarity.

Professor Levi suggested that they record their conclusions, since they may prove helpful for others. And so the commentary Kav Venaki came into being. The name of the sefer, “A small but clear measure,” encapsulates my father’s capacity to present ideas in a clear and concise manner. The chavrusa was for only one and a half hours in the early morning and it took a full shemitta cycle before they published the first volume on Maseches Shevi’is. They continued to write on Terumos, Maasros, and Maaser Sheini. My father finished the final, third revision of Maaser Sheini shortly before he took ill last summer. The work is highly praised by people who study the Yerushalmi Daf Hayomi program (introduced by the Lev Simcha of Gur in 1980.)

The Crown of Kehuna

The Gemara states that the crown of Priesthood is the legacy of Aharon and his sons. The Mishna in Avos, however, tells us that one can become a student of Aharon by emulating his ways: “love peace, pursue peace; love people and bring them close to Torah.”

Avos deRabbi Nassan explains how Aharon Hakohen would make peace between enemies. He would tell each party that the other one had revealed to him that he really wanted to end the hostilities and create a friendship. Likewise he would visit a sinner, treating him as an equal, which would invariably make the person strive to mend his ways to meet Aharon’s opinion of him.

My father would explain that Aharon wasn’t playing make-believe to achieve his goals. He was able to plumb the depths of a person’s heart and uncover the point at which he truly desired to be good and friendly.

My father likewise attracted people to Yiddishkeit by displaying a genuine interest in each one as someone with great potential. He once reported a conversation he had with a man who defined himself as chiloni (non-religious). My father asked him, “Do you fast on Yom Kippur?” “Yes.” “Do you go to shul on Shabbos?” “Sometimes.” “Do you eat chametz on Pesach?” “Of course not!” My father said to him, “So you are dati. You keep mitzvos. You may have to learn to do more mitzvos, but don’t call yourself chiloni!”

In his book “Masterplan” on the rationale behind the mitzvos, he relates the following episode:

One of the first people he succeeded in making religious in the 1950s was a shoe store owner in North London. After a long process, the family had adopted many aspects of a Torah lifestyle – kashrus, tefillah, tefillin, etc. However, Shabbos presented an impasse. The man claimed that his main income came from Saturday shoppers when people get off from work early. If he closed on Shabbos, his clients would patronize other stores all week long.

My father tried all means of persuasion to no avail. One day my father told him the following: “If you start keeping Shabbos you will become a member of an international club of Shabbos observers. This club has no president, no office or secretary. However, I can guarantee you that if you arrive anywhere in the world and need help you can go into any shul and say that you’re a shomer Shabbos and you will immediately find fellow Jews ready to help you.”

Rav Dessler considered the power of imagination one of the most powerful tools in overcoming the yetzer hara. My father had managed to help this man over the hurdle of fear at losing his financial security by creating a new image of himself as a shomer Shabbos with new resources.

The end of the story is that during this period, my father had been instrumental in setting up the British Shabbos Observance Bureau. A major achievement of that organization was to push through legislation that allowed Jews, who closed their stores on Saturday for religious reasons, to open on Sunday. As a result, the man’s income tripled, as he was the only store in the district open on Sunday! This man passed away recently, leaving behind three generations of bnei Torah!

How does one develop a love of people like Aharon Hakohen? My father used to teach, as he had learned from Rav Dessler, that one achieves this goal by training oneself to be a giver. He would note that the initial reaction of the average person, when asked to do a favor, is to think of reasons why it is not possible or convenient right now. On second thought he says, “Perhaps I could make time, etc.” A person must train himself that his immediate impulse is a readiness to be of help. Only on a second consideration may he realize that it really isn’t possible right now.

The Crown of Sovereignty

A sovereign is someone who takes responsibility for the needs of the public. The ultimate King of Israel must descend from the Davidic line. However, Chazal tell us “man malchei? rabbanon “(Who are kings? The rabbis.)” The Gemara says that a Torah scholar must be involved in all the affairs of his town. His Torah knowledge enables him to evaluate all matters from the truth-perspective of the Torah. As a result, he is obliged to take responsibility to ensure that the affairs of the community are run in a Torah way.

My father had a great sense of responsibility to do what was needed for the betterment of the individual and the community. He did not sit back and assume that others more worthy than he would take action. It was this sense of responsibility, together with a tremendous debt of gratitude, that fueled his constant involvement in propagating the teachings of his great Rebbe and mentor Rav Dessler, zt”l. For example:

A bachur who had studied in Yeshivas Ponevez in Eretz Yisrael returned to England enthused with idea of the Yarchei Kallah that the Ponevezer Rav had instituted. He wished to bring the idea to England and had found the ideal location. Gateshead Yeshivah had just opened a brand-new beis medrash and dormitory facilities that would be an ideal place to bring young families for a few weeks of Torah study whilst the Yeshivah was on summer vacation.

But how does a single bachur organize such a major undertaking? Someone suggested he contact my father “who knew how to get things done.” He wrote to my father putting forth his idea. My father wrote back that he had just that week had the same idea. After a few months of detailed planning together, my father traveled up to Gateshead and met the hanhalah of the yeshiva, who readily endorsed the suggestion. My father ran most of the secretarial work from his own private office and twenty families signed up for the first Yarchei Kallah in England to begin immediately after Tisha B’Av.

A few days before Tisha B’Av, my father traveled up to Gateshead again to make sure everything had been prepared as discussed. Were there enough playpens for all the young families?

The bachur has successfully continued running Yarchei Kallah programs up to the present day. Today, the summer Yarchei Kallah attracts 350 families and rents a college campus for the purpose.

My father felt a sense of responsibility on an individual basis, too. A younger brother of mine recalls how, on many occasions, he would begin to argue with a taxi driver or storekeeper about the price to be paid. My father would tell him to stop. “Forget about the Shekalim. Remember, every time a non-religious Jew has an interaction with a Torah-Jew, it’s an opportunity to make a Kiddush Hashem. That should be what concerns you.”

This clear-cut, positive outlook — that a life of Torah and mitzvos is the best thing possible —created the shem tov he has left behind. There are numerous people who, decades after having been introduced to the beauty of Torah by my father, zt”l, still ask themselves what would Rav Carmell say about this situation?

May his memory be a source of blessing.   זכרונו לברכה