Remembering my Rebbe, by Shalhevet Cahana

Sarah Shalhevet Cahana

Rav Soloveitchik gave the first Gemara shiur to women in Stern College in 1977. But, what happened on day two?

Rav Willig completed the rest of the year’s Gemara teaching. But when he wanted to spend more time at Yeshiva University uptown, the Rav asked Rav Moshe Kahn if he could continue teaching the shiur. 

At the time, Rav Kahn was teaching at Yeshiva University’s men’s campus. Rav Kahn thought, and I’m paraphrasing, “My rebbe [Rav Soloveitchik] asked me to teach here, and I should honor my rebbe’s wish.”

Rav Gedalya Berger had once pointed out to me – when Rav Kahn prepared his first shiur to women, he had an important pedagogical choice: How should he do it? After all, presumably, these students hadn’t ever opened a daf Gemara—let alone know how to distinguish a Mishna from a Braitah.

The simplest approach would have been to teach the simplest Sugyot, thus opening the class to a wider audience.  After all, making the material more accessible would serve many—giving them a basic foundation on which they could eventually grow in their lifelong Torah learning.  

But Rav Kahn made a daring choice: he taught only the strongest, most motivated students. He figured, and I’m paraphrasing, “If they learn the hardest Sugyot with me, by the time they graduate, they’ll be able to handle learning any other Sugya on their own, or in another Gemara shiur.”

It meant that his shiurim were usually small—around 10 to 15 students each class in his  intermediate and advanced tracks. To my recollection, he never won the Student Faculty Award – a prize given to the faculty member who receives the most votes from students. Though deeply beloved, Rav Kahn never had enough students at any given time who could vote for him.

Rav Kahn’s shiur was hard, yet his questions were deceptively simple: “What does the Gemara say?” And when we would say something inaccurate, Rav Kahn would say, “No, try again. What does the Gemara say?” Or, “Be careful now; try again!”

We were never allowed to cut corners. Actually, you needed to translate each prefix and suffix too. And if we came to shiur and didn’t know a word, in his gentle voice, he would ask, “Why did you continue in the Gemara, if you didn’t know what this word meant?” His standards were firm. He expected the world of us, and in turn, allowed us to expect the world of ourselves.

His bechinas usually took me six hours to take. Not because I was inefficient, but  because they were so thorough and therefore challenging. We couldn’t open a Gemara; you truly had to know the sugyah and Rishonim.

We lovingly called him “Killer Kahn” because you would work hard and—somehow—wind up with an 85. It didn’t matter though—we still came back semester after semester to his shiur.

Through his rigorous training, we blossomed into the Torah learners and teachers that we are today. Most women went on to create lives and professions in their desired fields. And for those who went on to teach—it’s humbling to realize how nearly all of today’s  major-league players in American women’s talmud Torah were either direct students or the students-of-students of Rav Kahn.

Right before Purim in 2021, we got the news that Rav Kahn had stage 4 lung cancer. We didn’t know how much time he had left. We wondered, “How can we show our gratitude for everything he’d given us?”

Some of his students asked if I could help put together a book of Divrei Torah in his honor. I didn’t even have to blink. I automatically and intuitively said yes.

Like many projects, it required many more hours than anticipated. Between the writing, editing, more editing … At times, it felt endless. During those late nights, I’d motivate myself, “This is for my rebbe.”

We titled it: משה אמת ותורתו אמת—“Moshe is true and his Torah is true,” with the subsections bearing sweet puns like משה קיבל תורה מסיני ומסרה for the section on Torah Shebaal Peh, or והאיש משה עניו מכל אדם for the section about values and character in Judaism. And each Dvar Torah was written with the careful thought and rigor that Rav Kahn always expected from us.

Right before Shavuot that year, Stern College made a Zoom event to honor his contribution to Yeshiva University—for nearly 50 years of teaching at Yeshiva University and his contribution to women’s talmud Torah.

It began with President Rabbi Ari Berman and Nechama Price thanking Rav Kahn. They emphasized how he lit our candles, until we were able to carry the flame on our own מדליק עד שתהא השלהבת עולה מאליה.

Rav Kahn then taught a beautiful shiur analyzing how the Torah Shebichtav and Torah Shebaal Peh came into being, with a fascinating Beis HaLevi and analysis of several midrashim. He then encouraged us to internalize all the Torah we learn, so that we can cause our Yetzer HaTov to become even stronger.

Rav Kahn began the shiur noticeably weak. He said that he was getting over a case of laryngitis and sounded hoarse. He even asked one of the Talmidot to read the Mekorot. But as he taught, he became noticeably stronger. Torah is perfect because it restores the soul: תורת ה’ תמימה משיבת נפש.

When he finished, I figured we’d all say thank you and leave, as is the etiquette for a Zoom shiur. But, what happened next blew me away.

One by one, each Talmidah shared her gratitude. Speaking for maybe only 30 seconds or a minute, each one thanked him for how he believed in us, how he challenged us, how he would never let us settle for a shallow understanding of the Gemara and how he taught us the skills we needed, so we could become lifelong learners.

Hearing student after student, from decade after decade, share their Hakarat Hatov—it rendered me speechless. I couldn’t stop crying.

Before signing off the Zoom, Rav Kahn said in his humility, “I had no idea I made such a difference.”

When I heard the news of his passing today, I was sobbing uncontrollably. My hands were shaking. It is appropriate to tear Kriyah for the passing of a Talmid Chacham.

נָפְלָה עֲטֶרֶת רֹאשֵׁנוּ “The crown has fallen from our head.”

Rebbe, I already miss you.

Remembering my Rebbe on His Shloshim, by Shalhevet Cahana SCW ‘15, GPATS ‘17

I was supposed to see Rav Kahn today. 

For the past six years I’ve come back to Stern on President’s Day (it’s the only day when Stern is in session while my employer is not).

When my 5 years of learning in Stern came to a close – 3 in undergrad and 2 in GPATS – I knew 

It’s the same each time: I welcome the wave of nostalgia as I walk down 34th street towards Lexington Ave. I feel my heart soften with each footfall up the steps to the 245 building. 

If walls contain my memories – then they remember each precious shiur, each precious friendship I forged there. Embedded in the walls are the endless conversations, the hours in the Beit Midrash. They are always inside of me – but somehow, coming to Stern again reawakens the memories to life. What a gift it is to walk down memory lane.  

But, of course, the best part of coming back – the whole reason why I'd come – is to be in the Beit Midrash and to learn in Rav Kahn's shiur. 

If you haven’t been there before – it’s the largest women’s Beit Midrash in North America. It is home to over 3,000 Seforim. One wall is just windows – allowing the physical and therefore spiritual sunlight to ensconce the room.

Many have spoken about Rav Kahn’s hasmadah – his consistency. Every morning he would sit in his Makom, always with a gemara and his purple travel coffee mug. His head resting on hand and full attention to his learning. In these visits, I’d feel a twinge of guilt in interrupting his learning -- but he would always return my greeting with a sweet “Oh! Hello!! So nice to see you!!”

I remember my last in-person visit to Stern in February of 2020. My Abba had just passed away from cancer; I was getting ready for Shloshim. Rav Kahn wanted to know how I was doing. I told him about my learning, my teaching, and my Abba. As Rav Kahn and I were speaking, I felt myself re-experiencing Rav Kahn’s genuine care, his calm, his sincerity. 

This moment, ironically, caused me to feel grief. In re-experiencing what it was like to speak with my rebbe, I felt a bitterness knowing that I would never be able to do the same with my own father – to re-experience his presence. 

So yesterday was Presidents Day. I was supposed to see Rav Kahn for shiur. But instead I came for his Shloshim. Memories of Rav Kahn, Torah in his honor – but not to actually re-experience his presence again. 

I can’t capture everything that was said by the Rabbanim and Rabbaniyot – it was really beautiful and here’s the link if you’d like to see it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWoHqUcJcSc 

I’ll just share one thought that resonated with me from Rabbi Ari Berman. 

Rabbi Berman wondered why, in Parshat Nitzavim, Moshe even insinuated that the Torah was across a sea and in the heavens (Dvarim 30:11-14). Why these metaphors? Wouldn't it have been enough for Moshe to have said “the Torah is in your mouth and heart to do -  בפיך ובלבך לעשותו”?

Rabbi Berman answered: There was a time when Torah was actually across in heaven and across the sea – namely, when Bnei Yisrael were enslaved in Egypt. They actually did need someone to guide them through the water, someone to ascend the mountain – and that was Moshe Rabbenu. 

So when Moshe says these words – that the Torah is now close, he is telling Bnei Yisrael, “I’ve done my shlichus,” meaning, my life mission, “by bringing the Torah that had once been far, now close to you.” As Moshe reflects on the entirety of his life, days away from departing from this world, how magnificent to feel that he had accomplished his shlichus in bringing the Torah close to Klal Yisrael. 

Rabbi Berman then directed this metaphor to another Moshe, namely, Rav Moshe Kahn. Because Rav Kahn could also look back on his life with deep satisfaction – to  feel that he had completed his shlichus – both to his family and to his students. 

As for his family – I remember the shabbosim that we would spend by his family. Rav Kahn made challah. He had a twinkle in his eye when he looked across the table at his wife.  

As for his students – it is evidenced by the outpouring of hespeidim and commemorations in his honor – how he touched our lives. Did you know that over 450 people learned for a Siyyum HaShas in his memory? 

I will close with this. In the middle of the Stern Beit Midrash are two pillars and sandwiched between them are tables and chairs – mekomot for learning. For years now, one pillar proudly shows the iconic photo of Rav Soloveitchik giving the first gemara shiur to women in Stern. Rav Kahn’s makom was directly across. (I wonder what it must have been like for Rav Kahn to look up from his sefer to see an image of his own rebbe teaching shiur.) 

In the days since Rav Kahn’s passing, a student painted the now iconic photo of Rav Kahn learning; she hung it above his makom.  

Now two pillars of women’s talmud torah will always see each other. 

(Shalhevet Cahana teaches Gemara and Halacha at Manhattan Day School and serves as a Community Scholar in Beth Jacob Congregation in Oakland, CA. She is a Kallah Teacher, trained by Merkaz Eden in Yerushalayim. To date, she has taught Torah in over 70 shuls and communities internationally.)