On this page of Talmud read a Mishnah that begins with the words “Three people who ate.”
שְׁלֹשָׁה שֶׁאָכְלוּ כְּאַחַת — אֵינָן רַשָּׁאִין לֵיחָלֵק
Three people who ate together must recite Grace after Meals together…
There is another Mishnah in Avot that echoes this phrase:
רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן אוֹמֵר, שְׁלשָׁה שֶׁאָכְלוּ עַל שֻׁלְחָן אֶחָד וְלֹא אָמְרוּ עָלָיו דִּבְרֵי תוֹרָה, כְּאִלּוּ אָכְלוּ מִזִּבְחֵי מֵתִים
Rabbi Shimon said: if three people ate at one table and have not spoken there words of Torah, [it is] as if they had eaten sacrifices [offered] to the dead
The Three Who Ate - By David Frischmann
The great Hebrew and Yiddish writer David Frischmann (1859-1922) wrote a famous short story with the same title: שלשה שאכלו - Three People Who Ate. It describes an event that took place in Vilna during one of the terrible cholera epidemics that broke out in the city. Here is an excerpt.
מעשה בשלשה שאכלו…...לא באחד הימים הפשוטים מימי שבתות ה ’אכלו את אשר אכלו, כי-אם ביום הכפורים, ביום הכפורים שחל להיות בשבת; לא במקום סתר באין רואה ובאין יודע, כי-אם לעיני כל ישראל, אשר בבית-הכנסת הגדול; ולא אנשים ריקים ופוחזים, לא קלי-דעת היו שלשת האנשים ההם, כי-אם מנשיאי העדה ואציליה הכי-נכבדים, הלא הם רב העיר ושני הדינים אשר עמו. –ובכל זה עיני כל ישראל היו תלויות אליהם ביראה ובכבוד, ויהיו קדושים בעיני כל העם ועל פני כל העדה נכבדו ויקָּדשו
Three people who ate….they did not eat on any regular day of the week, but on Yom Kippur. And not just on any Yom Kippur, but on Yom Kippur that fell on Shabbat. They didn’t eat in secret, but in front of everyone gathered in the Great Synagogue. They weren’t simple people or boors. These three were not frivolous. Rather they were the princes of the community and their most important leaders, none other than the rabbi of the city and the two Dayanim [rabbinic judges] who stood with him…
It was the afternoon of Yom Kippur. The rabbi stood bent over on the Bima…Even now my eyes can picture that incredible sight, as I stood there in the congregation of the synagogue. The rabbi stood on the Bima, his dark eyes shining out from his pale face and white beard. The Mussaf service was almost over and the congregation stood silently waiting to hear something from this man of God...
Suddenly my ears heard a sound but I could not understand exactly what it was. I heard the sounds but my heart could not comprehend. “With the permission of God and with the permission of the community, we hereby permit people to eat and to drink today.”
The beadle came forward and the Rabbi whispered a few things into his ear. Then he spoke with the two Dayanim who were next to him. They nodded as if to approve of what he had said. As this was happening the beadle brought a cup of wine and some cake from the rabbi’s home.
If I am lucky to live for many more years I will never forget that incredible day and that awesome sight. If I close my eyes for a moment I can still see them: the three who ate! The three shepherds of Israel standing on the Bima in the synagogue, eating in front of everyone, on Yom Kippur.
Watercolor of the Great Vilna Synagogue by Juozas Kamarauskas (1899
Frischmann does not give a date for the episode, nor the name of the rabbi with dark eyes and a pale face who made Kiddush and ate on that Yom Kippur. Those details are provided by the Russian historian Hillel Noah Steinshneider in his book Ir Vilna (The City of Vilna). He wrote that it happened in 1848 which was the Jewish year 5609. (In fact that year Yom Kippur fell on Saturday October 7th, so this correlates historically.) Steinshneider also identified the Rabbi of Frischmann’s story as none other than the great Yisrael ben Ze'ev Wolf Lipkin, better known as Rabbi Yisroel Salanter.
Other Accounts of the Yom Kippur When the Rabbi Ate
Here is an account of the episode from the Yiddish book Gdoylim Fun Unzer Tsayt by Jacob Mark, published in New York in 1927. It also identifies the rabbi as Rabbi Yisroel Salatner.
Gdoylim Fun Unzer Tsayt. Yankev Mark. New York 1927.
I would like to tell you about an event that is told about R Yisroel Salanter, that during a cholera epidemic he made kiddish on Yom Kippur in the Great Synagogue of Vilna. He did this to show the community that they should not fast, and he did this over the protests of the Dayanim [rabbinic judges] of Vilna. This famous story has entered Jewish literature, and is presented as a fact. But it is really only a legend. I once had a conversation with Rabbi Shimon Shtarshun of Vilna, who was an eyewitness in the Vilna Shul. He told me the story was as follows. One the eve of Yom Kippur, with the permission of the leading rabbis, Rabbi Salanter posted announcements in all the shuls that because of the cholera epidemic they would not say the additional parts of the prayers [piyutim], and that instead people should spend time outdoor breathing fresh air. In the courtyard of all the shuls they set up tables with pieces of cake that contained less than the prohibited amount of food that may be eaten. The food was there for those who needed to eat. Reb Yisroel [Salanter] got up on at Shacharit [the morning service] on Yom Kippur and announced that if a person felt weak there was no need to consult with a doctor, but instead they may go into the courtyard and eat. But it is preferable only to eat a small amount at a time and to pause between mouthfuls, so as not to violate the Biblical prohibition of eating on Yom Kippur. Reb Yisroel made the announcement and came down from the Bimah, but immediately Rabbi Bezael [HaCohen, a leading rabbi of the city] protested about what had been said that there was no need to consult a doctor. In reality Reb Yisroel tasted nothing.
So according to the Yiddish account of the eyewitness Rabbi Shimon Shtarshun, Rabbi Salanter never made Kiddush, but rather announced that it was permissible to eat. Remember this fact. Another account of this episode comes from the great scholar of Jewish history Louis Ginzberg, in his book Students, Scholars and Saints (p.184-185).
In the year of the frightful cholera epidemic Salanter, after having taken counsel with a number of physicians, became convinced that in the interest of the health of the community it would be necessary to dispense with fasting on the Day of Atonement. Many a Rabbi in this large community was inclined to agree with his view, but none of them could gather courage enough to announce the dispensation publicly….When he saw, however, that none of them would act in this case, he thought self-assertion to the his highest duty. He affixed announcements in all Synagogues, advising the people not to fast on the day of atonement. Knowing, however, how reluctant they would be to follow his written advice he, on the morning of the Day of Atonement at one of the most solemn moments of the service, ascended the reader’s desk. After addressing a few sentences to etc Congregation in which he commanded them to follow his example, he produced some cake and wine, pronounced the blessing over them, ate and drank. One can hardly imagine what moral courage and religious enthusiasm this action of his required from a man like Salanter to whom obedience to the Torah was the highest duty. Many years later he used to dwell on this episode and thank with great joy his Creator for having found him worth to the the instrument of saving so many lives.
So what really happened?
So who is to be believed? Rabbi Shtarshun’s version, in which Rabbi Salanter never made Kiddush, or the story as told by Frischmann, and echoed by Ginzberg, in which the rabbi made Kiddush? Remember that Frischmann was born in 1859 and so would not have witnessed the event he describes in the first person.
Another witness was Rabbi Yitzhak Lipkin, the son of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter. He was born in 1840 and so would have been eight years old on the Yom Kippur in question. R. Lipkin wrote that “during the cholera epidemic when Yom Kippur came, he permitted a person to eat portions that were smaller than the prohibited amount.” R. Lipkin made no mention of his father making Kiddush in public.
Historians debate whether Rabbi Yisrael Salanter stood up on that Shabbat Yom Kippur and made Kiddush, or whether he “only” allowed the people to eat without consulting a doctor. Either way, Frischmann’s account, and those of others who either saw the event or recalled hearing about it from others, remind us that life in Eastern Europe was often far from happy. When there weren’t pogroms, there was always cholera. The story, even if it was fiction, also emphasizes that sometimes when three Jews sit down to eat, they do so not only to praise God or to share words of Torah. Sometimes they sit to remind everyone of the supreme value of human life.
