It is with great awe and admiration that I reflect upon the career and achievement of my mentor and colleague, Rabbi Moshe Kahn, zt”l. And, it is with great pain, that I try to assimilate the void generated by his passing. Throughout the generations, our nation has and continues to be blessed with many teachers of Torah who enlighten the lives of individual students and communities. Few, however, have built and nurtured an entire world of Torah. Rabbi Moshe Kahn created a world of Torah.
Rabbi Kahn is one of the founding fathers in the world of advanced Talmud and Halacha study for women. He earned this distinction over the course of nearly four decades of tireless devotion promoting advanced Torah education opportunities for women. Since 1983, he invested his time and energy teaching Talmud and Halacha at Stern College, Drisha and GPATS, and—in the process—touched the lives of 1000s of students. Remarkably, he never viewed himself as a visionary or an ideologue. His self-perception was exclusively as a teacher of Torah; yet, through his daily commitment to teaching Torah, he galvanized an entire community of women learners who sought connection to the “giver of Torah” through a comprehensive and deepened study of Talmud and Halacha. One of his students formulated the sentiment in the following manner— “kulanu bnei ish echad nachnu.” Indeed, Rabbi Kahn was the father figure that nurtured the religious, intellectual world of this segment of women in the Jewish community.
His transformative impact, though, wasn’t the product of a grand, revolutionary vision, but of persistent effort offering the daily korban hatamid—day after day, talmidah after talmidah and shiur after shiur. Rabbi Kahn used to describe the leaner, earlier years, when class sizes in Talmud at Stern College consisted of one, two or three students. He continued to dedicate himself, and gradually witnessed increased interest, greater numbers of students and even the development of GPATS—a graduate program dedicated toward advanced Talmud and Halacha study. The cumulative effect was the generation of an entire world of learning.
In May 2021, Rabbi Kahn delivered a tribute shiur, which was attended by four decades worth of talmidot. Afterward, many talmidot had the opportunity to express their gratitude and appreciation for Rabbi Kahn and the manner in which he impacted their learning and lives. With characteristic humility, Rabbi Kahn responded, “I never knew I made such an impact.”
Rabbi Kahn’s impact, though, was monumental. For those who don’t occupy the space of higher women’s learning, it is hard to fully appreciate the role that Rabbi Kahn has played in the lives of thousands of students who learned with him over the course of four decades. Virtually all women in America—and many in Israel—who have spent time studying Talmud in a substantial manner, are talmidot of Rabbi Kahn. He served as their rebbe, their connection to the mesorah and their portal into the world of the beit midrash and higher learning. In addition, he is the fulcrum for an international and multi-generational community of women learners whose fellowship revolves around their interconnectedness through Rabbi Kahn. Rabbi Kahn achieved this outsized impact on account of his dedication and investment in the learning and lives of his students. He never saw the world of women’s education as a springboard for other professional opportunities nor as a second-tier professional outlet. He was immersed in the world of women’s education and doggedly committed toward his students’ growth and achievement. This wasn’t an impressive flyover or cameo appearance. He had his boots on the ground, day in and day out. He invested his life and soul in his students, and they reciprocally demonstrated their respect, appreciation, admiration and love for their rebbe.
Rabbi Kahn taught for 11 years uptown in the men’s division of JSS—the James Striar School—prior to arriving at Stern College. One administrator called the luring of Rabbi Kahn to Stern College one of the greatest heists in the history of Jewish education. Despite his departure, Rabbi Kahn’s teaching experience at JSS would continue to inform his educational philosophy for decades to come. On numerous occasions, I heard Rabbi Kahn attribute Rabbi Moshe Besdin—the director of JSS and Chumash teacher—as having the most influential impact on his pedagogy. The slogan of JSS was: “It—and not about it.” Rabbi Norman Lamm described Rabbi Besdin as someone who, “passionately advocated teaching students the elementary techniques of how to master a text before proceeding to more abstract conceptualization.” Mastering a text would become Rabbi Kahn’s calling card for years and decades to come.
Rabbi Kahn’s shiur was all about the “it.” When learning with Rabbi Kahn, students knew that every word had import—every phrase must be properly understood—and the role of every question, answer, proof or deflection must be precisely comprehended and clearly articulated. Rabbi Kahn wasn’t so interested in abstract conceptualizations of the material before one was able to accurately decode the text. In several interactions in the beit midrash, Rabbi Kahn could be overheard challenging students, “This isn’t philosophy,” or “This isn’t about personal feelings.” What he sought was “what the text was saying.”
Rabbi Kahn prioritized the “guide on the side” model of teaching over the “sage on the stage” style. He was far more interested in his students developing their learning skills and mastery of the material than developing and presenting his own erudite chiddushim and dazzling approaches to a topic. The heavy-lifting during seder time and during shiur was to be done by the students, not by him. He was there to guide them, but they were required to “sharpen their formulations” and to “say it better.”
When students struggled in the beit midrash with an argument in the Gemara, or a proof of Tosafot or a resolution of the Ramban and desperately sought relief from their troubles, Rabbi Kahn replied—with a rhetorical question and almost goading tone—“Do you want me to tell you?” The facial expressions of the students said it all, tension and conflict. “Yes! Yes! Please help us and spare us from this torturous confusion!” but, at the same time, “No! No! That would be slothful, disappoint our rebbe, and we won’t grow in the process.” Or, if they experienced difficulty understanding Tosafot’s question from a contradictory sugya, the instinctive reply was always: “Did you look it up?” Rabbi Kahn relayed to his students a lesson he learned from his high school rebbe, “It is assur to learn Torah with emunah!” Painstaking legwork, looking up every reference or citation, is necessary to ensure accurate understanding. The Torah was theirs to acquire and own. Rabbi Kahn encouraged and demanded that his students suffer multiple failures in order to experience the sweet savor of success and true simchat halev.
In numerous graduation speeches, students have described their experience of sitting in shiur before Rabbi Kahn as being imbued with fear, trepidation and anxiousness. Despite his soft-spoken and mild mannered nature, Rabbi Kahn set tenaciously high standards for his students and held them to it. Rabbi Kahn wielded the tool of cold calling on students to perfection, ensuring that they arrive well prepared and accountable for their learning. His bechinot were the stuff of late-nights and early mornings, repetitious review and white board (and wall) plastering outlines. He earned his affectionate nickname: “Killer Kahn.”
Rabbi Kahn deeply respected the students whom he taught—as human beings and as avdot Hashem. Their religious, intellectual, and emotional world was sacred to him, and he did everything humanly possible to safeguard and nurture that world. This fatherly devotion manifested itself in numerous ways.
Since I joined the GPATS faculty 12 years ago, and—in my understanding—beforehand as well, Rabbi Kahn’s advanced Talmud class and GPATS have always studied masechtot in Seder Nashim and Seder Nezikin. Several years ago, a proposal was made to change the curriculum to more relatable, relatively easier topics and masechtot that could possibly translate more readily to a teaching context. Rabbi Kahn was adamantly and steadfastly opposed. His reasoning was threefold.
Firstly, in his opinion, the material in Nashim and Nezikin was more challenging and typically accompanied by a full complement of Rishonim. He believed in challenging his students with the most complex and challenging material. This belief was rooted in his deep respect for his students and their intellectual capabilities. Before I began teaching at GPATS, I met with Rabbi Kahn in his home to benefit from his wisdom and guidance. One point that he highlighted to me was the imperative to challenge the students. “They will do whatever you ask of them.” Set the bar high, and they will rise to the challenge. And, indeed, Rabbi Kahn asked for “half the kingdom.” Masechet Yevamot, Perek HaZahav and Eizehu Neshech, Chezkat HaBatim, etc. were yearly undertakings. And there was nothing that excited him more than to tackle a complex Tosafot or a debate between Milchamot Hashem and Baal HaMaor.
His insistence went further, though. He believed in his students and their capacity and aspirations to grow into independent life-long learners. Rabbi Kahn was, primarily, interested in developing translatable skills that would enable independence and employment to infinite sugyot and contexts. To paraphrase an ancient proverb: “If you give a woman a great shiur, you provide her with a chiddush. If you teach a woman how to learn, you enrich her with bountiful and boundless religious treasures.” In Rabbi Kahn’s view, developing and sharpening skills was most effectively achieved through studying the most complex material. Once mastered, translatable skills could easily be applied to any area of Torah.
There was a third component to Rabbi Kahn’s curricular preference which was also deeply rooted in his respect for and sensitivity toward his students’ religious emotional world. He was worried about the messaging that curricular limits would deliver. Setting boundaries that would delimit certain areas of Torah as being off-limits or inaccessible, would be insulting and condescending. As a result, Rabbi Kahn felt very strongly that all aspects of Torah be accessible to women and they should not be cut off from any facet of our mesorah. In a caring way, Rabbi Kahn insisted that the students’ learning environment be a safe emotional space for them to grow in and thrive, and he sought to safeguard that environment from being compromised by experiences that would question or challenge the value of their religious and intellectual outlets.
As a mentor and colleague, Rabbi Kahn was so exceptionally kind to me when I joined the GPATS faculty 12 years ago, and throughout the years since. Despite the nearly 30-year age gap and lifetime achievement divide that separated us, he warmly welcomed me into the world of learning that he created. A spirit of fellowship and congeniality marked our work together. I especially enjoyed our Thursday afternoon bus rides back to Teaneck together. On a personal level, I am deeply appreciative of Rabbi Kahn’s constant encouragement, his warm smile and mild manner; all of which made working together a sheer delight. The time he spent meeting with me—on occasion—before seder to advise me with fatherly patience and insight on personal issues I was confronting continues to touch me very deeply. Most importantly, I am so profoundly grateful for the world of women’s higher education that Rabbi Kahn created, cultivated and nurtured with love and dedication—over the course of four decades—that my colleagues, our students and I now occupy and thrive in. All that we have and will continue to achieve—all of our successes and milestones—will be built upon the foundation Rabbi Kahn set for us.
In May 2022, Rabbi Kahn returned to the Stern beit midrash for the first time since before the pandemic. When he got up to speak, he looked around and remarked how everything looked the same. Later on, I corrected him. It was not the same. It was really not the same. Not in Rabbi Kahn’s absence. That day, the beit midrash looked more festive and rejoiced upon the return of her “ben bechor” and the achievements of his students. We are, otherwise, feeling bereft of our rebbe and our guide.
May HaKadosh Baruch Hu grant us the strength and wisdom to continue to honor Rabbi Kahn’s legacy through the dedicated, rigorous, truthful,and meaningful study of His Torah. And may we find comfort in our irreplaceable loss, by continuing to carry forward Rabbi Kahn’s life mission.
Rabbi David Nachbar serves as a maggid shiur for GPATS and as a Judaic Studies faculty member at TABC.