Letter 7
27 Kislev, Tav-Reish-Peh-Bet, December 28, 1921, Hanukkah, Jerusalem
To my friend, my heart and my point, the glory of his name is my glory, may his candle burn and shine for all eternity, Amen, may it be so:
Since the ninth of Elul [last month in the Hebrew calendar] to the second day of Hanukkah, some four months, I have been anticipating the joy of your written word. But in the end, a long letter is lying before me, full of poetic phrases and intimations that no one understands, like the dust that a fox lifts up when it walks in a tilled field. What fault have you found in me to make me unworthy of knowing anything about your states, although you know how much I care about them?
I am also surprised that you did not pay attention to what we said, that you would not write me anything that is covered with poetic phrases, in which I flee endlessly, so much so that I cannot find you in even one of them.
I ask of you, for God’s sake, that from now on, when you write me some information, write with care and make certain you interpret it simply, as a person speaks to his friend, who is not a prophet, making certain he will not stray or even contemplate, nor note the eloquence, but rather the ease of explanation. And most important, not to mix in his words poetic phrases or intimations, for there is no fear of any foreign eyes ... and in my house there is no entry to foreigners.
When you write me innovations in the Torah, clarify them to me without any names or Partzufim that are common in the books, but in ordinary people’s terms. For myself, I also take notice to explain my points in ordinary language, and it falls under my senses in complete simplicity, through and through, for it is a near and true way to clarify something to the fullest.
While I clothe the matters in the names of the books, at that time appears in me the desire to know the thoughts of the books, so my mind strays from the goal of my way, and this I have tried and tested. Moreover, when I obtain some direction in the poetic phrases in the books for my way, the joy even increases to mingle falsehood with truth.
Therefore, when I come to scrutinize something that I must, I keep myself carefully from looking in books both before and after. And it is likewise in writing; I do not use poetic phrases with them, so as to always be ready in purity to find a word of truth with admixtures or assistance from something external to it. Only then does the palate taste...
Yehuda Leib