A Standout Moment

This classic joke highlights a common misunderstanding of what Novardok truly represented. The stories are well known: students entering a hardware store to ask for cheese or walking into a bakery to request nails; others deliberately wore their clothing inside-out. My great-uncle, who studied in Novardok, confirmed that these stories were real. Someone once recalled that their grandmother, raised in a Novardok home, even carried a raw fish through Times Square. (One wonders if that would even raise an eyebrow today…)

The popular assumption is that these behaviors were simply exercises in humility. But in truth, Novardok’s mission ran far deeper.

The roots lie in a striking halacha from the very first Mishnah in Horiyos. The Mishnah discusses what happens when the Sanhedrin issues an erroneous ruling. Those who follow the mistaken ruling are exempt from liability. But if someone knows the ruling is wrong, he cannot excuse himself by saying, “I only followed what the Sanhedrin said.” This holds true even if he is too unlearned to rule on his own. If he studied the sugya and concluded that the ruling was mistaken, he is forbidden to rely on the Sanhedrin’s psak. Should he do so, he bears full responsibility.

The Rashash raises the obvious question: how can this be? The Torah explicitly commands, “Be careful to do as Hashem has commanded you. Do not turn aside to the right or to the left.” Chazal explain this to mean that even if the Sanhedrin tells you right is left and left is right, you must obey them. How, then, can the Mishnah obligate an individual to resist their ruling?

The Rashash answers: such a person must go directly to the Sanhedrin and present his case. He must explain what he learned, share his reasoning, and show them where he believes their ruling is mistaken. Imagine – a young man of twenty, still wet behind the ears, standing before seventy-one of the greatest sages of the generation and declaring: “Rabbosai, I believe you are wrong.” It takes extraordinary audacity. Yet the Torah demands it. If, after hearing him out, the Sanhedrin maintains their ruling, he must accept it. But if he remains silent and simply follows them, and their ruling later proves erroneous, he is held responsible.

This is the awesome responsibility of every Jew: not to hide in the comfort of the crowd. Even if all of Klal Yisrael follows the court’s ruling, if one individual knows – through his rebbe or his own learning – that it is wrong, he must resist. He must step forward against the tide, confront authority, and stand alone if necessary.

This, in essence, was Novardok’s mission. They believed that the greatest stumbling block in avodas Hashem is the fear of public opinion. People shrink from being the odd man out. They crave acceptance, and that craving leads them to compromise their convictions. The Novardokers trained themselves to be utterly indifferent to the comments, stares, and laughter of others. Whether by asking for nails in a bakery or by wearing their clothes inside-out, they were not practicing silliness for its own sake. They were forging spiritual steel – the ability to go against the world when truth demanded it.

True Novardok was never about making yourself into “nothing.” On the contrary, it was about becoming something so solid that ridicule, scorn, or the pull of the crowd no longer held sway. Their exercises were not meant to crush the self, but to free it – to create people who could stand firm in avodas Hashem even when the entire world thought otherwise.

Still, there were other great Mussar yeshivos, such as Slabodka. Why didn’t their students conduct themselves in the same way? Slabodka believed the strongest path to avoid sin and advance in avodas Hashem was to strengthen one’s knowledge in Gadlus HaAdam. If a person truly understood his tremendous self-worth, he would declare, “I am created in the image of G-d! It is beneath me to commit this lowly aveira.” Wearing inside-out clothing might strengthen one against ridicule, but it could also undermine his sense of dignity. Would a prince walk around with his clothing reversed? Would a president act like a fool? While there was something to be gained by Novardok’s methods, Slabodka felt the price was too high: it risked eroding the exalted view of man that was central to their philosophy.

Still, is there a path that can satisfy both schools of thought?

Enter Naftali Solomon. With the entire audience watching the large screens, everyone saw Rav Reuven Feinstein, shlita, surrounded by a sea of black as he made his way to the dais where the honorees sat. But then, a lone figure stood out – a man in an electric blue suit. Its brightness could nearly blind the eyes. He wore stylish, fashionable clothing that in no way diminished his dignity. Indeed, like the well-dressed students of Slabodka, he was sharply turned out. Yet, at the same time, he stood out from the crowd – and he didn’t care one iota.

In that moment, he embodied both schools of Mussar: Slabodka’s emphasis on human dignity and Novardok’s fearless indifference to public opinion.