(Pictured: Yoel Teitelbaum, founder of the Satmar dynasty)
In this first post in my series on Satmar, I will lay down some historical backgorund on the history of Satmar and how it fits in with other chassidic and orthodox groups. This is going to be a brief sketch on the history of ultra-orthodoxy and chassidism. Whole books have been written on these, so I will be painting the picture with very broad brushstrokes. But feel free to ask me questions or requests for more details in the comments. As my audience is diverse, I will be assuming no prior knowledge of chassidism or the history of Judaism.

Chassidism originates in early 18th century Eastern Europe. Ashkenazi ( ie of German/European origin) Jewry is traumatised from recent catastrophic events, primarily the pogroms of the Khmelnytsky Uprising and the widespread disillusion after the false hope from Sabbatean messianism.

Chassidism starts with charismatic mystics and miracle workers who travel around the Jewish villages and towns, raising spirits, (allegedly) performing miracles, and teaching that every Jew, no matter his (it is almost exclusively a male movement) status or learnedness, can reach God with happiness, ecstasy and piety.

This movement is faced with fierce opposition from the rabbinic establishment, who see it as a threat to the established hierarchies and to the legalism of Orthodox law (halacha). This group of opposition is called “misnagdim”, which is (Ashkenazi) Hebrew for “opposers”.

A second group of chassidic antagonists emerges in the later part of the 18th century with the emergence of the Jewish Enlightenment in Western Europe. These are the Maskilim (Hebrew for intellectually enlightened). They oppose chassidism for its ecstasy and enthusiasm, which they see as irrational expressions of religiosity and superstition.

Initially the Misnagdim and the Maskilim work hand in hand in opposition to the Chassidim. But it doesn’t take long before they realise that they are as opposed to each other as each of them is opposed to their common enemy. Maskilim want to bring down rabbinic structures, increase secular education and integration with wider society, all of which the Misnagdim oppose. It doesn’t take long before the chassidim and the Misnagdim are ganging up against their now common enemy, the Maskilim.

By the second half of the 19th century the Jewish community is split on the lines of new fronts: the separatist orthodox (the forefathers of today’s ultra-orthodoxy) against the modernists and reformers. The orthodox camp now contains a mixture of chassidim and misnagdim. They no longer primarily fight amongst themselves, but devote all their energy to fighting the reformers.

Although the orthodox groups are now working together, they still comprise several different socio-cultural groups. These groups don’t always see eye to eye and there is a lot of factionalism going on, especially amongst the more fundamentalist groups who accuse the others of not being orthodox enough. Three distinct groups emerge: the German Yekkes follow in the leadership of Rabbi Doctor S. R. Hirsch; the Lithuanian non-chassidim congregate around Yeshivas; and the chassidim are splintered into hundreds of groups, each following their own rebbes. I will talk more about the role of the rebbe in a future post.

The origins of Satmar are with a chassidic dynasty based in Siget, Romania. This is a dynasty that has powerful social, ideological and marital (marriages in chassidic courts are a bit like the Royal families of 19th century Europe: they’re often about socio-political networking and power) relations with other Eastern European chassidic courts, especially Tzanz and its many descendant dynasties.

This dynasty is known for its fanaticism and uncompromising fundamentalism. They oppose any concessions to modernity and come out as early opposers of the new emerging Zionist ideology. Whilst some orthodox groups embrace some elements of Zionism in religious disguise, the rebbes of Siget are in total and radical opposition. This environment is where Satmar is born.

Yoel Teitelbaum becomes the rabbi (not rebbe – more about this distinction in my next post) of the Romanian city of Satmar after his older brother takes over the Siget dynasty following their father’s death. He quickly makes a name for himself as a pious tzadik (Yiddish for holy man). A flocking of followers and devotees gathers around him, including many of his father’s old followers who choose him over his brother. In the last years before the holocaust he builds a name for himself as an uncompromising radical and religious fundamentalist.

The holocaust sees the destruction of most of the Siget dynasty. Most of Yoel’s family and his brother’s family are murdered in Auschwitz, alongside a majority of their followers. In the late 40s both Yoel and his brother’s son Moshe try to rebuild their respective communities in Brooklyn NY, but Moshe is overshadowed by his charismatic and powerful uncle. The Siget brand does not recover and the surviving followers congregate under Yoel instead, under the Satmar brand.

After the holocaust many surviving chassidic rebbes, such as Belz, Ger, Vizhnitz etc settle in the newly born State of Israel. Zionism is no longer an ideology, but a political reality. They learn to adjust within this reality and set up political parties to the Israeli Parliament to represent their needs. Yoel is horrified at this wholesale abandonment of anti-Zionism by his fellow chassidic leaders and he embarks on a crusade that will last until his dying day to be a powerful voice against the State of Israel and all those who join it politically. This puts him in tension with most chassidic and non-chassidic ultra-orthodox leaders and Satmar sets itself apart from the rest of the ultra-orthodox community. On the other hand, Yoel’s outspoken fanaticism attracts many other surviving rabbis in leaders with smaller followings and they end up establishing independent satellite communities around Satmar. Satmar ends up being like an Empire with lots of semi-independent colonies.

In the next post in this series I will write more about Satmar’s development after Yoel’s death, its relationship with its satellite communities and the role of the rebbe in chassidism in general and in Satmar in particular. See you then!

5 thoughts on “Satmar’s History (part 1): Its Origins and Place within Orthodox Judaism

  1. I thought that your article in the Times Of Israel was very good.

    Idealizing and devaluing are an unfortunate part of who we are, and religion brings it out strongly. (Can encourage it.)

    Folks who come to religion, Ba’al Tshuvahs, for instance, tend to see the secular world as shallow and orthodoxy as rich.

    This TV series, does exactly the opposite. It’s portrays religious life as entrapping and secular life as freeing.

    It’s kind of adolescent.

    There’s something truly beautiful about orthodoxy. And something truly beautiful about being secular.

    If you can hold both, you’re making a contribution.


    Mark Banschick MD
    914-714-0954 USA


  2. Unfortunately I did not like your article on ToI, although I appreciate that you are defending Satmar, the documentary highlights the importance of community as you pointed out in your article the main tool the community uses, in order keep its subjects from leaving (this is true of all ultra orthodox streams) is by encouraging marriage at a young age, and the production of children at any price, that is what the documentary highlights. The community is what saves you from the outside world, it protects against spiritual and physical threats, Moshe in the film made that very clear that, Germany was not safe and only Williamsburg can protect Esty. That is the overall point that outside of the wonderful community with its rich history that you are writing here and regal beauty (which it has, its beautiful and I miss a lot of aspects) it is at the end of the day a prison and that is what the movie portrays. Whether or not Satmar does a lot of chesed or whether Yankys and Estys have sex with or without clothes is hardly the point


    1. I did not defend Satmar in my article. Their values are not my values and I really dislike many aspects of their ideology and ways of life. I merely pointed out that they are human and that they have a story to tell. It is parts of this story that I am trying to tell here.


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