Two decades ago, Nathan Kamenetsky, a prominent Jerusalem rabbi with impeccable ḥaredi credentials, self-published The Making of a Godol, a two-volume biography of his father, Yaakov Kamenetsky (1891-1985), who had been a leading rabbinic sage (or godol) of non-ḥasidic Orthodoxy in America. The book’s frank portrayal of its subject, and of numerous other revered sages, constitutes a radical departure from the hagiographies that have become mainstays of popular ḥaredi literature—so much so that it was swiftly condemned by prominent rabbis. The younger Kamenetsky quickly ceased publication; Amazon now sells the book for $2,503. Reading the book for a second time Marc B. Shapiro reflects on its virtues and idiosyncrasies:

Anyone lucky enough to have bought a copy of Kamenetsky’s book when it came out, . . . quickly saw what a curious book it was: chatty, psychologically acute, alternately gullible and critical, endlessly digressive, and compulsively readable (though the spelling and transliteration are a bit idiosyncratic). It also had a peculiar literary structure that could have been conceived only by someone who was raised in an intellectual tradition of commentaries and metacommentaries: the biography of the godol in question was just 67 pages long and ended in spring 1908, when “our protagonist,” as Kamenetsky refers to his father, was seventeen. All the rest was commentary, or rather notes and excurses and further notes spawned by these excurses (each distinguished by somewhat bizarre choices of headings and font).

Nathan Kamenetsky had an instinctive historical sensibility: he was interested in the minute particulars and realia of his subjects’ lives, and he had a knack for choosing the revealing anecdote. [Nonetheless], The Making of a Godol was in the tradition of ḥaredi historical works. Yet it was unique in that Kamenetsky did not generally censor either himself or his sources, nor, despite his belief in the intrinsic religious value of the study of great rabbinic scholars, was he interested in writing hagiography. By choosing not to portray the great rabbis as entirely selfless [saints], lacking any self-interest or ego, he bucked the conventions of his society. His g’dolim [great rabbis] are great, but they are not perfect.

Between December 27 and January 6, terrorists in Gaza fired rockets at Israel almost every night. On Monday, one rocket struck a home in the much-bombarded town of Sderot, although no one was injured. The rocket fire had largely halted last spring, and for some time barrages were often the result of Israeli forces closing in a Hamas unit or munitions depot. But the truth—which gives credence to Ran Baratz’s argument in his January essay that the IDF is struggling to accomplish its mission—is that Hamas has been able to rebuild. Yoni Ben Menachem writes that the jihadist group has been “producing hundreds of new rockets using lathes smuggled into tunnels that remain operational in Gaza.” Moreover, it has been replenishing its ranks:

According to Israeli security officials, Hamas has recruited approximately 4,000 new fighters over the past month. This rapid expansion bolsters its fighting capabilities and complicates Israel’s efforts to apply military pressure on Hamas to expedite a hostage deal. Hamas’s military recovery has allowed it to prolong its war of attrition against the IDF and adopt tougher stances in hostage negotiations. The funds for this recruitment effort are reportedly from the sale of humanitarian-aid packages, which Hamas forcibly seizes and resells in Gaza’s markets.

In fact, Ben Menachem writes, Hamas’s rocket fire is part of the same strategy:

By firing rockets, Hamas seeks to demonstrate its resilience and operational capability despite the IDF’s prolonged offensive. This message is aimed at both Gaza’s residents and the Israeli public, underscoring that Hamas remains a significant force even after enduring heavy losses [and] that Israel cannot easily occupy this region, currently a focal point of IDF operations.