Yevamos 121a: If a man fell into water whose shore can be seen, his wife is permitted, but if the shore cannot be seen, his wife is forbidden.

יבמות קכא ע”א מים שיש להם סוף אשתו מותרת ושאין להם סוף אשתו אסורה.

שו”ע אה”ע יז,לב: ראוהו שנפל לים אפילו טבע בים הגדול אין מעידין עליו שמת שמא יצא ממקום אחר ואם נפל למים מכונסים כגון בור או מערה שעומד ורואה כל סביביו ושהה כדי שתצא נפשו ולא עלה מעיד עליו שמת ומשיאין את אשתו.

Among the 1500 people who died when the Titanic sank in 1912 was a young Jewish man named Shimon Meisner from Novopraga, a town in the province of Kherson, Russia. He left behind his poverty-stricken wife and three small children. The widow came crying to the rav of her town, Rabbi Yaakov Meskin, asking him to pasken whether she was permitted to remarry. She was also upset that he had instructed her sons not to say kaddish; he explained that agunah was a complex subject and it would take him some time to reach a conclusion; meanwhile, saying kaddish might mislead people to think that she had already received a heter.

Rabbi Meskin wrote a teshuva permitting her based on the opinion of the Mabit, cited in Kuntres Agunos (printed at the end of Even Hoezer 17), that only when the man falls into the water do we fear that he came up somewhere else, but when he was in the cabin of a sinking ship, and the water comes in and fills up the cabin, he is presumed dead, since the walls around him prevented him from escaping.

The Kuntres Agunos says that the Beis Yosef disagrees with the Mabit. However, Rabbi Meskin argued that since the entire chumra of “water whose shore cannot be seen” is Rabbinic in origin, we can rely on the Mabit here.

However, there is a problem with this. The Mechaber in 17:32 says that if a man fell into the ocean and later a leg was found, we cannot assume it was his leg unless it has a clear, distinctive mark (סימן מובהק). Now, why do we need such a clear mark? Any sign should be good enough, since we are dealing with a Rabbinic prohibition! The Panim Meiros answers that the Mechaber is talking about a case where only one witness saw the man fall. On a Torah level, we would require two witnesses to testify that a man died. Relying on one witness is a Rabbinic leniency. In a case of “water whose shore cannot be seen” the Rabbis did not apply their leniency, so it goes back to being a Torah prohibition.

Here too, since there were no kosher witnesses testifying that Shimon Meisner was on the Titanic, the case should be judged as a D’oraisa and we should not rely on the Mabit.

To this, Rabbi Meskin responded that we have other reasons to be lenient. Mrs. Meisner received a letter from the Russian consul in London, reading, “To Mrs. Tzivia Meisner of Novopraga, in the province of Kherson: Your husband Shimon Meisner was traveling on the Titanic and drowned. I will try to send you a share of the donations collected for the bereaved families of Titanic victims.” This testimony that Meisner was on the ship, which the consul surely heard from the owners of the ship, counts as מסיח לפי תומו – a non-Jew giving information without the intent to permit the wife the remarry. The consul’s intent was only to provide her with a donation, not to permit her to remarry.

Rabbi Meskin continues for 7 pages; then he sent his teshuva to Reb Itzele Ponevezher for his approval, and he prints Reb Itzele’s response: also lenient, based chiefly on the Mabit.

Source: Sefer Beis Yaakov, by Rabbi Yaakov Meskin Hakohein, rav of Novopraga and later rav of Burlington, Vermont, Siman 49

[What is puzzling here is: how does the Mabit’s heter apply to our case? Why couldn’t Meisner have been on the deck of the ship, not surrounded by walls?

It’s true that aside from many wealthy people who had luxurious cabins above deck, the Titanic also carried poor immigrants from Eastern Europe in third class cabins. Perhaps Meisner was sleeping in one of those cabins on the night of the shipwreck. But then again, perhaps he was not. Rabbi Meskin does not quote any testimony of survivors who saw him there. The most we know is that he was on the ship, and that he was not among those saved on the lifeboats.]

Yevamos 62b: If a man loves his wife as himself, and honors her more than himself, guides his sons and daughters on the proper path and marries them off young – Scripture says regarding him, “You shall know that there is peace in your tent.” (Iyov 5:25)

יבמות סב ע”ב: ת״ר: האוהב את אשתו כגופו, והמכבדה יותר מגופו, והמדריך בניו ובנותיו בדרך ישרה, והמשיאן סמוך לפירקן, עליו הכתוב אומר: וידעת כי שלום אהלך.

The Vilna Gaon’s travels took him to the city of Amsterdam, where he was invited to stay in the home of a very wealthy man. The Gaon was exhausted, and he welcomed a few days of rest before continuing on his journey. The wealthy man took a liking to the Gaon and invited him to stay as long as he wished. The Gaon accepted gratefully because he found it comfortable and convenient in the man’s home, especially because there was a minyan in the vicinity three times a day. The Gaon stayed there three weeks, and then, thoroughly refreshed, he took his leave of his host.

The host parted with him with great reluctance and escorted him from his home with pomp and fanfare. As the wagon was about to leave, the wealthy man stepped forward for one last word with the Gaon. “Over the last three weeks,” he said, “I have become convinced that you are one of the great scholars of the Jewish people. I have seen how you conducted yourself and how you spent all your time learning. So, if you don’t mind, I would like your advice. You have also had the opportunity to observe me and my household. Do you approve of what you have seen? Is there anything you would have me change?”

“Heaven forbid,” said the Gaon. “You have a beautiful home. May the Almighty give you strength to continue in this way forever. However, since you ask, I will mention one thing. Our sages speak about a man who loves his wife as he loves himself. That means it should be the same and not more. A man’s respect for his wife should exceed his respect for himself, but with regard to love, they should be the same. This is the Talmud’s guideline. In your home, I saw something else. I saw you bring her water to wash her hands. I saw you bring her coffee to her bedroom, when you yourself do not even drink coffee. This is the only flaw I noticed.”

“Let me explain,” said the man. “It goes back to my childhood. I come from a distinguished family and my father was a well-known Talmid Chacham, but he was not a wealthy man. When I was nine years old, my father arranged a match for me with the nine-year-old daughter of a wealthy man who lived not far from our town.

The marriage would take place when we reached the age of fifteen. My prospective father-in-law agreed to give his daughter a handsome dowry and to support us. In the meantime, he paid for my clothes and shoes, and he hired a private tutor for me. I made great progress in my learning during those years.

“Just when I was turning fifteen, my prospective father-in-law’s fortunes took a turn for the worse, unknown to us, and he basically lost his money. When the date set for the marriage drew closer, my father went to see him and discuss his commitments to me. He admitted that he could not he could not fulfill them, and the engagement was broken. A short while later, I became engaged to the daughter of another wealthy man who lived in a nearby village. We were married, and not long afterward, I fell ill.

“My father-in-law spent a lot of money on doctors and medicines, but it was all to no avail. Seeing no hope for my recovery, my father-in-law sent me off to the communal poorhouse. I lay there in my sick bed, getting worse and worse every day. My father-in-law came and asked me to give a get to my wife, which I consented to do.

“Eventually, my condition stabilized, but I was still sickly and debilitated, barely able to walk under my own power. One day, a beggar came over to me in the poorhouse and said, ‘It is obvious that you are a Talmid Chacham, and you are extremely poor. I would like to make a proposal. You and I will form a team. I will rent a wagon and transport you from village to village. You will answer people’s questions, and they will give us money.’ I agreed, and this is what we did. We used to come to a town with me lying in the wagon, too weak to walk on my own power. I would explain a difficult Tosafos or a piece of Maharsha to the people, and they would give us more money than they gave the other beggars. We did rather well for ourselves considering our situation.

One day, we came across another beggar who was doing virtually the same thing we were. He was transporting his daughter in a wagon. She was also, apparently, too weak to walk on her own power. He went from house to house, and people took pity on his stricken daughter and gave generously. At my partner’s urging, we made a broader partnership. We both went collecting with our respective wagons, and at the end of the day, we would pool our earnings and divide them equally. It was a good arrangement, and it worked well. After a while, it only seemed natural that the daughter and I should get married, even though we were both exceedingly infirm. We had a very small private wedding. After the chuppah, my new bride began to cry bitterly.

“’Why are you crying?’ I said. ‘How can I not cry?’ she lamented. ‘My father used to be a rich man. When I was nine years old, he selected for me an exceptional boy from a distinguished family. He took care of the boy for five years, dressing him and buying him shoes. Then my father lost his money, and the engagement was broken. Now look how far I have fallen. I am still young, but I am as sickly and feeble as an old woman. And I am being married to a beggar who is as sick and feeble as I am. And who knows what kind of a family you are from? Don’t get me wrong, you are a good man, but look how far I have fallen. Look what has become of me.’

“I was shocked when I heard these words because she was clearly speaking about me. I told her who I was and that she was my first bride. At first, she was incredulous, but after we spoke for a while, she saw that it was true. We were both overjoyed to have found each other again. Our fortunes turned right after we were married. We both returned to health, and we prospered. The Almighty helped us at every step of the way and blessed us with fine, upstanding sons and daughters. This then is my story. I know that I caused her years of anguish and that anything I do for her will not be enough to erase my debt to her.”

The Vilna Gaon nodded gravely. “In that case,” he said, “you should continue to do as you have been doing.”

Source: Dear Son, by Rabbi Eliyohu Goldschmidt, page 122, quoting Yeshurun

[The question is: why did the Vilna Gaon hold there was anything wrong with loving one’s wife more than oneself? Perhaps the Gemara just means that the minimum is to love her as himself, but one who wishes can go beyond that! Rabbi Goldschmidt’s answer is that loving her as himself shows that he sees the two of them as parts of one whole. Just as a person treats his right hand equally to his left, so too he treats his wife as himself. But if he treats her better than himself, it must be that there is an ulterior motive. As an example, he writes that he once saw an old man give up his seat on a bus to a young, healthy woman. He obviously needed the seat more than she did, but his attraction to her motivated him to do it.

The trouble with this explanation is that granted, doing an inappropriate favor for a strange woman may stem from the yetzer hara, but when the woman is his own wife, what is wrong with hoping to increase her attraction to him? Aren’t love and attraction the glue that helps keep marriages together? Perhaps Rabbi Goldschmidt meant that sometimes, his acts of service do not increase her feelings for him; they only satisfy his one-sided desire for her.

So this is the Gaon’s explanation of why Chazal say a husband should love his wife as himself – and not more. Of course, this story might not be so reliable; after all, many tales are circulated about the Gaon’s travels during his self-imposed exile.  

A different approach to this Gemara is possible. Let’s start with the question: Why does the Gemara say that a man should love his wife as himself, but honor her more than himself? What are the definitions of honor and love, and why does he need to honor her more than himself, but love her equally?

Rashi gives us two explanations of honor. In Yevamos he says זילותא דאיתתא קשה מדגברא – dishonor, or embarrassment, is harder for a woman to bear than for a man. Therefore, if there is a demeaning job to do in the home, such as taking out the garbage, he should do it rather than leave it for his wife. Similarly, if one of the children speaks disrespectfully toward him, he may waive his honor (אב שמחל על כבודו כבודו מחול – קידושין לב ע”א) but if he speaks disrespectfully to his wife, he must stick up for her honor and reprimand the child.

In Sanhedrin 76b, Rashi explains that honor means buying her jewelry. Similarly, the Maharsha in Yevamos says it means he should buy her more expensive clothing than his own. When a husband spends on his wife’s jewelry, he is automatically sacrificing other things that he could have bought for himself with that money. Both Rashi and the Maharsha are thus making the point that when it comes to honor, whatever brings her more honor brings him less honor. This is the meaning of “honor her more than yourself.” Honor her to the point where you put her needs before your own.

Rashi doesn’t comment on “love her,” but from our story we can infer that loving her means doing things for her and caring for her in ways in which he will not need to sacrifice. Serving his wife hand and foot does not cost him money. It strengthens their love, and he gains from it too.

According to this, Chazal mean that there is simply no way for him to “love her more than himself” because the more care he displays to her, the more he gains. He is always benefiting equally with her. Incidentally, we can derive another lesson from this story: the danger of breaking an engagement is real. One source for this in Chazal is the Midrash of the weasel and the well brought by Rashi on Taanis 8a. This is why it’s so important for both sides to sign a document saying that they release the other side from the obligations of the engagement. In some cases, they need to annul their vows before a Beis Din.]

Yevamos 39b: Abba Shaul says: One who marries his brother’s wife for the sake of her beauty, for the sake of marital relations, or for some other ulterior motive, is considered as if he is having an immoral relationship.

Rema, Even Hoezer 165:1: Even if both of them wish to do yibum, we do not allow them, unless it is obvious that they intend to do it for the sake of the mitzvah.

יבמות לט ע”ב: אבא שאול אומר: הכונס את יבמתו לשם נוי, ולשום אישות, ולשום דבר אחר ־ כאילו פוגע בערוה, וקרוב אני בעיני להיות הולד ממזרֹ וחכמים אומרים: (דברים כ״ה) יבמה יבא עליה ־ מכל מקום.

אה”ע קס”ה ס”א רמ”א: ואם שניהם רוצים ביבום אין מניחים אותם לייבם אא״כ ניכר וידוע שמכוונים לשם מצוה (טור בשם ר״ת).

רמב”ם יבום וחליצה ד,יז: יבם שרגלו הימנית חתוכה אינו חולץ בשמאל ואם חלצה מעל שמאלו חליצתה פסולה , היתה רגלו עקומה לאחור או הפוכה על צידה או שהיה מהלך על ראשי אצבעות רגליו הרי זה אינו חולץ שהחולץ צריך לנעוץ עקיבו בארץ וזה אינו יכול ואם חלצה למי שרגלו כך חליצתה פסולה.

אה”ע קסט,לד: היתה רגלו עקומה לאחור או הפוכה על צדה או שמהלך על אצבעות רגליו אינו חולץ:

Yisroel Chaim and his wife Chaya lived in Jerusalem, and had no children. When Yisroel Chaim passed away in 1925 at the age of 35, the Beis Din asked Chaya, “Did your husband have any brothers?” “Yes,” she said, “he had one brother living in New York.” The Beis Din in Jerusalem wrote to a rav in New York, asking if he could locate the brother and help arrange a chalitzah.

The rav in New York managed to locate the brother. As the brother came into the rav’s house, the rav noticed that he was limping on his right foot. “Can you please take off your shoes and socks?” said the rav. The man did as he was told; the rav saw that his whole foot was bent backward, and he was walking on two of his toes. In such a case, the Rambam (Yibum Vachalitzah 4:17) and the Shulchan Aruch (Even Hoezer 169:34) rule that one cannot do chalitzah. And Ashkenazim, following the position of Abba Shaul, do not practice yibum nowadays. But then what was the solution for the poor widow? Was she to remain single for life?

The rav sent the question to Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzensky in Vilna, who replied, “The poskim such as the Shvus Yaakov, Knesses Yechezkel and the Beis Meir permit yibum even today in such situations. Even if the brother is already married, he may marry the widow; Rabbeinu Gershom’s ban on polygamy does not apply in this case. Furthermore, after marrying her, he may divorce her immediately, even without her consent. This is all cited as practical halacha by the Pischei Teshuva, Even Hoezer 165:3.”

Although the Shav Yaakov disagreed, invoking the rule that “anyone who cannot do chalitzah, cannot do yibum,” the other poskim argued that this rule does not apply when the chalitzah can’t be done for purely physical reasons. Reb Chaim Ozer adds that the Ritva in Chullin 92 says this explicitly. Therefore, the best solution for this case was that the brother in New York should marry his deceased brother’s wife.

However, if that was impossible, Reb Chaim Ozer said that if the man was able to push his right heel into the ground, even painfully, they could rely on a combination of two lenient opinions and do chalitzah with the right foot, and then again with the left foot (because perhaps in a case like this, the man learns to favor his left foot and he has the status of a lefty, who can do chalitzah according to some Rishonim).

Source: Achiezer 3:20