Broken Hearts, Heartfelt Losses
By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz
Our people have not experienced as
difficult a period as we are living through now since the awful days of the
Holocaust. We have not lost as many good people in as concentrated a time since
then. Over the past few weeks, every day has brought fresh deaths and more news
of people dying. People of all ages, young and old. People were hale and
productive one day and the next day they were dead and buried.
Whose heart cannot be broken?
Who can go through day after day
without fear and dread?
Our lives have been turned upside
down. Many of the things we took for granted have been taken from us. We are
basically confined to our homes, unable to go anywhere.
The beautiful Yom Tov of Pesach
was celebrated under the constraints of not davening in shul. Minyanim
are shut, shuls are closed, and yeshivos and schools are
shuttered. There are no simchos for us to attend. We can’t go to levayos
or to be menachem aveilim. Stores are closed, as are parks and public
places. Airplane flights are down 95%. Many people are out of work, and those
who aren’t are making less money. Storekeepers and business owners are losing
more money every day and davening for the economy to get restarted.
Everybody knows people whose lives
were lost. Leaders, relatives and good friends. People you have known for
years. In a flash, they were gone.
Since the last time I wrote, I
have lost many friends, acquaintances, people I knew, and people I looked up
to. And I am not the only one.
Every life snuffed out is a
tremendous loss, but to our world, the most prominent loss was the passing of
the Novominsker Rebbe, an outstanding talmid chochom and leader. Born in
1930, in many ways his life resembled the history of Am Yisroel – with
ups and downs and different masaos and stops along the way to various goluyos
where Klal Yisroel planted itself and ultimately succeeded.
His idyllic childhood as the son
of a rebbe in Brooklyn was interrupted by the war, when much of his
family and 6,000,000 Jews were wiped out by the Nazis. The world crashed in on
him and there was sadness everywhere. Everyone lost relatives and close ones; rabbonim
and rebbes lost their lives along with peshutei am. It was a time
of uncertainty. Nobody knew what the future held, or if there was a
future. But within a few years, the Jewish world began flourishing. The Torah
community, which was given up on by many, entered a steep growth incline and
hasn’t stopped growing since.
The rebbe learned under
great rabbeim and displayed the brilliance he would later use for the
benefit of Klal Yisroel. He grew in Torah and middos, as well as
in his understanding of people and the world. He dedicated his life to learning
and teaching Torah.
He began his career as a rebbi in
the Skokie HTC yeshiva, where he stood out as an American-born and trained
talmid chochom who spoke English without an accent and related well to
American boys. He appealed to them with his wisdom as he introduced them to his
world of Torah greatness, presenting the Gemara clearly and in a way
described by a talmid as “delicious.” He made learning so appealing that
boys forfeited leaving the yeshiva for other opportunities in order to
be able to learn and grow under his tutelage. Many modeled themselves after him
and resolved to dedicate their lives to Torah, just like their rebbi.
After spending seven years in
Chicago, he accepted the position of rosh yeshiva at Yeshiva Rabbi
Samson Raphael Hirsch, of the Breuer’s kehillah in Washington Heights.
It was a testament to his personality and greatness that just as the Chicago
community was attracted to the American-born future chassidishe rebbe,
so did the German Yekkishe kehillah become enamored with him. In
fact, even after he left there upon his father’s passing, he would return to
say shiurim. The last shiur was said over the telephone shortly
before his sudden passing.
When his father passed away, he
assumed his position as admor of Novominsk and moved to Brooklyn, where
he established a rebbistive and yeshiva. That became his final
stop, and from there his reputation spread. He became a fount of Torah and gadlus
for masses of people. From his membership in the Moetzes Gedolei HaTorah of
Agudas Yisroel and the Rabbinical Administrative Board of Torah Umesorah, he
became an esteemed leader many looked to. In every situation, he could be
counted on to provide articulate and eloquent responses to the issues of the
day. His convention addresses presented measured, clear directives for a people
desperate for leadership.
How did he accomplish as much as
he did and how was he able to relate to different factions, each one seeing him
as their own?
I came to know the rebbe many
years ago and was able to see him from up front as well as behind closed doors.
He was unfailingly kind and a gentleman when addressing people. He was modest
and displayed a lack of pretention. He understood people and knew what to say
to uplift someone and make them feel good about themselves and optimistic about
their situation.
Very often, people get lost in the
moment and lose sight of the big picture. He never did. His life was one of
optimism. The life he led was a guide for him not to look at things negatively
and forsake hope. He didn’t experience the Holocaust up close, but he learned
from it never to give up hope and never to forget that Hashem runs the world
and has a bigger plan.
He was smart, and when presented
with a problem, he provided a smart answer. He didn’t have patience for
foolishness and pettiness. He was always on the side of yosher, of
honesty, of Torah and of mesorah. He never lost sight of our
responsibility in this world and took very seriously the position Hashem placed
him in where people turned to him for guidance and direction.
When you went to see him and sat
down at the dining room table in his unpretentious home, you felt that he had
all the time in the world for you. As you spoke, he listened and looked into
your eyes with a certain loving trust. He did not look down at you. You felt
welcome and at home, and what you were saying was important to him, because you
were important to him. He responded intelligently and warmly, never
betraying the trust. He was serious and his words were measured, and when he
said he would do something, you knew he would. His words were reassuring and
his actions were noble, honorable, principled and virtuous.
He sought achdus and pined
for a time when everyone could work together with mutual respect. Although he
was by nature an ish hashalom, when the situation demanded it, he would
go to war. He was fine and gentle, but when required, he could be tough. Even
in times like that, nobody felt put down, because they knew that he was saying
what needed to be said and that it was clearly thought through and emanating
from the pained, thinking heart of a serious and great person.
We took the rebbe for
granted and thought that he would always be here. It was getting more difficult
for him to get around, but because of his deep sense of achrayus and his
appreciation of good people and those who were close to him, he forced himself
to attend public functions and continue his avodas hakodesh.
And then we awoke to the terrible
news that he had passed away in the middle of the night. It probably has been
said before, and it sounds like a cliché, but it’s true anyway. He hated
fanfare and left us during the night as we slept and did not know that he was
in a critical situation. He would have had an enormous levayah with many
tens of thousands joining to mourn his passing, yet there was barely more than
a minyan there to give him kavod acharon.
For the moment, it compounded the
tragedy that we were not able to give him the respect he so richly deserved and
earned through a life of ameilus baTorah and helping Yidden, but
if you look at the big picture, as he always did, his life will be celebrated
and he will long be remembered by his talmidim, by the people he helped,
and by Klal Yisroel - and the size of his levayah will be
forgotten.
His life will long provide an example
of the heights an American yeshiva bochur can reach and how much we can
achieve if we set our hearts and minds to it.
Oy lonu ki lokinu.
The passing of my good friend, Reb
Avrohom Aharon Rubashkin, brought me back to the period during which the business
he spent decades building was taken from him and his beloved son was sentenced
to 27 years in prison. It was during that time that I came to know him. His
simple emunah and bitachon were contagious. He was not broken;
his faith remained as strong as ever. He would always tell me, “Der Ribono
Shel Olam bleibt nit ah baal chov.” He knew that the story would have a
happy ending, and it did.
I knew Yossel Czapnik for forty
years. He was a good friend and later a loyal employee. His devotion to the chassidus
and rabbeim of Ger served as an inspiration to me in our cynical
time. A fountain of knowledge, he was beloved by such gedolim as Rav
Shneur Kotler and Rav Elya Svei for his brilliance and wit. A friend to many,
young and old, he was cut down by the awful virus.
I came to know Willie Stern
through his work in Kovno. He was in my house a few months ago, and at age 86
he was energetic as he planned for the future. An aristocrat and gentleman, he
created a revolution of Yiddishkeit in its formerly forsaken home in
historic Kovno. He was well known in London, where he made his home, and around
the world for his many acts of charity and kindness.
Rav Yosef Kantor was a tzaddik
and talmid chochom who lived in Monsey. Rav Avrohom Gordon was a rebbi
in Monsey for some fifty years. He was a fine man, always with a smile and
something nice to say. Rav Boruch Hersh Feder of Williamsburg was learned and
knowledgeable, a great conversationalist and a good friend.
Rav Ze’ev Rothschild of Lakewood
was loyal and principled, and always unfailingly honest in his interactions
with the Yated. Noach Dear sought to use his life to do good and be mekadeish
shem Hashem in the halls of power and justice.
Rav Nachman Morgan was my parents’
tenant after he married Esther Schapiro, a daughter of Rav Zorach. He also
spent his life teaching Torah. He introduced me to the tapes of Rav Shalom
Schwadron when I was a young boy. I was so enamored by him; I can still repeat
the first shmuess Reb Nachman played for me on a cassette player.
Mrs. Chana Tabak was in a league
all her own. Together with her husband, she built a home of Torah and chochmah
in which she raised an outstanding generation. A dear and treasured friend, she
excelled not only in wisdom and wit, but also in chesed and maasim
tovim. She was the paragon and epitome of a Jewish mother.
I can go on, but it is too sad and
painful to reminisce about all the people I knew who were niftar over
the past month. Read the pages of this paper and weep over all the korbanos.
Let us all resolve to do our best
to fill the gap left by the passing of hundreds of gutteh Yidden around
the world. Let us fill the gap left by so many people everywhere being forced
to daven without a minyan. Let us fill the gap created by the
closing of yeshivos and schools.
Let us daven that
Hashem quickly remove the awful plague from our midst.
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