A Son Remembers His Father
The Jewish Press: You accompanied your father on some of his visits to America. What can you tell us about them?
Rav Yaakov Shapira: I accompanied HaRav on all his trips to meet with rabbis in America. Once he met with President George Bush, the father, in the Oval Office. It was a time of considerable tension between the State Department and Israel. The White House offered to provide a translator, but Abba insisted that we bring our own, wanting to be sure that his words were conveyed exactly.
The visit was scheduled to last 15 minutes, but it went on for almost an hour. The president asked many questions about Eretz Yisrael. He seemed amazed to learn that it was no longer a barren desert. Surely he knew, but meeting a holy rabbi from the Holy Land seemed to trigger a deep emotional response. You could tell by his contented expression that he really enjoyed spending time with my father.
Can you recall an unusual incident in America that characterizes your father?
Once, in Manhattan, we had some free time before the next scheduled appointment. HaRav insisted we go to what he called “the tallest tower.” He wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without a police escort, but we arranged for someone to drive us to the Empire State Building.
At the very top, he walked all around the observation deck, peering through the binoculars, and gazing this way and that, as if he were checking the kashrut of an etrog. He explained he was trying to see for himself if Manhattan was truly an island surrounding by rivers that could be considered an eruv for Shabbat.
What do you remember about his meeting with the Lubavitcher Rebbe?
When we visited 770 with Rav Mordechai Eliahu, the Rebbe came out of his study to greet the chief rabbis from Israel. When the time came to enter his study for a less public discussion, the three gedolei hador paused before the doorway, each rabbi insisting that the others go first. Finally, it was decided that my father should go first since he was holding a Gemara. Also, the others insisted he had the right of way since he was a kohen.
During their conversation, the Rebbe asked my father if anything was missing for him in America. He answered, “The daily Birkat Kohanim. But I found a Halabi [Syrian] shul where they do it, so in the morning I go to daven there.”
During their long discussion, the Rebbe suggested that they draw up a letter demanding that Mashiach come immediately. Rav Eliahu noted that the three of them comprised a beit din. But my father refused, saying that he lacked the stature to sign a document like that.
When I asked him later about his refusal, he said that Mashiach should be induced by other means, and wherever he spoke to an audience of American Jews, he emphasized the imperative for all Jews to make aliyah, citing the Rambam who equates kibbutz galyot with Mashiach.
To me, your father was the epitome of humility, yet he could also be as fierce as a lion, like when he called upon Israeli soldiers to refuse orders to evacuate the Jews of Gush Katif from their homes. How did he combine these two almost contradictory attributes?
Apparently, the two midot do not necessarily contradict, as we discover in the deeds of our forefathers. Once, at a large Jewish day school in New York, when my father entered the crowded auditorium, a young boy stood up and recited the blessing upon seeing a person of profound Torah wisdom, “Blessed are You, Hashem…who has imparted Your wisdom to those who revere You.”
My father hurried forward to the stage and asked who instructed the boy to say such a thing. “It’s a blessing in vain!” he declared. Everyone was stunned. Then, Rav Mordechai Eliahu stepped forward and said, “If the blessing was said upon seeing me, indeed it is a blessing in vain. But if it was said upon seen Rav Shapira, then it is absolutely proper.”
Do you remember what your father and Rav Moshe Feinstein spoke about when they met?
They spoke about everything. Questions of halacha flew back and forth between them the way ordinary people talk about their children when they meet. My father was particularly concerned with the lack of one central rabbinical authority in America, similar to the Chief Rabbinate in Israel. Rabbi Feinstein agreed.
Did Rabbi Shapira meet with Rabbi Yosef Ber Soloveitchik as well?
Yes. It was arranged that they would both speak at a large beit knesset. When they met, my father stepped forward and kissed the surprised Torah scholar. After all, it is forbidden to kiss a creature of flesh and blood in a synagogue where all of our love is directed exclusively to our Father in Heaven. Sensing everyone’s wonder, my father said, “It is forbidden to kiss a person in a beit knesset, but it is permitted to kiss a Sefer Torah.”
