From the writings of R' Marvin Schick for his second yahrtzeit:
As I was
standing outside the home of Rav Shneuer Kotler during shiva on a
brutally hot early July night in Lakewood, a car pulled up and two men
got out. They opened the back door and virtually carried Rav Joseph B.
Soloveitchik into the house. He was extremely frail and in declining
health. I went inside and heard him say to Rav Malkiel Kotler, “I was a
friend of your grandfather, I was a friend of your father and, im
yirtzeh Hashem, I will be your friend.”
What was the relationship between Rav
Aharon Kotler and Rav Soloveitchik? It often is difficult to pin down
what is meant by friendship. In part, it is an expression of feelings
and, in part, it arises from personal contacts. Among the Gedolei Torah
who are overwhelmed by their communal responsibilities, what ordinarily
is referred to as friendship is largely absent from their lives. There
is too little time for indulgence in social transactions, such as casual
visits, that exist among friends. This was certainly true of Rav Aharon
whose crushing daily schedule included learning and shiurim,
fundraising and an avalanche of klal commitments. Rav Soloveitchik was
an essentially private, even reserved, person who in addition to his
significant role at Yeshiva University had much on his plate in Boston.
There also were the major lectures and writings that he crafted with
much care.
Of course, Rav Aharon would find time to
relax and reminisce about what had transpired in pre-Churban Europe, as
when he ate with talmidim on Shabbos in the yeshiva and, as I
witnessed, at Agudah conventions. I imagine that Rav Soloveitchik also
had such moments of relaxation. Overall, these were men who eschewed the
relationships that we commonly describe as friendship. Accordingly,
when we speak of their friendship or relationship, what we essentially
mean is that their relationship was one of personal respect and not that
they had much ongoing and direct contact.
It is known that Rav Aharon did not have
a favorable view of Yeshiva University. I was told that in his 1930s
fundraising trip here, he gave shiurim at Yeshiva and was not happy
about what he saw. Other eminent European Roshei Yeshiva also gave
shiurim there during their trips to the United States, most notably Rav
Shimon Shkop, the Grodna Rosh Yeshiva. He was at Yeshiva for an
extended period and entertained the notion of accepting a permanent
position, but decided to return at the behest of the Chafetz Chaim and
Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzienski.
Rav Aharon’s objections to Yeshiva
University also arose from his insistence that the primacy of Torah
study requires the total exclusion, at least at the Beth Medrash level,
of any secular study. Without going into the full history which has been
recounted elsewhere, shortly after the Second World War a serious
effort was made by officials at Torah Vodaath and Chaim Berlin to
establish a joint university-level academic program that would take
place in a yeshiva setting, the intent being to deter their students
from attending Brooklyn College in the evening after the mandatory two
sedarim in the Beth Medrash. When Rav Aharon heard of this initiative,
he immediately instructed that it be abandoned and it was abandoned.
As I have noted, prior to Rav Aharon’s
arrival, the American Agudah was a far cry from what it became later on.
The core of the organization was the Zeirei Agudah. Rav Soloveitchik at
that point identified with the Agudah. Indeed, when news came in 1941
that Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzienski had died, he gave the principal hesped
on behalf of the American Agudah.
More well known, of course, is his
subsequent embrace of Mizrachi and Religious Zionism, a conscious choice
that he described in emotional and, at times, poetic language in
“Chamesh Drashos” (Five Lectures), a revelatory work that is a key to
understanding Rav Soloveitchik. As he wrote, he left the house of Brisk
for whom Mizrachi was anathema. Rav Soloveitchik was immensely affected
by the Holocaust and then the establishment of the State of Israel. Of
historical interest, as he moved from Agudah to Mizrachi, there were
notable Roshei Yeshiva who were taking the reverse course, moving from
Mizrachi to Agudah, largely because of Rav Aharon’s influence.
Rav Soloveitchik’s active identification
with Mizrachi – and it must be underscored that he played a major role
in the movement – did not serve as an absolute barrier to a relationship
with Rav Aharon. However, it was always Rav Aharon who reached out to
Rav Soloveitchik, in much the same way that he reached out to countless
others across the spectrum of Orthodox life. My assessment is that
because they were in separate hashkafic camps, their interaction and
cooperation were limited.
During the fervid 1953 battle over the
draft of girls into military service in Israel, Rav Aharon reached out
to Rav Soloveitchik, hoping that he would come out publicly against
Ben-Gurion’s decree. There was a meeting at Rav Mendel Zaks’ apartment
in Manhattan. Rabbi Dov Ber Weinberger drove Rav Aharon to the meeting
and he was witness to what happened. This report, never before
published, was told by him to me many years ago and was recently
confirmed by him.
In line with their usual mode of
address, Rav Zaks was referred to as the Radiner Rosh Yeshiva. Rav
Aharon as the Kletsker Rosh Yeshiva and Rav Soloveitchik as the Bostoner
Rav. After more than a half hour of futile effort to get Rav
Soloveitchik to publicly oppose gius banos, Rav Aharon came up with the
following brilliancy, of course in Yiddish. He said, Bostoner Rav,
imagine that instead of the three of us discussing this issue, there
were another three who were judging the appropriateness of drafting
girls into military service. Instead of the Bostoner Rav, there was your
zeyde, Reb Chaim. Instead of the Radiner Rosh Yeshiva, there was your
father-in-law, the Chafetz Chaim. Instead of me, there was my
father-in-law, Rav Iser Zalman Meltzer. Bostoner Rav, what would your
zeyde have said?
This masterstroke did not result in a
shift in Rav Soloveitchik’s position. He got up and said that he had to
leave, “Kletsker Rosh Yeshiva and Radiner Rosh Yeshiva, a gutten tag”
and left. He never opposed giyus banos or, for that matter, publicly the
Mizrachi on any major hashkafic issue.
Yet, not long after this incident, in
1954 or 1955, Rav Aharon reached out again to him and enlisted him in
efforts to raise funds for Chinuch Atzmai. The high point came at the
first Chinuch Atzmai dinner where Rav Soloveitchik made the most
remarkable speech I have ever heard. Rabbi Henoch Cohen who has served
Chinuch Atzmai for nearly sixty years with great devotion and who,
please G-D, is about to make aliyah with his wife Chana, has a disc of
this memorable speech.
After explaining why though he is a
Mizrachist he is helping Chinuch Atzmai, Rav Soloveitchik spoke warmly
about Stephen Klein, Chinuch Atzmai’s chairman and the president of
Barton’s Candy. He then lavished praise on Rav Aharon, comparing him in
elaborate language, first to the Vilna Gaon, then to Rav Akiva Eger and
finally to his zeide, Rav Chaim. I was standing directly behind Rav
Aharon as Rav Soloveitchik spoke and as each of these comparisons were
made, Rav Aharon tugged at Rav Soloveitchik’s jacket with one hand and
implored him to stop and with the other hand he pounded on the table and
intoned repeatedly, “Das iz nisht emes, das iz nisht emes.” As I looked
more closely at Rav Aharon, I saw that he was crying.
In subsequent years, Rav Soloveitchik’s
involvement with Chinuch Atzmai was intermittent, invariably after Rav
Aharon asked for his help. Rabbi Cohen tells me that there were
occasions after Rav Aharon passed away when Rav Soloveitchik assisted
Chinuch Atzmai.
What is evident is that he had enormous
respect for Rav Aharon. He came to the funeral at the Pike Street
Synagogue, apparently with a hesped written out, but sadly and
mistakenly, he was not given the opportunity to speak. When Rav
Soloveitchik passed away, Lakewood was not represented at the funeral in
Boston, although I suggested that the Yeshiva be represented. For all
of Rav Aharon’s misgivings about Yeshiva University and Mizrachi, he
respected Rav Soloveitchik, not because of his lineage and not only
because from time to time he assisted Chinuch Atzmai, but because he
regarded Rav Soloveitchik as a man of stature as a Torah scholar.
These feelings of mutual respect did not
bridge their differences. As was often apparent in this period that now
recedes from memory into history, intra-Orthodox differences did not
serve as insurmountable barriers to cooperation or, for that matter, to
civility and respect.
--------
In
the 1950s, Rav Aharon Kotler generally went to Israel every several
years, invariably during the Bein Hazmanim period when yeshiva was off.
These trips were intended to encourage the charedi world still
struggling to rebuild after the devastation of the European Churban and
also to speak and even campaign on behalf of Agudath Israel. After his
father-in-law, Rav Iser Zalman Meltzer, died in 1953, he assumed to an
extent the position of Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshiva Eitz Chaim in Jerusalem
and gave shiurim there during his visits.
At the time, I did not reflect on Rav Aharon’s role as a campaigner for Agudah. He was, after all, an ardent Agudist and since the electoral outcome impacted on the status of religion in Israel, I assumed that it was natural for him to do all that he could to assist the movement that he believed in. What he did was, in fact, extraordinary, meaning that no other Torah leader followed the same path. Gedolei Torah did not in this period speak at what were essentially political rallies. Much later, of course, Rav Schach did, but in the 1950s, Rav Aharon was unique in this regard. Indeed, it was Rav Aharon who urged Rav Schach to become more involved in klal activities.
Another remarkable factor is that Rav Aharon came from the United States for the purpose of getting out the vote for the Agudah, although he could not vote in the election. Furthermore, he spoke in Yiddish, although even then among charedim Hebrew had become or was in the process of becoming the dominant language.
Except for his summer 1959 trip, I was never with Rav Aharon in Israel. Even on that trip, I did not go or return with him and we were together only infrequently. Rabbi Avraham Stefansky, a talmid in Lakewood who was close to the Rosh Yeshiva, accompanied him on a regular basis. Rabbi Stefansky who has lived in Israel for perhaps forty years and is a top administrator at Neve Yerushalayim, the excellent multi-faceted kiruv and chinuch institution for girls located in Har Nof that was established by Rabbi Dovid Refson, should consider writing his zichronos.
I did speak to Rav Aharon before I left on my trip to Israel and carried out several small errands at his request. The highlight of the trip was a Shabbos in Jerusalem when I ate the meals at what was once the home of Rav Iser Zalman Meltzer and was now the home of Rav Yitzchak Meir Ben-Menachem, his other son-in-law. Rav Ben-Menachem was a member of the Beth Din Hagadol, a state sponsored body that has served as a sort of Supreme Court for the Israeli beth din system operated under the authority of the Chief Rabbinate. To the consternation of kanaim, eminent Gedolei Torah have served on this top rabbinic court. [So did Rav Elyashiv!! - E.E.]
Rav Ben-Menachem’s family included his wife, Rebbitzin Kotler’s sister who had more than a touch of her sister’s sanctity, and their two children, Efrat and Menachem, who were then about 10-12 years old. Rav Aharon loved these children. They obviously spoke Hebrew and, at least then, scarcely understood any Yiddish. During one of the meals, Rav Aharon attempted to make the case that the Ashkenazic and not the Sephardic havara or mode of pronunciation is correct. Subsequently, Efrat married Rav Eliezer Piltz, the Rosh Yeshiva of the highly regarded yeshiva in Tifrach, where Rav Menachem Ben-Menachem is also a Rosh Yeshiva.
Avraham Stefansky was also there for Shabbos, as was Rav Yaakov Schiff, Rav Aharon’s outstanding American talmid who came to Israel to be married not long thereafter to a daughter of the Brisker Rav who was seriously ill at the time and who passed away several months later.
Late on Shabbos morning and during the meal, Rabbi Wohlgelernter, who was an official at the Chief Rabbinate, came to tell Rav Ben-Menachem that Rav Yitzchak Herzog, the Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi, had died during the night and that there would be a meeting of the Beth Din Hagadol after Shabbos to determine the details of the funeral. Rav Aharon spoke highly of Rav Herzog, adding that he hoped to be one of the maspidim. Rav Yaakov Schiff’s protest that Rav Herzog was a Mizrachist who had not opposed the draft of girls into military service was brushed off by Rav Aharon who noted that Rav Iser Zalman had eulogized Rav Kook. As an aside, there is hanging on the wall in my Jerusalem apartment a poster announcing the public hesped for Rav Kook at the Churva Shul, with Rav Iser Zalman listed as the first speaker.
Rav Aharon also noted that Rav Herzog was a Talmid Chachom who had done much to assist Jews during the European Churban and that Rav Shmuel Yitzchak Hillman, Rav Herzog’s father-in-law who had been a member of the London Beth Din, was an outstanding Torah scholar.
The Motzoei Shabbos meeting was quick and Rav Aharon was asked to be one of the speakers, I imagine at the suggestion of Rav Ben-Menachem. Also scheduled to speak were Rav Yitzchak Nissan, the Rishon L’Tzion or Sephardic Chief Rabbi, and Rav Shlomo Zevin, the prolific and highly respected author of the multi-volume “Ha-Moadim B’Halacha” and many other sefarim. There was at least one other speaker whose name I do not recall. Rav Aharon was strongly inclined to accept, noting that it was important for the public to hear the message that he wanted to deliver and also to hear a Yiddish speaker. There was, however, a hitch. The levaya was to be at Heichal Shlomo on King George Street, the seat of the Chief Rabbinate that had opened about a year before. The Brisker Rav had proscribed entering the building because Rabbi Yehuda Leib Maimon, a key Mizrachi leader, had suggested that it become the seat of a new “Sanhedrin” that would examine and, when necessary, restate the halacha in light of the establishment of the State of Israel.
Rav Schiff argued that it would be inappropriate for Rav Aharon to enter Heichal Shlomo in defiance of the Brisker Rav’s edict, which he would be required to do if he did speak. He then suggested, “Der Brisker Rav is der Rav fun der shtadt. Der Rosh Yeshiva zol fregen der Brisker Rav.” (The Brisker Rav is the rabbinic authority in Jerusalem. The Rosh Yeshiva should ask him whether it is appropriate to speak from Heichal Shlomo.) Rav Aharon did not take kindly to this suggestion. I will omit certain details, except to note that Rav Aharon exclaimed in anger, “Ich ken alain paskanin a shailah.” (I am competent to decide an halachic issue.)
Yet, at the end of the day, Rav Schiff’s words had an impact and Rav Aharon decided not to speak at Heichal Shlomo. As many of Israel’s leading rabbis were gathering before the levaya at the Herzog home on Ibn Ezra Street, Rav Aharon sent an intermediary to Rebbitzin Sarah Herzog to ask whether he could speak there before the funeral. She acceded to this request but, as was reported in the newspapers, Rav Nissan strongly objected because if Rav Aharon spoke at the home, it would mean that there would be a speaker before him and this would be an affront to his dignity.
Rav Aharon spoke at the cemetery in Sanhedria where Rav Herzog is buried. His eulogy was warm and contained much praise of Rav Herzog. Although the text of the eulogy is available, for whatever reasons, it has not been included among the hespedim published in “Mishnas Rav Aharon.”
---------------------
At the time, I did not reflect on Rav Aharon’s role as a campaigner for Agudah. He was, after all, an ardent Agudist and since the electoral outcome impacted on the status of religion in Israel, I assumed that it was natural for him to do all that he could to assist the movement that he believed in. What he did was, in fact, extraordinary, meaning that no other Torah leader followed the same path. Gedolei Torah did not in this period speak at what were essentially political rallies. Much later, of course, Rav Schach did, but in the 1950s, Rav Aharon was unique in this regard. Indeed, it was Rav Aharon who urged Rav Schach to become more involved in klal activities.
Another remarkable factor is that Rav Aharon came from the United States for the purpose of getting out the vote for the Agudah, although he could not vote in the election. Furthermore, he spoke in Yiddish, although even then among charedim Hebrew had become or was in the process of becoming the dominant language.
Except for his summer 1959 trip, I was never with Rav Aharon in Israel. Even on that trip, I did not go or return with him and we were together only infrequently. Rabbi Avraham Stefansky, a talmid in Lakewood who was close to the Rosh Yeshiva, accompanied him on a regular basis. Rabbi Stefansky who has lived in Israel for perhaps forty years and is a top administrator at Neve Yerushalayim, the excellent multi-faceted kiruv and chinuch institution for girls located in Har Nof that was established by Rabbi Dovid Refson, should consider writing his zichronos.
I did speak to Rav Aharon before I left on my trip to Israel and carried out several small errands at his request. The highlight of the trip was a Shabbos in Jerusalem when I ate the meals at what was once the home of Rav Iser Zalman Meltzer and was now the home of Rav Yitzchak Meir Ben-Menachem, his other son-in-law. Rav Ben-Menachem was a member of the Beth Din Hagadol, a state sponsored body that has served as a sort of Supreme Court for the Israeli beth din system operated under the authority of the Chief Rabbinate. To the consternation of kanaim, eminent Gedolei Torah have served on this top rabbinic court. [So did Rav Elyashiv!! - E.E.]
Rav Ben-Menachem’s family included his wife, Rebbitzin Kotler’s sister who had more than a touch of her sister’s sanctity, and their two children, Efrat and Menachem, who were then about 10-12 years old. Rav Aharon loved these children. They obviously spoke Hebrew and, at least then, scarcely understood any Yiddish. During one of the meals, Rav Aharon attempted to make the case that the Ashkenazic and not the Sephardic havara or mode of pronunciation is correct. Subsequently, Efrat married Rav Eliezer Piltz, the Rosh Yeshiva of the highly regarded yeshiva in Tifrach, where Rav Menachem Ben-Menachem is also a Rosh Yeshiva.
Avraham Stefansky was also there for Shabbos, as was Rav Yaakov Schiff, Rav Aharon’s outstanding American talmid who came to Israel to be married not long thereafter to a daughter of the Brisker Rav who was seriously ill at the time and who passed away several months later.
Late on Shabbos morning and during the meal, Rabbi Wohlgelernter, who was an official at the Chief Rabbinate, came to tell Rav Ben-Menachem that Rav Yitzchak Herzog, the Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi, had died during the night and that there would be a meeting of the Beth Din Hagadol after Shabbos to determine the details of the funeral. Rav Aharon spoke highly of Rav Herzog, adding that he hoped to be one of the maspidim. Rav Yaakov Schiff’s protest that Rav Herzog was a Mizrachist who had not opposed the draft of girls into military service was brushed off by Rav Aharon who noted that Rav Iser Zalman had eulogized Rav Kook. As an aside, there is hanging on the wall in my Jerusalem apartment a poster announcing the public hesped for Rav Kook at the Churva Shul, with Rav Iser Zalman listed as the first speaker.
Rav Aharon also noted that Rav Herzog was a Talmid Chachom who had done much to assist Jews during the European Churban and that Rav Shmuel Yitzchak Hillman, Rav Herzog’s father-in-law who had been a member of the London Beth Din, was an outstanding Torah scholar.
The Motzoei Shabbos meeting was quick and Rav Aharon was asked to be one of the speakers, I imagine at the suggestion of Rav Ben-Menachem. Also scheduled to speak were Rav Yitzchak Nissan, the Rishon L’Tzion or Sephardic Chief Rabbi, and Rav Shlomo Zevin, the prolific and highly respected author of the multi-volume “Ha-Moadim B’Halacha” and many other sefarim. There was at least one other speaker whose name I do not recall. Rav Aharon was strongly inclined to accept, noting that it was important for the public to hear the message that he wanted to deliver and also to hear a Yiddish speaker. There was, however, a hitch. The levaya was to be at Heichal Shlomo on King George Street, the seat of the Chief Rabbinate that had opened about a year before. The Brisker Rav had proscribed entering the building because Rabbi Yehuda Leib Maimon, a key Mizrachi leader, had suggested that it become the seat of a new “Sanhedrin” that would examine and, when necessary, restate the halacha in light of the establishment of the State of Israel.
Rav Schiff argued that it would be inappropriate for Rav Aharon to enter Heichal Shlomo in defiance of the Brisker Rav’s edict, which he would be required to do if he did speak. He then suggested, “Der Brisker Rav is der Rav fun der shtadt. Der Rosh Yeshiva zol fregen der Brisker Rav.” (The Brisker Rav is the rabbinic authority in Jerusalem. The Rosh Yeshiva should ask him whether it is appropriate to speak from Heichal Shlomo.) Rav Aharon did not take kindly to this suggestion. I will omit certain details, except to note that Rav Aharon exclaimed in anger, “Ich ken alain paskanin a shailah.” (I am competent to decide an halachic issue.)
Yet, at the end of the day, Rav Schiff’s words had an impact and Rav Aharon decided not to speak at Heichal Shlomo. As many of Israel’s leading rabbis were gathering before the levaya at the Herzog home on Ibn Ezra Street, Rav Aharon sent an intermediary to Rebbitzin Sarah Herzog to ask whether he could speak there before the funeral. She acceded to this request but, as was reported in the newspapers, Rav Nissan strongly objected because if Rav Aharon spoke at the home, it would mean that there would be a speaker before him and this would be an affront to his dignity.
Rav Aharon spoke at the cemetery in Sanhedria where Rav Herzog is buried. His eulogy was warm and contained much praise of Rav Herzog. Although the text of the eulogy is available, for whatever reasons, it has not been included among the hespedim published in “Mishnas Rav Aharon.”
---------------------
Rav Yisrael Perkowski ztz"l
In the early 1950s, about fifty-five years ago, a group of teenagers
came together in what was known as the Zeirei Agudath Israel of Borough
Park, the youth division of the local Agudah that had recently relocated
to a two-story building on Fourteenth Avenue and 46th Street. The
Agudah davened on the first floor and the Zeirei on the second floor.
Nearly all of us were children of immigrants who were hard working
parents and though some of us were born in pre-Holocaust Europe, we were
essentially boys who liked baseball and other things American. For high
school we went by subway to yeshivas in other neighborhoods.
The teens went by quickly and before long there were marriages and additional members, with the minyan growing to about seventy families and undergoing several name changes, including the "Young Agudah" and several locations, settling finally on a modest facility on Sixteenth Avenue where we remain. Our homes were also modest and that, too, remains. Before long, we came to realize that we needed a Rabbi, a man who would inspire and teach and elevate our families. At the time, yeshiva-world shuls, including those of the Agudah, generally functioned without a rabbi. We reached out to Rabbi Yisroel Perkowski, a scholar and refugee who had studied at the renowned Mir Yeshiva in Poland before the Holocaust. He had davened with us during our Zeirei days, before moving to East New York where he was a Rosh Yeshiva or dean at Beth Hatalmud, a top level talmudic seminary that for many years has been located in Bensonhurst. Rabbi Perkowski accepted our request, maintaining his important role at Beth Hatalmud.
Our choice was fortuitous. For about forty-five years our minyan was blessed by a man who forged with us and our families a powerful bond of love, respect and admiration. We responded eagerly to his teachings, his warmth and his ways. In truth, he came to a group that possessed the potential to accept what he offered us. As boys, we were a special group. Rabbi Aharon Kotler, the transcendent Orthodox Jewish leader in the American Jewish experience and the founder of the great yeshiva in Lakewood, New Jersey, had davened with us when he was in Borough Park for Shabbos. Each year, he and Rabbi Moshe Sherer made an appeal for Torah Schools for Israel, the network of religious schools that he established in Israel, and the fellows pledged $20,000 or more each year, an extraordinary sum for the 1950s and for a group that was so young.
Under our Rav's guidance, the minyan reached new heights in Torah study, communal service and charitable giving. It is not easy to describe his leadership style because it was enveloped in humility. There is an esoteric religious Jewish theological concept called "Hester Panim," which means that G-D's glory is hidden from us. In perhaps an allegorical sense, this can be understood as referring to how the glory of our religious life is hidden from view. We are ensnared by celebrityship, by what is trumpeted and noisy. We fail to see the grandeur and sanctity of the typical religious Jewish home where modesty and Torah observance and study are embedded, where despite the struggle to make ends meet, there is an abundance of caring about others. What was hidden in the life of our Rav was his wisdom and his stature as a scholar. Even in the yeshiva world, he was not a celebrity.
He would have it no other way. I know but one photograph of him prior to his coming to the United States. It is of the study hall of the Mir Yeshiva which had miraculously found refuge in Shanghai during the dark years of the Holocaust. Our Rav is seated near the rear and all the way on the side. He abhorred being front and center anywhere. About twenty years ago, a delegation of eminent rabbis came to ask that he become a member of the Moetzes Gedolei Hatorah, Agudath Israel's prestigious Council of Torah Sages. They did not have a chance.
As much as his skin, humility was a part of his essence and no more than his skin could it be separated from him. He was entirely happy with what G-D had given him, including a wife of comparable sanctity and seven children. Even in his 90s, he would with a loving smile admonish those who attempted to help him, as when he was putting on his coat. He knew who he was and what he wanted to do. He had opinions and they were always expressed softly, as when he admonished us not to talk during davening, a lesson that we learned well. His speeches were masterly, invariably lasting fewer than ten minutes. He always began in a very low voice, barely above a whisper, for he was doubtful of the propriety of his speaking in a sanctified place.
I never heard him speak a word of English, yet he well understood the world in which we live. As the bond with him became as strong as steel, we knew that we were blessed with a rare treasure. This was a perfect relationship. When guests davened with us, they sensed our pride, but we never boasted because that would be unbecoming.
Over the years, our small group has become smaller. Some moved away and some passed away. Few of our children live in Borough Park because housing is expensive and maybe also because of the American Jewish imperative, "Thou shalt not live near your parents." On a typical Shabbos, the shul is half or more empty. We have now suffered our greatest loss, with the passing during the intermediate days of Sukkos, of our beloved Rav. He was buried twenty-two hours later in Israel and in accordance with his will, there will be no eulogies. If these lines are a violation of his wishes, it is the first time that I have transgressed against his instructions.
The pain of his loss will endure. The boys of the Zeirei are in their 70s and nearly all are grandfathers. More than a few are great-grandfathers. Our ranks will continue to diminish and perhaps one day this remarkable minyan will be no more. Whatever the future brings, we know that we were blessed.
The teens went by quickly and before long there were marriages and additional members, with the minyan growing to about seventy families and undergoing several name changes, including the "Young Agudah" and several locations, settling finally on a modest facility on Sixteenth Avenue where we remain. Our homes were also modest and that, too, remains. Before long, we came to realize that we needed a Rabbi, a man who would inspire and teach and elevate our families. At the time, yeshiva-world shuls, including those of the Agudah, generally functioned without a rabbi. We reached out to Rabbi Yisroel Perkowski, a scholar and refugee who had studied at the renowned Mir Yeshiva in Poland before the Holocaust. He had davened with us during our Zeirei days, before moving to East New York where he was a Rosh Yeshiva or dean at Beth Hatalmud, a top level talmudic seminary that for many years has been located in Bensonhurst. Rabbi Perkowski accepted our request, maintaining his important role at Beth Hatalmud.
Our choice was fortuitous. For about forty-five years our minyan was blessed by a man who forged with us and our families a powerful bond of love, respect and admiration. We responded eagerly to his teachings, his warmth and his ways. In truth, he came to a group that possessed the potential to accept what he offered us. As boys, we were a special group. Rabbi Aharon Kotler, the transcendent Orthodox Jewish leader in the American Jewish experience and the founder of the great yeshiva in Lakewood, New Jersey, had davened with us when he was in Borough Park for Shabbos. Each year, he and Rabbi Moshe Sherer made an appeal for Torah Schools for Israel, the network of religious schools that he established in Israel, and the fellows pledged $20,000 or more each year, an extraordinary sum for the 1950s and for a group that was so young.
Under our Rav's guidance, the minyan reached new heights in Torah study, communal service and charitable giving. It is not easy to describe his leadership style because it was enveloped in humility. There is an esoteric religious Jewish theological concept called "Hester Panim," which means that G-D's glory is hidden from us. In perhaps an allegorical sense, this can be understood as referring to how the glory of our religious life is hidden from view. We are ensnared by celebrityship, by what is trumpeted and noisy. We fail to see the grandeur and sanctity of the typical religious Jewish home where modesty and Torah observance and study are embedded, where despite the struggle to make ends meet, there is an abundance of caring about others. What was hidden in the life of our Rav was his wisdom and his stature as a scholar. Even in the yeshiva world, he was not a celebrity.
He would have it no other way. I know but one photograph of him prior to his coming to the United States. It is of the study hall of the Mir Yeshiva which had miraculously found refuge in Shanghai during the dark years of the Holocaust. Our Rav is seated near the rear and all the way on the side. He abhorred being front and center anywhere. About twenty years ago, a delegation of eminent rabbis came to ask that he become a member of the Moetzes Gedolei Hatorah, Agudath Israel's prestigious Council of Torah Sages. They did not have a chance.
As much as his skin, humility was a part of his essence and no more than his skin could it be separated from him. He was entirely happy with what G-D had given him, including a wife of comparable sanctity and seven children. Even in his 90s, he would with a loving smile admonish those who attempted to help him, as when he was putting on his coat. He knew who he was and what he wanted to do. He had opinions and they were always expressed softly, as when he admonished us not to talk during davening, a lesson that we learned well. His speeches were masterly, invariably lasting fewer than ten minutes. He always began in a very low voice, barely above a whisper, for he was doubtful of the propriety of his speaking in a sanctified place.
I never heard him speak a word of English, yet he well understood the world in which we live. As the bond with him became as strong as steel, we knew that we were blessed with a rare treasure. This was a perfect relationship. When guests davened with us, they sensed our pride, but we never boasted because that would be unbecoming.
Over the years, our small group has become smaller. Some moved away and some passed away. Few of our children live in Borough Park because housing is expensive and maybe also because of the American Jewish imperative, "Thou shalt not live near your parents." On a typical Shabbos, the shul is half or more empty. We have now suffered our greatest loss, with the passing during the intermediate days of Sukkos, of our beloved Rav. He was buried twenty-two hours later in Israel and in accordance with his will, there will be no eulogies. If these lines are a violation of his wishes, it is the first time that I have transgressed against his instructions.
The pain of his loss will endure. The boys of the Zeirei are in their 70s and nearly all are grandfathers. More than a few are great-grandfathers. Our ranks will continue to diminish and perhaps one day this remarkable minyan will be no more. Whatever the future brings, we know that we were blessed.
