Reb Dovid once referred to three people he had known who had the greatest impact on him: Reb Yisroel Feigenbaum, his first rebbi at RJJ; Reb Yosef Klein, who had been menahel at the Mir and Reb Dovid’s first boss in chinuch; and his rebbi muvhak, Reb Shmuel Brudny. “Do you know what these three men, each one of whom made me into a rebbi, had in common?” Reb Dovid asked. “They were all talmidim of Reb Shlomo Heiman: my rebbi, Reb Shmuel, in Rameilles Yeshivah in Vilna, and the other two in Torah Vodaas. Reb Shlomo used to say that every question a talmid asks is a great question. Do you know why? Because the talmid is asking it! That makes it great. Reb Shlomo molded three such gifted mechanchim with that approach,” Rabbi Trenk concluded.
Reb Dovid wanted the boys to appreciate the greatness of their own parents, and he worked hard to instill in them an appreciation for their fathers and mothers. If he heard a story that would highlight this, he would repeat it again and again, making sure the talmid internalized the message. His talmid Jonah Bruck’s father had once run into a burning shul in Elizabeth, New Jersey, to rescue Sifrei Torah. Reb Dovid would become excited every time he mentioned it, reminding Jonah of his strong roots.
Years later, when Rabbi and Mrs. Trenk traveled to Chicago to join in the bar mitzvah of Jonah’s own son, Rabbi Trenk opened his speech by remembering this act of courage and devotion. “I’ve got to get the Sefer Torah, I’ve got to get it out, let’s save this heilige, heilige Sefer Torah,” Rabbi Trenk called out. “That was the way of your zeide,” Rabbi Trenk looked at the bar mitzvah boy, “that was the way he lived!”
When he learned that his talmid Chaskel Bennett’s father was not only a respected doctor, but also a serious kovei’a ittim l’Torah, Rabbi Trenk had a new phrase. “A mishnayos and a stethoscope, a mishnayos and a stethoscope,” Rabbi Trenk would enthuse, “that’s your father, he goes around with both of them,” investing the teenager with genuine respect for what this entailed.
Some of the boys would get around campus on bicycles, so one of the bachurim asked his mother to send him his bike from home. There was no simple way to do so, so the dedicated mother took the bicycle with her from their home in Manhattan, traveling on one bus, then another, eventually arriving in tiny Adelphia after a trip of several hours. Rabbi Trenk was amazed by her devotion and would mention it often. “Your mother schlepped a bike for hours so that you can be happy in yeshivah.”
When Shloime Biderman’s parents applied to yeshivah, they were told that there was simply no more room, even though they had a wonderful son. Mrs. Biderman persisted, and finally the administrator explained that the yeshivah meant it literally: there wasn’t a single free bed for the coming z’man. She arrived on the first day of the z’man, bringing her son to yeshivah — along with a brand-new bed, folded in the back of the car. Rabbi Trenk never stopped recalling the creativity and determination of this Jewish mother, intent on seeing her son grow in Torah.
Reb Dovid mastered the art of loving discipline, able to stand firm and enforce rules without having to resort to frustrated threats and accusations. One morning, he came in to say shiur and the classroom was a mess, papers and used tissues strewn all over the room. “Boys, we can’t learn Torah this way, it’s not kavod. I’m going to leave and come back in five minutes. Please make sure that the room is spotless.” The rebbi left and returned precisely five minutes later. The boys had gone through the motions of cleaning up, picking up a few papers and kicking some of the litter to the side, but the room wasn’t much neater. He looked around the room, but didn’t react. Instead, he bent over and began to pick up pieces of trash. Several boys ran over to help him, but he held up a hand. “No boys, I’m sorry, you had your chance. Now, I will have the zechus of cleaning the room so that it’s a suitable place to learn Torah, and you,” Rebbi looked around, his voice rising a notch, “you will remain in your seats and not move.” For several quiet, uncomfortable minutes, the talmidim watched their rebbi crawl and bend and reach, tidying the room, while they were powerless to help. They learned several lessons that day.
He insisted on basic respect: If a talmid misbehaved during general studies in the afternoon, he reacted quickly. They quickly learned that chutzpah was a line that could not be crossed. In general, Reb Dovid viewed the hours spent learning general studies as crucial and insisted that the boys take the classes seriously. He would often recall how once, the Adelphia Yeshivah had the zechus to host Reb Yaakov Kamenetsky. Reb Yaakov was on the way back from Lakewood to Monsey, and he had stopped in Adelphia to take a refreshing break. The talmidim lined up outside the home of the rosh yeshivah, Reb Yerucham Shain, and waited for Reb Yaakov. They sang as he stepped out of the car, and then each bachur approached to say shalom aleichem. Reb Yaakov smiled, and then said, “Back to yeshivah, it’s already bittul Torah.” One of the assembled bachurim told him that they were in middle of secular studies, so it wasn’t technically bittul Torah. Reb Yaakov didn’t hesitate. “That’s also bittul Torah,” he said emphatically.
[R' Yisroel Besser - Artscroll]
