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1975: A Chassid came from Europe to Eretz Yisroel and brought his four-year-old son to the Gerrer Rebbe, the Beis Yisroel zt”l. The Beis Yisroel, in his well-known, rapid-fire way of talking, asked the boy in Yiddish, "What is your name?"
The boy, who did not understand the quickly spoken question, did not respond. Assuming that the child did not understand Yiddish, the Rebbe asked him his name in Hebrew. The precocious young boy, immediately grasping the Rebbe’s impression, answered, "Rebbe, Ich ken Yiddish — Rebbe, I know Yiddish."
To this, the Rebbe quickly retorted, "Yiddish darf men nisht kennen, Yiddish darf men zein — You don’t [only] have to know Yiddish, you have to be Yiddish!"
The young boy, today a father of children, said that the Rebbe’s words and the seriousness with which they were said still ring in his ears today, more than 30 years later.
Perhaps this sums up the Beis Yisroel’s colossal influence on his Chassidim and all of Klal Yisroel. His entire life was a long, uninterrupted chapter of instilling Yiddishkeit into other Jews. Every Jew is different, and the recipe he used to plumb the depths of each person’s neshamah reflected that difference. The common denominator was his understanding of the specific needs of each Yiddishe neshamah, and his capacity to imbue each one with the life-giving spirituality that it needed. Simultaneously, he had the uncanny ability to assess the spiritual level of each person and, based on that assessment, demand that each individual strive towards his utmost level of avodas Hashem.
This is what makes writing about the Beis Yisroel a practically impossible task. To each individual, he represented different things. To one, he appeared as a loving father, assisting him with eyes full of compassion and benevolence. To another, he was a fiery taskmaster, rebuking and demanding that he push himself to the limits of endurance, both physical and spiritual. To yet another, he was a holy man whose visage alone was sufficient to imbue him with a ruach taharah — a feeling of purity that rendered any worldly temptation completely superficial and empty.
To the sick, he was the fatherly figure who on Erev Yom Kippur — when all were preoccupied with last-minute spiritual preparations for the holiest day of the year — came to their homes to remind them that they must eat on Yom Kippur. To his Chassidim, he was "The Rebbe," whose image, demands, and teachings never left them; and to the world at large, he represented a primary leader of Chareidi Jewry and of Agudas Yisroel in Eretz Yisroel.
In truth, the Beis Yisroel was all of these things; he encompassed so much and had influence over an extensive range of Jews, well beyond his own Chassidim. At the same time, despite his fame, he was a nistar — hidden. So much of his greatness was concealed from the world, even from those closest to him. After 30 years, he remains an enigma, well known to so many, and yet hidden.
Transmitting Pre-Churban Ideals to a Post-Churban Generation
One of the fascinating aspects of the Beis Yisroel’s life was the era in which he served as Rebbe. During those first three decades after the Holocaust, the world was completely different from the world of pre-war Europe in which he had been raised.
The Gemara (Gittin 56), when discussing the Churban Beis Hamikdash, relates that prior to the destruction, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai was smuggled out of the besieged Yerushalayim and came before the Roman emperor. The emperor told him that he could make a request, but Rabbi Yochanan made three: that the emperor spare Yavneh and its sages; that he spare the nasi (prince), who, being a direct descendant of King David, would continue the chain eventually bearing Moshiach; and that the emperor provide a doctor for the ailing Rabbi Tzaddok, the Tanna who had fasted for 40 years hoping to avert the destruction.
The first request is immediately understandable. Rabbi Yochanan knew that after the Churban, Klal Yisroel would be doomed to extinction without the continuation of Torah, represented by Yavneh and its sages. The second request is also clear: if the nasi were killed, there would not be a scion left of the kingdom of David. But the third request seems questionable. How could providing a doctor for the ailing and sick Rabbi Tzaddok be of such importance?
I once heard Rabbi Eliezer Geldzhaler zt”l explain that Rabbi Yochanan realized that after the Churban, Klal Yisroel would only be able to rebuild if they had a living example of a Jew from the pre-Churban era. Only his guidance, his visage, and the Judaism that he embodied would enable them to spring back after the great destruction.
In His ultimate mercy, the Ribbono shel Olam’s Hashgachah Elyonah — His Divine Providence — saw to it that a handful of extraordinary Jews were spared Churban Europa’s massive destruction. The surviving generation in America, in Europe, and in Eretz Yisroel had leaders and teachers of remarkable stature — exemplary individuals from different communities — to guide the reconstruction, perpetuation, and ultimate thriving of Torah Jewry.
Among them was the Beis Yisroel, who embodied all three of Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai’s requests. He was indeed instrumental in rebuilding Torah and Yiddishkeit after the tragic Churban of the Holocaust. He ensured that the great malchus of Ger, which so embodied the grandeur of Polish Chassidus and the mesorah of its antecedents — the Chassidic courts of Peshischa, Kotzk, and Ger — would not be forgotten.
But most importantly, in the spiritual desolation left by the Holocaust, he served as a living example of how a Jew from before the Churban looked, acted, and thought. By being a living example of the great pre-war era, he was able to transmit the mesorah of the pre-war Chassidic world of Poland in all its richness and thus breathe new life into the almost lifeless souls, the broken survivors of Hitler’s crematoria.
This eventually resulted in the establishment of a new, post-war generation that would proudly carry forward that mesorah; the mesorah of strict adherence to Torah and the mesorah of living a life permeated with the unique approach of Ger and Kotzk.
In the Cradle of Kedushah
The world into which the Beis Yisroel was born in 1894 was a much purer one. It was a world where his grandfather, the Sefas Emes zt”l, was still Rebbe. He grew up under the watchful care and affection of the Sefas Emes. When the Beis Yisroel was all of four years old, the Sefas Emes, impressed with the child’s lightning-quick mind, commented to the boy’s father, the Imrei Emes, "He is an illui (genius), and will one day be a great Rebbe."
During his childhood, he had close contact with the elder Chassidim, who themselves had been close to the great forebears of the Gerrer dynasty: the Kotzker Rebbe, the Chiddushei Harim, and Rav Chanoch Henoch of Alexander. The young child, with his quick grasp, absorbed their teachings and the mesorah they transmitted.
As he grew older, he became known throughout Poland for his tremendous hasmadah — diligence and greatness in learning. In an era when sharfkeit (literally "sharpness" — penetrating astuteness) was prevalent, his sharfkeit became legendary. He was viewed in Ger as a symbol of the spiritual apex to which Chassidus could raise a person. The best and finest of the young Chassidim, those who were willing to completely negate themselves and their personal aspirations and desires in order to fulfill Hashem’s will, would seek his company.
Leader of the Youth
His father, the Imrei Emes, undisputed leader of Polish Jewry, saw the havoc being wrought on Jewish Polish youth by the Haskalah (secular movement) and the foreign systems of thought and ideology that permeated Europe in the first half of the 20th century. He therefore encouraged the bachurim to organize themselves into chaburos (or "chevras," as they were called in Ger), groups of like-minded bachurim and yungeleit who would band together to serve Hashem. These chevras served as a bulwark of strength in proactively negating the allure of numerous "isms" that so encouraged the youth of that time to cast off the yoke of Torah Judaism.
The camaraderie and mutual spiritual aspirations were instrumental in turning young Gerrer Chassidim into a powerful spiritual force between the two world wars. Each chevra usually had a leader to direct them; the Beis Yisroel was leader of the leaders. He was instrumental in setting the path and providing direction for the chevras. The conviction and fierce loyalty to Yiddishkeit displayed by the chevras was legendary. It was a fire that the darkest hours and most profound spiritual test, the crucible of the Holocaust, could not extinguish. (See Moshe Prager’s small book, Eileh Shelo Nichna’u — Those Who Never Yielded, for a detailed account of the conduct of members of these chevras during the Holocaust.)
The Beis Yisroel suffered his own personal churban with the loss of his wife, son, daughter, son-in-law, and most of his extended family in the great conflagration. He himself was miraculously saved with his father and some other members of his immediate family. The malchus of Ger was decimated; almost the entire Chassidus was wiped out. In 1948, in the middle of the War of Independence, the Imrei Emes passed away and the mantle of leadership fell on the shoulders of the Beis Yisroel.
Gerrer Rebbe — Father and Mother
Slowly, the few survivors, broken in body and spirit, began to trickle to Eretz Yisroel. They were, perhaps, wounded more in spirit than in body. They needed family — a father, mother, sister, or brother — in addition to a Rebbe. And the Beis Yisroel filled all of these roles. In becoming Rebbe, he became the father, mother, and any other requisite position to rebuild these broken souls.
Still, the Rebbe never relented in his demands that Chassidim strive for the highest levels of ruchniyus. He wanted his Chassidim to attain the exalted spiritual plateaus of Kotzk and Peshischa, while, at the same time, he understood the era in which he lived and was able to forge a path to the broken hearts with love, understanding, and friendship.
Indeed, one of his gabba’im related a telling fact about the Rebbe: "When I was gabbai, I would ask the Rebbe if he wanted anything, to which he would often answer, 'What do I want? A yeshuah for all Yidden.' At other times, he would answer, 'What do I want? I want Yidden to be heilig — holy by day and by night.'"
This was the foundation of his hanhaga (leadership) after the war: a yeshuah for all Yidden, helping all Yidden with their personal, emotional, and material needs, and at the same time, instilling in them the fire of kedushah.
Rebuilding with the Younger Generation
Almost immediately after assuming the mantle of leadership, his intense interest in youth became evident. On the night of Yom Kippur 5610 (1949), the Rebbe related a telling story about Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev:
"One Erev Yom Kippur, Reb Levi Yitzchak announced that he would only accept kvitlach and bless the people if they would pay him two kopeks per person. Throughout the day, people came, presenting two kopeks in exchange for a blessing. The afternoon began to wane. The Chassidim had already gathered in shul. But alas, the Rebbe did not come. They sent the gabbai to see what was causing the delay. He found the Rebbe talking with a poor widow who had arrived late. She begged the Rebbe to bless her child and herself for just two kopeks. But the Rebbe adamantly insisted that he required four kopeks, two for her child and two for herself. 'But it has taken me the entire day, until this late hour, to scrape together even two kopeks,' she cried.
The tears were to no avail; the Rebbe would not relent. Finally, the heartbroken woman cried, 'Please, Rebbe, I will forego my berachah, but please bless the child!'
Upon hearing this, Rav Levi Yitzchak grabbed the kvittel, ran to shul and shouted, 'Hashem, Your children make themselves hefker [abandoned/ownerless], foregoing their own personal needs for the sake of the child!'"
Those present on that Yom Kippur of 1949 realized that the Beis Yisroel would make himself and his own quest for spiritual advancement hefker in order to educate and inculcate the "child," the young people, with foundations of kedushah and taharah — sanctity and purity. He plowed ahead in a dor yasom — an orphaned generation.
In the Beis Yisroel’s court, the activities began at about 2:00 a.m. every morning. He initiated and placed special emphasis on "fartugs" — arising early, long before davening — as he encouraged bachurim to get up at that unearthly hour and devote the predawn hours to Torah study. He could often be seen walking with a flashlight in the dark streets of Yerushalayim en route to waking up a bachur.
He taught that learning in the early hours of the morning, when the air is still pure, is vital to ensuring that the entire day be filled with kedushah. His constant focus was the reishis — the beginning. Just as he focused on people in the early years of their lives, he focused on the beginning of the day.
He once heard about an American yeshiva bachur whose grandparents had been Gerrer Chassidim. The boy knew little about the Rebbe or Gerrer Chassidim. The Rebbe, however, felt it necessary to bring him close to the path of his forefathers. The first thing that the Rebbe instructed one of his close Chassidim to do was to make sure that this bachur wash negel vasser at the side of his bed. The Rebbe explained that starting off the day with a mitzvah even before stepping out of bed would influence the rest of his day.
In general, the smallest effort to bring kedushah into one’s life was extremely important to him. He would constantly cite the Gemara: "One who sanctifies himself every day in this world, even minutely, is sanctified greatly from Above."
Each day, he would call different bachurim or yungeleit to his private room to "drink tea" with him during those early hours. These personal encounters and conversations with the Rebbe exerted a tremendous influence. The Rebbe, with his keen eye, was able to see and understand what each bachur needed to hear. When they left his room, it was with a renewed vigor and dedication to Yiddishkeit. Today, although thirty years have passed since he left us, thousands of people still attest to the impact those few minutes of "tea" had on their entire lives.
Reaching Out Beyond His Circle
The Rebbe’s caring, discerning eye was not limited to Gerrer Chassidim, nor even to Chassidim in general. He sought to imbue every Jew, whoever he was, with a ruach taharah. He searched in the most unlikely places for lost neshamos and brought them back to their source. His greatest pleasure was to guide a lost neshamah out of the forces of darkness, towards the light of Yiddishkeit. Whether it was an orphaned concentration camp survivor who had ended up in an anti-religious kibbutz or a bachur with a special neshamah growing up in a modern family, he sought them out in the most ingenious ways, bringing them close to him and returning them to Hashem.
A story is told about an elderly Chassid who would often travel to the Rebbe in Yerushalayim. When he became old, sick and partially paralyzed, he was placed in an old age home. His own children, who had strayed from Yiddishkeit, had no relationship with Ger or the Rebbe. As his health deteriorated, the old father requested that one of his sons, a very successful entrepreneur, take him to the Rebbe in Yerushalayim. He wanted to see the Rebbe and take leave of him one last time. Of course, the son complied with his father’s last request and drove him to Yerushalayim. With extreme care, he assisted his ailing father into the Rebbe’s room. After the father finished conversing with the Rebbe, the Beis Yisroel turned to the son, and with eyes that penetrated the very depth of the soul like an x-ray machine, he said, "I heard that you fulfill the mitzvah of kibbud av with great care. This is good and well. However, you must realize that you have another father, our Father in Heaven. What have you done for Him lately? What are you ready to do for Him?"
"Tell me, Rebbe, what should I do?"
"Don tefillin every day."
"I will," the son responded.
"From that day on," the son himself related, "a day has not passed when I have not put on tefillin."
This was not a unique occurrence. There were hundreds of similar incidents where the Rebbe reached out to lost Jews and brought them back. He started by urging them to fulfill one mitzvah, which would lead to another and then another, until the person became a full-fledged shomer Torah u’mitzvos.
Another Chassid relates that prior to departing on a business trip to Italy, he went to take leave of the Rebbe. The Rebbe asked, "When you are in Italy, kindly purchase for me a leather wallet. I have heard that they have nice leather wallets there." Of course, the Chassid readily agreed. While in Italy, however, he became so involved in his business affairs that he completely forgot to attend to the Rebbe’s request. Only upon his return to Eretz Yisroel did he remember his promise. He decided to go to Tel Aviv, purchase an Italian wallet there, and then proceed to the Rebbe in Yerushalayim.
When he presented the wallet to the Rebbe, the Rebbe studied it and asked, "Where did you purchase this?"
The man had no choice but to admit his oversight. "Foolish person," the Rebbe said, "do you really think I needed a wallet? I simply wanted you to think of me while you were in the spiritual desert of Italy so that you would not, G-d forbid, sin there. By asking you to buy me a wallet, I knew that all that I constantly demand of you would be foremost in your mind. Do you think that I need a wallet that you bought in Tel Aviv?"
Indeed, until today, thirty years after his passing, many Chassidim who merited to bask in the fiery warmth that he exuded relate that when they are going through spiritual trials and tribulations, they think of the Rebbe’s holy countenance, and this enables them to overcome the tests. This was the ongoing power of kedushah that the Beis Yisroel exerted upon his Chassidim.
One individual, who had been a Gerrer Chassid before World War II, moved to America after experiencing the horrors of the war. He married there, but did not continue on the Chassidic path. Rather, he lived an extremely materialistic lifestyle, and sent his children to very modern Jewish schools. He climbed up the ladder of success until he became a very prosperous businessman.
One day, he found himself in deep trouble. He had gotten involved in a bad business deal and was at risk of facing charges in court for fraudulent business practices. He hired the best lawyers, but was informed that the state’s case against him was so strong that it would be practically impossible for him to win. Losing would result in being found guilty of the criminal charges levied against him. Where should he turn? Had he escaped Hitler so that he should languish in an American prison? And what about his wife and children — who would care for them? He suddenly recalled the years before the war, when every problem of his would make its way to Ger and find an answer. He decided that despite his present less-than-adequate spiritual state, he would journey to the Gerrer Rebbe in Eretz Yisroel.
When he entered the Beis Yisroel’s chambers, the Rebbe immediately asked about his life in America, his children, and where they went to school. Eventually, the Yid broke down in tears and told the Rebbe about the imminent court case against him. The Beis Yisroel answered, "If you will give this and this amount (an exorbitant sum) to me, I will bless you that all will be fine." The Yid was taken aback. This was not the Ger he remembered from Poland. A Gerrer Rebbe asking for money? It was unheard of.
Telling the Rebbe that he would think about it, he left. After thinking it over for a day, he concluded that he had no choice. Practically all the money in the world was worth winning the case. He returned to the Rebbe, put down the money, received the Rebbe’s blessing, and left.
The day of the court case arrived. The Yid, quaking with fear, entered the courtroom accompanied by his lawyers. The prosecutor read the charges and the judge immediately retorted, "Why are you boring me with these foolish cases? There is not a single charge we can hold him on. Case dismissed."
The man ecstatically left the courtroom and decided right then to make another trip to Yerushalayim to personally tell the Rebbe what had happened. He entered the Rebbe’s chambers with a light heart and a smile on his face. After he told the Rebbe the good news, the Beis Yisroel immediately rose from his seat, went over to one of his drawers, and removed the entire sum of money that the man had given to him several months earlier. "Here, take your money. Do you think I need your money? I need your children! Send me your children!"
Flabbergasted by the Rebbe’s selfless deed, he immediately agreed to send his children. Today, two of his sons number among the most distinguished Gerrer Chassidim in Eretz Yisroel.
Before the war, the Koznitzer Rebbe, Reb Ahrele zt”l, was heavily involved in bringing Yidden who had strayed from the proper path back to Yiddishkeit. He once said, "I toil to change those who have strayed and make them into Jews. In Ger, they make Jews into Chassidim." Perhaps it could be said that the Beis Yisroel, in his time, did both simultaneously. This was his uniqueness. With tremendous insight, he was able to lift up an entire downtrodden generation, eventually bringing them back to the spiritual, Chassidic levels of pre-war Europe.
Oheiv Yisroel
The Beis Yisroel was known the world over as the sharpest of the sharp; the person who demanded perfection; who, with one word or a withering glare from his powerful eyes, transmitted the sharpest rebuke. Those, however, who looked a little deeper into the penetrating eyes discovered an ocean of love, of ahavas Yisroel. Beneath the façade of toughness, they saw a Rebbe who was ready to do anything for another Yid. Behind every "roar" was compassion, kindness, and a heart full of rachamim.
One Chassid relates: "This incident has remained etched in my memory as if it happened yesterday. Whenever I would make the trip from abroad to Eretz Yisroel to the Rebbe, I would never leave Yerushalayim. Not even to daven at kivrei tzaddikim in the Galil nor to visit relatives. I simply did not want to miss even a second in the Beis Yisroel’s presence. Once, he asked me, 'You don’t travel at all? Don’t you have a brother-in-law in Bnei Brak?'
"Obviously, I went straight to Bnei Brak. I was not able to return to Yerushalayim the next day until the beginning of Mincha. The entire day, I had not had a chance to eat. Immediately after Mincha, the Rebbe’s gabbai summoned me to the Rebbe’s anteroom. The Rebbe asked, 'Have you eaten anything today?' Extremely nervous, with my knees knocking together in fear, I stammered incoherently. The Rebbe entered his room and returned a moment later with a plate of cake, which he placed before me. He then returned to his room and came out holding a piping hot cup of tea, which he also placed before me. I later heard from the gabbai that when the Rebbe went to prepare the tea, he realized that there was no more tea essence. The gabbai wanted to go upstairs to get some more. The Rebbe, however, stopped him: 'Hachnasas orchim — the mitzvah of hospitality — somebody comes from a long journey...' and he himself went upstairs and brought it down.
"After I finished, the Rebbe asked me if I would like some more. There I was, a simple Chassid, and the Rabban shel kol bnei hagolah to whom the eyes of the entire world were turned, was standing and serving me. This I will never forget!"
It would be proper to conclude with the Beis Yisroel’s own words. Soon after the petirah of his father, the Imrei Emes, the Beis Yisroel wrote the following in a letter to a friend:
"I was in close proximity to my father almost the entire time from the passing of the Sefas Emes until his own passing. I knew and saw the great amount of self-sacrifice — both spiritual and physical — that he invested in order to imbue ahavas haTorah and yiras Shamayim in the heart of every individual, and especially into the hearts of the bachurim and avreichim. As I said in front of his coffin, 'I don’t know who in the generations that preceded him merited [to accomplish so much].'"
Perhaps the same could have been said of the Beis Yisroel himself.
[Based on Jewish Observer 2007]
