Category Archives: Gedolim

Amazing post about Reb Aryeh Levin zt"l

(Photo from here)

Micha Berger wrote an amazing post about Reb Aryeh Levin on his blog, Aspaqlaria.  It’s worth the visit and is worth printing out.
Here’s a passage that I loved:

Rav Aryeh Levin’s “job” was as a mashgiach at a children’s school, Etz Chaim. That meant not only his formal duties. It meant sharing his food with the boys who couldn’t afford regular lunches. It meant bringing food for his own home for the boys who weren’t eating lunch regularly because they simply didn’t like the fare the school could afford to serve.

There’s also three other posts about Reb Aryeh here

Guest post from Yosef Hakhen- Stories about Stories about Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach‏

Sage Stories from the Radical Neighborhood:

Introduction:

Maimonides writes that one form of beloved speech is “to praise those who are great and to speak of their positive attributes so that their manner of behavior will find favor with human beings, and they will follow in their ways.” (Commentary on Mishnah Pirkei Avos 1:17)

Dear Friends,

In the previous letter – “A Radical New Neighborhood” – I mentioned that the chareidi neighborhood of Shaarei Chesed has also served as the home of leading sages of the 20th century. In this letter, I will share with you some stories about one of these sages, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, whose yahrtzeit – the 20th of Adar – was on the Shabbos that we just experienced. Some of our leading sages, including Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, were called by the intimate and respectful title “Reb”; thus, he was often referred to as Reb Shlomo Zalman.

He was born on the 23rd of Tamuz 5670 (1910) to Rav Chaim Yehudah Leib and Tzivya Auerbach. Both his father and his mother were descended from well-established and learned Jerusalem families. His father, Rav Chaim Yehudah Leib, was considered one of the luminaries of his era in the secrets of the Torah; moreover, he was the founder and head of Yeshiva Sha’ar HaShamayim, where Kabbalah was studied.

The Jerusalem of Rav Shlomo Zalman’s youth was characterized by poverty and deprivation, especially during World War I. Food was so scarce that he seldom had any lunch, and he would occasionally eat a slice of stale bread and a bit of halvah for dinner. His solitary meal of the day consisted of a bowl of watery soup; hunger was his constant companion.

He became a leading authority on the “halacha” – the requirements of the Torah path, and he also became the head of Yeshiva Kol Torah, a noted chareidi yeshiva. Once, when giving a shiur (lesson/lecture) at Kol Torah, he noticed that a particular student was absent. The boy’s study partner reported that the young man was a bit under the weather. Rav Shlomo Zalman then remarked:
“When I was young, if I had closed my Gemara (book of the Talmud) every time I felt slightly ill, I never would have learned at all.”

Rev Shlomo Zalman was a warm and loving person; moreover, he was very calm and patient. He once told someone, however, that as a boy, he was quick to anger and became irritated easily; thus, he worked on himself to become a calm and patient person. These good qualities increased his ability to guide and help others.

In 5690 (1930), he married Chaya Rivkah Ruchamkin, whose father was a rav who was a well-known Jerusalem educator. After the wedding, Rav Shlomo Zalman and his wife lived in the house of her parents, and the entire family ate their meals together. Although Rav Shlomo Zalman became a leading sage, he did not sit at the head of the table – even after Rav Ruchamkin’s passing. He maintained that the seat at the head of the table was reserved for the person who now led the family, his elderly mother-in-law. She, however, was very weak due to her advanced years, and she was not able to take her meals with the family in the dining room; nevertheless, out of respect for her, Rav Shlomo Zalman still refused to sit at the head of the table. In general, he was very devoted to his mother-in-law, and he showed her great honor.

Rav Shlomo Zalman used his Torah wisdom to wisely and warmly guide people during periods of sorrow and crisis. The following story can serve as an example:
When a young married student of his passed away, the student’s family had to make a quick decision about where he should be buried. They had the option of selecting a single plot that was available in an area of the cemetery where some of their distinguished ancestors were interred, or alternatively, they could purchase a double plot in a different area, so that his widow, after her “one hundred and twenty years,” could be laid to rest in the vacant site adjacent to his. They consulted Rav Shlomo Zalman, and he ruled that the student should be buried in the single plot near his ancestors and relatives. As he later explained, his rationale for the decision in this particular case was that buying the double lot would place an unfair emotional burden on the young widow. The woman had every right to remarry; however, if there was a burial plot waiting for her alongside her deceased husband, she would always be plagued with the thought that perhaps it was inappropriate for her to remarry, as she would feel that she had a commitment to her husband – to lie at his side after she passed away.

Although Rav Shlomo Zalman was a leading sage and a head of Yeshiva Kol Torah, he insisted on riding the city bus like anyone else. This was despite the protests of the yeshiva administration and others who wanted him to have a driver. On one of his bus rides, a woman who was dressed very immodestly suddenly sat down in the seat next to him. He then rang the bell and got off at the next stop, even though his destination was several stops away. Someone later asked him why he didn’t simply stand in the aisle until he arrived at his stop. He explained that had he had gotten up and stood in the aisle right after the woman sat down, she might have felt hurt or embarrassed that he did not continue to sit next to her, and he did not want to cause any distress to this “daughter of Israel.”

In his older years, he allowed himself to go by taxi or to have others drive him to and from the yeshiva. Yeshiva Kol Torah became established in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Bayit Vegan, and he often traveled with the drivers of Hapisgah cab service in Bayit Vegan. One driver at Hapisgah noted that Rav Shlomo Zalman always sat up front, alongside the driver, instead of in the back seat. The driver said:
“I sensed that he didn’t want me to feel like his servant or his chauffeur, you know? And he’d talk to me about my family and like that.”
The dispatcher at Hapisgah had this to add:
“One day I was taking my turn behind the wheel, and I picked up Reb Shlomo Zalman over at Kol Torah. As usual, he climbed into the front seat and greeted me, calling me his manhig (leader). I tried to explain to him that in Hebrew the word for ‘driver’ is nahag and that although the two words have the same root, manhig means ‘leader.’ I figured he was more accustomed to speaking Yiddish, so he wasn’t aware of the subtleties of Hebrew grammar. But no – Reb Shlomo Zalman insisted that I was his manhig because I would ‘lead’ him to his destination. It was such a small thing, and yet it made me feel great. This important Rav considered me his manhig!” (The driver was unaware that Rav Shlomo Zalman and all the teachers at Yeshiva Kol Torah taught in Hebrew.)

Rav Yehohsua Neuwirth, a famous Torah scholar who lives in Bayit Vegan, explained that Rav Shlomo Zalman believed that money was not adequate compensation for services rendered; it was essential to also treat the providers of such services with extreme courtesy and to show a genuine interest in their work and in them as individuals.

Rav Shomo Zalman was known for his many acts of loving-kindness, including his visits to hospitals and homes for the elderly, and he was also known for his great devotion to “tzedakah” – the sharing of our resources with those in need; in fact, many people gave him tzedekah money to distribute as he saw fit.

He was especially known for his devotion to the needs of widows and orphans, and there were cases where he acted as a surrogate father for orphans. The following story can serve as an example:
A Torah-committed man whose wife was about to give birth called the ambulance, but when the ambulance arrived, the man suddenly died. The ambulance staff tried to revive him, and they brought him to the hospital, but all the efforts to revive him did not succeed. His wife was also brought to the hospital where she gave birth to a baby boy. She sent a messenger to Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach to ask whether she could name the baby after his father. Instead of replying through the messenger, Rav Shlomo Zalman went immediately to the hospital to speak with the bereaved woman. He arrived at the maternity ward, and his comforting presence and sensitive words helped to raise her spirits. After hearing the details of her husband’s passing, he told her she could name the boy after her husband. In addition, he told the mother, who also had other children at home, that he intended to serve as a ‘father” to her children, and he requested that she inform him of any problem that might arise. As the children were growing up, Rav Shlomo Zalman was attentive to their spiritual and physical needs, and he also helped the mother to remarry and begin a new life.

Rav Shlomo Zalman had a deep and abiding love for Eretz Yisrael and especially for Yerushalayim – Jerusalem. He was a true Yerushalmi with passionate and enduring ties to the city where he was born and raised, and where he lived his entire life.

According to his view, one should not react at a wedding with an immediate “Mazel Tov” upon the breaking of the glass under the chuppah (wedding canopy), for this custom commemorates the destruction of Jerusalem’s Holy Temple. He maintained that we should first pause and reflect on the destruction. After the pause, the wishing of “Mazel Tov” would then be appropriate, for it would encourage the couple and not allow them to dwell upon sadness at their moment of joy. At wedding ceremonies, when the glass was broken under the chuppah, Rav Shlomo Zalman would recite the following verse from the Book of Psalms:
“If I forget you O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill. Let my tongue adhere to my palate, if I fail to remember you, if I fail to elevate Jerusalem above my foremost joy.” (Psalm 137:5.6)

Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach was loved and respected by people in all the Torah-committed communities. For example, many people in the National Religious communities consulted with this chareidi sage, and he had a warm relationship with them. When Rav Shlomo Zalman passed away on 20 Adar, 5755, the local police estimated that at least 300,000 people attended the levaya (funeral). Other sources reported a turnout of nearly 500,000.
Many secular-oriented Jews, who had never heard his name, wanted to know why Rav Shlomo Zalman merited such respect. Newspaper reporters searched through their secular encyclopedias and computerized archives for information about him; however, the encyclopedias did not mention him at all, while his name appeared in the archives of the Ha’aretz newspaper a few times, but merely incidentally.
This oversight stunned the reporters, who were ashamed of their ignorance. Candidly, Tom Segev of Ha’aretz admitted:
“The thoughts of the great halachic authorities of the Torah world are not included in the curricula of secular Israeli schools. But those thoughts are one facet of Israeli identity that I prefer not to forego.”

As the Prophets of Israel taught us, it is the Torah – the Divine Teaching – that defines our national identity. May all of our brethren rediscover this spiritual identity, and may we soon experience the complete fulfillment of the following prophecy: “For from Zion will go forth Torah and the Word of Hashem from Jerusalem” (Isaiah 2:3).

Be Well, and Shalom,

Yosef Ben Shlomo Hakohen

In this letter, I cited a ruling of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach regarding a burial plot. This ruling was for this particular case with its particular circumstances; thus, it should not automatically be applied to other situations which “seem” siimilar, but which may differ in certain ways. This is why all such questions need to be brought to a competent halachic authority.

Additional Stories and Comments:

1. Reb Michel Gutfarb served as Rav Shlomo Zalman’s main assistant for his tzedekah activities. When Reb Michel Gutfarb was hospitalized for treatment of a serious condition, Rav Shlomo Zalman not only become involved with helping his assistant; the Rav would also call his assistant’s home every other night to find out how Mrs. Gutfarb was doing.
The strain she was under was taking its toll, but the voice on the line announcing, “This is Shlomo Zalman Auerbach,” always lifted her spirits.

2. On his way home from the synagogue one brisk morning, Rav Shlomo Zalman encountered a jogger clad in “sweats” and running shoes, pounding the pavement of Shaarei Chesed, a sheen of perspiration glistening on his face in the Jerusalem sunlight. The jogger was Rav Berel Wein, a well-known rabbi and historian from the United States. The visiting rabbi was somewhat abashed at meeting this leading Torah sage while wearing his jogging clothes. He silently hoped to retain his anonymity, but he of course greeted Rav Shlomo Zalman with appropriate deference. Rav Shlomo Zalman, however, recognized him and returned his greeting. In order to alleviate the jogging rabbi’s embarrassment, Rav Shlomo Zalman remarked with a smile: “Nu, nu, one’s health is also important!”
(Rav Berel Wein now lives in Jerusalem.)

3. Most of the information in the above letter is from the moving biography of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach by Hanoch Teller. The title is, “And from Jerusalem, HIS WORD.” The book has been distributed by Feldheim, and it is available from the author: www.hanochteller.com . When you visit this website, press down on “books” and scroll down for information about this biography. The information includes the cover of the book which has a beautiful picture of Reb Shlomo Zalman with his warm smile.

4. I also took some information from an essay about Rav Shlomo Zalman which appears in Volume 2 of “In Their Shadow” – a Hebrew work by Rav Shlomo Lorincz, a leading and respected community activist who also served as a member of Israel’s Knesset.
In this work, Rav Lorincz writes about the leading Torah sages who guided or influenced him. Volume 1 has been translated into English by Feldheim, and an English translation of Volume 2 is scheduled to appear. For further information on this inspiring work, visit: http://www.feldheim.com/ .

5. In my research for this article, I came across an informative article about the life of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach which appears on the following site: http://www.tzemachdovid.org/gedolim/ravauerbach.html . This article also mentions the occasions when Rav Shlomo Zalman felt a Torah obligation to take a strong public stand on certain issues.

Hazon – Our Universal Vision: www.shemayisrael.com/publicat/hazon

Food for thought

Before Rav Shimon Schwab left Europe he went spent Shabbos with the Chofetz Chaim in Radin. Shabbos night a group of students came over to the home of the Chofetz Chaim and he said:
We know the mun had the ability to take on whatever taste we wanted it to. What happened when the person eating the mun didn’t think about what he wanted it to taste like?
The Chofetz Chaim answered his own question: Then it simply has no taste.



This gets me every time. It’s one of my favorite d’vrei Torah. If I don’t think about my Avodas Hashem, then it has no taste. If I don’t appreciate the people my family, it’s like they don’t exist. How often does my learning or mitzvah performance seem like tasteless mun?


I know that I go through the motions quite often.  I’m aware of it and I attempt to work on it.  I’m sure that Rav Schwab heard the words of the Chofetz Chaim and it also gave him food for thought.


I often, especially lately, will see or read something and it hits me in the face.  Most recently, it was comic in the Forward that has become a bit of a bee in people’s bonnets.  I chose to contact the artist and got his side of the story.  If perception is everything, then we as a Torah observant community have our work cut out for us.  To eat the mun and not taste it, is up there with feeding the mun to someone else and they only tasting something bitter.


(The beginning of this post was originally posted here)

Why most Jews light Chanuka Candles

From Rav Yosef Stern’s Sfas Emes sefer, Days of Joy:


There’s a halacha in germara Shabbos 21b that describes how certain oils and wick are “not acceptable for Shabbos candelabra, but are permitted for the Chanuka Menorah.  The substances are prohibited for Shabbos use because of the flame’s inability to cling to the wick.  Likewise, the light of Torah is unable to fully penetrate certain souls even on Shabbos.  Yet on Chanuka these rejected wicks may be used.  So too, souls that are not inspired by the weekly Shabbos are spiritually moved by the yearly observance of Chanukah. A certain spark, an inner purity, always remains burning bright in the heart of every Jew.  This spark, know as the Nekudah HaPinimius, constrained all year long from permeating the Jewish psyche, is liberated on Chanukah through the power of praise and gratitude, for the miracles that occurred at this time”

The other side of Lech Lecha

Bereshis 14:13 And the fugitive came and he told Abram the Hebrew, and he was living in the plain of Mamre the Amorite, the brother of Eshkol and the brother of Aner, who were Abram’s confederates.


Rashi: הָעִבְרִי [So called] because he came from the other side (מֵעֵבֶר) of the [Euphrates] river (Gen. Rabbah 42:8). [Text from Chabad.org and the JPS Transation]

Rav Shlomo Friefeld explains,  as printed in the book In Search of Greatness, (on page 14) quotes the actual Midrash, that “explains why Avraham was called Avraham the Ivri.  What is an Ivri?  The Midrash says that the term Ivri come from the word ever, which means a side.  It is often used for a riverbank.  Every river has two sides, this riverbank and the opposite one.  Avraham was called Avraham the Ivri, the “sider,” or one who stood on the side.  What does that mean?  The Gemara says that Avraham stood on one side and the entire world stood on the other.  He had his beliefs, and the entire world was opposed to them.

Now, I saw a very similar idea brought down by Rav Dovid Hanania Pinto, shilta in Pahad David.  Rav Pinto says:

It is written in the Torah that the children of Israel were called “Ivrim”. The first person to be given this name was our patriarch Abraham. The term “Ivrim” has two meanings:

When man comes close to the Eternal by studying the Torah and observing the Mitzvot, he “comes from the other side” (“Ivri” means one from the other side of the river) just like our patriarch Abraham did. A man bound to the Torah is able to live with another who is not, even if their opinions are different. Why? Because the first man, as Abraham did, adjusted his convictions to the “other side”.

There is another reason why the children of Israel are called “Ivrim”. The root  of this word is “Avar” (past). This means that instead of being satisfied with everyday life that  keeps changing from one day to another, they lived attached to their past. They were bound to the magnificent past of our Saintly Forefathers, and this past is immutable in the image of the Holy Torah revered by our ancestors.

The ability to stay strong in your convictions and live with others who think differently than you is the mark of greatness.  It’s that ability, when rooted, as Rav Pinto writes, in the past, in Emunas HaChamim (faith in our Sages) and Zechus Avos (merit of our Forefathers) that gives each Jew the strength to be an Eved Hashem, like Avraham Avinu.

This was written Zecher Nishmas my father-in-law, Dan HaLevi ben Aharon a”h.  My father-in-law a”h not only survived the Shoah, but remained a proud Jew every day of his life.

Previous posts on Lech Lecha can be found here and here.

The social stigma of the poverty we don’t like to talk about

photo from here
There’s type of poverty that we don’t hear people talking about too much. I read about it, but rarely do I hear people I know actually discussing it (of course, I’m writing about it and not discussing it also). Baruch Hashem, many opportunies are available in bigger Jewish communites for assistance with food, tution, shul dues, medical care, debt consolidiation, rides, learning, and homework. Financial aid committees are in place in most schools and many g’machs have been created to help with many of our phsyical needs.
The type of poverty that I’m not sure how we hear about, and one that has touched me from time to time, is being poor in emunah. So poor that there is nothing either your emunah checking account or your emunah saving account. It’s something we don’t really talk with our friends about at the Shabbos park or at a kiddush. Why? Well, I think that there is a social stigma that’s associated with it. To admit to having a lack of faith shows that we are not “100% frum”. I have read on various blogs over the years that people, both those frum from birth and baalei teshiva, tend to feel burned out or lose their emunah to some degree. Again, bringing this up to people is, for some reason, a taboo subject, almost like telling someone, “I almost turned on a closet light on Shabbos because we couldn’t see” or “I was so hungry that I almost bought a packaged salad at the grocery story…without a hechshar”.  We might think about telling others, but we recoil from what their reaction might be and how they would view us. 

I’ve seen a trend recently in seforim being published that deal with issues of emunah. R Lazer Brody’s The Garden of Emunah happens to be an incredibly popular sefer. The translations of Bilvavi Mishkan Evneh, Building A Sanctuary in the Heart (vol 1 and 2) are amazing and, for me, changed the way I saw many things and my relationship with Hashem. A translation of the Chazon Ish’s Emunah v’Bitachon, Faith and Trust, was recently published as well.

Many times I’ve seen statements online such as, “Why don’t they have kiruv programs that can inspire those who are frum without feeling?” or “How come there are no programs to help strengthen emunah?”.

I wish I could announce a brand new program for those who find their “lack of faith disturbing” (to throw in a Star Wars quote). I think it is something that kiruv organizations should look into. If lectures, workshops, or guest speakers are organized and people start attending these events, this stigma and state of emunah-poverty might be helped. This would be an idea solution.

However, with the economy in the state that it is right now, every organization is just trying to keep their heads above water and to secure more funding for a new program might not be in the cards.

I offer the following suggestion to anyone reading this:  Make an emunah book club or informal chaburah/vaad. A book club that is based on the many writings about emunah currently available might be just the right fit for many people.

Note: Also see this post on Rav Schwab on Emunah and Bitachon.

Sunday’s Spark of Mussar

Rav Yisroel Meir Kagen HaCohen, the Chofetz Chaim

“How delicious this food is!” exclaimed R’ Yisroel Meir again and again as he ate with apparent relish a meal prepared for him by his hostess.

“Could it be,” wondered those present, “R’ Yisroel Meir is praising something a mundane as food?”
It turned out that R” Yisroel Meir’s intention was to bring satisfaction to his hostess.  Since a person who prepares something for another rejoices when his efforts are appreciated, R’ Yisroel are appreciated, R’ Yisroel Meir was expressing his appreciation.

From Sparks of Mussar by R Chaim Ephraim Zaitchik

Shut up and read this (or "How to use nice words")

An Adam Gadol is given this title because he is great.  Great in Torah, great in Middos, great in making everything he or she does into Avodas Hashem.  I recently read the following at chabad.org  regarding the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s style of writing:

It is clear from the Rebbe’s editing patterns that talking and writing positively are always an imperative. Apparently because positive writing has a beneficial influence on the reader’s thought process.


This particular response – actually an edit – that I unearthed was penned by the Rebbe on the margins of a letter drafted by one of the Rebbe’s secretaries (based on the Rebbe’s dictation) for a dinner that was to take place on the day after Passover. The Rebbe writes on the draft: “!!!סגנון דהיפך הטוב הוא” “the wording is the opposite of good!!!”*
Here is the text the Rebbe was referring to:
Had the Jewish children in Egypt not received a Jewish education … there would be no one to liberate…


The Rebbe wrote in Hebrew how the text should be corrected—and this is the way it was translated and appeared in the final version:
…it is only because the Jewish children in Egypt received the proper Jewish education… our whole Jewish people… was liberated from Egyptian slavery…


*Note that the Rebbe wrote “the opposite of good”—another hallmark of the Rebbe’s, never to say or write the word commonly used to connote “the opposite of good.”

I found this very interesting, because the importance of how we speak is also illustrated in the following excerpt from the biography of Rav Dessler:

Rabbi Nachum Vevel [Rav Dessler’s son] Dessler’s childhood memories of this maternal grandmother Rebbetzin Peshe Ziv [the Alter of Kelm’s daughter-in-law] provide some glimpse of the rareifed atmosphere in which his mother was raised.  He once refused to eat the food his grandmother offered him, complaining that the plate was shmutzik (dirty).  His grandmother told him that she would be happy to offer him another plate, but that he must not talk like that.  “We do not say the plate is dirty,” she said.  “We say that the plate is not clean.”

The young boy could barely comprehend what his grandmother was talking about, and replied, “But everyone speaks like that.”  His grandmother was unfazed.  “That may be,” she said, “but you come from a long line of people who do not talk like that.”

Negativity breeds negativity.  Saying something in a positive way probably requires thought, at times.  It’s easier to say that “the soup went bad” than to say “the soup isn’t good”.    A refined way of phrasing something can make all the difference.

Amazing story about Rav Yaakov Weinberg zt’l

Posted with permission from Rabbi Avi Shafran
THE ESSENCE OF GREATNESS
by Rabbi Avi Shafran

The unaffiliated Jewish woman attended three of the rabbi’s lectures in the 1950s, visibly intrigued by the ideas he put forth, about the historicity of the Jewish religious tradition. Then she abruptly stopped coming.

Another woman who had also attended the lecture series tracked her down and asked why she was no longer showing up. The first woman answered straightforwardly: “He was convincing me. If I continue to listen to this man, I will have to change my life.”

What a remarkably honest person. (I like to imagine that she came, in time, to pursue what she then fled.)

And what a remarkable man was the rabbi who delivered the lectures. He was Rabbi Yaakov Weinberg, of blessed memory, whose tenth yahrtzeit, or death-anniversary, will be marked on the fast day of Shiva Asar BiTammuz (July 9). He later became the Rosh Yeshiva, or Dean, of the Ner Israel Rabbinical College in Baltimore. He was my rebbe.

As an 18-year-old studying in the Baltimore yeshiva in 1972, I watched him from afar. His father-in-law, Rabbi Yaakov Yitzchok Ruderman, of blessed memory, was the Rosh Yeshiva then; Rabbi Weinberg headed the Kollel, or graduate student program, and also delivered general Talmudic lectures. The depth of his knowledge, the power of his critical analyses of both Talmudic and worldly topics, his eloquence and his knowledge of history and the sciences all impressed me deeply.

But what I came to realize was that his brilliance and erudition were mere tools with which he was gifted. His essence was his dedication to truth, to Torah and to his students – indeed, to all Jews – and his humility.

When I think back on the many times I telephoned Rabbi Weinberg from wherever I was living at the time to ask him a question about Jewish law or philosophy, or for his advice, I am struck by something I never gave much thought to at those times: He was always available. And, I have discovered over the years, not only to me. As I came to recognize all the others – among them greatly accomplished Torah scholars, congregational rabbis and community leaders today – who had also enjoyed a student-rebbe relationship with Rabbi Weinberg, I marveled. In my youthful self-centeredness, I had imagined him as my rebbe alone. Who knew?

And his ongoing interactions with his students somehow didn’t prevent him from travelling wherever his services were needed. A sought-after speaker and arbitrator for individuals and communities alike, he somehow found time and energy for it all.

More telling, he felt responsible to undertake it all. He (and, may she be well, his wife, Rebbetzin Chana Weinberg) gave so very much to others (as the Rebbetzin continues to do). That, I long ago concluded, is the defining characteristic of true Gedolim, literally “great ones” – the term reserved for the most knowledgeable and pious Torah leaders of each generation: selflessness.

How painfully ironic, I sometimes think, that small, spiteful minds try to portray Gedolim oppositely. Then again, as the weekly Torah-portion of Korach recently read in synagogue reminds us, no less a Godol than Moses – the “most humble of all men” – was also spoken of cynically by some in his day. Plus ça change…

It wasn’t just in his public life, in his service to students and communities that Rabbi Weinberg’s self-effacement was evident. It was in little things too.

In the early 1980s, he was asked to temporarily take the helm of a small yeshiva in Northern California that had fallen on hard times. Although not a young man, he agreed to leave his home and position in Baltimore and become interim dean.

My wife and I and our three daughters lived in the community; I taught in the yeshiva and served as principal of the local Jewish girls’ high school. And so I was fortunate to have ample opportunity to work with Rabbi Weinberg, and to witness much that I will always remember. One small episode, though, remains particularly poignant.

Rabbi Weinberg was housed in a bedroom of a rented house. In the house’s other bedroom lived the yeshiva’s cooks – a middle-aged couple, recently immigrated from the Soviet Union.

Though Northern California has a wonderful climate, its winters can be a bit chilly, and the house’s heating system was not working. The yeshiva administrator made sure that extra blankets were supplied to the house’s residents, and an electric heater was procured for Rabbi Weinberg (the cooks, it was figured, had been toughened by a truly cold clime).

After a week or two of cold, rainy weather, it was evident that Rabbi Weinberg had caught a bad cold. Suspecting that perhaps the electric heater was not working, someone went to his room to check it. It wasn’t there.

Where it was, it turned out, was in the cooks’ room. Confronted with the discovery, Rabbi Weinberg sheepishly admitted to having relocated the heater. “I thought they would be cold,” was all he said.

Another heater was bought. And a lesson, once again, learned, about the essence of a Godol.

© 2009 AM ECHAD RESOURCES
[Rabbi Shafran is director of public affairs for Agudath Israel of America.]
All Am Echad Resources essays are offered without charge for personal use and sharing, and for publication with permission, provided the above copyright notice is appended.

 
A thought:  This post was titled an “Amazing story…”, but what is really amazing is that there a probably hundreds of stories similar to this one that people don’t know about Gedolim being sensitive to ordinary people.  That’s true Gadlus HaAdom.  -Neil