IN-DEPTH FEATURES
Tears of Light: The Sixtieth Yahrtzeit Of HaRav Dovid Leibowitz, zt'l

Part Three: Heartbreak and Heroism

Introduction

On a fundraising trip to America in 1926 for the Slobodka- Kovno kollel, Reb Dovid was offered — and accepted — the position of rosh yeshiva at Torah Vodaas. His excellence as a pedagogue, his heartfelt exposition of the mussar approach of the Alter of Slobodka, his love for his talmidim and his dedication to them made him a beloved and successful rebbe there. But differences emerged between his approach and the path that was being charted by others for the mesivta.

Following his departure from Torah Vodaas in 1933, Reb Dovid opened his own yeshiva. He worked with undiminished energy and enthusiasm to continue realizing his unique vision for Torah's growth. Of this period, his talmid muvhak HaRav Pam wrote, "The second chapter of his abbreviated career as a marbitz Torah in America began with the founding of his own yeshiva, at first on Bedford Avenue and then in its own building on South 9th Street, Brooklyn. It was at once the happiest and the most tragic period of his life."

On the one hand, Reb Dovid was now free to fully impart his derech to his talmidim. He could continue revealing the depth and beauty of Hashem's Torah, and exploring with them the complexity and grandeur of His foremost creation, man. He could continue to exemplify the goodness and refinement that we are expected to emulate, as well as the common sense and judgment necessary for viewing oneself and life correctly. He could continue to build bnei Torah and inspire them with his vision for spreading Torah.

However, this independence was attained at the price of isolation. Though Reb Dovid surely had some sympathizers and was probably able to count on the support of friends and acquaintances among the many Slobodka alumni who had settled in the United States, he carried the burden of his yeshiva alone. When he left Torah Vodaas, he was penniless and had no source of income. Several noble souls came forward and a building was somehow procured, and thus the yeshiva was launched.

The extent of Reb Dovid's toil in Torah learning had always been visible to his talmidim. Now they watched him shoulder all the responsibilities of maintaining an institution, in addition to a full teaching schedule. Rav Pam wrote, "Single-handedly he organized the yeshiva and carried its heavy burdens unaided. Boundless energy was poured into it. Rosh yeshiva, mashgiach, secretary, manager, superintendent — were rolled into one. Everything from delivering a shiur to writing out a receipt for a donation, from supervising the learning to attending to the plumbing, became the work of one man. `You will wear away . . . you cannot do it alone,' (Shemos 18:18), was the . . . caution often quoted to him by apprehensive friends. But there was no restraining his zeal."

In addition, Reb Dovid had to contend with various obstacles placed in his way by men who felt his approach to be some kind of threat. He suffered greatly from this, yet he bore everything with dignity and calm.

There was trauma for his talmidim too. When the break with Torah Vodaas came, many of the older bochurim were torn by their attachments to both Reb Dovid and Reb Shraga Feivel. They already felt immense debts of gratitude to both these men, who had saved them from lives of spiritual emptiness and filled them with Torah. Some felt that they could not possibly desert Reb Shraga Feivel, while others were simply unable to part from their beloved rebbi, Reb Dovid.

One of the bochurim, who felt unable to move in either direction because of the implied slight to the other party, travelled to learn in Europe. Reb Dovid himself advised his talmid muvhak Rav Pam, who was in the middle of learning Yore Dei'ah, to remain in Torah Vodaas and not to risk losing a secure framework within which he was learning very successfully for a new venture whose future was uncertain.

A group of three bochurim (Rabbi Rockove was one of them), spoke to their chaveirim attempting to assemble a suitable group with whom Reb Dovid could continue to work. The new yeshiva was named Yeshivas Rabbeinu Yisroel Meir Hacohen, after Reb Dovid's great uncle, the Chofetz Chaim, who had passed away shortly before.

Straining for Depth and Accuracy

"He had always insisted that Torah could only be gained through sweat and toil," said Rabbi Chait. "[He would deliver] a shiur keloli on Sunday, [as well as] a blatt [shiur] every day . . . [He would say that] when [he was] preparing [Sunday's] shiur on Shabbos, on a cold day, and he felt sweat going down his back, then he knew there was going to be a shiur . . . sweating in the cold . . . that was [the extent of] his toil in Torah."

Reb Dovid adjured his talmidim to toil at their own learning and develop their own strengths. While studying under his guidance, they learned to think on their own too. He would be satisfied with neither a superficial understanding of a gemora, nor with blind acceptance of what he said. He used to say, "If you shake your head in immediate approval of a sevoroh that I offer, then I am sure that you did not grasp what I meant. Not until you resist and challenge me will you begin to see a deeper point."

Rabbi Chait recalled Reb Dovid pointing out that since it is impossible for us to appreciate Hakodosh Boruch Hu's own wisdom and greatness, then what He produced must also be something deep. However, most people look at the world superficially and miss the point, whereas a talmid chochom sees beyond the surface. He looks at a tree and sees a different tree than the one that ordinary folk see. It's not just that he knows more; his whole perception is totally different.

Rabbi Chait also noted Reb Dovid's concern that great care be taken to ensure that an idea one has heard should be transmitted accurately, because different listeners can hear the same idea differently. He said that Reb Dovid used to illustrate this with a story about an occasion when the Alter delivered a very philosophical shmuess, which he felt the talmidim had not fully grasped. He called in three talmidim, one of whom was Reb Dovid, and asked each of them to repeat what he'd said. "Each one of us said a different shmuess," Reb Dovid would recall, "and he said that none of us had [understood] it."

Giving Himself

Reb Dovid now shared himself to an even greater extent than before. While always maintaining the proper relationship of respect between rebbe and talmidim, Reb Dovid was also a friend and confidant, ready to listen or to discuss any and every topic. "The open house policy was continued and extended, further taxing his time and energy," wrote Rav Pam. One talmid's permanent recollection is of Reb Dovid in pajamas, having come down to talk late at night when the former stopped by on a personal matter.

Rav Pam wrote, ". . . his sichas chullin was inimitable. He was a fond conversationalist and was easily led into a chat on any topic whatsoever. The chat was never idle but always intellectually playful, containing satire, humor, reminiscence and above all, slants of thought that were characteristically his. It was always interwoven with interesting (one is tempted to say `curious') maamorei Chazal, of which he seldom failed to make the most.

"Whatever the subject, he always spoke from the heart, always delighted in elaborating a point, a derherr, and he seemed [to] particularly . . . enjoy arguing a respectfully dissenting student into agreement. His . . . years in Slobodka and Radin left [him with] a store of vivid reminiscences, which he zestfully shared with his students on the slightest provocation . . . "

" . . . on occasion, he would delight a close gathering of students with yeshiva niggunim. That was always a precious treat. Hearty melodies, rich in soulful tenderness or permeated with a vague spiritual longing gave expression to the profound lyricism of his soul. Never again could a talmid hear somebody else sing the same niggun without feeling that somehow `that wasn't it.' It lacked rebbi's hishtapchus hanefesh (outpouring of the soul)."

Rabbi Rockove shared a story about Reb Dovid's niggun for bircas cohanim. "When Reb Dovid and his son ylct'a, used to duchen together, singing a niggun that was customary in the yeshivos, it was wonderful. Once, when they'd finished, a little boy started clapping! Reb Elchonon Wassermann zt'l, Hy'd, was in the yeshiva over Rosh Hashonoh 5699 [1938, a year before the war broke out]. After davening, I went over to say Gutt Yom Tov and so did Reb Elchonon. The latter said [to Reb Dovid], `I think your singing was too long. It may have been a hefsek.' Reb Dovid assured him that the singing becomes part of the duchenen. Afterwards, he showed us that the Ramo writes this explicitly. On the second day, he abbreviated the singing, and sang one part less [of the niggun].

"Afterwards, I went over and said, `You showed me that it's not a hefsek. Why change?'

"[Reb Dovid] replied, `Out of respect for Reb Elchonon.'

"Then Reb Elchonon came over and said, `Gutt Yom Tov. Ihr zent gerecht (You are correct).'

"That was a lesson in how two gedolim behave to one another, with [mutual] respect and [readiness to] admit . . . the truth."

Planning for the Future

The generally bleak outlook for American Orthodoxy's future should be borne in mind when considering the encouragement which Reb Dovid gave his talmidim to enter the rabbinate and his intense efforts to facilitate their acceptance. In the shmuess, The Kollel's Aim, which he delivered to his friends in the Slobodka kollel, Reb Dovid had pointed out the pressing need for gedolei Torah to create "small" and "medium" — ordinary — faithful Jews, whose numbers were fast dwindling.

At that time, the key to a community's soul was the position as its rov. A competent young, English-speaking rabbi, uncompromising in his halachic standards yet able to relate to people as they were, could create a strong kehilloh.

Then, in 1933, a yeshiva was thought of as a Jewish elementary school, or afternoon class, for young children. The beginnings of the yeshivos gedolos that ultimately wrought the "revolution," were still ten to fifteen years in the future. With his unwavering confidence in Torah's power to change even the most spiritually inhospitable situations, Reb Dovid worked to send his talmidim, who could both teach and lead, out to strengthen Jewish communities across the United States.

The more contemporary question, whether to place a direct emphasis upon outreach or to work at creating a strong and vibrant center that also has a ripple effect outward, was not really the issue here. It was not a matter of choosing or setting priorities but simply of doing anything that could be done. It was virtually the only plan that was realistic then and it was being followed by other institutions as well.

Reb Dovid realized full well the severe limitations affecting anyone who went out to try and influence others, however enthusiastically, without himself possessing a broad and deep base of knowledge. More importantly, he pointed out, a person's first obligation is to himself.

One of his talmidim recollected Reb Dovid being approached once by a zealous young man who sought to obtain his support in encouraging yeshiva students to become involved in outreach. Reb Dovid remained cool to the idea, which led his visitor to become even more excited in presenting his case, in an attempt to win him over. Finally, though spreading Torah was indeed a high priority for him, Reb Dovid responded, "You know, there's a lilmod before the lelameid!"

Reb Dovid wanted to ensure that his talmidim would be accepted as rank and file rabbonim, even by a body such as the Agudas Horabbonim whose membership was European-trained and which did not then admit any rabbis who had qualified from an American semichoh program. The idea behind this embargo was undoubtedly to maintain a high standard in the world of rabbonus and thereby, in the communities themselves. Whether or not this was a realistic expectation for the future is besides the point. It was probably a measure that had to be taken in view of the circumstances. Moreover in the early thirties, there seemed no reason to suppose that Europe would cease being able to supply America with rabbonim.

Reb Dovid and others may have realized that it was time to set about training competent American rabbonim, but without yeshivos where did one start and what kind of product could one hope to produce? On the other hand, a start had to be made somewhere.

Reb Dovid's answer was to take American youths and transform them first and foremost into American but genuine bnei Torah. He was a member of the Agudas Horabbonim himself and he was determined to see that his talmidim were accepted even according to the organization's own criteria.

He insisted that his first group of musmochim attain the level of Yodin-Yodin [denoting the necessary expertise in Choshen Mishpot to judge monetary disputes], as well as Yoreh-Yoreh, for as far as he was concerned a rabbi had to be both. He could not understand how someone who showed a sufficient knowledge of these areas of halochoh could not be accepted as a rabbi.

Was the problem that American boys were not lamdonim [sufficiently scholarly]? Reb Dovid challenged his colleagues to test his talmidim and see whether they were lamdonim or not. He asked his close friend, Rabbi Yehudah Leib Forrer zt'l, who headed the Agudah's committee for accepting members, to serve as one of the masmichim for his talmidim.

The result of Reb Dovid's determination was that other yeshivos that ran semichoh programs realized that it was possible to do what Reb Dovid had done and this led to a new drive in learning and a general upgrading in the requirements for attaining a semichoh qualification.

Reb Dovid would take his talmidim to rabbinical conventions and afterwards analyze the proceedings with them. He delighted in their accomplishments. Once, a talmid returned from a trip in the course of which he had delivered a Slobodka style dvar Torah to an American audience. Reb Dovid listened eagerly to what his student had said and how the audience had reacted and then exclaimed, "Oish, If only I could speak English!"

Just as Reb Dovid himself was said to have been a transmitter of the Slobodka teachings in undiminished strength, he succeeded in firing his talmidim with the full force of his own commitment to spreading Torah. Some of them became rabbonim, and several became maggidei shiur.

Fired with love of Torah, bochurim stayed on with Reb Dovid simply to learn. "[People] called it `the bachelors' yeshiva,' " recalls Rabbi Chait. "No tuition was charged but there was poverty. The chevrah were part of his family. The result was that they virtually never left the yeshiva. Even if they went to work or into chinuch, they would always come back for an eitzah. [They felt that as] bnei Torah, the Torah was their mother and a mother never forgets her child. The yeshiva looks after you all the time."

Rav Pam wrote, "As the struggle for survival increased, students and rebbi were drawn ever closer. His home became in fact an annex to the yeshiva. It was all one greatly devoted family headed by the beloved father [and] confidential friend — revered rebbi."

An Embattled Soul

Reb Dovid's talmidim watched as the multiple burdens that he bore began to take their toll on his health. The extraordinary strain of his double role as teacher and administrator was compounded by the aggravation he suffered from those who opposed him.

For example, one day, the yeshiva's landlord sent in an order of dispossession, at the urging of Reb Dovid's detractors. The talmidim were in tears as they read it out to him but it was Reb Dovid who comforted them, saying, "Don't worry, the Ribono Shel Olom knows the halochoh [that] maalin bakodesh ve'ein moridin (Holy matters only undergo elevation, never diminution)."

The following day, a five story building was found that provided larger and better facilities, catering to all the yeshiva's needs.

Rav Pam wrote, "The inevitable happened in the spring of 1939 when he collapsed and narrowly escaped fatality. A heart frightfully overburdened began giving way. A long illness ensued, with intermittent hospitalization. Nevertheless, in the out-of-hospital periods he continued on duty, refusing to abandon the Torah fort that he [had] built with superhuman efforts. Strangely, the attending physician permitted this on the grounds that it was absolutely essential for his mental health.

"It was pathetic to see the students carry their master on their hands up a flight of stairs leading to the beis hamedrash to expound a blatt gemora [to them], or [to] deliver a lively shiur. It often left him too exhausted to go home, which was only across the street."

While Reb Dovid struggled with his life-threatening heart condition, he appointed three of his friends from Slobodka to take his place in the yeshiva. HaRav Mordechai Shulman zt'l, was brought to deliver the pilpul shiur. Rav Mordechai had been in America when the war broke out and had no idea of his family's fate. He would say that he had a dream of rebuilding Slobodka elsewhere but he wasn't sure where it would be. After the war he devoted himself to the Slobodka yeshiva in Bnei Brak that his father-in-law HaRav Isaac Sher zt'l had founded.

HaRav Chaim Elazri zt'l, was brought to say the blatt shiur, and HaRav Betzalel Cohen zt'l, rov of Paterson, New Jersey, delivered shmuessen. Reb Dovid had maintained contact with his old friends thanks to the meetings of Slobodka alumni that were held annually on the Alter's yahrtzeit, for which Rav Isaac Sher would travel over and address the gathering, and he knew which of them would be suitable for which job.

Rabbi Chait recalls, "After he was sick [we] would go up to help him be bodeik chometz. It took five hours. [He would start with a candle and would then take] a bulb with a long wire. He took all the drawers out and turned the tables upside-down. I took out a drawer and found his passport. I opened it. It had a picture of him when he first came [to America]. He looked at the picture and said, "Then I had strength. I thought that my brother and I would overturn America . . . " (Reb Dovid had a younger brother, Rav Moshe, who was said to be even greater in Torah learning than he. Reb Dovid had hoped that Reb Moshe would join him in America but the latter died tragically at a young age, while Reb Dovid was awaiting his reply.)

Rav Pam wrote, "Ironically, the end came when hopes for his recovery were high. He [had] recently [undergone] an operation by a noted specialist, which was to restore him to health. Providence alas, intended otherwise. Upon returning from Boston, seeming[ly] improved, complications set in. He was rushed to Beth Israel Hospital. There a brave but over abused heart was compelled to succumb . . . "

In the ambulance on the way to the hospital for the last time, Reb Dovid told the talmidim who were with him which perokim of Tehillim they should say for him. His last words to them were a summation of his life's work, "These were the instructions of my rebbe, the Alter of Slobodka . . . "

Softening the Ground

"He sacrificed himself for kedushas haTorah," says Rabbi Chait. "When he was niftar people said that the yeshiva wouldn't last for two weeks but the Slobodka chevrah that he had brought continued for five years, until Reb Henoch took over. They ran it till then.

"We went down to the Agudas Horabbonim office from time to time [to] make campaigns for the yeshiva . . . there were two [rabbonim] there. [One of them said,] `I don't understand what he wanted. He could have said a shiur and gone home. Why did he have to worry about whether talmidim would stay, or fight with their parents?' (At times, he wouldn't sleep at night.)

"They didn't know who Reb Dovid was. [They didn't understand] his concern for everyone. He would come down after shiur into the office and make out receipts for one dollar . . . "

"He was always aroused and hurt," wrote Rav Pam, "by the ignorance or misunderstanding of daas Torah which he found prevalent even among Orthodox and learned men."

People didn't see that Torah would not be established in America on the basis of saying a shiur and going home. It could only be achieved by those who were willing to give up everything in order to transmit Torah wholeheartedly, in purity. Reb Dovid Leibowitz was such a man.

His petiroh at the age of fifty-two (sixty years ago on the fifteenth of Kislev 5702, the fifth of December 1941), came at a particularly dark hour for Klal Yisroel and for the nations as well. Upon returning from the levayoh (that took place on the seventh of December), mourners were met with the news of the deadly Japanese attack on the American naval base at Pearl Harbor, which brought America into the war.

The German grip upon both East and West Europe was at its tightest. After two years of imposing untold suffering upon the Jews of Eastern Europe, the Nazis ym'sh, were beginning to implement their plans of ghetto liquidations and extermination of the entire surviving populations. Only that summer, the Germans had overrun Lithuania and laid waste its scholars and Torah centers. Slobodka and Telz were no more. Rav Elchonon Wassermann, Rav Avrohom Grodzensky and countless others zt'l, Hy'd, had been brutally murdered. At this point, the worst was not yet known but hopes for the future would soon be focused on America, "the stone that the builders had rejected" and on the small yishuv in Eretz Yisroel.

Many of those who would build Torah anew had already arrived in America and many others would still join them. HaRav Aharon Kotler zt'l, the founder of Beth Medrash Govoha in Lakewood who, more than any other figure, is recognized as having raised the banner of Torah study for its own sake in America, had arrived seven months before. But, Rabbi Chait maintains, it was Reb Dovid Leibowitz who introduced the idea of youths spending long years immersed in Torah in order to grow into talmidei chachomim. He had shown that it could be done.

There are many examples of major developments being heralded by failure. Often, a need for change is widely recognized but the time is not ripe; the ground is not yet fertile for the seeds of a new initiative to take root and develop. In some instances, the initial failure and eventual success belong to the same person; at other times, more than one individual, or even more than one generation, is involved in attaining a particular goal. We must realize that in the spiritual realm, there is no failure. Every effort, every ounce of suffering involved in reaching for a spiritual goal, is itself an achievement.

Only one scientist will get credit for making a new discovery, though many others may have tried unsuccessfully before him. With Torah and avodas Hashem, lehavdil, every party that tries has a share in the eventual success, even in the absence of an external connection. The assertion by one of the speakers at the levayoh that, "If Torah, possibly, will survive in America, it will be much to the credit of Rabbi Leibowitz," was thus amply justified.

It is also important to realize that although Reb Dovid's life was difficult, it was not a sad one. His delight in Torah, in mussar, in educating and guiding his talmidim, and in living a life of goodness and nobility, were clear to all. His famous remark to the newly arrived Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky zt'l, — "There is no money here but if you want ruchniyus, you can grab it in fistfuls!" — is eloquent testimony to what he sought and found in life. He was able to remain calm in the face of all the attacks upon him, because he was secure in the knowledge of the truth of his path and of the supreme importance of the work he was doing.

If tears were shed over Reb Dovid's plight, they were tears of light, falling on the hard, unyielding ground but being absorbed nevertheless, thereby softening the soil for those who followed.

His Legacy

Rav Pam wrote, shortly after Reb Dovid's petiroh, "There is a measure of consolation in the fact that Reb Dovid zt'l, is survived by an only son, [Reb] Henoch ylct'a, who inherited his father's native gifts of mind and heart and whom the Rosh Yeshiva of Kletsk, Rabbi Aharon Kotler, has described as an iluy . . . "

Rav Henoch was chosen to fill his father's position as rosh yeshiva and, following his recuperation from a serious illness at the time of his father's petiroh, he took over. Under his inspired leadership for almost sixty years, the yeshiva has grown and prospered. Rav Henoch and his associates have been successful in inculcating Reb Dovid's values and teachings to thousands of yeshiva alumni. Over the years, in pursuit of Reb Dovid's vision, numerous branches and affiliated institutions have been opened, including the yeshiva's campus in Sanhedria Murchevet, Yerushalayim.

Among Reb Dovid's own talmidim, the names of Rav Pam and Rav Gedalyah Schorr zt'l, are best known, while others served, or still serve, as rabbonim, roshei yeshiva, maggidei shiur, or in other positions in Jewish education. They too, have transmitted Reb Dovid's legacy to their talmidim, hundreds of whom have been involved in the efforts to spread Torah in Jewish communities throughout North America.

Ironically, though the power of Reb Dovid's personality was tragically lost so long ago, his ideas and teachings have probably become more widely disseminated in the subsequent decades, than would have been the case had he continued on by himself.

Acknowledgments: The writer wishes to thank Rabbi Moshe Chait and Rabbi Yisroel Isser Rockove, for sharing their recollections of their beloved rebbe and their years with him. May they both merit furthering his ideas and teachings for many years to come. Of invaluable help was the work of Rabbi Yitzchok Brandriss, whose ideas and evaluations of Reb Dovid and of Slobodka I have made extensive use. Although only direct sources were acknowledged in the text, several shorter pieces were also included from Rabbi Brandriss' excellent work.