Yeshivas Meor HaTorah, Jerusalem
"Do you not know that a sar vegodol has fallen today
in Israel?" said Dovid Hamelech (Shmuel II 3:35) upon
eulogizing the death of Avner ben Ner. Sar means
literally "officer" or "minister," and in its broader
connotation: leader. Godol denotes exactly that. And
we lament today: Don't you know that we have become orphaned
today from a minister, an officer, from a great figure? As a
public, collectively, and each and every one of us,
individually.
Not only have we become orphaned from this sar and
this godol, but orphaned in the real sense from a
great father, from one who was the heart of Israel, the heart
of our people collectively and the heart of each and every
Jew. That loving heart which felt the klal, and the
loving heart which sensed the individual in an indescribable
measure. In short, we are bereft of a leader, a godol
and a father.
The leader -- bears upon his shoulders all of the needs and
cares of the klal throughout the globe, literally,
with tremendous sacrifice, awesome responsibility, incredible
sagacity, and absolute honesty and integrity. One piercing
glance picks up fine tremors and scans vast distances. The
leader -- who stands firmly, guarding the refined-defined
Torah truth to prevent any slight off-course veering, and who
guides the generations with a clear-cut Torah
weltanschauung, pure, unalloyed, refined.
The godol -- with unique greatness, in Torah, in the
toil of Torah, in total absorption in Torah and the love
thereof. The godol in fear of G-d, in faith, in
character and nobility, in refinement, humility and modesty,
in probity and pure, unadulterated single-minded purpose.
"Just one thought of mussar!"
The father -- that heart which sensed the public and the
private, klal ufrat, which bore their burden as does
the nurse bear the infant with astounding parental love; not
with simple emotion and sentiment but with mighty deed. The
loving, caressing heart, the heart which everyone entering
his proximity felt pulsing with love towards each and every
one, even as an only child unto him. The heart which spoke
through his throat and mouth, which poured itself through the
pen of Maran, always. The heart which chided and chastised --
lovingly. The heart that ached and ached. The very heart of
Israel! " . . . who takes leave from you, with love!"
The splendor of his figure is reflected to some degree in the
marvelous will he bequeathed to us, which verily melts every
heart with the sheer power of the piety it contains, the fear
from judgment, the purity, the love, and so, so much more.
The difficulty in describing, to say nothing of analyzing,
this greatness and uniqueness, is prodigious. The tools to do
so are so inadequate, both from the aspect of height, and
from the aspect of scope, which is coupled by the absolute
modesty and self-effacement that accompanied everything. We
will then only touch upon a tip of the shining, nonpareil
figure of Maran, as viewed through seemingly small,
insignificant things. But these actually enable us to glimpse
between the cracks and view him. We must stress here that
whatever we mention is a product of firsthand testimony,
direct seeing and hearing, since it was Maran's own practice
never to rely on "stories."
*
Avrohom Ovinu is described in the Torah at the time of his
death as old and sated with years, "And Avrohom expired and
died in a good old age, an old man and full of years . . . "
(Bereishis 25:8). We find the same description by
Yitzchok, "And Yitzchok expired and died . . . being old and
full of days" (ibid. 35:29). And with Dovid Hamelech
there is a similar description, "And he died in a good old
age, full of days . . . " (Divrei Hayomim I 29:28).
Sated with days -- what does this signify? Ramban explains in
his commentary, "He saw all of his wishes fulfilled and he
was replete with all goodness. Similarly, sated with days,
that his soul was satisfied and full with his days and he had
no desire that anything be different." Thus, throughout the
century of his blessed human activity, personally and with
his fellow man, in every possible area, to an
incomprehensible degree. Can there be fulfillment in age
greater than this or anything approaching it?
Maran's personal physician once noted only a few years ago,
with total wonder, "I asked him: `With such advanced age as
yours and blessed productivity as you have enjoyed, is there
yet any place to desire more life?' And he replied: `I wish
to continue living because people come to me for counsel.'
Amazing! Nothing for himself, only for others. `To continue
living because people come to me for counsel!' "
These words of Rabbenu reminded me and concretized for me the
incisive words of HaRav Chaim Volozhiner which were quoted by
his son, HaRav Itzele, in the introduction to Nefesh
HaChaim: "And this was what he always said to me: This is
the sum of man. Not for his own sake was he born but only to
be of use to others, to the very utmost of his ability." This
sums up Maran: he did not live for himself, but only to serve
and benefit others, as much as was in his power to do. This
is exemplified in his will, in one of the many facets of "to
be of service to others, to the very utmost of his ability."
This was the axis of his life: "For I sacrificed my life for
your success in Torah study." -- "I sacrificed my life so
that you succeed!" No mere figure of speech. No exaggeration
whatsoever!
I was then reminded of his perpetual exhortations, spelled
out in his commentary to the Voeschanon-plea of Moshe
Rabbenu which is brought in the Midrash. Moshe Rabbenu
pleaded that he be granted additional life, if even in the
form of a beast of the field or a bird of the sky.
Maran often explained this puzzling request. Moshe Rabbenu
lived his entire life for others: his sole purpose was to
increase the glory of Heaven. As such, any form of life is a
testimony to Hashem's glory and, consequently, preferable
even to "the true bliss, the ultimate pleasure of all
pleasures imaginable . . . of basking in the aura of the
Shechina." This can only be experienced in the World
of Truth. But in that paradise, one can no longer be active
in increasing the glory of Heaven on earth, whereas here on
earth, even in the lower form of an animal state, one can
serve Hashem and enhance His name. For simply by being the
object of contemplation, man sees, marvels and inspects the
great wisdom inherent in Creation. Man can observe the
ingenious creatures and come to recognize and revere their
Creator, believe in Him and love Him in great measure. And as
Rambam wrote in Hilchos Yesodei HaTorah, this is the
end-purpose of Creation. Yeshaya similarly said, "All that is
called in My name, I have created for My glory; I have formed
him, yes, I have made him" (43:7). These were the two
fulcrums upon which Maran's life revolved: to increase the
glory of Heaven and to serve his fellow man, to the utmost of
his ability and power!
*
Due to the pressures of making ends meet, a young
avreich, immersed in his study, undertook to devote
his third study session of the day to writing a Torah
composition within the framework of a Torah institute. He
enjoyed the work, which broadened his knowledge besides
easing his financial situation. Nevertheless, he felt that
his advancement in other Torah knowledge was being sacrificed
to a degree because of that missing third session, during
which, in the past, he had studied in depth those topics
being learned in the kollel or had devoted that study
time to other areas where he felt he lacked.
Riddled by indecision, he went to Maran with the question of
whether to continue the writing for the sake of its income,
or to sacrifice it and study to his heart's content. Maran
tipped the scale in favor of the second option. But from that
time on, for a long period, Maran would seek out this young
man each month (in order not to cause him unnecessary
trouble) and very warmly hand over a most generous sum --
double of what he was earning at the kollel. This went
on until the young man accepted a Torah-related position in a
yeshiva for some time. When the young man left that position,
the scene repeated itself, and again, he received support
until he took on his next position.
This was not the end of the story. At a later date, the young
man learned, from a reliable, distinguished source close to
Maran, that the latter had a very negative opinion regarding
the head of the institute. He never indicated any of his
misgivings to the young man since, apparently, that was not
what he had come to ask and it was, therefore, irrelevant to
the issue. In addition, Maran probably did not want to
disconcert the young man on that point.
*
A maggid shiur in the yeshiva once came to pay his
respects to Maran on chol hamoed Succos, bearing a new
work he had just published that had garnered Maran's hearty
approbation. Maran received him and his work with pleasure
and after a warm exchange of greetings, declared that he did
not, on principle, accept gifts and intended to pay for the
book. The author tried to dissuade him, saying that Maran had
already paid much more than the price of the book in his
approbation. Maran ignored his words, got up and walked
towards his room. Walked? That is not the word. He barely
hobbled along, dragging one foot after another, each step
accompanied by a silent moan, for at this period he was
finding it extremely difficult to walk.
The author's heart cringed within him at this pitiful sight.
After many long moments, Maran returned with a generous sum
in hand as payment for the book. He sat down and engaged the
maggid shiur in enthusiastic conversation. Immediately
after this visit, the maggid shiur approached the
confidantes of Rav Shach, those very close to him who had
been present at the meeting between the two, and wondered
aloud why Maran had taken such pains to fetch the money
himself, rather than asking someone to get it for him. He was
told that it was not the actual payment that had prompted
Maran's exertion, but his desire to show his esteem towards
the author and his fervent desire that he continue to grow in
Torah. This was also the reason behind the large sum he gave
him as "payment." Had he sent anyone else for the money, the
element of his personal esteem would have been lacking.
A certain talmid chochom numbering among those
especially close to Maran and most dear to him, was granted
an enthusiastic approbation for his works. When he sought
another such haskomoh for a new work he had authored
in which he annotated the work of one of the Rishonim, Maran
was evasive, and repeatedly so. Others, even closer to Maran,
tried to extract the recommendation, as well, but none
succeeded. All were surprised and it was decided that the
author and a good friend try their combined efforts once
again in obtaining the letter.
After considerable evasion, the matter was finally resolved.
Maran came to the point and asked: "What did you do with the
kabbalistic part of the work of that particular Rishon?" The
author's emphatic reply that he had left it strictly alone
did not satisfy Maran and for many long moments the
interrogation went on. He questioned him backwards and
forwards to clearly ascertain that the author had, indeed,
not dealt with those kabbalistic matters. Only after every
shadow of a doubt was removed from Maran's heart did he
promise to write him the desired letter. "I will do so next
time because I am very weary now."
When the author arrived home, a large sum of money was
waiting for him as an advance amount so that he could
immediately begin with the publication. What depth of vision,
what angst lest he cause any possible damage from airing
things out in public and avoiding negative publicity that
unsavory people might attempt. What caution and vigilance!
What care not to show favoritism to anyone!
In a conversation with one of the maggidei shiur close
to him, Maran once inquired about his weekly learning with
his students. The amount they covered did not please Maran,
and he spoke to him at length about increasing it to a full
two dapim per week. The latter demurred, claiming that
it was not in his power to change it; this was the standard
output of the average yeshiva. Maran made a dismissing
gesture with his hand as if to say, "Since when must you be
concerned about what people will say?"
After a period of silence, the maggid shiur inferred
that the meeting was over. He rose from his seat and gave a
hand to Maran in parting. Maran grasped his hand, stroked it
warmly, as was his custom, and sat him down again. He again
explained the need for a minimum output of two dapim
per week. A period of silence, and the scene repeated itself.
Four times, altogether. At the fifth time, Maran rose to
accompany him to the door. As he was walking, he turned to
his visitor and said, "You surely forgive me." The maggid
shiur was alarmed. [What sensitivity, what refinement!
Incredible!] He then added very gently, "But I will not
desist. Each time you come here, I will talk to you about
this matter until you increase your coverage!"
A small but piquant and marvelous vignette to end off. About
thirty years ago, Maran underwent surgery. When he emerged
from the anesthesia, the first words he said to the man
hovering near his bed was, "How is the shidduch of
your sister coming along?" A small glimpse of a great
person!
*
The tapestry of Rabbenu's life is a long song of praise to
Hashem, a lebenslied. Who is the man which suits such
a definition without exaggeration or figures of speech?
Indeed, his entire life was verily along the lines of "I
shall sing to Hashem in my lifetime; I shall chant to my G-d
while I have my being." Says Ramban in his commentary in
Devorim (6:13): "The explanation of `Him shall you
serve', according to Chazal, is that one should be like a
servant waiting to serve his master at all times. One whose
primary concern is that of his master, and whose own needs
are secondary and subordinate."
One must persevere thus to the point that "All of your deeds
be for the sake of Heaven" (Pirkei Ovos), so that even
one's physical, bodily needs be tended to for the purpose of
serving his Maker. A person should eat and sleep and even
eliminate his wastes in order to maintain his body in a
healthy, optimal state so as to be able to serve Hashem. As
is written (Bereishis Rabba 9:6): "`And it was very
good' refers to sleep, for sleep is surely beneficial because
if one sleeps a little, he awakens refreshed and can again
toil in Torah.
In tending to all of his corporal needs, one should bear in
mind the verse that states, "I shall sing to Hashem in my
lifetime; I shall chant to my G-d while I have my being."
Seen from a different aspect, there are two kinds of
servants: one who serves his master behind the scenes, and
one who actually attends him at all times. Both seem to be
equal, but the difference is vast. The latter, who serves his
master at all times, is the epitome of loyal service for he
totally negates himself for the good of his master. For even
if he must care for his own needs, these are subordinate to
the ultimate good of his master, and whatever he does to
maintain himself in prime condition is really so that he can
serve him. And he only does the minimum, without indulging
himself.
Is there such a servant? Yes! Thus was Maran! This was the
course of his life, a life that was fine-tuned and directed
towards one purpose: "I shall sing to Hashem in my life: I
shall chant to my G-d while I have my being." A mode of life
that was wholly song and praise unto Hashem. A consecutive
century of years in which the song of "The servant who serves
before his master always" played itself with sweet, gentle
notes which captivated every listening ear and plucked at the
strings of every understanding heart.
Fortunate the eye that beheld all this!
