Pure Pleasure

Chacham Avraham Halioua came from Meknes, Morocco, a city rich in talmidei chachamim and tzaddikim, but it was a city in decline when Rav Avraham Kalmanowitz came to visit. The indefatigable rosh yeshivah of Mir-Brooklyn, Rav Kalmanowitz traveled through Morocco, encouraging young families to join him in New York and encouraging parents to send their sons there as well, where he would provide for their spiritual futures.

Rav Avraham was descended from the prestigious rabbinic family of Maharam Chalava and Rabbeinu Bechayei. He emigrated to Brooklyn in 1948 and joined the Mirrer Yeshivah; as Rav Kalmanowitz foretold, he soared in Torah and yiras Shamayim.

At the chanukas habayis for the new beis medrash at Yeshivah Darchei Torah’s Camp Oraysa this past summer, Rav Yaakov Bender welcomed Rav Shlomo Halioua to speak. In his introduction, Rav Bender recalled his years as a talmid in the Mir, saying, “And we learned how to daven by watching Rav Avraham Halioua… there was such heiligkeit there….”

Shlomo Chai Dovid Yitzchak Halioua was born in 1958, and Chacham Avraham and Rabbanit Masouda (scion of the prestigious Toledano family, a rabbinic dynasty of its own) sent him to Yeshivah of Brooklyn, where he excelled. An old Jewish Observer article, (Summer, 1974), reports on the Pirchei Agudath Israel Hasmadah contest: one of the top winners was young Shlomo Halioua, who engaged in 75 hours of Torah study during his leisure time over Pesach vacation.

From there, he went to learn under Rav Binyamin Paler, who would become one of his prime rebbeim. Rav Paler, a talmid of the Brisker Rav, opened a new doorway before this eager talmid, who traveled to learn in the Brisker yeshivah in Yerushalayim. When he came to learn in Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin, he was already an accomplished talmid chacham, and he developed a close connection with the Rosh Yeshivah, Rav Aharon Schechter.

Rav Shlomo married the Rosh Yeshivah’s daughter, Rebbetzin Nechama, and became a chaver of Kollel Gur Aryeh — literally, a friend to the beis medrash, its people, its seforim, its visitors and its storied history.

The aura around him, recalls a talmid of that period, was one of pure pleasure. “You saw him standing in the corner, speaking in learning with his chaburah, and you just loved him — he was a pure lamdan, a brilliant talmid chacham who was taking monthly Mifal HaShas tests on tens of blatt, yet so sweet and humble. He did not look around the beis medrash or actively socialize, but somehow, he had a radar for those in need, and he made these quiet chasadim his own.”

His ambition and aspiration was to learn Torah. Nothing more, and nothing less. He radiated the simchah of a person whose world is complete, thrilled to be in a beis medrash, to be able to absorb Torah from his father-in-law and from Rav Yankel Drillman, whom he revered.

His humility drew talmidim to him, and his pleasant nature affected them as well. His eyes sparkled when you spoke to him in learning, and there was only you, the person with whom he was speaking — whatever your age, however unsophisticated your question may have been.

As he took on dimensions of greatness, he grew more humble, completely deferential to his father-in-law, one more talmid before the master, but he could not conceal the radiance. From beyond the yeshivah, bnei Torah began to search him out, eager to speak with him in learning.

Quietly, he forged relationships with the great talmidei chachamim of Brooklyn, but his profile was private: he was perfectly content being the Rosh Yeshivah’s eidem.

Before the Shabbos aufruf for one of his sons, he welcomed the kallah’s family to Flatbush, an ordinary mechutan greeting them for “toameha,” some fresh kugel and refreshments. Along with informing them about the various minyanim in the neighborhood, he suggested that perhaps they wanted to meet a genuinely choshuve Yid who lived nearby, the Verdana Rebbe, Rav Yosef Leifer.

One of the kallah’s brothers looked surprised that this Sephardishe Chaim Berliner was recommending a visit to a descendant of the Rebbes of Nadvorna, and Reb Shlomo smiled.

The Verdana shul was nearby, and in search of privacy, Reb Shlomo would sometimes learn there. He noticed the aged Rebbe going into his room after Shacharis in tallis and tefillin, and coming out several hours later for Minchah, still in the tallis and tefillin. This intrigued him, and he realized that the Rebbe would sit and learn all day, and did not eat until after Minchah. They started to speak in learning, and Reb Shlomo, a master of not just the yeshivishe masechtos and Kodshim, but also the masechtos not generally learned in yeshivos, fluent in the kabbalistic writings of the Arizal, the Vilna Gaon, and of his Moroccan ancestors, developed an appreciation for this Rebbe, too.

In the chaburos he delivered to yungeleit, the gaonus and lomdus were evident, but the personal hanhagos he maintained were kept secret: even his own children would have to watch closely to discern the customs of their father.

He was somewhat of an enigma: he was a “frumme,” with extreme safeguards in shemiras einayim and shemiras halashon, but there was nothing heavy about him, none of his intensity affected others. He was brilliant, capable of predicting where someone was going with their shtickel Torah when they had barely started speaking — both because of his command of the subject and his ability to grasp their way of thinking — but he never appeared bored by other people.

When his father-in-law started to say a shiur klali, Reb Shlomo took over the Rosh Yeshivah’s daily shiur, but he did so with no drama or fanfare, and tried to remain as anonymous as possible.

Talmidim noticed that he did not seem to use the classic acharonishe seforim. With the exception of the seforim of Rav Chaim Brisker and the Brisker Rav, he prepared shiur using the Gemara, Rambam, and Rishonim, the Ketzos, Nesivos, and Rav Akiva Eiger, the approach to the sugya his own.

Then, a few years ago, Rav Aharon Schechter took ill.

And even if others thought that Rav Shlomo was an obvious choice to step up and help his father-in-law, he seemed oblivious to it. He clung desperately to his identity as a yungerman, wanting nothing more, until it became clear that all eyes were looking to him to lead.

A Kingdom Renewed 

During the final two years of Rav Aharon’s life, Rav Shlomo was already serving as rosh yeshivah, but it was as if he thought no one noticed, and he was simply performing functions necessary to keep the yeshivah going.

He joined his father-in-law at a meeting of askanim, where several roshei yeshivah were asked pressing questions about a particular communal issue. Rav Aharon was already quite infirm, and though he tried to answer, he could no longer do so with the usual passion and conviction. The meeting lasted several hours, and Rav Shlomo did not say a word, and quietly listened to the talmidei chachamim speak.

After the meeting concluded, the leading askanim — talmidim of Rav Shlomo — asked his opinion, and he shared it, a position different than that which had been suggested by the other talmidei chachamim. For hours, he had maintained a different outlook, but he had not said a word, because he would not give his own opinions in front of his father-in-law. When they asked in private, however, he was firm and clear in his stance, achrayus dictating that he speak, just as humility had dictated that he remain silent earlier.

On Purim of 2022, Rav Shlomo said the ma’amar at Chaim Berlin’s renowned mesibas Purim, his father-in-law gracing the gathering with his radiant presence.

Rav Aharon sat at the head, in his customary seat, and Rav Shlomo delivered the ma’amar from the corner of the table, not willing — or able — to move his chair to the actual head of the table alongside the Rosh Yeshivah.

Later, photographer Shimon Gifter told me that Rav Shlomo had entered the beis medrash for the mesibah from a side entrance, unwilling to take the “derech hamelech” used by his father-in-law for decades, a quiet, near-unnoticed act of humility and sensitivity. In the footage, you can see the discomfort radiating from the Rosh Yeshivah’s face as he walks in to the festive gathering to see bleachers filled with people eager to hear him.

On Purim of 2023, Rav Shlomo said the ma’amar, but only with an empty chair next to him, in case his father-in-law would be able to join. It was an announcement, once again, that he was merely performing a function on behalf of his father-in-law, but he was nothing more than a substitute.

Then, last Elul, Rav Aharon was niftar and it became official; Rav Shlomo was no longer able to escape the title and its implications.

And here, he displayed yet another wonder.

He ascended the throne, assuming the aura of royalty without forfeiting any of the humility: this was true malchus, confidence, and shiflus at once.

He was the Rosh Yeshivah — in a yeshivah where the Rosh Yeshivah’s word is absolute, where kavod haTorah is intrinsic to the sugya, and where romemus, derhoibenkeit, is expected of every ben Torah, the king is elevated above them all.

And the yeshivah entered a glorious new era.

At the dinner last winter, the yeshivah’s president, Reb Avrohom Fruchthandler, spoke in candid fashion about the challenges of transition, recalling his feelings of loss when Rav Hutner had been niftar — but he had adapted to a new rebbi, submitting himself to Rav Aharon just as he had to Rav Hutner.

And he, and the entire family of talmidim and alumni, did the same once again for this new Rosh Yeshivah. Not long after Reb Shlomo assumed the position, Reb Avrohom, one of the pillars of Torah Umesorah, had suddenly canceled his planned trip to join the annual Presidents’ Conference in Florida. It was surprising, and when I asked him about it, there was unmistakable pride in his voice.

“The Rosh Yeshivah told me not to go,” he said.

Huh? Which rosh yeshivah?

“I was unwell a few weeks ago, and even though I feel much better now, baruch Hashem, Reb Shloima said that it’s better that I don’t travel yet.”

That was it.

It was not just the alumni. This new malchus rejuvenated the yeshivah itself. Rav Shlomo encouraged the bochurim to remain in yeshivah for Shabbos, instituting in-Shabbosos, and in his new role, he worked to develop a connection with each bochur. He could speak in learning with those learning Shabbos, Eiruvin, or Shulchan Aruch, deliver a Maharal shiur, and dissect the finest points of Brisker lomdus, making himself indispensable to every talmid.

In a yeshivah blessed with a loyal and engaged alumni base, he ensured that the place of the current talmidim was protected, as these young men currently giving the yeshivah its exalted status as a makom Torah are its heart and soul.

And the kingdom was renewed.

He could say shiur and he could step onto the public stage, showing his father-in-law’s achrayus for organizations like Lev L’Achim or Torah Umesorah. But could he say the ma’amar not like a substitute, but like a rosh yeshivah?

He answered that question as well, delivering ma’amarim that were as poetic and expressive as those of his predecessors, but with a decided Brisker undercurrent.

Last week, on Chol Hamoed Succos, he delivered the ma’amar. They sang a song, one that has been sung at ma’amarim for nearly 70 years. Composed by Reb Yitzchak Alster in honor of the marriage of Rav Yonasan and Rebbetzin Bruria David, it was beloved by Rav Hutner, and it is sacred in Chaim Berlin. A festive, triumphant tune, it was put the words of “vehaviosim el har kodshi.”

It is a special niggun, and in the succah in Flatbush last week, it soothed, it stirred and it assured. There was nostalgia in it, but also so much optimism and hope, a family marching forward with a leader at its head.

And by the next day, the Rosh Yeshivah was suddenly, inexplicably, in the hospital and there was a rising sense of dread. Too many people depended on him, too many talmidim, too many rebbeim, too many admirers, and too many people across this nation desperate for talmidei chachamim of stature, elegance and purity to lead them.

His light was just starting to shine. There was so much hope!

And now, what remains?

Oloseihem v’zivcheihem, leratzon al mizbechi — Their burnt offerings and their sacrifices shall be acceptable upon My mizbeach.

And what a sacrifice this is, one that leaves an entire tzibbur reeling.

Building Upon Shards

His people, talmidim of Rav Hutner, of Rav Aharon, of Rav Shlomo, they will stand tall once again, showing the world the timeless Yiddishe skill of moving forward: they have taken a yeshivah with a glorious past and given it a glorious present. They will find the strength, the spirit, the stamina and the siyata d’Shmaya to give it a glorious future as well.

Reb Shlomo, the Rosh Yeshivah, spoke about the broken shards of stone from the destroyed Beis Hamikdash, and how those stones were used to build Torah in galus. Reb Shlomo built on a shard after the petirah of Rav Aharon, and now, that fragment is itself destroyed, barely a sliver remaining.

But on it, they will build yet again: on Shemini Atzeres, as the Rosh Yeshivah was slipping away, we read a pasuk in the Haftorah. And it was when Shlomo had finished building the house of Hashem… and all Shlomo’s desire that he wished to make. (Melachim 1 9:1)

He did not finish building — he was just getting started — but in those 12 months, he made it clear what he wanted, and with this, the echo of his deep voice, a voice filled with conviction, with heart, and with sincerity, they will continue to build.

In the Heavenly Succah, There’s Only Life

By Shmuel Botnick

A little over a year ago, Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin struggled to find footing following the loss of its rosh yeshivah, Rav Aharon Shechter ztz”l. Rav Aharon had been everything the legendary yeshivah stood for: A brilliant talmid chacham and baal machshavah whose existence brimmed with the overflowing vigor charged by the reality of Torah itself.

How would they continue? Who would take his place?

Rav Aharon himself supplied the answer — a brilliant one indeed.

Rav Shlomo Halioua was Rav Aharon’s son-in-law and through him, the torch of leadership would continue. A son of Rav Avraham Halioua, young Shlomo had been a talmid of Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin while still a bochur and stood out among his peers for his extraordinary genius. He attained an impeccable clarity in his learning, with a firm grasp on the singular style of machshavah originated by Rav Hutner and perpetuated by his talmidim.

For decades, Rav Shlomo served as a much beloved maggid shiur in the yeshivah as well as its rosh kollel. It wasn’t until his father-in-law’s medical condition grew more serious that he began to deliver ma’amarim in the yeshivah.

In Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin, a “ma’amar” is treated with the greatest reverence. It is held to a delicate standard, where the ideas must be deep yet clearly defined, abstract yet firmly based.

Following the passing of his father-in-law, Rav Shlomo was formally crowned as rosh yeshivah. In one of the first ma’amarim he delivered in this capacity, he spoke of forging onward in the face of loss.

It was during Aseres Yemei Teshuvah — still in the middle of the shloshim. He began slowly, referencing the “groise aveidah,” the enormous loss of a decades-long beacon of inspiration. “Mir zuchen nechamah,” he said, “we search for comfort.” “Avu iz der nechamah — where is the consolation?”

The nechamah, said Rav Shlomo, is in the Torah. And he proceeded to explain: On Yom Kippur we are bequeathed with what appears as two disparate endowments. We receive atonement for our sins, and we also become the recipients of the Luchos shniyos — the second set of Luchos, which were presented to us on Yom Kippur.

Is there a connection between the atonement and the second Luchos?

Rav Shlomo quoted Rav Hutner who explained that the two are inherently linked. A sin is a cessation of existence — sins are a form of death. Effectively, atonement for sins is a dimension of techiyas hameisim, a resurrection from the demise wrought by sin.

When Moshe Rabbeinu broke the first set of Luchos, its sacred letters departed — osiyos porchos b’avir. This departure was a form of death.

The second set of Luchos, said Rav Hutner, isn’t merely a replacement of the first — it is a revival of the first. Through the second set of Luchos, the first set lives on.

Just as atonement for sin revives the dead, the second Luchos revive the first Luchos.

Torah lives on.

The kol shofar that we experienced at Matan Torah, said Rav Hutner, is that declaration of eternity. Torah shall never die.

Rav Shlomo delivered this message in the weeks following Rav Aharon Shechter’s petirah.

The Luchos shattered, but we will persevere. A second set of luchos will always be there to revive the first.

One year later, this second set of Luchos was shattered as well.

Shortly before the oncoming of the second days of Yom Tov, Rav Shlomo was admitted to the hospital with an alarming infection. His situation deteriorated rapidly, and on Sunday, after Yom Tov, he passed away.

Osiyos porchos b’avir.

Just days earlier, Rav Shlomo presided over the yeshivah’s Simchas Beis Hashoeivah. He spoke multiple times, sharing numerous gems and penetrating insights. One of his ideas focused on the term found in the Gemara — “reui’yin kol Yisrael leisheiv b’succah achas — all of Yisrael are worthy of sitting in a single succah.’” Rav Shlomo expounded upon the idea of “succah achas” explaining that although we live in a world of multiplicity, there is a sum of the parts that stands at the core of the parts themselves. The “succah achas” is that uniting factor of hundreds of thousands of souls making up the entity that is Klal Yisrael.

The shards of this fresh set of Luchos, shattered in the prime of its life, is too searing to contemplate. Rav Shlomo carried so much promise, the perfect general of a proudest army.

And now he’s gone.

Mir zuchen nechamah…avu iz der nechamah?

Rav Shlomo told us the answer. The nechamah lies in the Torah.

The shofar that resounded at Har Sinai continues, one set of Luchos bringing a previous one to life.

Somewhere within the haze of broken shards and flying letters lies the equilibrium of a single, unifying, constant force; in that succah achas, there is no death.

The legacy sparked by Rav Hutner, continued through Rav Aharon, and passed on to Rav Shlomo, will endure this crushing blow.

Up in Shamayim, these three towering talmidei chachamim sit together, basking in the brilliance of the Torah to which they devoted their lives.

And sometime soon, they will share this Torah with all of us, a most exquisite ma’amar given in perfect harmony.

As we all join together in a true and final succah achas.

Eternal Send-off

During those painful moments following the petirah of the Rosh Yeshivah, the family and talmidim found themselves forced to absorb yet another blow with the passing of Rabbanit Masouda, mother of the Rosh Yeshivah — a daughter of royalty, wife of royalty and mother of royalty.

Veteran talmidim reflected on the significance: she had lived and breathed his success, her eyes looking on and rejoicing as he grew in Torah, meriting the nachas she had davened for when she left the familiarity and comfort of family in Morocco.

Now, when he was on his way to a glorious reception in the realm of truth and light, she would be there to behold the splendor, to see the shiur he would give, to watch him speak in learning with Rav Paler, with his father-in-law and with Rav Hutner.

On Monday, two aronos sat side by side on Coney Island Avenue, outside the yeshivah, a mother seeing her son off to the yeshivah shel ma’alah, a world of eternal joy.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1034)