“You will see that something wonderful will come out of this experience” 

AS a bochur learning in Yeshivas Chofetz Chaim, I often drove my rosh yeshivah, Rav Henoch Leibowitz ztz”l, to yeshivah. One morning, he asked me to come inside first.

After I sat down, he told me that a dear chaver of my father, Rav Ephraim Wolf z”l, the rav of the prominent Great Neck Synagogue, had reached out to my father for help. Rav Wolf had shared with my father that as a result of a recent medical procedure he would be unable to deliver the derashos he usually gave over the Yamim Noraim. However, as many of the attendees only showed up to shul for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, he felt responsible to make sure they did not lose out on this annual dose of Torah. He’d reached out to my father for advice, and my father said he would consult with the Rosh Yeshivah.

Sitting in the Rosh Yeshivah’s home, he shared that he had decided that I should go to Great Neck to assist Rabbi Wolf. I protested, saying I wanted to be in yeshivah for the Yamim Noraim, but the Rosh Yeshivah just waved away my objection. “I am suggesting that you go,” he said, “not only because it is a chesed to Rabbi Wolf, as well as a chesed to your father who wants to help his friend, but mainly because I think it will be a good experience for you as well.” I knew the discussion was closed.

Before getting out of the car, the Rosh Yeshivah turned to me and said, “You will see that something wonderful will come out of this experience.”

The Yamim Noraim were indeed inspiring, and at Rabbi Wolf’s invitation, I went back to Great Neck for Succos as well, which led to my delivering a weekly hashkafah shiur that evolved into a Gemara shiur. (After two years, a friend took it over, and I believe it’s still going strong, more than 40 years later.)

One of the most memorable personalities who I met over that Yom Yov was an absolutely brilliant individual who was a graduate of MIT and held a degree in philosophy from Yale University. While he had a great love for everything Jewish, he knew absolutely nothing and hadn’t visited a synagogue since his bar mitzvah, more than 40 years earlier. He’d stumbled into the Great Neck Synagogue looking for help to bury his mother who had just passed away and requested a traditional burial, and had the good fortune of meeting Rabbi Wolf, who drew him close with his famous warmth and wit.

He attended every hashkafah shiur religiously and posed dozens of deep, philosophical questions, most well beyond my paygrade.

On my next visit to Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky ztz”l, I shared some of the questions that I found too challenging to answer, and in response the Rosh Yeshivah shared some wonderful insights. After that I asked if I could bring the questioner to ask his questions in person, and the Rosh Yeshivah graciously agreed. At the next shiur, I spent the better part of the hour describing the greatness of Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky. Afterward, I invited my new friend to come with me to meet the Rosh Yeshivah and he eagerly agreed.

The following Sunday, I picked him up and we drove to Monsey. He was visibly nervous and began rattling off to me the list of his most difficult philosophical difficulties.

When we entered, we saw that one of Rav Yaakov’s grandsons had just come with his large family to introduce the Rosh Yeshivah to his newest great-grandchild. We sat down to wait, and watched the Rosh Yeshivah holding the little ones on his lap and trying to get the baby to smile at him. My friend was totally transfixed, watching the Rosh Yeshivah’s every move.

After about 15 minutes, it was our turn. I introduced my friend and the Rosh Yeshivah greeted him warmly. “I understand that you have many good questions to ask,” he said. “You should know that asking questions is the very foundation of our Torah and how we can transmit it to future generations. So please ask and I will try to help if I am able to.”

My friend stayed silent. The Rosh Yeshivah tried again to put him at ease, but he still didn’t say anything. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, and turning to him, I said, “You told me once that you have five major questions that you never found an adequate answer for. Why don’t you ask them now?” Still, he didn’t say a word.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he looked at me and said, “I do not have any questions anymore!” Now I was the one at a loss for words. I felt confused, embarrassed, and thoroughly annoyed all at the same time.

Then the silence was broken. Smiling his unforgettable beautiful wide smile, the Rosh Yeshivah said, “We all have questions at times and other times we don’t have any. Please come back with Rabbi Ginzberg for answers to any questions that may come up in the future.”

As soon as we got back into the car, I turned to my friend and asked for an explanation, which he promptly offered. “I came with every intention of asking my most difficult questions to the Rosh Yeshivah,” he explained, “but in those fifteen minutes, when I observed how he interacted with his family, the warmth, the joy in his every expression and the shine of his countenance, I realized that this is what greatness truly looks like. I realized that only a religion that has absolute truth to it can create a human being as great as this man.

“Questions are only for people who have doubt. After seeing the Rosh Yeshivah in person, I have no more doubt left, neither in my mind nor in my heart. I will never be able to repay you for this great gift you gave me today,” he finished.

This story has an epilogue.  Years after my stint in Great Neck, I heard that my friend had become a complete shomer Torah u’mitzvos along with his children. Things came full circle on Shavuos last year when I davened at the neitz minyan on the Aish HaTorah rooftop.

After hearing someone refer to me by name, another man asked if I was related to the Rabbi Ginzberg that gave the hashkafah shiur many years ago at the Great Neck Synagogue. When I said I was, he told me he was the son of the man I’d taken to meet Rav Yaakov. He told me that while his father had passed away some years ago, every one of his children and grandchildren are today all shomrei Torah u’mitzvos, and most live in Eretz Yisrael. He said that for years after meeting with the Rosh Yeshivah, his father spoke about it all the time.

When Rav Henoch Leibowitz said to me, “You will see that something wonderful will come out of this experience,” little did I know how very prophetic those words would be.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1042)