Who Will Lead the Way?
| August 19, 2025Even as I write these words, I want to reach for the phone and ask Rabbi Wein, “What now? Who will carry this mesorah forward now that you are gone?”
Photos: Elchanan Kotler, Mishpacha and family archives
I
feel a profound sense of personal loss with the passing of Rabbi Berel Wein. For the past 18 years, I turned to Rabbi Wein with questions I once asked my rebbi and rosh yeshivah, Rabbi Azriel Chaim Goldfein, until his passing.
Both of these giants offered me a lifeline to the precious litvish mesorah I was born into. Rabbi Goldfein was a talmid muvhak of Rav Mordechai Gifter, the rosh yeshivah of Telshe. And Rabbi Wein was a talmid of many great rabbanim: his father, Rabbi Zev Wein, a talmid of Rav Shimon Shkop; his father-in-law, Rabbi Eliezer Levin of Detroit, a ben bayis of the Chofetz Chaim; his grandfather, Rabbi Chaim Zvi Rubenstein; and many others.
Rabbi Wein would often quote the Gemara (Eiruvin 13b) where Rabi Yehudah Hanasi attributed his incisiveness to having “seen the back of Rabi Meir.” In the same way, Rabbi Wein, drawing from this, used to say that he had seen the “back” of the previous generation of Gedolei Lita. He caught a glimpse of their world and their greatness and that inspired and guided him in everything he did.
Rabbi Wein achieved great things in his life. He authored books, built yeshivos, illuminated Jewish history, and inspired tens of thousands through his teaching and leadership. His rabbinic career sparkled with stunning brilliance and success.
And yet, perhaps more precious was this: Rabbi Wein was our living connection to the worldview of Gedolei Lita. That’s why, when my rebbi was niftar, I turned to Rabbi Wein. I needed the life-giving waters of mesorah, and Rabbi Wein was always there — ready to answer, without fuss, with a clarity and precision that distilled the very essence of the tradition and values he embodied.
The litvish mesorah Rabbi Wein personified was Torah of darchei noam, of menschlichkeit and refinement, of sensitivity and kindness, of unpretentious truth, of erlichkeit rather than frumkeit (as he and my rosh yeshivah would often say in the name of their rebbeim, “a galach is frum; a Yid is erlich”).
It was a Torah of shalom and gentleness, shorn of externalities to impress others, a Torah of personal authenticity and humility. A Torah of passionate devotion to learning, pursued with depth and clarity and love. A Torah that transcended factions and politics, proclaiming instead to be the legacy of all Jews, and the sacredness of achdus. A Torah and way of life guided by the absolute imperative of being a shining example of kiddush Hashem.
And it was a Torah of achrayus for Klal Yisrael, of responsibility for fellow Jews, of assuming the burdens of positions of leadership to guide Hashem’s children back to Him, of being a klal mensch in the fullest sense, asking at every turn, “What can I do to help the Jewish People draw closer to the light of Torah and mitzvos?”
And this mesorah shaped everything Rabbi Wein built — the shuls and yeshivos he founded, the history he taught, the way he shepherded generations of talmidim. It is a mesorah the Jewish world needs now more than ever.
We both felt so passionately that the mesorah had to be preserved that together we recorded it in a book we coauthored, The Legacy, about which Rav Shmuel Kamenetsky wrote: “I am a Litvak and everything in it is true.”
Even as I write these words, I want to reach for the phone and ask Rabbi Wein, “What now? Who will carry this mesorah forward now that you are gone?” The Gemara (Bava Basra 4a) describes the great talmidei chachamim as the “eyes of the congregation” — they help us to see the world the way we should. Who will help us see the world through the eyes of the Gedolei Lita?
I imagine he would say that he felt the same when his father and his rebbeim left this world. His response then must be our response now: He became the living embodiment of the mesorah they entrusted to him. And now it falls to us — to carry it forward for our children, our students, and Klal Yisrael. To guard and teach these sacred values so that when our time comes, they, too, will know the way forward.
(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1075)
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