In the litvish enclave of Baltimore, Rebbetzin Malka Fayga Taub, wife of the Brider Rav, holds steadfast to her mesorah, radiating chassidish varmkeit to every Jew.

Hundreds of guests crowded around the kallah’s chair. The air was filled with mazel tov exclamations and the heady scent of flowers. Through the rainbow of color, I noticed Rebbetzin Malka Fayga Taub, wife of the Brider Rebbe, Rav Shaya Taub shlita. I inched past smiling faces toward her. I had always admired and liked the Rebbetzin from afar, but now was a chance have a real conversation. We chatted for a few minutes and then, together, entered the hall for the chuppah and sat down.

As we got to know each other, I was grateful for the delayed chuppah. A few weeks later, I was excited to hear her phone message: it would be an honor, she said, if I could join her for shalashidus — said with her trademark, chassidish pronunciation.

Late Shabbos afternoon, I approached the path leading up to the Taubs’ stately looking red brick house. I noticed the Rebbetzin sitting on a porch chair, a few seforim on her lap. She welcomed me warmly and held up one of the seforim — a majestic brown leather Tehillim with a silver design on the front, and an inscription from the Rebbetzin’s children. “This is the best gift my children could have given to me!” she said. The other volume was a leather-bound Pirkei Avos.

The Rebbetzin’s home was humble and inviting, and as I made myself comfortable I immediately sensed the same aura I’d felt in homes of gedolim I’ve been privileged to visit. The Taubs hold a special position in the Baltimore community — they are the trailblazers of the present-day chassidish community. I was eager to hear their story.

There’s a table set for Shalosh Seudos in the foyer, opposite the wall on which the Rebbetzin’s sewing machine stands tucked away in an armoire. “When I went to school, we had four days of learning and one day of sewing,” the Rebbetzin told me of her prized possession. “My joys in life are my kitchen and my sewing machine. When I moved to Baltimore, I told my husband that I must have these two things.”

As we sat down, I wondered if I would finally learn why my hosts had decided to settle in Baltimore, a primarily litvish enclave that is home to Ner Israel.

Still In the Levush

“My father-in-law, Rav Amram Taub, lost his wife and five young children back in Hungary, during the Holocaust,” related Rebbetzin Taub, as we began our meal. The small table, set with rolls, salads, and spring water, was tasteful and cozy. The Rebbe and the men ate in the dining room, at a much larger table, while at our table sat the Rebbetzin, two of her granddaughters-in-law, my friend, and me. The Rebbetzin poured us cups of water before sipping from her own glass, and continued her tale. “Rav Amram survived numerous concentration camps. Despite his tragic losses, he remarried while still in the DP camps. His bitachon and emunah, along with the fact that he came back with three brothers and a sister, kept him going.

“Just weeks after their release, in January 1945, there was a yahrtzeit seudah — the first mesibah of Satmar chassidim after the war — to be mechazeik one another. In walked my father-in-law and his three brothers, all wearing long black jackets. Everyone was astounded that four brothers had survived the war. And it wasn’t just that they had survived — they still wore the levush.”

She shook her head, wondering. “So how did they get long jackets, back in 1945, when no one had a shirt to put on their back? They found a pile of jackets. And they cut some of them to pieces and sewed the strips together until they had four long black jackets.”

Jackets sewn together with determination and loyalty. Lives sewn anew with emunah and simchah.

“My father-in-law came to America with his wife and three small children. My husband, Rav Shaya, was all of six months old at the time,” continued the Rebbetzin. “HIAS (The Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society) had planned that my father-in-law be a rav in St. Louis when he came to America. But the Satmar Rebbe Reb Yoel Teitelbaum ztz”l had a different idea. He insisted that Rav Amram settle in Baltimore. This wasn’t a simple decision — HIAS had offered him a stipend if he moved to St. Louis. In fact, we still have the rough wooden crate marked Rabbiner Taub — Chicago. From there he was due to travel over land to St. Louis. But he was deeply loyal to the Satmar Rebbe. So Baltimore it was.”