Rebbetzin Malkah Devorah Wolfson saw herself only as a reflection — of her husband’s Torah and her Creator’s greatness

For four years, from when I was 15 until I got married, I’d walk home from shul on Shabbos with Rebbetzin Malkah Devorah Wolfson, 80-year-old rebbetzin of Emunas Yisrael and wife of Rav Moshe Wolfson shlita. Sometimes we walked in silence; more often I chattered and the Rebbetzin listened with interest. Occasionally, she’d share absorbing vignettes and I’d carefully listen.

Sometimes, she’d thank me for walking her home; I found that very funny. Didn’t she realize she was the Rebbetzin? It was an honor for me to accompany her!

Ironically, for all of my years of walking her home a few times each Shabbos, talking to her on the phone, and visiting occasionally, I didn’t know much about her. All I knew was that she loved me, I loved her, and I loved sharing my life with her (and showing off my babies, their outfits and antics).

Speaking to numerous family members — her daughters, daughter-in-law, and granddaughters who observed her in the privacy of her home as they assisted her in her old age — filled in so much information I hadn’t known: her incredible yiras Shamayim, her love of tefillah, and her complete dedication to her husband. I also realized she absolutely didn’t realize that she was the Rebbetzin and that it was a kavod for me to walk her home.

Magnetic Attraction

We were separated by enormous age, culture, and personality gaps. What was it that pulled me — and so many others — to the Rebbetzin?

I think the secret was her genuine nonjudgmental orientation; she truly appreciated all kinds of people. An extreme Yekkeh by personality and background, her straightforward, conservative personality was the exact opposite of the liberal, free style we typically associate with lack of judgment.

But the Rebbetzin taught me what Torah-based acceptance looked like: a spiritual quality rooted in love of people and an open, curious orientation. She held herself to lofty standards, but she accepted each person as they were.

She was shy and introverted by nature, but watching her calmly stroll through shul after Shacharis on Shabbos with a bright smile, gracious as the queen of England, you’d never have known.

“Mazel tov on the bar mitzvah! Is that necklace new? How’s the baby feeling?” She remembered all kinds of information — who had given birth, made a bar mitzvah, recently moved, gotten a job, became engaged, and even who the shadchan was. And the women felt her interest, her caring, the connection.

She was genuinely self-effacing. As a teenager, I considered it my sacred duty to save the Rebbetzin a center seat at the Friday night Sheves Achim, because otherwise, she would sit in the back. She’d only agree after I’d tell her how hard I worked to save her a place, and that I’d feel terrible if she didn’t sit there.

At the Neshei Emunas Yisrael Melaveh Malkah gathering in her memory, a granddaughter began her speech imagining her grandmother’s confusion at being spoken about. “ ‘What for?’ she would’ve asked.”