You can do remarkable things with silence.

Imagine a rebbe who leads with silence, using it as a tool to draw forth, to demand, to teach, a silence that allows him to hear the dreams of those around him.

In a small gazebo, I found a quiet rebbe, leading a quiet chassidus in a way that calls to mind those paintings, the ones where the entire town of wooden huts is visible in the background, as a small huddle of Jews gather after Kiddush Levanah or Tashlich, their faces exhilarated, worn, alive.

The backdrop to the present scenic picture is the current of expectation that runs deep here. It’s the imprint and legacy of the community’s founder, the Shefa Chaim — Rav Yekusiel Yehuda Halberstam of Sanz-Klausenberg ztz”l, father-in-law of this rebbe of hushed tones: Rav Shlomo Goldman of Zvhil-Sanz.

On the Porch

The soundtrack at Machane Divrei Chaim in Kauneonga Lake, summer home of the Sanz-Zvhil community of Union City, New Jersey, is one of voices raised in learning in the Klausenberger style. The beis medrash and several adjoining rooms, the porches and picnic tables, are filled with shiurim and chavrusas on the Monday morning when I arrive.

I am directed to the “Rebbe’s tent,” the gazebo in the shade of a tree where a bottle of water, a glass, and a pile of seforim sit expectantly — but the Rebbe isn’t there.

This rebbe, it appears, is blessedly free of the coterie of gabbaim and handlers; free enough that I finally find him sitting on a porch, having spontaneously joined a chavrusashaft with two kollel yungeleit, who speak with him in learning.

He smiles in greeting and together, we walk down the path towards his gazebo, smack in the center of the camp and bungalow colony that service his kehillah and yeshivah.

There is a gentle breeze as the Rebbe welcomes me to sit down in the tent in which he spends much of his summer, sitting and learning.

He appreciates my comment regarding the yeshivah-like atmosphere around the camp, and he reflects on his shver’s unique relationship with the kehillah of Union City. The Klausenberger Rebbe, who moved to Williamsburg in 1947 after surviving the Holocaust and caring for survivors in the DP camps, finally fulfilled his dream of settling in Eretz Yisrael in 1960, in Netanya’s Kiryat Sanz section, which he established. In 1968 he returned to the US to open a yeshivah and community in Union City, and from then until his passing in 1994, he split his time between the two centers of the chassidus.

The chassidus the Klausenberger Rebbe rebuilt numbers thousands of families and has centers across the globe; with major hubs in Netanya and Brooklyn, led by his two sons. Union City is part of the network, and it was here that the Rebbe had the luxury of living and breathing the yeshivah.

“Wherever my shver was, the yeshivah was always on his mind, but there were other things as well. He was rebuilding lives, helping individuals. He established a new neighborhood, Kiryat Sanz, a major hospital, Laniado — he carried a huge burden. But here, in Union City, there isn’t much going on outside the yeshivah, so that’s what you feel.”

The Zvhil-Sanzer Rebbe was born in Meah Shearim, a child of Batei Ungarin; the first time he saw a telephone was when he was 18 years old and a talmid of his future father-in-law at the Sanzer yeshivah in Netanya.

When it came time to find suitable husbands for his daughters, the Klausenberger Rebbe was looking for talmidei chachamim, and he set his eyes on the son of the Zvhiller Rebbe.

With a shrug and gentle smile, the Zvhil-Sanzer Rebbe confides that, as the oldest son-in-law, he was heavily involved in the shidduchim for the other daughters. “My shver wanted talmidei chachamim, even at the expense of family background. I once argued that Chazal put emphasis on yichus and perhaps he should be considering scions of rebbishe homes. The Shver said, ‘Okay, fine, for yichus I’m ready to give away five hundred blatt — but not more. The Gemara says that giving a daughter to an am ha’aretz is like giving her to a lion.’ ”

After years in kollel, the new son-in-law joined the yeshivah staff as a maggid shiur; when the Shefa Chaim established the Union City yeshivah, it was his son-in-law whom he sent first to build it up. Later, the Rebbe himself came and joined his married couple, the two families living alongside each other in the yeshivah building.

Rebbetzin Leah, the Shefa Chaim’s eldest child, had a special relationship with her father; as a single girl, she was one of the leading teachers in the Klausenberg girls’ school, developing her lessons along with her father, the Rebbe. Together, they authored the work Derech Chaim, an overview of chassidus, its ideals and its relevance, written specifically for women.

After her marriage, her husband merited the same closeness. Older chassidim remember the seemingly perpetual chavrusashaft between the Rebbe and his beloved son-in-law, and recall the era when they learned together as the best years of the elderly rebbe’s life.

Late one night, the Zvhil-Sanz Rebbe tells me, he and his shver were poring over a difficult sugya when the Klausenberger Rebbe remembered a relevant teshuvah. He stood up and went to locate the source, but even as he looked through his library, he couldn’t find it. The hour grew late, and eventually, the son-in-law went to sleep.

Deep into the night, there was a knock on his door. “Ich hub getruffen, I found it,” an exhilarated Klausenberger Rebbe called out into his son-in-law’s room.

The Zvhil-Sanz Rebbe smiles at a memory. During those years, another prominent rebbe came to visit the Klausenberger Rebbe, who received him in his “seforim shtib” study at his apartment, which was part of the yeshivah.

“Where do you live?” asked the visiting rebbe, certain that his host had a more impressive home than the large study with its overflowing shelves and yeshivah-issue furniture.

“Here,” said the Klausenberger proudly, “this is my home.”

The guest rebbe was clearly astonished.