Was it that of the Mirrer rosh yeshivah, Rav Leizer Yudel Finkel, who accepted the boy despite his background being so much weaker than the talmidim from Poland and Russia?

Was it the “eltereh bochur” that Rav Leizer Yudel designated to learn with the new bochur — a boy who would in time become known as the revered mashgiach of Ner Israel, Rav Dovid Kronglass?

One thing is certain — just as Rabbi Neuberger was a vessel for the concerns of others, so did the achrayus spill over and affect others. He convinced a childhood friend from Wurzburg to join him in Mir. That friend, Binyomin Zeilberger, emerged as a leader of the postwar American Torah renaissance, as rosh yeshivah of Bais HaTalmud in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn.

Diverted to Baltimore

The young refugee arrived in America in 1938 at the age of twenty. Planning to attend one of the yeshivos in New York, he first traveled to Baltimore to visit family. There, his cousin Doctor Macht thought it might be interesting for the European-educated yeshivah bochur to meet a young local rosh yeshivah, the genius of Slabodka, Rav Yaakov Yitzchok Ruderman.

No one was present at that meeting and no one knows what was discussed, but something much more than a friendship was formed during that fateful encounter. One imagines that the angels in heaven were watching closely — malachei rachamim, aware of the significance of this conversation and the role it would play in ensuring the fulfillment of the Divine guarantee, “ki lo sishakach” (the Torah will not be forgotten).

The serious young bochur decided to remain in Baltimore as a student of the yeshivah, but quickly developed a reputation for his leadership skills. Veteran talmidim recall that he had a key to the office soon after his arrival, and a recently discovered letter dated just six months after he joined the yeshivah features his signature on behalf of the yeshivah — an immense vote of confidence from the Rosh Yeshivah. In time, a partnership unique in the annals of the Torah world was formed, with the relative newcomer assuming a lead role in developing the yeshivah, overseeing the construction of a new building at 4411 Garrison Boulevard in 1941.

Rav Aharon Kotler is reported to have remarked to Rav Ruderman that “der Deitsch veht dir boyen a yeshivah” (the German [bochur] will build you a yeshivah).

A year later, the relationship between the great gaon and his beloved talmid was cemented. Rav Ruderman was a son-in-law of Rav Sheftel Kramer, the rosh yeshivah in New Haven. (He, in turn, was one of the handpicked sons-in-law of Rav Shraga Feivel Frank, along with Rav Isser Zalman Meltzer, Rav Boruch Horowitz, and Rav Moshe Mordechai Epstein.) Naftali Neuberger got engaged to Judith Kramer, making him a future brother-in-law of his rebbi. Tragically, Reb Sheftel was niftar during their engagement period.

When Responsibility Knocks

I sit at the table in the conference room in the yeshivah’s office building, intent on getting a picture not of Rabbi Neuberger’s accomplishments, but of Rabbi Neuberger himself, the man behind those accomplishments.

“His sense of achrayus on a personal level was apparent right away. Our grandmother, Rebbetzin Kramer, moved in with my parents the day after they completed sheva brachos, and she remained there for twenty-seven years, until her passing. That was our first lesson in achrayus,” recalls Reb Sheftel.

“There was no sense of his having a ‘zich,’ of his being out for himself,” adds Reb Shraga. “The house was wide open, his time was ‘hefker,’ free to whoever happened to be at the door or on the phone.”

Was it difficult for the children, having a father who was essentially public property?

“Well, we enjoyed the Shabbos table with all the guests, the colorful personalities that were constantly passing through our house. We used to say that we don’t have to travel to see the world, the world comes to us.”

“Our mother gets the credit for imbuing us with an awareness of how important his work was, and we were proud of him. Whenever he traveled — which was often — she would tell us, ‘Daddy isn’t home because he is doing for Klal Yisrael.’

“And, ever-practical,” adds Reb Sheftel “she also taught herself how to drive — a chiddush [novelty] back then — because he was never available to do a carpool!”

Reb Shraga corrects him. “No, once Daddy had a meeting at T.A. [Talmudic Academy], and it ended just as we finished school, so he ended up giving us a ride home …”

They both laugh.

In truth, however, they concur that he made time for them, taking the family on vacations just like the “regular” fathers. “He would do his utmost not to be away over Shabbos, He once left for Iran on Motzaei Shabbos and returned that Friday.”

Rabbi Neuberger, it emerges, was able to straddle the two worlds: he was both a great man for his People, and a great father to his children.

“Although,” Reb Shraga recalls with a smile, “he sat there in the hall as we were making final preparations for my chasunah, advising a prominent rosh yeshivah who had arrived early to try to get a chance to speak with him.”

Rabbi Boruch Neuberger, assistant to his father, Reb Sheftel, and himself a protégé of his grandfather, joins the conversation, explaining that his grandfather saw no duality in the numerous roles he played. “It wasn’t family versus ‘them.’ It was about responding to the call of achrayus, of feeling responsible and acting on it, no matter who needed his help. That was his job, twenty-four hours, seven days a week.”

He recalls a Pesach night when the entire family gathered around the beautiful Seder table, sharing Torah and song, but the head of the family, Rabbi Neuberger, was in his office on the telephone, obviously dealing with a matter of pikuach nefesh. “He came out before chatzos, ate a kezayis of matzoh, and returned to his office.”

They understood, his family, that achrayus wasn’t something donned like an overcoat and then removed at will. Achrayus was his heartbeat, the essence of who he was.

Talmidim recall Rabbi Neuberger leaving his office Motzaei Yom Kippur, still in tallis and kittel though Maariv had ended a while earlier. He accepted an offer of a ride home, and in conversation it emerged that he hadn’t yet made Havdalah and broken his fast; he had gone straight from Maariv to attend to important business. Responsibility called.

“My father wasn’t a public speaker,” says Reb Sheftel, “but if he ever had to speak at a simchah or the like, he would reiterate that one theme — achrayus.”

Reb Boruch shares a remarkable memory. “During the last Chanukah of his life, I accompanied him to Washington, where he was an honored guest at President George Bush’s White House Chanukah party. Of course, I was not allowed into the room where the festivities took place, and I was hoping to hear details of what happened on the train home, but he was silent and pensive. Finally, he spoke up. ‘They don’t get it,’ he said. ‘The people are pleading to the president to “protect our freedoms.” They don’t understand that having a president this friendly to our tzibur isn’t freedom to build; it’s achrayus to build!’

A Campus Is Born

We are joined by Rabbi Neuberger’s “talmid muvhak” in building the yeshivah campus, Jerome (Jerry) Kadden, a man with a serious and dignified air.

It is clear from his demeanor that to him, Rabbi Neuberger isn’t just something to chat about; his emotion is visible as he sits quietly. He brings my attention to an aerial photo on the wall that shows the entire campus, and then he speaks. “Rabbi Neuberger built this from nothing, and with nothing.”

I learn that Jerry first caught Rabbi Neuberger’s eye while he was a talmid in the yeshivah. Rabbi Neuberger was always on the lookout for specific talents that could be honed for the benefit of the Klal, and he appointed Jerry as director of the dormitory infirmary.

“If a bochur took ill or had to go to the hospital, the first call I was to place was to Rabbi Neuberger, even in the middle of the night. He had a network of doctors who were prepared to do whatever it took for the honor of being a friend of the rabbi. I was in constant contact with him then, and when he later decided to move the yeshivah to the new campus and build Yeshiva Lane, he enlisted me as a full-time assistant.”

He recalls those days with longing. “I would come to his house every night close to midnight, late enough for the phone calls from the West Coast to stop streaming in, and spread blueprints all across the floor. We would sit down and go through every single detail of what had been accomplished and what needed to be done the next day. I would leave in the wee hours of the morning, and then he would sit down to learn. He wouldn’t allow himself to go to sleep without learning first.”

There is a pause and the brothers nod, recalling the image of their father enjoying the rare pleasure of late-night solitude, learning until sleep overcame him.

“I would leave and return to my room, eager to get some much-needed sleep,” recalls Jerry, “but he was wont to call to share an idea or insight. He was always genuinely apologetic if he sensed that I had already fallen asleep, and I took to keeping a pencil and pad near my bed to record his thoughts.”

By the time Ner Israel’s buildings were finished, Jerry had developed an expertise in institutional building, and mosdos across the country began to solicit his advice. “I remember that the Bais Yaakov in Denver was building, and they asked if I would come down for a few days and help them. I passed the question to the Rosh Yeshivah and Rabbi Neuberger, because it was hard for me to get away from yeshivah at that time. Predictably, they both said the same thing: “If you have information or insights that can help another mossad, it’s not that you can go: you must go.”

Achrayus.

The World Is His Mossad

Jerry relates how those in the office witnessed the siyata d’Shmaya merited by Rabbi Neuberger, a Divine stamp of approval on his achrayus, the determination to free the Rosh Yeshivah from the burdens of fundraising. Rabbi Neuberger was filled with a strong conviction that rebbeim must be paid on time, and despite the extraordinary pressure this placed on him, he was never late with a paycheck.

“If he needed to borrow, he did — sometimes even borrowing large sums — but people were always willing to help him. They knew he would pay back in full, and on time.”

But the financial achrayus did not cloud his vision in regard to his other achrayus. “Never was a talmid turned away because of finances. Not once,” says Reb Sheftel. “If he did well on his bechinah [entrance exam], he was in. Only then would my father speak to the parents about tuition. He truly believed, and would always repeat, that ‘we belong to Klal Yisrael.’

Achrayus to his talmidim, and achrayus to the city of Baltimore.

“The Baltimore secular Jewish community is unique in that, through the federation, it extends support to all Orthodox institutions, and we all benefit from that. That was my father’s doing, earning the respect — even the reverence — of the local Jewish establishment.

“Once,” says Jerry, “the Baltimore Jewish Council was considering issuing a statement in support of a certain law that was against the Torah and against the spirit of Yiddishkeit. Rabbi Neuberger simply informed the leadership that if they were to support it, he would be forced to leave. That was all he had to say, and they tabled it.”

Reb Sheftel recalls a wealthy Jew, Mr. Sidney Finkel, who approached Rabbi Neuberger and told him that he had a significant sum of money with which he wanted to “do something good.”

“My father didn’t think only about ‘his’ mossad. Rather, he suggested that the money be invested in a fund that would purchase life insurance for every single mechanech in Baltimore. The fellow agreed, and until today, we see the wisdom and foresight of that piece of advice.”

It was never about building a personal empire, because it wasn’t about him, but rather, what he could do for his nation.

Another grandson, my dear friend Eli Neuberger, shared a story with me. A local Baltimore magazine named Rabbi Neuberger to their list of the ten most influential clergymen in Maryland, and they wrote a beautiful feature about him. Eli came into his grandfather’s house and lightly asked him, “Nu, Zaidy, how does it feel?”

Rabbi Neuberger looked at his grandson and said simply “Ki oz b’Yadcha.” Strength, influence, power, are all just His, and are to be used to fulfill His will.

A Connoisseur’s Admiration

I ask about the family, the Neuberger home, and the relationship between the two legendary brothers-in-law, out of the beis medrash and office.

“Well, two dominant figures in our lives were our babeh, Rebbetzin Kramer, and our aunt, Rebbetzin Ruderman.”

Rebbetzin Kramer was a bas gedolim, having grown up in the home of Reb Shraga Feivel Frank. Reb Shraga Feivel was one of the first to recognize the importance of the mussar movement and the greatness of its founder, and as a man of means, he established a beis hamussar in his home. When Rebbetzin Kramer was a young girl, Rav Yisroel Salanter was no longer alive, but his talmid, Rav Yitzchok Blazer (also known as Reb Itzel Peterburger), would spent the month of Elul in the Frank beis hamussar.

Rebbetzin Kramer remembered bringing him his meals, remarking that he was a “hoiche uhn a sheine,” tall and handsome, and that he would bow in gratitude upon being served, because his taanis dibbur prevented him from expressing his appreciation verbally.

Being somewhat of an “expert” on gedolim, she treasured her two sons-in-law and the yeshivah they were building.

“I remember my mother once telling her whom to vote for in a local election, and she replied, ‘Why do I need you to tell me? I can ask Naftali!’

Rebbetzin Ruderman, with her characteristic humor, once summed up her mother’s appreciation for her sons-in-law when she remarked, “What a pity I’m only your daughter, not your son-in-law.”

Rebbetzin Ruderman played a great role in the establishment of the yeshivah. Being personable and outgoing, she reached out to the community, forming a ladies auxiliary of committed women and a base of support for the yeshivah.

“At her seventieth birthday, our uncle spoke,” recalls Reb Sheftel, and Reb Shraga smiles at the memory. “He said, “Ess iz nisht kein pele” (it’s no wonder that I have a good yeshivah). “Ich hub a tichtige veib uhn a tichtige shvugger” (I have a capable wife and a capable brother-in-law).

Never Look Back

Conversation turns to the yeshivah, to features that make Ner Israel unique among the great yeshivos of America. “Baruch Hashem, Ner Yisroel has the second-largest kollel in the country, with close to 300 yungeleit! That’s who we are!” says Reb Shraga emphatically.

“When the Rosh Yeshivah would travel and meet talmidim, the first question would not be ‘How’s the family?’ or ‘How’s business?’ but ‘Voss lernst du, what are you learning?’ That’s what he was selling.”

Ner Israel allowed the talmidim to attend night classes at local universities and set up a matriculation agreement with institutions of higher learning. It was a decision that some criticized.

“The Rosh Yeshivah would say that ‘b’koshi hitiru’; it wasn’t a decision made out of respect for secular knowledge, but rather a ‘heter’ given by the Rosh Yeshivah due to the practical consideration of his talmidim’s need to earn a living. He saw this as the simplest means for his talmidim to be able to provide for their families.”

Was the “stigma” attached to it hard for Rabbi Neuberger?

Both brothers agree that their father didn’t waste time thinking about it, offering several reasons why.

“He knew that he acted l’Sheim Shamayim,” says Reb Sheftel, “so he felt no need to look over his shoulder.”

Reb Shraga adds that once the Rosh Yeshivah had paskened, Rabbi Neuberger was able to move forward, full of confidence that it was the right thing.

As a general rule, ruminating about the past doesn’t seem to have been Rabbi Neuberger modus operandi: life was all about the future, about the next challenge or opportunity.

This attitude carried over to his personal life as well.

His children remember a most poignant moment, the last night of the shivah for their beloved mother. “My father asked, uncharacteristically, if we could gather all the children and eineklach — even those that lived out of town or abroad were to join via telephone hookup.

“He had a message for us. Our mother had suffered from Alzheimer’s during the last few years of her life, and the disease had robbed her of much of her natural grace and dignity. ‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said, ‘I plan to get up from shivah reinvigorated by the positive memories of years passed, of all our shared accomplishments. I will not be held down by the more recent memories of the last few years — and I ask of you to do the same.’

“He wanted us to emerge from mourning and return to our respective duties with a renewed sense of purpose. Onward, always onward.”

A Culture of Shalom

Ner Israel had four different roshei yeshivah during Rabbi Neuberger’s lifetime. Was that hard?

“Well, Rav Weinberg [who succeeded Rav Ruderman] was already a partner of his when he was quite young. For example, when Rav Weinberg initiated the idea of a mechinah [high school] back in the 1960s, our father jumped in to help him make it a reality. Therefore, although the Rosh Yeshivah’s petirah spelled the loss of his rebbi, partner, and best friend, it was a seamless transition. He immediately threw himself into working with Rav Weinberg; he had tremendous respect for Rav Weinberg’s brilliance and clarity.”

The fact that the yeshivah had gone through several roshei yeshivah in a relatively short span, yet continued with nary a bump in the road, is part of what Rav Sheftel calls a “culture of shalom.”

“My father didn’t take shalom for granted. He understood that it had to be pursued proactively, both here in the yeshivah, and in the community at large.

“You think the hanhalah here never has differences of opinion? The reason we are able to work together b’shalom, is because we talk to each other, not at each other.”

Simple words, but ones that have eluded many.

Ner Israel Becomes Multinational

Rabbi Neuberger’s legacy will forever be bound with the fate of an entire tzibur, the ancient Jewish community of Iran. He spearheaded their rescue, took responsibility for laying the groundwork for them to reestablish their lives in America, and he merited to see them succeed in creating Torah communities in cities from Baltimore to Los Angeles, from Great Neck to Atlanta.

As the conversation turns to that era of his life, we are interrupted by an announcement from a member of the office staff: “The Panamanians are here.”

I am intrigued. Had war broken out? Was that some sort of code?

Reb Boruch Neuberger laughs and explains that in the summer, the spacious and attractive campus is home to a camp, Ohr Haner, for boys from across Central and South America.

Of course, this program too has its roots in the vision of the yeshivah’s president. “My grandfather opened the doors wide to bochurim from Latin America, creating a system to help them adapt to a level of learning that was higher than they were used to. In time, one of those bochurim caught my grandfather’s eye. Moshe Fuller had the enthusiasm and drive that my grandfather so appreciated. Moshe thrived in the system and then he took it to next level, working with my grandfather’s guidance. He traveled throughout his native Latin America and sent groups of youngsters here for a summer, and many of them decided to stay on as talmidim.

“In time, he organized a winter ‘camp’ for Panamanian youngsters as well, and the yeshivah accommodated and provided for these groups, both spiritually and physically. When Moshe Fuller got married, Rabbi Neuberger accepted the honor of serving as mesader kidushin — a rare move on his part — because Moshe was a talmid in every sense of the word.”

Moshe Fuller took ill and was niftar several years after his marriage, leaving a widow, two young orphans, and a void as large as the countries he crisscrossed in search of neshamos, but while his life was cut short, his life’s work still lives on.

We return to Iran. Rabbi Neuberger’s relationship with the community began in an era when the Iranian government was quelling rebel forces and everyone was suspect, including the Jewish community. A prominent activist, Mr. Isaac Sassoon, enlisted Rabbi Neuberger’s help and asked him to travel to Iran and lobby the Shah and his representatives to allow the Otzar HaTorah programs for Jewish students to remain intact.

Rabbi Neuberger quickly took stock of the situation there, however, and realized that even if he were to succeed, there was still no real chinuch infrastructure in place. There was no yeshivah, or even a Jewish high school, and, ever creative, he conceived an idea on the spot.

He sensed a tremendous respect for America and its educational institutions among the Iranians, and he realized that he could convince the students and their parents to allow the boys to come to America and study. He would absorb them into Ner Israel and provide them with a full Jewish education at the same time. They would return to Iran as real yeshivaleit, possessing the knowledge and dedication necessary to maintain the religious community there.

A long-time member of the hanhalah recalls the meeting when Rabbi Neuberger shared his vision with the other rebbeim. “Everyone disagreed with him. It was unanimous. We felt that a few isolated Iranian students would never open up to what we were teaching, that it was an experiment doomed to fail. Apparently, though, Rabbi Neuberger — with the Rosh Yeshivah’s blessing — agreed with himself, because the next zman, there weren’t two Iranian talmidim — there were twelve.”

From almost the first moment, Rabbi Neuberger was proven right. “They were determined to learn, and they soaked up the whole experience — the Torah, the mussar, the whole approach to being a ben Torah.”

Reb Sheftel recalls that at the end of that first zman, the Iranian bochurim already felt compelled to spread the light, and traveled to Norma, Oklahoma, to lead a Pesach Seder at a campus where there was a group of Iranian Jewish students.

“By the second night of Pesach, word had spread, and in addition to the forty Persians, seventy American students showed up. These boys, such recently arrivals, led the Seder in two languages, their native Farsi and in a halting English _ all from one zman in yeshivah.”

A look of pride crosses his face. “From that original group, we’ve sent stars to communities across America.”

Soon thereafter, it became evident that Rabbi Neuberger had set himself up to be a messenger, a cog in the Divine wheel. The Shah was toppled, the government fell, and overnight, the Jewish community was subjected to the worst forms of persecution.

“So it became your father’s problem,” I comment.

“No,” say the brothers. “He made it his problem!”

The yeshivah had the connections in place to help expedite the exit of hundreds of Iranian young men, and working with his vast and complex network, Rabbi Neuberger devoted himself fully to the cause.

Jerry Kadden recalls walking into his office with an important question during that era and finding Rabbi Neuberger on the phone. “I motioned to him that it was important, and he looked up. ‘Is it pikuach nefesh?’ he asked. ‘Because this phone call is. Please handle it yourself.’

While other yeshivos across America helped absorb the influx of new arrivals, it fell to Rabbi Neuberger and Ner Israel to accept the lion’s share.

“From the start, it was the Rosh Yeshivah’s goal that they maintain and protect their mesorah, that they learn and grow along with our talmidim, but not at the expense of losing their unique heritage,” remarks Reb Shraga.

And I hear a beautiful — and characteristic — story.

“My father designated a place for them to hold a minyan on Shabbos, so they could daven according to their nusach and follow their minhagim. Each Shabbos after the minyan in yeshivah was over, he would slip in and stand in the corner. He wanted to be included in their Bircas Kohanim.”

One Last Candle

Erev Shabbos Chol HaMoed Succos, 5766/2005.

Rabbi Neuberger was in his home, a humble dwelling amid the grandiose and impressive Torah structures that dot the Ner Israel campus. He lit Shabbos candles, filling the room with light, and then lay down to rest.

His final rest.

How fitting that his soul ascended Heavenward at that auspicious hour, as all around him flickers of light danced.

For in the dreariness of the darkest period the Jewish world has known, when the impending doom weighed on the hearts of a nation, he lit a small candle. When the American Jewish establishment smirked with more than a touch of disdain at the idea of rebuilding yeshivos, he lit a candle.

When he had already succeeded, when the fire on Mount Wilson Lane brightened the American landscape, he reached still further, into foreign, inhospitable climates and lit candles there.

He left a trail of candles in his wake. How appropriate that his final act was to light one last candle.

Seated on the train home, I carry an image with me, a picture of an unassuming German Jew, standing in a corner of the Iranian minyan as the Kohanim chant. Even as he is receiving, he is giving.

For I imagine the gratification of the mispallelim as they sneak glances from under their talleisim, raising their children to see him, honored that their patron — their hero — has come to daven with them, to absorb the blessings that flow through their little beis medrash. And he, under his own tallis, is soaking in the brachos that surround him, “brachos” that he himself has planted and cultivated: the people all around him.

Veyishmerecha, viychuneka … Shalom.

Ner Israel

Ner Israel Rabbinical College was founded by Rav Yaakov Yitzchak Ruderman in1933. Legend has it that the name was a tribute to the Rosh Yeshivah’s alma mater, Knesses Beis Yisroel in Slabodka.

In 1941, the Rosh Yeshivah, aided closely by a newly arrived talmid, Naftali Neuberger, oversaw the construction of new quarters on Garrison Boulevard. In 1942 the two became brothers-in-law when Rabbi Neuberger married Judith Kramer, sister of Rebbetzin Faige Ruderman.

The yeshivah was soon recognized as one of the outstanding American yeshivos, following the style of the yeshivos of prewar Lita, and it attracted talmidim from across the country.

In 1957, Rav Yaakov Weinberg, son-in-law of Rav Ruderman, established Ner Israel’s mechinah for high school bochurim, and in 1960, Kollel Avodas Levi was formed.

In 1968, the yeshivah moved out to a ninety-acre campus on Mount Wilson Lane, just outside the Baltimore Beltway.

Rav Ruderman was niftar in 1987, and he was succeeded by his son-in-law, Rav Weinberg. Rav Weinberg led the yeshivah until his petirah in 1999, when the yeshivah’s senior maggid shiur, Rav Yaakov Moshe Kulefsky, was appointed rosh yeshivah. Rav Kulefsky was niftar in 2001 and was succeeded by Rav Aharon Feldman, an alumnus of the yeshivah, who was serving as a rosh yeshivah in Eretz Yisrael at the time.

Rav Feldman leads the yeshivah until today, along with menehel ruchanai Rav Beryl Weisbord and menahel Rav Sheftel Neuberger.

Rav Naftali Neuberger, the yeshivah’s president for over a half century, was niftar in 2005. He left five illustrious sons, all of them perpetuating his mission in various ways. Aside from Rav Sheftel, the menahel, Rav Shraga delivers a shiur in the beis medrash, Rav Ezra is rosh kollel and a maggid shiur, and Reb Yitzchok and Reb Yaakov are both attorneys in Baltimore.

The yeshivah has a current enrollment of 240 bochurim in the mechinah, 375 in the beis medrash, and 270 yungeleit in the kollel.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 327)