Rav Avrohom Ausband ztz”l was a world-class talmid chacham, manhig, and mensch

HE

wasn’t my rebbi. He wasn’t my rosh yeshivah. I likely heard no more than two or three dozen in-person shiurim or shmuessen from him. But living across the hall from Rav Avrohom Ausband ztz”l, the founder and rosh yeshivah of Telshe-Riverdale whose yahrtzeit is 2 Elul, gave me a clear view, literally and figuratively, of a world-class talmid chacham, manhig, and mensch.

In the summer of 2011, when I was a single law school student, I moved from Flatbush to Riverdale to be a night dorm counselor. Unbeknownst to me, the dormitory was located in a residential apartment building that was also home to both Rav Ausband and ybdlch”t Rav Mordechai Willig, rosh yeshivah of Yeshiva University and rav of Young Israel of Riverdale, and their families.

I also did not expect to live there for nine years, including as a newlywed, one flight up. But Rav Ausband was a shachein tov, a good neighbor in every sense, and in the close-knit Riverdale community, I was privileged to build a relationship with him and that elevated and enriched me.

Passion and Compassion

But before discussing his personal interactions, we have to consider his communal impact. Yeshivas Talmidei Telshe, better known as Telshe-Riverdale or just “Riverdale,” was founded in Westwood, New Jersey in 1981 and moved to Riverdale in 1984. Remarkably for a fledgling institution, it rapidly emerged as a premier yeshivah, drawing many applicants. There is no US News and World Report ranking for yeshivos, yet for as far back as I can recall, Riverdale has stood among the preeminent pre-Eretz Yisrael American yeshivos.

Riverdale’s remarkable ascent was due, in no small part, to the force of character and rare pedagogical skills of Rav Ausband, a true gavra rabba. The Torah was given eish shechorah al gabei eish levanah, black fire on white fire. Rav Ausband embodied this balance, with an uncanny ability to blend passion and compassion. He could level a fiery reproach at a student, but the student knew it stemmed from his belief in the student’s potential. He held his yeshivah and talmidim to the highest standards, demanding excellence and accountability, behind which a caring rebbi, who wasn’t satisfied with mediocrity, stood large.

Many a Friday night, I would walk past the yeshivah, well past the end of any obligatory study period, only to find the beis medrash filled with diligent students. I have to admit that I rarely davened in the yeshivah, because davening was too unhurried, passionate, and deliberate for my predisposition. Every “Amen, yehei Shemei Rabba” was pronounced emphatically and in perfect unison with the entire student body. It was intense and beautiful at once.

Rooted in Respect

Riverdale is predominantly a Modern Orthodox community. For context, the most right-wing shul is the Young Israel. The yeshivah would have more naturally fit into Flatbush or Monsey. Yet the yeshivah didn’t compromise or dilute its identity to fit in. Perhaps that very authenticity, along with Rav Ausband’s extroverted and personable nature, allowed for genuine relationships with much of the community, rooted in respect and understanding.

Much has been made of his relationship with Rav Mordechai Willig, who lived literally down the hall on the third floor. On multiple occasions, I went to the Willigs for Havdalah and was joined by Rebbetzin Ausband, because Rav Ausband was still in yeshivah and not expected back anytime soon. What made their relationship so successful, despite each hailing from a different Torah environment, is instructive for everyone.

With my youthful audacity, I once made mention of Telshe-Lithuania’s “gymnasia,” referring to the general studies component of European yeshivos, at the Willig Shabbos table.

Rabbi Akiva Willig turned to his father and asked, “Why don’t you ever discuss that with Rav Ausband?”

“We agree on ninety-eight percent of things,” Rav Willig replied. “The other two percent, we don’t discuss.”

Of course, this does not mean the community was without fissures. Riverdale is home to the Open Orthodox movement, which advances interpretations of Torah that go far beyond accepted Orthodox norms. To the best of my knowledge, Rav Ausband and the yeshivah never engaged with such voices. When differences are so fundamental, dialogue ceases to be constructive.

I recall hearing at the shivah from his son and successor Rav Eliyahu, that Rav Ausband was instrumental in starting the Riverdale Gemach, which benefits the entire community. He asked, “Why do Williamsburg, Lakewood, and Flatbush have a book full of gemachim, and affluent Riverdale does not?”

This is a testament to Rav Ausband; while he dwelled within the walls of the beis medrash, he also possessed an abiding concern for the well-being of others.

Always Approachable

Likely because I was his neighbor and not his student, to me he was approachable, and he always expressed a thoughtful passing comment with energy. I was privileged to have had several Shabbos meals at his table, including one with just Rav Ausband and his rebbetzin. His passionate singing of zemiros was memorable, and his intellectual curiosity was always on display.

I recall discussing in detail lesser-known facets of the Telshe mesorah; Rav Leizer Telzer and his relationship with the mussar movement; who was in Telshe before Rav Leizer Telzer, and so forth.... Rav Ausband was as well-versed as anyone in the majestic history of Telshe, his understanding rivaling and perhaps surpassing that of the most devoted historians.

I will never forget bringing over my kallah, Chaya, and introducing her to Rav Ausband and his Rebbetzin.

He drove out to Brooklyn to attend our wedding, even though I was neither a major donor nor a former student. That gesture spoke volumes.

Legacy of Fire

I heard him repeat one idea again and again, in different contexts, with the same conviction: “What are we here for?” It was his leitmotif, his shorthand, for reminding himself and others that a Jew’s life demands purpose, focus, and an unwavering sense of mission.

I vividly recall a yeshivah dinner that coincided with the Super Bowl. Rav Ausband thundered from the podium, incredulous that this could possibly present a scheduling conflict for people. For him, the answer was self-evident — that supporting the eternal takes precedence over the ephemeral.

Rav Ausband was not an accommodationist. But he could be nuanced. When a prominent Orthodox institutional builder passed away and tributes from across the spectrum poured in, a prominent rosh yeshivah objected to tributes in certain outlets. Rav Ausband told me at his Shabbos table that he objected to the objection. He said that those institutions, while not for his students, serve a role in Klal Yisrael. That kind of perspective is perhaps too rare.

Rav Ausband bore the name of his maternal grandfather, Rav Avrohom Yitzchok Bloch Hy”d, who in turn was named after his great-grandfather, Rav Avrohom Yitzchok Nevisky, the father-in-law of Rav Leizer Telzer and a noted dayan in Kovno. The fires of Churban Europa are now, chronologically speaking, a step removed, and even a child born to survivors could have lived a reasonably full life. Rav Ausband in a certain sense embodied the transplanting and rebirth of Torah in what may be its final achsaniyah, its final lodging place, before Mashiach.

Today, people may not share the sense of urgency felt by the American Torah pioneers such as Rav Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz and Rav Aharon Kotler zichronam livrachah. It is easy to feel complacent with the remarkable growth of Torah in the US. Yet Rav Ausband’s sense of urgency was undiminished.

Rav Ausband did not view his proud ancestral heritage as a static inheritance, but as a mission. He could have found status and comfort as a rebbi in Telshe-Cleveland, or in his father-in-law’s yeshivah, Bais Hatalmud in Bensonhurst. Instead, he opened a yeshivah on less fertile grounds, and in the end, he built an empire whose influence stretched from Lakewood to Los Angeles and from Ner Yisroel to Nitra. He taught, by relentless example, that we must continue to push the boundaries of what Torah can achieve.

Rav Ausband was no ordinary neighbor. He was an ish emes, a man of unwavering truth, who embodied living with clarity, passion, and purpose. That enduring legacy continues to cast light upon our path going forward.

Shmuel Winiarz is a real estate attorney and amateur Jewish historian. He lives with his family in Passaic, New Jersey.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1075)