Reb Yaakov Rajchenbach never saw his assets as his own — he was merely a funnel for anyone in need

Photos: Chicago Community Kollel

He supported Torah institutions all over, he let others feed off his businesses, and he never saw the inside of a beis din, even if it meant losing millions. His recent passing has left a gaping void, especially in his home town of Chicago, Illinois, which he helped transform into the center of Torah and chesed it is today. But as nasi of Torah U’Mesorah, his reach went way beyond the city limits. That’s because Reb Yaakov Rajchenbach never saw his assets as his own — he was merely a funnel for anyone in need

One Friday night some eight years ago, a Chicago dining room hosting a shalom zachar was packed to capacity. But although the last available chair was taken while the guests kept pouring in, the beer and arbis lining the tables lay untouched. At the head of the table sat the zeide, Reb Yaakov Rajchenbach; this was his family, his community, it was everything he lived for, and he glowed with so much pride. The people were proud too, proud to be part of a community whose leaders cared so much.

Someone began to sing, a song not usually sung at a shalom zachor: “V’chol mi she’oskim, b’tzarchei tzibbur b’emunah…”

And suddenly, the mood shifted. The pride was still there, but now, there were tears, signaling an emotion few could describe but everyone shared. “Hakadosh Baruch Hu, y’shalem secharam, v’yasir meihem kol machalah, v’yirpa l’chol gufam…”

It was Shabbos and no one wanted to cry, but the words of the age-old tefillah seemed to have been written specifically for this moment. Just a few days earlier the ominous news had come out: Rabbi Yaakov Rajchenbach wasn’t well, and the doctors were giving him a few months, tops.

“Veyishlach brachah v’hatzlachah b’chol ma’aseh yedeihem…”

Those tefillos must have pierced the heavens because the doctors’ prognosis went unfulfilled — for eight years. The man who spent a lifetime enhancing so many lives would continue to live. He would continue to be that pillar of support for Torah institutions the world over. He would continue to be that listening ear and generous heart that had been the address for thousands in desperate need. He would continue to be a shining example of a true ben Torah, the humblest student at the service of his rebbeim. The doctors said he couldn’t, but he did.

Maybe because of the final phrase: “Im kol Yisrael acheihem, v’nomar Amein — along with all Yisrael, his brothers…” Yaakov Rajchenbach lived for his people. And so, in Shamayim, they said Amen.

Reb Yaakov, who never saw the inside of a beis din, knew his wealth was given to him to distribute to Klal Yisrael. So why fight over money that really isn’t yours?

Beyond Integrity

As the owner of a national lending institution, Mr. Brian Cory was a busy man. But this deal needed time and he cleared his schedule accordingly. He, together with his credit analyst, concentrated intensely as they carefully reviewed each document. It was a high-profile deal and the numbers all seemed to be adding up  but there was one component to the deal’s structure that made no sense at all. Mincing no words, Mr. Cory looked up to face the client sitting on the other side of his desk.

“Mr. Rajchenbach,” he said sharply, “what in Heaven’s name is wrong with you?”

Yaakov Rajchenbach stared back, poker-faced. The banker pressed on.

“The other investor defaulted on this deal, Mr. Rajchenbach. He messed up, he didn’t perform! Now you hold the sole lien on this property — take it! Take the whole deal! Why are you offering to bail him out?!”

Yaakov Rajchenbach spoke deliberately. “I’ve been in business for 40 years,” he said, “I will never kick a man when he’s down.”

Albert Miller, a respected member of Minneapolis’s Orthodox community, was present at that meeting. “The defaulting investor in that deal wasn’t even Jewish,” he says, “and, had Yaakov done as the banker suggested, he stood to make a small fortune.” But he wouldn’t. Regardless of who the other investor was, Yaakov Rajchenbach didn’t hurt people. This wasn’t about chesed, it was about integrity. Yaakov Rajchenbach’s sterling character never swayed; it might have cost him millions but it earned him something greater.

When he passed away this summer on 8 Av, Albert called Brian Cory to inform him of the news. The seasoned financier sighed.

“I’ve been doing this for 45 years,” Cory said, “and I have never met a man with the morals and character of Yaakov Rajchenbach. I am very sorry for this loss.”

Stories like this one were so common in the world of Yaakov Rajchenbach that partners came to expect it. And it may have been about integrity, but at times it went well beyond that.

A group of investors, led by Yaakov, once put a significant amount of money into a certain business venture, but the venture dissolved rapidly and a fiery game of finger-pointing ensued. The banks were calling in their loans and the investors demanded that it be taken to the courts: Let the right man win; let the others suffer the consequences of a devastating loss. But one investor demurred. Yaakov Rajchenbach, leader of the investing group, held firm. “I won’t do it,” he said simply, “I’m not going to beis din or to court over this.” Instead, Yaakov sat down with the group and managed to convince them to pursue a settlement agreement with the banks rather than proceed with litigation. The case settled and, as far as the group was concerned, the story was over. But it wasn’t really.

Shortly thereafter, a good friend of the defaulted business owner received a phone call. It was Yaakov Rajchenbach and he had a question. “Listen,” he said, “this fellow’s business failed. What will he do about parnassah? Is there any way we can help him get back on his feet?”

A kiddush Hashem to the outside world, a never-ending flow of chesed to the inside world.