Rav Gamliel HaKohein Rabinowitz fuses the hidden and revealed light to help every broken soul radiate its own holiness

Photos: AEGedolim photos, Eli Cobin

“Tei’ere Yidden, ich hub eich zei’er leeb — Dear Jews, I love you very much.”

For another person, it might sound like a bit of an expansive greeting, but not for Rav Gamliel Rabinowitz, whose recorded messages reach a vast number of Jews.

Not for him.

At Yeshivas Shaar HaShamayim, the Kabbalah yeshivah he heads, nishmas Yisrael — the collective soul of a nation and the many streams that run forth from it — is a sugya, studied just like the halachos of Shabbos or basar b’chalav.

Tei’ere Yidden is the space in which Rav Gamliel HaKohein Rabinowitz, rosh yeshivah of the century-old institution, exists — connected with, enamored of, and dedicated to, nishmas Yisrael.

And “ich hub eich zei’er leeb,” too: “Hamevarech es amo Yisrael b’ahavah,” the right and legacy of the Kohein, the love that flows from this Kohein in particular.

Once, when the living room, dining room, and hallways of the apartment on Rechov Moshe Chagiz were overflowing with people waiting to speak with Rav Gamliel, a large man stood up and shouted in the direction of the room, “HaRav, why do I have to wait for your brachah? I will go to Zichron Moshe in the morning and get it by Bircas Kohanim.”

The door opened a crack and Rav Gamliel peered out, his face serious. “Ken, atah tzodek – You are right.”

There’s no gabbai or office, no mosdos with his name on the letterhead, no assumed rabbinic pomp. To the contrary, even after the crowds were beating a path to his door, his name being passed from one enthusiastic American to another (and it always starts with them), he continued to receive people in the same room, in the same chair. Huge, overstuffed, an old-fashioned recliner that belongs in some retired person’s den. Not your typical mekubal piece of furniture, but nothing is typical in this realm, the world of Rav Gamliel.

Perhaps he’s an unlikely candidate for the global role he has come to fill, this child of Yerushalayim who exudes the charm of the city, yet whose influence is felt across the world.

Born 70 years ago in Meah Shearim, land of steep staircases and fortress-like walls and resolve hewn out of that very stone, his story begins with his father. But his father isn’t just its opening chapter, it’s the chorus that plays constantly in Rav Gamliel’s life.

Once, a wealthy American philanthropist came to speak with Rav Gamliel. Close talmidim hoped that the Rav, who won’t ask for money or even accept it when offered, would make an exception in this case and accept a donation. There were so many needs, so much that could be accomplished with funding.

The gentleman came into the humble apartment and the sliding doors closed behind him. Rav Gamliel chatted with his visitor, and then asked a question.

Had he come with a car?

Yes, the man replied, there was a driver waiting downstairs.

“Great, then let’s go visit my father, that’s a real zechus,” Rav Gamliel said, and just like that, the visit — and opportunity — ended, because as the Rav always tells visitors, again and again, “Kibbud av v’eim, dos iz di yesoid, this is the basis of everything. Start being careful in kibbud av v’eim and you will see such brachah.”

Rav Levi Rabinowitz was a respected talmid chacham and mechaber of the popular sefer Ma’adanei Shulchan, a quiet, saintly man who toiled in Torah in relative obscurity. He’d planned to release his sefer anonymously, but his friend, the great mashpia, Rav Usher Freund, suggested differently.

“You don’t want to include your name because you worry about gaavah,” said Rav Usher, “but if you don’t include your name, the yetzer hara will say, ‘Psssh, Reb Levi, you wrote such an impressive sefer and you didn’t even include your name, you’re a gaon, a tzaddik and also an anav,’ so what will you have accomplished?” Reb Levi accepted the wise argument.

Rav Gamliel often mentions his father in his shmuessen, but he focuses on a much earlier part of his father’s life. Rav Levi, orphaned of both father and mother as a child, was raised in the Diskin Orphan Home. By the time of his passing, Rav Levi Rabinowitz had over 1,000 descendants. “A person sees nothing, we have no idea what kind of seeds we carry within us, the unlimited potential of a human being,” Rav Gamliel says. It’s a message he shares with struggling young people, persuading them that the future is bright, infinite, filled with possibility.

At Rav Levi’s levayah, his brokenhearted eldest son Rav Gamliel insisted that his younger brother, Rav Elchanan, speak first. Rav Elchanan was especially devoted to their father, assisting him in the publication of the seforim, and Rav Gamliel felt that since his younger brother had outdone him in kibbud av, he should give the first hesped.

The respect between the brothers, and what it showed about the chinuch they received, was, in a sense, itself a hesped on Rav Levi .