There is the low hum of a fluorescent bulb and the sound of tapping feet. People glance at their watches say Tehillim or converse quietly. In the high-ceilinged waiting room outside the chamber of the Eidah Hacharedis Beis Din they wait for their turn — for the chance to unburden themselves of the questions and confusion that have been weighing on them for the gift of clarity that will come along with the psak. Behind the heavy wooden door the Rosh Beis Din — or Raavad — is presiding over dinei Torah as he does every Tuesday afternoon. Thorny monetary disagreements pile up on the table along with complex marriage issues some garden-variety milchig-spoon-in-fleishig-pot questions added to the mix. In more than seven decades of answering sh’eilos the Raavad has heard them all. The large beis medrash at the yeshivah is filled with the sound of voices rising and falling chavrusas arguing talmidim swaying at their shtenders in lomdishe singsong. The afternoon seder is reaching its end but there is anticipation in the air. The Rosh Yeshivah is coming to deliver shiur. Outside some bochurim already wait for the familiar black car to appear on the road leading into Ramot. A couple sits in the lobby of the Har Nof apartment building. They aren’t sure what to name the new baby and they’ve agreed that they need a gadol to help them work through the options. They know that the Rav will open the door if he’s home but he isn’t so they sit down to wait. Outside the historic beis din chambers at Zupnik Square seat of authentic old-yishuv ideology in the beis medrash of an elite litvish yeshivah in Ramot in front of a building in a Jerusalem neighborhood heavy in Anglo immigrants they all wait for the same man.