CHAPTER TWO // Preserving the Crown Jewels

A System in Shambles

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a meeting of the Vaad HaYeshivos, the Chofetz Chaim famously shared his take on the true utility of wealth: “Money is time; if there is money, there is leisure, and if there is leisure, it can be dedicated to Torah.”

Rav Shlomo Chanoch exemplified this teaching. He used his wealth — and his time on earth — to spread Torah by establishing and maintaining a network of yeshivos unmatched in its ambition and scope.

The venture began on Lag B’omer 5686 (1926), when Rav Shlomo Chanoch gathered his leading chassidim in Krakow for a momentous gathering. There, he shared a concern that pressed on him. It wasn’t limited to Radomsk, but included the future of all of Poland’s young Jews.

Before the upheaval of World War I, Torah study in Poland thrived in a decentralized manner. Young men, both chassidic and non-chassidic, began their studies in cheder and, as they grew capable, transitioned to the beis medrash, where they immersed themselves in independent learning. They studied without formal structure, guided only by a local rav or rebbe.

This unstructured environment allowed for the emergence of countless lamdanim — men who became true Torah scholars through self-motivation and perseverance. As journalist and historian Hillel Seidman (1914-1995) recalled, “Indeed, there were tens of thousands of lamdanim in Poland and Galicia… They learned and learned in a variety of settings and arrangements… but not in yeshivahs.”

But World War I left this system in shambles. Communities were dispersed, and the traditional model of Torah study was weakened. Modernity’s allure and the devastating impact of the war left a void that could no longer be filled by the unstructured approach of the past.

The rise of secular movements such as the Bund and other ideologies further threatened the spiritual fabric of Jewish youth, drawing them away from Torah study. Rav Kalonymus Kalman Shapira of Piaseczna (1889-1943), author of Chovas HaTalmidim and Aish Kodesh, who founded Yeshiva Daas Moshe in 1923, voiced the urgency of the situation, lamenting that young men were abandoning Torah and drifting toward secular influences.

The Bobover Rebbe, Rav Ben Tzion Halberstam (1874-1941), who in 1922 founded Etz Chaim, the largest yeshivah network in interwar Galicia, likewise observed that, “The recent successes of Zionism and Socialism… had been made possible only by the wartime destruction of Torah institutions, as a result of which misguided ideas had entrenched themselves day after day in the Jewish street; and profane movements, organizations, and parties had cast their nets and ensnared numerous innocent souls in their idolatry.”

Rav Menachem Ziemba echoed this sentiment, writing that as a result of World War I, “The embers of Torah, once burning brightly in the heart of Poland, have been scattered to the winds.”

Rav Shlomo Chanoch recognized that the old ways could no longer sustain the next generation’s spiritual growth — Poland’s informal system of study was crumbling. He took note of Lithuania, which had long established yeshivos as bastions of Torah learning in response to its own challenges, and understood that a structured and organized network of yeshivos was not just necessary — it was essential. On the one hand, there was a need to develop and train advanced students to be future Torah leaders, a need that the Rebbe would fill with his elite Kibbutz in Sosnowiec (and Rav Meir Shapiro would go on to build in Lublin). But equally urgent was a pressing need for Yeshivos that would cater to younger, less advanced students, those still at an impressionable age, most susceptible to the contagion of the secular winds sweeping postwar Europe. These younger students needed a series of local institutions, close to home, that would fill them with Torah and yiras Shamayim.

This was the genesis of the Radomsk Kesser Torah yeshivah network, a bold initiative to create a structured and formal framework for Torah learning, much like the yeshivos of Lithuania. This network would stand as a fortress against the encroaching secular ideologies, reigniting the scattered embers of Torah and nurturing them to become a robust, enduring source of light.

Open-Door Policy

Only months later, the first Kesser Torah yeshivah was established in Krakow, a city with a strong Radomsker chassidic presence, including six Radomsker shtiblach and a group of respected and affluent chassidim who invested heavily in this trailblazing endeavor. The city’s blend of Torah scholarship, chassidic warmth, and tranquility made it the ideal birthplace for Kesser Torah.

The initial yeshivah quickly paved the way for the network’s rapid expansion. Within a year or so, Kesser Torah grew to encompass almost a dozen yeshivos, drawing talmidim from across Poland and Galicia. These yeshivos spanned from Krakow, which eventually housed three large yeshivos, to cities like Sosnowiec, Będzin, Lodz, and even Auschwitz (Oshpitsin).

And here was the second innovation of the Radomsker Rebbe. Most chassidic yeshivos in Poland were closely tied to their dynasties — Bobov had Etz Chaim, the Aleksander Rebbe founded Bais Yisrael, and Sochatchov had its own institutions — yet Kesser Torah welcomed talmidim and leadership from varied backgrounds.

Except for the yeshivahs in Sosnowiec, which was the seat of the Radomsker dynasty, all of the Kesser Torah yeshivahs were located in other cities and towns and its student bodies were not limited to the sons of Radomsker chassidim — far from it. If you wanted to learn, your specific affiliation did not matter; you could find a place in Kesser Torah.

This attitude was in concert with the Rebbe’s general inclusive attitude. In fact, he made it his practice to travel to many other rebbes, showing respect to them all, and lauding their virtuous qualities and extraordinary powers.

The “open door policy” extended to staff as well. Rav Yosef Lasser, a Belzer chassid, led the flagship yeshivah in Sosnowiec, while Rav Shmuel Eilbaum, who stemmed from a Lithuanian yeshivah background, headed the Lodz branch. Rav Chaim Tobias (1889-1943), who was appointed rosh yeshivah of the Kshanov (Chrzanów) division, was first introduced to the Rebbe as an adult, during his stint as an educator in Weimar-era Berlin. Another rosh yeshivah for a brief period in Kshanov was Rav Shimele “Zelichover” Engel (1877-1943), who was raised in the home of the Kozhnitzer Rebbe and later served as mashgiach in Chachmei Lublin. The faculty of the greater Kesser Torah network included, at various times, Rav Shmuel Ahron Miller (1865-1942) of Łabowa, and Rav Yisrael Yitzchak Piekarski (1905-1992), who would later replace Rav Yisrael Zev Gustman (1908-1991) as rosh yeshivah of Tomchei Temimim.

Since most of the expenses were paid from the private pocket of the Rebbe and his wealthy chassidim who resided in that locale, Kesser Torah was spared the difficult and draining fundraising efforts that occupied most of the era’s yeshivos. No ads were placed in the Yiddish press. Emissaries were not sent across the world, and unlike practically every single yeshivah in Europe at the time, Kesser Torah did not request funding from the Joint, nor did the network maintain a fundraising office in America.

By the late 1930s, the Kesser Torah network had grown to become the largest of its kind in Europe, consisting of 36 yeshivahs with over 4,000 students. Its impact was felt across the spiritual landscape of Polish Jewry. A common joke circulated in chassidic circles, that the Radomsker Rebbe, who was known to shun the limelight, had deliberately capped the number of yeshivahs at 36 to keep them hidden, just like the “36 Hidden Tzaddikim” in whose merit the world exists. To this, Radomsker chassidim would often respond with a knowing smile, saying that there was indeed some truth to the jest. The Kesser Torah yeshivahs, much like the hidden tzaddikim, quietly upheld the Jewish world, sustaining it with their Torah learning and dedication — even if few truly knew the extent of their reach and significance.

Son-in-Law and Successor

As the Rebbe tirelessly grew the Kesser Torah network, he couldn’t help but reflect on his own future. The availability of insulin in the early 1920s offered a glimmer of hope for his diabetes. He believed this miracle drug might allow him to break his family’s cycle and live beyond the age of 50 — something neither his father nor grandfather had achieved.

His chassidim witnessed this dose of hope every Shabbos and Yom Tov at the tish. As the Rebbe would sit, surrounded by throngs of chassidim and burning with a holy fire, there was one poignant, unforgettable moment: Just before Kiddush, he paused while a doctor administered an insulin injection.

About two decades earlier, in 1905, he and his wife Esther merited the birth of what would prove to be their only child, a daughter named Raizel. When she came of age, it was understood that her husband would become the heir to the storied Radomsk legacy.

The Radomsker Rebbe was well aware that the lure of wealth and the keys to one of the three largest chassidic dynasties in Poland might bring him less-than-suitable suggestions. In true Radomsker tradition, he did not look very far for a solution — for the future of Radomsk could lie in no better hands than the Rebbe’s first cousin, Rav Dovid Moshe HaKohein Rabinowitz.

Rav Moshele, as he was fondly known, was born in 1906 to Rav Nosson Nachum HaKohein Rabinowitz (1871-1943), the Rebbe of Krymolov and a younger brother of the third rebbe of Radomsk, the Knesses Yechezkel. From his youth, it was clear that Rav Moshele was destined for greatness, displaying an extraordinary grasp of Torah and a reputation as a true illui.

When he was a child, Moshele’s family moved from Krymolov to nearby Zawiercie. The local yeshivah in Zawiercie (named Migdal Oz) was headed by a young Radomsker chassid named Rav Shmuel Ahron Pardes (1887-1956), who also edited, since 1913, an eponymous Torah journal. Rav Pardes was a close student of the previous rebbe, Rav Yechezkel, and the volume Knesses Yechezkel was largely based on his personal notes.

Rav Pardes later settled in the United States, transplanting HaPardes to Chicago. Years after their last encounter, he recalled Rav Moshele’s brilliance with awe. “I was amazed,” he wrote, “on my return visits to Poland, by the sheer magnitude of his Torah knowledge and yiras Shamayim.”

Noted Jewish activist and historian Rabbi Dr. Isaac Lewin (1906-1995) was another scholar who described the young man’s remarkable mind. He recalled spending the summer of 1926 together with the young Moshele Rabinowitz in the Galician spa village of Truskawiec (present day Truskavets, Ukraine): “Some of the greatest Torah authorities in Poland were gathered there, and day in, day out, they conversed in Torah topics. The young Moshele Rabinowitz amazed everybody — there wasn’t a Tosafos he didn’t recall, no theory suggested by a Rishon that he was unfamiliar with. As the discussion delved deeper and grew more complicated, his young face would begin to glow.”

Like an Open Book

After Rav Moshele married Raizel in the spring of 1928, he immersed himself completely in Torah, supported by his father-in-law. Day and night, he would sit and learn, sometimes for as long as 20 hours without interruption. It was said that despite the Radomsker Rebbe’s wealth, Rav Moshele never handled money. Torah was his only currency. His talmidim would later recount that, “Rav Moshele swam in the sea of Shas like a fish in water. Torah was his life-breath.”

As his student Reb Berish Zolty, later a distinguished lay leader in Toronto, recalled, “In Rav Moshele we saw the embodiment of the Rebbe of Radomsk’s Torah… Torah wasn’t merely a goal or aspiration; it was truly his entire vitality, his whole essence.” His face would shine when a new idea or insight occurred to him, and his talmidim saw his visible delight when he uncovered new depths of Torah.

Reb Pinchos Feinstat witnessed a striking moment that highlighted the Rebbe’s esteem for his special son-in-law one summer at the Bistra health resort. It was Tishah B’Av, and Rav Moshele read Megillas Eichah for the gathered guests. The Rebbe intentionally positioned himself in a spot that prevented him from deriving any pleasure from his son-in-law’s radiant face on this day of mourning.

Within the court of the Radomsker Rebbe, especially on Yom Tov, Rav Moshele played a pivotal role. While the Rebbe conducted tishen, Rav Moshele was seated off to the side, ready to answer any kushya that came his way. One young talmid described this scene vividly: “While the tishen took place, Rav Moshele would sit on the sidelines where every few minutes another talmid chacham would ask him a kushya that was troubling him in the sugya he was learning. Rav Moshele sat and resolved each one’s difficulties as though all of the Torah was an open book before him.”

In Rav Moshele, the Rebbe did not only see his successor as Rebbe; he saw a fitting leader for the Kesser Torah network. And so Rav Moshele was tasked with overseeing Kesser Torah as well as delivering twice-weekly shiurim at the network’s Kibbutz Govohah in Sosnowiec, an elite group comprising the network’s top students.

In addition, he regularly visited each yeshivah, ensuring the talmidim were progressing in their learning and delivering shiurim that left a lasting impression. His commitment to the yeshivah network was most evident during the grand public examinations at the end of each zeman. The annual public exams, a hallmark of Kesser Torah, became legendary events that drew entire communities. On exam days, shopkeepers would close up early, and residents would gather to witness the extraordinary knowledge displayed by these young talmidim.

Rav Moshele would personally travel to each yeshivah to conduct these exams, and at the festive “Seudas Mitzvah” that followed, he shared divrei Torah rich with depth and inspiration.

Rav Meir Shapiro (1887-1933) of Lublin once attended such an examination and was deeply moved by the display of Torah knowledge and insight. “The world does not know what geniuses are present and being perfected here!” he proclaimed.

This admiration later led Rav Meir Shapiro to offer Rav Moshele — then still in his twenties — the position of rosh yeshivah of his newly-established Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin. But, in a gesture that defined his humility and loyalty, Rav Moshele declined, choosing to remain at the helm of Kesser Torah. (This offer was broached once again following Rav Meir’s passing, when Rav Moshele received considerable pressure from many of the leading gedolim across Poland, but once again declined the offer.)

A talmid of Rav Moshele shared an unforgettable episode that occurred one summer: “I was privileged to accompany Rabbeinu to the health resort town of Krenitz (Krynica-Zdroj). Even here he did not go out for walks, but stayed in the house learning, until his father-in-law insisted that he take a walk for the sake of his health.

“We started walking and met the Brisker Rav. Immediately a lively discussion ensued between the two. Then Rav Moshele requested that the Brisker Rav test me, his talmid. I began to say chiddushim that I had heard from my Rebbe, but before I could continue, a fierce Torah argument broke out between the two personalities.

“It was a scene the likes of which Krenitz had never witnessed: two gedolei Yisrael in a stormy debate; one brings a raayah only to be rebuffed by the other’s kushya. One asks and the other answers. Until finally the storm subsided and the Brisker Rav asked for a drink so he could recover from the heat of his fiery discussion.”

Depth and Breadth

With the vision of Rav Shlomo Chanoch and the active stewardship of Rav Moshele, the Kesser Torah grew and developed in both quantity and quality. Its enrollment of 4,000 talmidim surpassed that of all the Lithuanian yeshivahs combined.

The Kesser Torah yeshivos catered primarily to younger talmidim, ranging in age from 13 to 14 up through their early twenties (a sizable percentage of those who continued learning attended Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin). Yet the crown jewel of the entire Kesser Torah network was undoubtedly the Kibbutz Govohah in Sosnowiec, the city that became the Radomsker Rebbe’s court after World War I. Established by the Rebbe himself, the Kibbutz Govohah was reserved for the elite among the older students — the cream of the crop from across the yeshivah network — and it drew some of the most brilliant minds in Poland to Sosnowiec. It was the Rebbe’s fervent hope that this elite Kibbutz would cultivate the leaders of the next generation.

The derech halimud (method of learning) of the Kesser Torah yeshivos was a unique synthesis of the Lithuanian and Polish approaches, combining rigorous analytical study with the warmth and passion of chassidus. While Lithuanian yeshivos focused on the “yeshivishe masechtos,” which then were primarily Kesubos and the three Bavas (Bava Kamma, Bava Metzia, and Bava Basra), the yeshivos of Radomsk did not prioritize one masechta over another.

Gemara was learned with Tosafos and the Rishonim. The curriculum did not include Shulchan Aruch Yoreh Dei’ah or Choshen Mishpat, because the aim of the yeshivah was not to produce poskim; its purpose was solely the study of Torah lishmah. And in fact, numerous lamdanim familiar with all of Shas emerged from these yeshivos, though they never took rabbinic roles.

Unlike many other Polish yeshivos, which often emphasized breadth over depth, Kesser Torah demanded both. Each sugya was dissected with precision, and every shiur guided the talmidim toward a clear and thorough understanding of the text. The Rebbe instructed that pilpul (intricate arguments) should not be the focal point; instead, learning should be anchored in a straightforward, logical approach that led to practical conclusions.

The Kohein’s Calling

Under the leadership of Rav Moshele — and with the Rebbe’s blessing — the Kesser Torah talmidim began to study Seder Kodshim. This was in line with the call to action of the Chofetz Chaim, who proclaimed that the study of the laws related to the Avodah in the Beis Hamikdash would help hasten the arrival of Mashiach.

Rav Meir Shapiro was the first in Poland to answer that call, and soon thereafter Kesser Torah began to study Zevachim and Chullin as well. In addition to that, each zeman, meaning each half year, they completed one of the other masechtos of Kodshim, such as Menachos or Bechoros. This was in addition to the “official” masechtos in Seder Nashim and Moed, which were studied in great depth.

When it came to Kodshim, Rav Moshele did not just teach the topic; just like the Chofetz Chaim, he lived it. His devoted student, Rav Yechezkel Grubner, recalled how Rav Moshele, who was a Kohein, would often say: “I am familiar with and accustomed to the Avodah, for the Beis Hamikdash will be rebuilt speedily and we need to be prepared.”

The study of the Seder Kodshim on this scale was a novelty. But that was not all; Rav Moshele introduced yet another innovation — the study of masechtos that do not have their own Talmud Bavli, such as Mikvaos, Taharos, and most of Seder Zera’im.

First, Finish Shas

While Kesser Torah was a chassidish network staffed by and serving chassidim, the Rebbe’s vision for Kesser Torah was unambiguous: the foundation had to be Torah, and only Torah. He guided the roshei yeshivah to ensure that talmidim first “filled their bellies with Shas and poskim” before delving into the world of chassidus.

An episode recounted by Reb Chaskel Besser captures this insistence. While the Rebbe was in Krenitz for a health retreat, a group of roshei yeshivah from the Kesser Torah network came to submit their annual reports. One of them mentioned that his talmidim studied Tiferes Shlomo, the work of the Rebbe’s great-grandfather, every Friday instead of their usual seder. Upon hearing this, the Rebbe’s expression darkened, and he responded, “Tiferes Shlomo? Chassidus? Have they already completed Shas?”

For the Rebbe, the primacy of Torah study was nonnegotiable, and the talmidim needed to be immersed in the basics before exploring chassidus.

The network’s dedication to Torah learning extended beyond the walls of the beis medrash. Kesser Torah produced a Torah journal, featuring chiddushim from some of the era’s greatest Torah minds and reaching far beyond the Radomsker circles. Torah insights from Rav Shlomo of Pinchov (1680-1761), the Rebbe’s great-grandfather and author of Yakhel Shlomo, were regularly featured, along with contributions from luminaries such as Rav Yehoshua of Kutno, The Kozhiglover Gaon, the Tchebiner Rav, Rav Meir Arik (1855-1925), and many others. These giants of Torah saw the Kesser Torah journal as a worthy platform to disseminate their ideas, a testament to the yeshivah’s standing in the broader Torah world.

Above all, Rav Moshele’s own contributions to the journal were nothing short of remarkable. His lengthy pilpulim demonstrated not only his mastery of Torah but also his ability to unveil the deeper layers of every sugya. The clarity and depth of his Torah insights became a defining feature of the journal, embodying the Kesser Torah spirit of rigorous analysis combined with an unwavering love for Torah.

The brilliant young Rav Yitzchak Meir Zhorker was one of the exceptional talmidim of Rav Yosef Lasser, and also benefited from private shiurim with Rav Moshele. Yitzchak Meir’s diligence and extraordinary memory allowed him to retain the entire Shas with all of Rashi and Tosafos. It was said that when Rav Lasser was unsure of a particular Rashi or Tosafos, Yitzchak Meir could instantly provide the exact source.

Once, the renowned Rav Tevele Dukler (1864-1942), author of Minchas Soles (and grandfather of Rav Pinchas Hirschprung), visited the Rebbe of Radomsk in Sosnowiec. “Come, I want to show you my Shas,” Rav Lasser beckoned — and presented Yitzchak Meir.

One Motzaei Shabbos, when Yitzchak Meir took leave of Rav Shlomo Chanoch, the Rebbe told him, “Yitzchak Meir, you should study b’taharos (in purity)….”

Unsure of the meaning behind the Rebbe’s cryptic words, Yitzchak Meir later told his friend Rav Yechezkel Grubner (1918-2009) that surely the Rebbe meant he should master Seder Taharos, which he hadn’t studied yet. With this directive in mind, he began learning day and night, thinking, “How can I face the Rebbe next Shabbos without having mastered Seder Taharos?”

That very week, by Wednesday, Rav Grubner recounts, Yitzchak Meir had completed Maseches Keilim and Ohalos, and asked his good friend to test him. He then recited the mishnah from memory, along with the Rosh’s commentary — letter by letter, word by word. He was just 20 years old at the time.

While the great majority of Kesser Torah students were consumed by the flames of the Holocaust, there are a few familiar names among the rosters. These include Rav Yonah Sztencl (1904-1969), later an av beis din in Tel Aviv who formalized the study of both Mishnah Yomis and the Halachah Yomis; noted posek Rav Gedalia Felder (1921-1991); Rav Baruch Shimon Schneersohn (1913-2001), who served as rosh yeshivah of the Tchebiner Yeshivah; and Rav Yisrael Alter Safrin-Fuchs, who became the chassidic rav of Dvinsk following the passing of the Rogatchover Gaon (and eventually helped facilitate the rescue of the Gaon’s manuscripts).

Reb Yankel Finkelstein, a renowned student of the Mir Yeshiva who went on to become a great Torah philanthropist in America, grew up in the Lublin suburb of Koriv. His family were chassidim of the rebbes belonging to the Eiger family. In an interview with Rabbi Dov Eliach, he described the miserable state of Yiddishkeit among the youth of his time.

I’ll give you an example of how things were deteriorating in our town. When my father was trading in bottles — buying and selling them — his business once took him to the local tavern, the pub. I was around twelve, and since I used to help him out with his business, I joined him. As soon as we stepped inside, I was aghast to see several young people from our community, all from religious homes because back then there was no other type of home, sitting and enjoying a meal of pork!

That was the direction Yiddishkeit was taking in those days. All the parents were religious — there was just one avowed Shabbos desecrator in town — but most of the young people had strayed. The crowd I saw in the tavern had stopped dressing like religious Jews, of course, but they were still embarrassed. That’s why they tried to hide under their coats.

Reb Yankel went on to describe how he was sent away from home to study at the Kielce and Cszentochow branches of Kesser Torah, which led to him eventually moving on to learn in the Torah citadel of Mir, while most of those he grew up with left the fold, gravitating toward the various movements of the time.

CHAPTER THREE // Man Of His People

A Kvittel from the Rebbe

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keeping with the family legacy of shalom, the Rebbe remained completely removed from the political tensions that embroiled Poland at the time. He never joined Agudas Yisrael; he supported the party when he felt it was necessary but sometimes steered away from the group, telling his chassidim to follow the lead of their local rabbanim when it came to political decisions.

And despite his considerable wealth, he lived frugally and with great humility. It was well known that the Rebbe’s apartment in Sosnowiec was situated among dozens of tenants, including the destitute poor, on an upper floor, and was furnished very simply. He experienced very little personal benefit from his wealth.

When it came to others, though, the Rebbe’s generosity knew no bounds. He supported the fallen, aided the poor, and assisted the needy with a generous, open hand. Many stories have been told of his generosity — which perhaps is unsurprising, considering his wealth. However, it was the way that he went about the giving that made it noteworthy.

In Sosnowiec there lived an elderly chassid and renowned Torah scholar, Rav Yitzchak Elimelech HaKohein Singer (1865–1934), a descendant of the Noam Elimelech and himself the esteemed author of Zichron Elimelech. Though not a Radomsker chassid, Rav Elimelech had a unique and profound relationship with the Rebbe and would often recount stories that revealed the depths of the Rebbe’s deeds of chesed and tzedakah.

Rav Elimelech would always preface these accounts with the introduction: “You should know, I am not a Radomsker chassid. But I tell you, even though you are his chassidim, you still don’t realize the kind of rebbe you have….”

One such story took place the night before Rosh Hashanah, known as the night of “Zechor Bris.” At around three in the morning, Rav Elimelech entered the Rebbe’s beis medrash, which was open at all hours, to immerse himself in Torah learning. Suddenly, the door to the Rebbe’s room opened, and the Rebbe entered. Seeing Rav Elimelech, he approached him and asked, “What are you doing here at this hour, Reb Meilech? Aren’t you concerned for your health?”

Rav Elimelech, who was older than the Rebbe, responded sharply, “I cannot permit myself to sleep, for the Day of Judgment is upon us.” Then, with a hint of concern, he added, “But you, the great Rebbe of Radomsk, who is known to be quite ill and weak — why don’t you rest at this hour?”

The Rebbe replied with a gentle smile, “You yourself said that the holy days are approaching — and they do not permit one to sleep.” With that, the Rebbe sat down beside Rav Elimelech. Before they parted ways, the Rebbe handed Rav Elimelech 100 zlotys and asked him to deliver the money, along with his warmest greetings of a “Gut Yahr” to his neighbor, a Torah scholar of holy lineage who was in dire financial straits.

The next morning, after davening, Rav Elimelech went to fulfill the Rebbe’s mission. But to his surprise, the man refused to accept the money, stating that he would not take “pidyonos” without receiving a kvittel.

Puzzled, Rav Elimelech asked, “Do you expect the Rebbe of Radomsk himself to give you a kvittel?”

The man remained resolute, insisting that he would not take the money without it.

Rav Elimelech found himself in a dilemma. How could he bring such a request to the saintly Rebbe, especially on Erev Rosh Hashanah, when the Rebbe was surrounded by hundreds of chassidim who had journeyed from across Poland and Galicia, by train, bus, and wagon, all longing to be in his presence? Nevertheless, Rav Elimelech mustered the courage to inform the Rebbe of the man’s response.

To his astonishment, the Rebbe smiled warmly and replied, “Is that so? If he insists, then we must go! Please, Reb Meilech’l, why don’t you come along with me?”

And so it was that on Erev Rosh Hashanah, despite the throngs of chassidim waiting for him, the Rebbe of one of Poland’s largest chassidic courts carved some time from his cramped schedule to humbly present a kvittel to a lonely and destitute man.

Whenever Rav Elimelech retold this story, he concluded by turning to the chassidim and saying, “So, do you now begin to understand the greatness of your Rebbe?”

Another incident Rav Elimelech would often recount — one that left a profound impression on him — demonstrated the Rebbe’s deep mesirus nefesh. Rav Yitzchak Glikman (1875-1929), the Zolkiewer Illiu, was the av beis din of Sosnowiec. When he was niftar in 1929, his levayah drew dozens of admorim and rabbanim from across the region, who came to pay their final respects to this towering Torah figure. Most of them traveled in carriages to accompany the great niftar to the cemetery.

But not the Radomsker Rebbe.

Despite his frail health, the Rebbe insisted on accompanying the aron on foot, walking the entire way. Rav Elimelech would emphasize that without a doubt, the Rebbe was the weakest and sickliest of all those present. Moreover, he could have easily paid for all the carriages together out of his own wealth. Yet he chose to fulfill the mitzvah of levayah by walking on his own two feet, displaying a level of kavod hameis and ahavas Yisrael that was unparalleled.

The Way Back

During one of the Rebbe’s visits to Berlin for medical treatment, he was accompanied by his devoted chassid, Reb Dovid Koschitzky. As they strolled through the city streets, the Rebbe suddenly expressed a desire to enter a department store and specifically requested to visit the stationery section. This unusual request left Reb Dovid puzzled, but he faithfully followed the Rebbe’s instructions.

Once in the stationery department, the Rebbe asked to purchase a pencil. Then, in a curious display, he began to write the word “Amalek,” only to erase it, repeatedly writing and erasing with deep concentration.

After a few moments, the Rebbe turned to Reb Dovid and quietly remarked, “Dovid, did you notice who just passed behind us?” Seeing nothing, Reb Dovid looked around until he finally spotted a man, partially hidden between the shelves, who seemed to be watching them intently. As Reb Dovid approached, the man asked, “Is the Rebbe here?”

A conversation unfolded, revealing that this man was not just any store employee; he had once been a devoted Radomsker chassid, a young man who had once immersed himself in Torah and mitzvos with boundless passion. Since arriving in Berlin, though, he had tragically strayed far from the derech, desecrating Shabbos and abandoning the sacred path of Yiddishkeit.

Rav Shlomo Chanoch, with his profound love and wisdom, engaged the young man in a heartfelt conversation, gently rekindling the spark that had dimmed. Before long, the man was moved to tears, and the Rebbe’s words penetrated his heart, inspiring him to return to the ways of Torah. Soon thereafter, he left his job at the department store and became a baal teshuvah, living out his life with unwavering devotion to Torah and mitzvos.

It was only then that Reb Dovid understood the deeper purpose behind the Rebbe’s seemingly strange actions. Many chassidim later suggested that the act of writing and erasing “Amalek” was a spiritual gesture, symbolizing the Rebbe’s efforts to erase the Amalek — the yetzer hara — buried within this young man’s heart, paving the way for his return.

Yet it wasn’t just these incredible acts that set Rav Shlomo Chanoch apart. It was his everyday avodah, witnessed by the hundreds of people who sought his counsel each week. The Rebbe’s mesirus nefesh extended to his tefillos on behalf of others. When someone shared his suffering with Rav Shlomo Chanoch, the Rebbe would rise on the spot to plead their case before the Ribbono shel Olam. His love for Klal Yisrael burned within him, and he would often quote the words of Tehillim (35:13), “And I, when they were ill, my clothing was sackcloth,” demonstrating how he wrapped himself entirely in their pain, not his own.

The extent of the Rebbe’s empathy was most evident during the Mi Shebeirach prayers after he was called up to the Torah each Shabbos. As the names of the sick were read aloud, his face would alternately flush and pale, visibly pained by their suffering.

The Rebbe would frequently teach his chassidim the importance of davening for others, explaining that when one prays on behalf of another Jew, the prayer assumes the status of the tefillas harabbim (prayer of the many), which Hashem never rejects.

He illustrated this concept with the example of Yitzchak Avinu (Bereishis 25:21): “And Yitzchak prayed to Hashem opposite his wife because she was barren, and the L-rd accepted his prayer, and Rivkah his wife conceived.” The Rebbe explained that Yitzchak’s prayer wasn’t only for Rivkah but for every Jewish woman in need of salvation. By praying for the entirety of Klal Yisrael, his tefillah was answered, while Rivkah, who prayed solely for herself, was not. This profound lesson of tefillah for others became a foundational principle for the Radomsker chassidim, echoing Chazal’s teaching that, “Whoever prays for his fellow, and he needs that same thing, is answered first.”

In the Back of the Wagon

The story is told of the Rebbe Reb Zusha arriving in a small town where the townspeople, eager to honor the tzaddik, unhitched the horse from his wagon and pulled it themselves. When Reb Zusha asked what the commotion was, they explained it was in honor of the tzaddik. Without hesitation, he jumped off the wagon and joined them, saying, “If it’s a mitzvah to honor a tzaddik, let me join in, too.”

This scene echoed throughout the life of the Rebbe. Radomsk was among the “Big Three” Polish dynasties, trailing only Gur and Aleksander in size, but the Rebbe never acted as if that was worth anything at all. He never remained “seated in the wagon.” Rather, he was constantly “pulling the yoke” alongside his chassidim — literally and figuratively.

A man who could have commanded authority and deference instead traveled far and wide to connect with other rebbes, even though he himself was one of the most esteemed chassidic leaders of his time. On those visits he displayed the utmost humility and respect, always eager to learn from another rebbe’s wisdom, despite his own towering stature.

During one of his visits to Marienbad, Rav Shlomo Chanoch approached the Belzer Rebbe Rav Yissachar Dov Rokeach with humility. When the elderly Belzer Rebbe stood to greet him and invited him to sit at his side, Rav Shlomo Chanoch refused. He preferred to seat himself at a distance, so he could take in the full scene of the great Belzer Rebbe.

Eventually, the chassidim were able to persuade him to move to a seat more befitting a leader of his stature. Almost immediately, Rav Yissachar Dov took hold of Rav Shlomo Chanoch’s silk kaftan, gartel, and tzitzis, asking, “Where did you obtain such precious garments?”

These cryptic yet awe-inspiring words revealed the Belzer Rebbe’s profound recognition of the Radomsker Rebbe’s spiritual stature and left a deep impression on all who witnessed the exchange.

Once, two merchants found themselves locked in a heated business dispute. One, trying to intimidate the other, claimed that his Rebbe had threatened to send a curse upon him if he didn’t yield, Heaven forbid. The second merchant, a devoted Radomsker Chassid, went straight to the Radomsker Rebbe to share what had transpired.

Upon hearing this, the Rebbe, the ultimate optimist, was visibly shaken. Turning to his brother-in-law, Rav Dovid Halberstam of Żmigród, he said, with a voice full of emotion: “R’ Dovid’l, did you hear? Please, write a letter to that Rebbe right away and tell him — I am a Kohein, and my power is to bless.”

The Rebbe then added with deep conviction, “They are clever in their evil scheming, but they know not how to do good. A Rebbe’s true power lies only in blessing, not, G-d forbid, in causing harm.”

The Minchas Elazar’s Promise

The Rebbe also took advantage of his regular stays in health resorts to honor other chassidic rebbes and observe their holy customs. In Marienbad, he could be seen subjugating himself to chassidic giants like Rav Yisrael of Tchortkov, the Imrei Emes of Gur (1865-1948), the Shearis Yitzchok of Sokolov (1866-1939), and many other great leaders.

The Rebbe was particularly awed by the presence of Rav Chaim Elazar Shapira (1868-1937), the Rebbe of Munkacs and author of the Minchas Elazar. The relationship between the two dynasties went back more than 40 years — and the respect that the Minchas Elazar had for the Rebbe’s grandfather is evident in an awe-inspiring eulogy that he composed following the Chesed L’Avraham’s passing in 1892. The hesped, later printed as special kuntres called Zichron Tzaddikim, relates:

“When I was in Karlsbad (just six weeks prior), I had the privilege to savor a bit of his (the Chesed L’Avraham’s) Torah, to behold the sweetness of his fear of Heaven and his righteousness. It was engraved deep within my heart, and I hoped to visit his court and be filled with delight. But now, alas! He was suddenly taken from us, to our profound sorrow. Woe to us, for we have sinned, and we have been ensnared in our corruption. The news struck like an arrow to my heart, piercing my innermost being, and how can I describe it with mere words?”

Toward the end of 1933, Rav Shlomo Chanoch and his son-in-law Rav Moshele traveled to Piestany, in what was then Czechoslovakia. When Rav Shlomo Chanoch learned that the Minchas Elazar was staying in a nearby village, he decided to travel there to receive a blessing for his daughter and son-in-law, who were still childless after many years of marriage.

The Rebbe arrived in Piestany (current day Slovakia) with Rav Moshele and about 25-30 of his chassidim. Initially, he went alone to the Minchas Elazar, where the two tzaddikim spent a considerable time together. Later, the Radomsker Rebbe called in Rav Moshele, who handed a kvittel and pidyon (redemption money) to the Minchas Elazar. The Minchas Elazar blessed him and promised that within the coming year, he would merit a son. However, he added a condition: he wanted the honor of being the mohel and sandek at the child’s bris.

The Radomsker Rebbe agreed to fulfill this request, and subsequently, all those who had accompanied him submitted their kvittlach to the Minchas Elazar.

Indeed, the blessing came to fruition. On the eve of Shabbos Chol Hamoed Succos, the Radomsker court was filled with joy as Rav Moshele and Rebbetzin Raizel were blessed with a son, whom they would name Avraham Elimelech Yechezkel Aharon.

The Radomsker court then contacted the Minchas Elazar by telephone, informing him of the joyous occasion and inviting him to serve as the mohel at the upcoming bris, which was to take place on Erev Shabbos Parshas Bereishis.

Hungarian Encounters

A wave of joy rippled throughout Poland when news of the birth of a son to Rav Moshele and his rebbetzin reached the masses. Many great chassidic personalities from across Poland arrived in Sosnowiec for the bris, but no guest was honored like the Minchas Elazar, who made the 500-kilometer trip to celebrate the simchah and serve as mohel. Rav Shlomo Chanoch himself traveled quite a distance so he could meet the Minchas Elazar mid-journey and accompany him to Sosnowiec.

Because the bris was held on a Friday, the Minchas Elazar stayed on for Shabbos in Sosnowiec and for a few days afterward, finding lodging in the home of the esteemed Radomsker chassid, Reb Yosef Abramczyk. The Rebbe’s stay in Sosnowiec was an opportunity for Rav Moshele and his top students to speak in learning with the giant of Hungarian Jewry. Rav Mordechai Abramczyk, a student in the Kibbutz Govohah and later the author of Divrei Mordechai shared the following memory:

Yisrael Alter (Safran) Fuchs of Vienna was the successor to the renowned gaon, Rav Yosef Rosen, author of Tzafnas Paneach (known as the Rogatchover Gaon), along with greats like Wolf Dembitzer and Elazar Kreshiver. This Elazar had an astounding recall of the responsa Noda BiYehuda, both the first and second editions, and was able to recite them by heart. Allow me to share an episode involving Elazar that I personally witnessed.

It is well known that the holy Rebbe of Munkacs once visited the Radomsker Rebbe during a joyous celebration. The Munkatcher Rebbe stayed in Radomsk for two weeks, and it was in my father’s house that the great Rebbe was lodged. Our home was overwhelmed daily by thousands of Jews who flocked to catch a glimpse of the tzaddik, seeking his blessings, cures, salvation, or even monetary assistance (it was known that the Munkaczer Rebbe’s level of generosity and chesed was reminiscent of the Divrei Chaim of Sanz).

One day, a tremendous commotion arose. Rav David Moshe, the Radomsker Rebbe’s son-in-law (fondly known as Rav Moshele), arrived with several heads of yeshivos, including the gaon Rav Yosef Lasser, the Rosh Yeshivah of the advanced group at Kesser Torah. The Munkacser Rebbe, with his commanding presence, had the crowd step aside. Without missing a beat, a lively Torah debate ignited between the Rebbe and the other Torah giants. The Munkacser Rebbe presented a brilliant chiddush, leaving the assembled scholars in awe.

As the son of the host, I was privileged to stand close by. Suddenly, I felt a gentle tug on my sleeve — it was Elazar, whispering urgently in my ear, “Yerushalmi, Korban Ha’Eidah.” I didn’t understand at first, so I tugged at the sleeve of my Rosh Yeshivah, Rav Yosef Lasser. Recognizing the significance, Rav Lasser instructed me to quickly fetch a volume of Maseches Shekalim.

Within moments, I returned with the tractate. Rav Lasser glanced at what Elazar had pointed out and, without hesitation, called out, “Munkacser Rebbe! My student Elazar has discovered something here…” The Rebbe swiftly examined the Korban Ha’Eidah and immediately conceded that he had indeed overlooked this Yerushalmi. And just like that, the entire structure of the Munkacser Rebbe’s chiddush crumbled.

Curious, the Munkacser Rebbe asked to see Elazar, but the young scholar, in an act of humility, had already fled the scene. Refusing to be dismissed, the Rebbe insisted, “I want to see him.” I quickly retrieved Elazar, who came reluctantly. The Rebbe embraced him with both arms, lifted him into the air, and began to kiss him with the same reverence one would have for a sefer Torah. It was a tangible display of this tzaddik’s love for Torah and its scholars.

Suddenly, he turned to Rav Moshele, the Radomsker Rebbe’s son-in-law, and pleaded, “Rav Moshele, I beg you, lend me this young man for one year in my yeshivah in Munkacs.” Rav Moshele, however, could not fulfill this request.

Another one of the great Polish Torah scholars who visited the illustrious guest was the Kozhiglover Gaon, who was residing in Sosnowiec at the time. The two spent four hours discussing Torah topics, and when the Kozhiglover finally departed, the Minchas Elazar asked his host for a towel to wipe his brow, telling him, “This is the first time that a Poilisher gaon shukeled (shook) me like a lulav!”

Protecting the Protectors

While the Rebbe of Radomsk was completely apolitical, the Minchas Elazar was not one to hold back his opinion on any matter. Remembered as the fiery zealot of his time, he garnered many opponents in his crusades against modernity and Zionism in particular. Rav Shlomo Chanoch worried for the honor (and safety) of the elderly Minchas Elazar during his visit to Sosnowiec, and designated ten Kesser Torah bochurim to serve as his “honor guard.”

The Minchas Elazar greatly appreciated the time and effort that these bochurim exerted on his behalf and prior to his departure, he bestowed upon them the following blessing: “In the merit that you stood guard over me, may the promise be fulfilled for you: ‘Hashem will guard your going out and coming in, from now and forever.’”

At that time, no one could predict how prescient the blessing would be. However, immediately after the war, they understood the meaning of the Rebbe’s blessing. During those dark years of war, when the majority of European Jewry, especially those in Poland, were tragically murdered, and only a few Radomsker Chassidim remained, the true value of the blessing became apparent. Without exception, every one of the bochurim who had stood guard over the holy Minchas Elazar, merited Divine protection and was miraculously spared from the destruction.

In contrast, the miracle child’s story ended in tragedy and heartbreak. Less than two years after his historic bris, in January of 1937, the young boy fell gravely ill. (Munkacser chassidim surmise that the salvation that the Minchas Elazar promised could not take full effect because the conditions of his brachah — that he serve as both mohel and sandek at the child’s bris — were not entirely fulfilled; while the Minchas Elazar did in fact serve as mohel, the Radomsker Rebbe served as sandek.)

Desperate to save his only grandchild, the Rebbe spared no expense, summoning the finest doctors from far and wide, but to no avail. On the 24th of Shevat, the pure soul of Avraham Elimelech Yechezkel Aharon Rabinowitz — the long-awaited heir to the Radomsker dynasty — ascended to Heaven, spelling the end of Rav Shlomo Chanoch’s rabbinic and family line.

Decades later, in 1975, Rav Moshele’s devoted talmid, Rav Yechezkel Grubner — by then a respected rav and posek in Detroit — wrote to his friend and fellow Kibbutz Govohah talmid, Rav Avraham Yissochar Krakowsky, who would later immortalize Radomsk Torah in his sefer Birchas Shlomo. With vivid clarity, Rav Grubner described the levayah as if it had taken place just yesterday:

“The image of the broken father remains etched in my soul. Rav Moshele embodied, ‘And Aharon was silent,’ accepting this crushing blow with profound love and unwavering faith…. After the shivah, he stood before us, his heart ablaze, urging us to intensify our Torah learning as an eternal tribute to this holy child.”

In the aftermath of this tragedy, Rav Moshele threw himself even more fervently into teaching and spreading Torah. Yet the weight of his grief and his compromised physical condition often made it too difficult for him to travel to the various Kesser Torah branches across Poland to conduct exams and celebrate siyumim. Instead, he sent senior faculty members in his stead. Those who sought him would often find him in his study, engaged in learning with a chavrusa or immersed in writing his Torah insights.

Among these Torah writings were manuscripts he entitled Birchas Kohein on Maseches Berachos, Simchas Kohein on Maseches Beitzah, Avodas Kohein on Maseches Yoma, Minchas Kohein on Maseches Menachos, Temuras Kohein on Maseches Temurah, and Bikkurei Kohein on Maseches Bechoros. Yet, the crown jewel was his chiddushim on Maseches Zevachim, which he titled, Zivchei Kohein.

The manuscripts garnered praise from the greatest gedolei Yisrael of the time. Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzinski (1863-1940), in his haskamah, wrote, “We did not know that we have here in Poland such a pearl.” Rav Shmuel Engel of Radomyshl (1853-1935) extolled him, writing, “Israel is not bereft, that such a great genius is found among us.” The Tchebiner Rav, Rav Dov Berish Weidenfeld, also lauded Rav Moshele’s brilliance, noting that had he lived longer, he would undoubtedly have been recognized among the greatest gedolim of the generation.

It was around this time that the chassidim recalled the Rebbe sharing a teaching from Rav Nachman of Breslov in Sefer Hamidos on the verse in Bereishis (5:1), “This is the book of the generations of man.” Rav Nachman explained that, “One who has the capability to compose a sefer but refrains from doing so is akin to one who loses children,” highlighting the profound link between one’s Torah works and one’s legacy.

The Rebbe, fearing that Rav Moshele’s seforim might stand in place of the blessing of children, hoped that by withholding their publication, his son-in-law might still merit to raise living descendants. Respecting his father-in-law’s profound insight, Rav Moshele obeyed, concealing his manuscripts and ceasing all efforts to publish them, despite the monumental effort and heart he had invested.

In the end, these monumental works were never to see the light of day; they were consumed by the flames of the Holocaust, leaving behind only faint whispers of their brilliance. Only a small portion of Rav Moshele’s Torah was mercifully preserved, thanks to Reb Chaskel Besser’s Torah anthology, Shivchei Kohein — Kesser Torah, offering us a glimpse of what was lost.

CHAPTER Four // A Prince To The End

Lost Opportunity in Tel Aviv

T

he loss of Rav Chanoch Shlomo’s only grandchild was just the beginning of a chain of tragedy. Soon afterward he lost a golden opportunity that seemed, on the surface, to be a business proposal — but in fact had the potential to save his legacy and many lives.

In 5696 (1936), Hitler initiated a campaign urging Germans living abroad to return to the “homeland.” This aggressive effort extended to Eretz Yisrael, where two German colonies — Sarona, near Tel Aviv, and Wilhelma, near Haifa — were populated by missionaries belonging to the German Pietist Templer movement in the late 19th and early 20th century. Among those who oversaw this mission was a nondescript German and SS officer bureaucrat by the name of Adolf Eichmann, who in 1937 was sent on a covert visit to Mandatory Palestine, together with his direct supervisor in the Nazi party’s intelligence service (the notorious SD). The purpose of his mission was to explore the possibility of deporting Germany’s Jews to Palestine in exchange for repatriating the German residents.

At the same time, Hitler remained focused on expelling Jews from Germany, though the Final Solution had not yet been fully conceived. Since Jewish emigration options were limited and German currency restrictions prevented Jews from transferring their wealth out of the country, the German government reached an agreement with the Jewish Agency known as the Haavara (Transfer) Agreement. This arrangement allowed Jewish property in Germany to be exchanged for German goods and machinery, which were then exported abroad, particularly to Eretz Yisrael, where there were no currency restrictions, making the transfer easier amidst the economic struggles caused by the ongoing Arab unrest.

It was during this period that a devoted Radomsker chassid, Reb Avraham Koschitzky of Trieste (1881-1959), proposed a plan: to exchange the German colony of Sarona for part of the Radomsker Rebbe’s extensive real estate holdings in Berlin, which included several valuable properties. The Germans expressed interest and awaited the Rebbe’s response.

In an article in the Agudah mouthpiece Dos Yiddishe Vort, Reb Chaskel Besser (a great-nephew of Reb Avraham Koshitzky) related that a consultation took place on this matter. The Rebbe, together with Reb Dovid Stahl of Lodz, Reb Hershel Pachter of Sosnowiec, Reb Efraim Teitelbaum, and Reb Zisman Bornstein of Krakow, decided to proceed with the plan. However, it never materialized for two primary reasons.

In the months following the tragic loss of his grandson, the Rebbe withdrew from his leadership duties, ceasing to hold tishen and refusing to accept kvittlach. The Rebbe’s grief over his grandchild’s passing was boundless, and his health began to deteriorate.

After several weeks, the elder chassidim approached him, expressing concern that without the Rebbe accepting kvittlach, the support for the Kesser Torah yeshivos might dwindle, as many supporters were prompted to contribute because they knew the Rebbe would daven on their behalf. The Rebbe reluctantly agreed to resume accepting kvittlach on the condition that each one bore the inscription, “To of the treasurer of the Kesser Torah yeshivos.” But this new system only lasted until the printed kvittlach were depleted.

In the meantime, Hitler altered his plans for Germans living abroad, realizing they could serve a valuable purpose by remaining in foreign countries, functioning as “fifth columns” in his quest for global domination. The opportunity to exchange Sarona was lost.

(Reb Chaskel Besser speculates that had the plan succeeded, the Rebbe might have traveled to Eretz Yisrael to oversee his new holdings, and chances are good he would have established a yeshivah there, much like the Imrei Emes of Gur did in Yerushalayim and Tel Aviv. It’s further possible that the Rebbe, with property in Eretz Yisrael, would have found refuge from the Nazi onslaught when the war broke out.)

But it was not to be. Sarona remained under German control until the outbreak of World War II, when the British detained its German residents and later confiscated the property as an enemy asset. The Jewish Agency eventually purchased Sarona, and it became the Kiryah, the Defense hub of the Israeli government.

As war drums began to beat across Europe, the Rebbe did not shirk his responsibilities. He continued to maintain the Kesser Torah yeshivos and tend to his flock. As a public figure who was known to have significant wealth, he also did his part to assist the Polish government, which was ramping up its military capabilities.

A Nowy Dziennik report from April 18, 1939 reveals a large purchase of Polish War Bonds as well as a generous bequest:

Sosnowiec, April 17, Rabbi Henoch Rabinowicz declared to the district governor, Mr. Walewski, that he will subsidize the Air Defense Loan with the sum of 20,000 pln [Polish zlotys], and he will donate one third of this sum immediately. Additionally, he donated 1,000 pln for the National Defense Fund.

To Be with All the Jews

Shortly after their invasion of Poland on September 1, 1939, the Nazis conducted a house-to-house search for the famously wealthy and influential Radomsker Rebbe. Fortunately, the Rebbe and his family were not in Sosnowiec (which was around 10 short miles from the German border) at the time; they were vacationing in the Carpathian Mountains. The Rebbe was advised not to return home and instead headed to Lodz, where he was hosted by his devoted chassid, Reb Dovid Stahl.

His chassidim urged him to take advantage of the last opportunity to leave Poland by plane to Italy (or possibly England) and escape the Nazi tormentors, in a daring escape plan arranged by followers of the Rebbe overseas. But he emphatically refused to abandon his beloved chassidim in times of crisis. “I want to be with all the Jews,” he declared, and refused to leave Poland under any circumstances.

On Chanukah, he left Lodz for Warsaw, where he stayed at 30 Nowolipki Street in the home of another one of his loyal chassidim, Rav Nosson Pinchas Ehrlich. He was accompanied by his wife, Rav Moshele and Rebbetzin Raizel, and his brother-in-law Rav Dovid Halberstam, and his family.

When the Warsaw Ghetto was sealed off in November 1940, the Radomsker Rebbe was one of the inhabitants shut inside. He no longer had his masses of chassidim or his considerable financial means. Insulin was hard to come by in the ghetto and his health suffered as a result. Yet remarkably, the once-wealthy Rebbe didn’t change his customs, routine, or disposition one iota, despite the desperate physical constraints generated by the ghetto environment.

He continued to support those in need with whatever limited resources he was able to access, continued to inspire and lead his followers, and according to Hillel Seidman, he continued to visit the many other great Torah leaders who were also residents of the Warsaw Ghetto.

In his obituary for his student Rav Moshele, Rav Shmuel Ahron Pardes relates — based on the testimony of Rav Mordechai Rokeach of Bilgoraj (1901-1949) — how amidst the horrors of Nazi-occupied Warsaw, the ghetto’s rabbanim and admorim were caught between the impulse to declare a public fast day and the clear recognition that people were already suffering immeasurably. Their solution was to promote the study of Maseches Taanis and thus gain the spiritual benefit of a taanis, or fast, without abstaining from actual food. Rav Moshele threw himself into this task, studying the topic intensely with a group of students, and in fact maintained a running correspondence on this tractate with Rav Mordechai, sharing insights developed under extreme privation.

Rav Menachem Tzvi Eisenstadt (1901-1966) arrived in Vilna with the remnants of Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin and immediately got invololved in relief work under the aegis of the Vaad Hayeshivos. When he visited Rav Chaim Ozer, the leader of Lithuanian Jewry asked him about the state of various Polish gedolim he was acquainted with. He then asked, “Do you know about the young Rav Moshele, the Radomsker Rebbe’s son-in-law?” Rav Herschel replied that sadly he had no information as to Rav Moshele’s current whereabouts. Rav Chaim Ozer then let out an audible sigh and said, “Oy, he might be one of our gedolei hador!”

On His Own Terms

The Rebbe’s devotees arranged for him to be officially registered for gainful employment in the ghetto, hoping this would ensure his relative safety and well-being. But with the onset of the Great Deportation from the Warsaw Ghetto to the gas chambers at the Treblinka Death Camp on Tishah B’Av 1942, no one’s safety in the ghetto was ensured any longer. For the next two months, the SS rounded up 5,000 to 6,000 Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto on a daily basis, transporting the victims to the Umschlagplatz at the edge of the ghetto. From there they were loaded onto trains transporting them to the gas chambers in Treblinka.

When the deportations began, the Rebbe declared, “It is better to remain and merit a Jewish burial,” and true to his word, he refused to go to the selection area. He similarly defied the Nazi order to shave his beard, preserving his Jewish appearance with unwavering pride. Rav Moshele, too, withstood the pressure and refused to cut his beard, no matter the cost.

On the Shabbos of parshas Eikev, the 18th of Menachem Av 5702 (1942), an SS platoon suddenly stormed into the Rebbe’s lodgings, accompanied by Ukrainian policemen clad in black. They ordered every Jew, including the Rebbe, to assemble in the courtyard for what they called the “final journey” — the deportation march.

Aware that his destiny was the cattle cars bound for Treblinka, the Rebbe turned to the Nazi murderers. “I know you’ve come to kill me,” he declared with defiance and pride. “I choose to die in my own home, not suffocated in your gas-wagons!”

Then, addressing his family and close followers, the Rebbe spoke with unyielding resolve: “It’s better to be killed here and buried in a Jewish grave than to be burned in the camps.” He refused to leave.

The accursed murderers granted the Rebbe’s wish. With meticulous care and extraordinary sanctity, he prepared himself for his final moment, reciting Shema Yisrael. As he reached the word “Echad,” a Nazi bullet pierced his brain, and the Rebbe was murdered on the spot in front of his family.

His daughter Raizel and his son-in-law, the great Rav Moshele, were also martyred there in their lodgings, alongside the Rebbe’s brother-in-law, Rav Dovid Halberstam, and his family. The owner of the apartment, Reb Natan (Naske) Pinchas Ehrlich and his family, also met their end, together with many other holy Yidden who were present. In total, 30 pure, righteous souls ascended to Heaven from the apartment in the Warsaw Ghetto that Shabbos, sanctifying Hashem’s Name with their final breath.

With great mesirus nefesh, at the peak of the Great Deportation, several Radomsker chassidim buried the last Rebbe of Radomsk in an individual kever adjacent to that of the Novominsker Rebbe, Rav Alter Yisrael Shimon Perlow, and in close proximity to the family members of the Piacezna Rebbe’s family (he himself had no burial, as he was killed by the Nazis in the Trawniki camp), and Rav Yitzchak Zelig Morgenstern, the Sokolov Rebbe.

It was a hurried burial — but a halachic one. And it was likely one of the last to be conducted in the Warsaw Jewish cemetery until after the war.

A Higher Calling

It was Rav Yisrael Friedman of Chortkov who most powerfully captured the essence of Rav Shlomo Chanoch’s greatness. He once remarked that the Rebbe’s soul was akin to that of Rabbeinu Hakadosh, Rav Yehuda Hanasi, as he resembled him in three profound ways.

First, just as Rabbeinu Hakadosh was afflicted with great suffering yet remained attuned to the pain of Klal Yisrael, so too did Rav Shlomo Chanoch endure immense personal suffering while never losing his empathy for the sorrows of his people. Despite battling illness and loss throughout his life, he opened his heart to empathize with others in their suffering.

Second, the Gemara (Kesubos 104a) recounts how Rabbeinu Hakadosh, before his passing, lifted his ten fingers toward Heaven and declared, “Ribbono shel Olam, it is revealed and known before You that I toiled with my ten fingers in Torah and did not derive pleasure from this world, even with my little finger.” In the same spirit, Rav Shlomo Chanoch lived a life of absolute self-denial, channeling every ounce of his strength and energy into Torah and avodas Hashem. Never did he allow himself the luxury of personal indulgence; his life was entirely devoted to the higher calling of Torah.

Third, just as Rabbeinu Hakadosh balanced his immense wealth with a life devoted to Torah, so too did Rav Shlomo Chanoch manage to harmonize his financial success with a life of holiness. Despite his considerable wealth, he lived modestly and used his resources to support the flourishing of Torah and chassidus.

A surface view would find no remnant left of Radomsk — Rav Shlomo Chanoch’s family, his legions of chassidim, or the yeshivah network that was his greatest achievement and pride.

But spiritual accomplishments can never be ascertained via a surface view. The impact of Kesser Torah extended far beyond its walls. The Rebbe’s vision revolutionized Torah learning in Poland, merging the disciplined structure of Lithuanian yeshivos with the fiery passion of chassidus. This blend of rigorous scholarship and chassidic fervor set a new standard for Torah study, inspiring countless others. And his inclusive approach — throwing open the doors of his yeshivos not just to his own chassidim, but to all students who genuinely wanted to learn — gave thousands of idealistic young men the keys to their own birthright.

As other rebbes and circles of chassidim sought to emulate Radomsk’s success, it sparked a kinas sofrim, a holy competition, that ignited a passion for Torah throughout Poland. This synthesis, a vibrant, far-reaching flame of emunah combined with a love of Torah, was the Radomsker Rebbe’s final gift to chassidic Poland before it was drowned in a sea of blood and tears.

“In Radomsk, the Emphasis was Torah”

By Yehuda Kinderman. Excerpted from Sefer Oshpitzin

Although Oshpitzin was a town that had everything — chassidim and misnagdim, the wealthy and the indigent, merchants and craftsmen, Zionists and anti-Zionists, students and yeshivah bochurim — all had one purpose: to be proud and true Jews.

Nevertheless, chassidic life in the town was on an especially high level. The shtiblach were filled with scholars and worshippers, and most of the town’s youth were part of the chassidic camp. True, there were occasional conflicts between the Radomsker, Bobover, and Belzer chassidim, but even these disputes had a chassidishe flavor and were always for the sake of Heaven.

I will never forget the “kidnapping” episodes, when Radomsker bochurim snatched bochurim from the Bobover shtibel and vice versa, each trying to convince the other that his Rebbe was greater and holier. I confess, I was one of the “kidnappers.” I recall one summer when a group of us from the Kesser Torah Yeshiva managed to “capture” several of the best bochurim from the Bobover Yeshiva, and some of them didn’t even want to return.

I studied at the Kesser Torah Yeshiva. Every winter’s end, there was an exam in which the Radomsker’s son-in-law, Rav Moshele, took part. For months, the bochurim reviewed, day and night, going over all the commentaries and chidushim of Rashi and Tosafos to ensure they would not be shamed in front of the gaon and tzaddik.

The day Rav Moshele came to Oshpitzin was a festive one. He was one of the great talmidei chachamim of the generation. People used to say that the world stood on three “Moshe’lech”: Rav Moshele Boyaner, Rav Moshele Rozvadover, and Rav Moshele Radomsker. The most distinguished townspeople would go out to greet him, and that evening, a table was set with fruit and pastries. All the youth stood around, absorbing every devar Torah. My father, Rav Yechezkel Shrage Kinderman Hy”d, who was the Rosh Yeshivah of Kesser Torah, and other talmidei chachamim, not necessarily Radomsker chassidim, engaged in Torah discussion and pilpul until dawn, while we young bochurim crowded around, unwilling to go home.

Radomsker chassidus was considered an aristocratic chassidus, combining Torah, chassidus, nobility, and modesty, but the primary emphasis was always on Torah. Every young bochur strove to reach the “Upper Level” shiur taught by Rav Moshele.

When my father walked home from giving his shiur in the yeshivah, a group of bochurim would always accompany him, continuing to discuss the shiur. One might ask for more explanation on a difficult Rashi; another might not understand the teretz of the Tosafos. My father would patiently answer each one so that the bochur could go home with clarity. This was a world that no longer exists. Where today can we find such talmidei chachamim devoted to disseminating Torah?

In Oshpitzin, chassidim often traveled to their Rebbes, and when they returned, they shared stories of their Rebbe’s davening, tishen, ahavas Yisrael, and wonders. After such a trip, a chassid would tell his experiences repeatedly.

It’s worth mentioning some humor about the last baal Mussaf at the Radomsker shtibel, R’ Eizik Koschitzky. A wealthy man, many entrusted him with their savings. When he began Mussaf with “Hineni He’ani” [Here I stand, poor in deeds], the congregation held its breath, fearing he had gone bankrupt! But when he finally said “mima’as” (in deeds), they all breathed a sigh of relief.

On a much sadder note, I remember my father telling of a tragic event that took place at the Radomsker Rebbe’s tish in Sosnowiec. The Rebbe’s only grandson, the son of Rav Moshele, who had been born ten years after the marriage, suddenly fell seriously ill. The Rebbe was conducting a Melaveh Malkah when he suddenly asked, “Is there any news? Is it necessary to travel to Radomsko, to the kever?” An emissary was dispatched, and upon reaching the cemetery, found that the ohel of the Tiferes Shlomo was on fire. That very night, the grandson passed away. The Rebbe later shared that the child carried the holy soul of Aharon HaKohein.

For a Yid Like Rav Berish’l

The Radomsker Rebbe, in keeping with his family legacy, generally stayed away from taking public stands in areas of communal conflict. But when he felt he could use his influence for an exalted purpose, he did not hesitate to step in. In one case related in the book Malchus Beis Radomsk, the result of that assertiveness was the appointment of a Torah leader who ultimately became renowned the world over.

In his younger years, Rav Dov Berish Weidenfeld (1879-1965) engaged in business (he owned a license to sell coal in the area), which led many to overlook his immense greatness in Torah. His friends urged him to accept a rabbinical position, but “Rav Berish’l,” as he was fondly known in his earlier years, stubbornly refused.

After Rav Dov Berish suffered significant financial losses in his business endeavors, Rav Meir Arik, the famed Galician posek (who was a student of his father, Rav Yaakov “Yekele” Weidenfeld [1840-1894], author of the responsa Kochav MiYaakov) persuaded him to reconsider. Rav Berish’l eventually agreed to explore a rabbinical position, but only after the urging of his close friends.

When the rabbinical post in the town of Tchebin became vacant, Rav Berish’l expressed interest in the position. But he wasn’t the only candidate. Another respected contender, a Radomsker chassid, also sought the role.

At the time, the head of the Tchebin community was Reb Abba Mandelbaum, a staunch Radomsker Chasid who maintained close ties with the Rebbe. During one of Reb Abba’s visits to the Rebbe, the Radomsker casually inquired, “Nu, how is it going with Rav Berish’l?”

“The Rebbe surely knows,” Reb Abba replied cautiously, “that if we try to appoint Rav Berish’l as the town’s rav, it will lead to a serious dispute.”

The Rebbe stood up to his full height and declared, “For a Yid like Reb Berish’l, one must be ready to be moser nefesh.”

Reb Abba took these words to heart. Upon returning to Tchebin, he went to great lengths to appoint Rav Dov Berish Weidenfeld as the town’s rav. Thanks to the unwavering support and efforts of the Radomsker Rebbe, Reb Berish’l became the Tchebiner Rav. It wasn’t long before his profound Torah wisdom became known far and wide, and he emerged as one of the greatest poskim of the generation, authoring the renowned Dovev Meisharim.

One of the Tchebiner Rav’s first actions as rav was to open a yeshivah, Kochav MiYaakov, which was located in a local Radomsker shtibel. His most treasured student was the Rebbe’s son-in-law Rav Moshele. In Sar HaTorah, the biography of the Tchebiner Rav, the following anecdote is related:

In the opening shiur that he delivered in Yeshivas Chayei Olam in 5709 (1949), Rabbeinu (the Tchebiner Rav) extolled the virtues of his former talmid Rav Dovid Moshe Rabinowitz Hy”d, a son-in-law of the Radomsker Rebbe, whom Rabbeinu had perceived as the quintessential talmid who attained loftier heights of Torah with each passing day.

Rabbeinu declared that he had never seen anyone rise to become so accomplished as Rav Dovid Moshe… he spoke yearningly of his beloved talmid, who was murdered al kiddush Hashem, relating that the key to his phenomenal success in learning had been that he always searched for “a naias’l, something new,” and then would immediately “veiter gangen, keep on going.”

This article was prepared using the insight and knowledge of the following individuals, publications and books: Malchus Bais Radomsk by Rabbi Yehoshua Zilberberg, Yehuda Zirkind, Eli Marcus, Yehuda Geberer,  Rav Yechezkel Grubner, Rabbi Elie Reisman, Yisroel Besser, Rabbi Shlomo Besser, Rav Shmuel Ahron Pardes, Rabbi Dr. Isaac Lewin, Hillel Seidman, Reb Berish Zolty, Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Meir Rabinowicz, Menashe Unger,  Rabbi Aharon Sorasky, Rabbi Mordechai Abramczyk,  Rav Yisroel Reuven Pick, Reb Berish Ehrlich, Rav Avraham Krakowsky,  Reb Meir Yosef Frankel, Rav Yisroel Reuven Pick. Dr. Shaul Stampfer, Dr. Glenn Dynner, Dr. Marcin Wodzinski, Rabbi Dov Eliach,  Kesser Torah Journal

No piece about Radomsk could be complete without paying tribute to R’ Yechezkel ben R’ Naftoli (Reb Chaskel) Besser, whose personal records and archives enriched and informed much of the content in this feature.

He embodied the essence of a true Radomsker chassid: a brilliant intellect tempered with boundless empathy, and a soul that burned with devotion to Torah and chassidus.

He kept his Rebbe and chassidus alive far beyond Poland’s borders and long after they were decimated, ceaselessly teaching their Torah, singing their melodies, and transmitting their grandeur to new generations of Jews throughout the world.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1033)