Open Miracles

Rav Ezriel got his first lesson in that connection from his own parents, who lived their lives going forward without making Hashem’s cheshbonos. He was born in 1938 in Pressburg, Czechoslovakia, today the Slovakian capital Bratislava, to Rav Aharon Tauber, a Belzer chassid from Galicia, and Rosa, the daughter of Chasam Sofer einekel Rav Amram Gestetner (Rav Nosson Gestetner ztz”l, gaavad of Chug Chasam Sofer in Bnei Brak, was his mother’s brother).

It was the beginning of World War II, and although they lived under Nazi occupation in Czechoslovakia from the beginning of the war until fleeing to Hungary, where the Nazis caught up with them in 1944, the Taubers continued to build their family — Rosa Tauber had four more children by the time the Nazis invaded Hungary, where she was captured and taken to Auschwitz with an infant.

Meanwhile, young Ezriel, together with his younger brothers and father, hid in one bunker after another, always one step ahead of their Nazi tormentors, until they reached a labor camp operated by the Red Cross. Through open miracles, father and sons survived and returned to the Slovakian town and refugee camp of Szerdahely, assuming their beloved wife and mother had been killed in Auschwitz. In fact, Mrs. Rosa Tauber had survived and was reunited with her family a year after liberation.

Rav Aharon didn’t waste any time: He helped marry off many refuges and reestablished families and served as a shochet and mohel. The Taubers lived in the refugee camp for about two and a half years, after which they made their way to Eretz Yisrael via Antwerp, Belgium. During that time, the Pupa Rebbe, Rav Yosef Greenwald, was in Belgium as well, and it wasn’t long before he detected the talents and strengths of young Ezriel Tauber. The Imrei Chaim of Vizhnitz was also in Antwerp at the time, and Rav Ezriel would often reminisce about those Friday nights in the presence of the Imrei Chaim with his three brothers. There were few children in Antwerp, and the four Tauber boys became the Rebbe’s choir. (“My father loved to sing with us the Vizhnitzer niggunim that he learned from the Imrei Chaim,” Reb Shlomo Asher relates.)

While the Taubers made their way to Eretz Yisrael, young Ezriel, the oldest son, was sent to learn in London and live with his great-grandfather, Rav Shlomo Schreiber (Sofer), a direct descendant of the Ksav Sofer, who was spared the horrors of the Holocaust by fleeing Vienna for London at the onset of the war.

After a year in London, Ezriel joined his family in Eretz Yisrael, where he learned in the Pressburg and Dushinsky yeshivos. In 1954, due to health issues of a younger sister, the family moved to America and settled in New York, where Rav Ezriel became very close to Rav Michoel Ber Weissmandl, a Torah genius known for his superhuman efforts to save the Jews of Slovakia from extermination at the hands of the Nazis.

Rav Weissmandl, who arrived in America broken and disheartened after witnessing a world reaction of apathy during a time when he felt so many could still be saved, became Ezriel Tauber’s rebbi for life, his teacher in both the Revealed and Hidden Torah, in hashkafah and emunah. Rav Weissmandl was the first to develop the method of revealing the hidden codes in the letters of the Torah and expounded on these methods in his sefer Toras Chemed. Rav Ezriel spent many years learning and publicizing the sefer and many of his lectures to non-observant audiences were based on these Torah Codes. Rav Weissmandl passed away in 1958, but the previous three years were the most powerful and intense in the life of his talmid, who later turned his rebbi’s energy and faith into a turbo engine of emunah and simchah for the masses.

That same year, Rav Ezriel married Sara Rivka Sable, the daughter of Rav Moshe Yosef Sable, a community leader in Montreal and a talmid of Rav Shaul Brach of Kashau. The young couple settled in Williamsburg, and then Rav Ezriel’s avodas hakodesh began to emerge: He established Torah shiurim in the workplaces of Manhattan, delivered derashos and lectures, and began to compose his seforim, Pirkei Machshavah.

Meanwhile, the Skverer Rebbe, Rav Yaakov Yosef Twersky, had set up a nascent chassidic town near Monsey, and before the chassidim moved from Williamsburg, the Rebbe, noting Rav Ezriel’s strengths in both organization and forward-thinking, asked him to help establish the neighborhood others thought would never get off the ground. Rav Ezriel accepted the challenge and was one of the first residents of New Square, then a far-flung enclave. Over the next few years, he was the Rebbe’s right hand, helping to establish the kollelim, yeshivah, and girls’ school in New Square. When the Rebbe passed away in 1968, Rav Ezriel and his family moved to Monsey.

Your Personal Mission

Rav Ezriel had many influences over the years, but according to his son Reb Shlomo Asher, it was Rav Weissmandl who left an indelible stamp: that every Jew has a mission in this world, and he is the only one who is capable of carrying out that mission.

“This was at the forefront of my father’s thinking his entire life,” says Reb Shlomo Asher. “He saw in himself an emissary whose job was to execute the tasks that Hashgachah had ordained for him. As soon as he saw that there was someone else to do the job, he’d move on to the next thing.”

That’s how he started traveling to the Soviet Union in the 1960s, long before it was a “thing” to help Soviet Jewry. He and his wife packed up suitcases with every possibly useful item for those Jews trapped behind the Iron Curtain, and even arranged documents that ensured the release of hundreds of Jews, whom he then provided for once they reached American shores — and that meant tuition, living expenses, and helping them to get married. In fact, Rav Ezriel was instrumental in securing the release of the miracle-worker Ribnitzer Rebbe in 1970, who upon immigrating to America after some time in Eretz Yisrael stayed at the Tauber home.

“During one of his visits to Russia, my father first met the Ribnitzer Rebbe,” says Reb Shlomo Asher. “The Rebbe didn’t have Rabbeinu Tam tefillin, so my father gave him his own, and when he returned to America, he bought himself a new set of Rabbeinu Tam tefillin. When the Ribnitzer Rebbe left Russia and reached America, he lived in our house for some time, and I’ll never forget some special moments: his Tikkun Chatzos which were surely breaking down the barriers in Shamayim, his Friday nights suffused with holiness. As a token of appreciation, the Rebbe left his Russian shtreimel in our house.”

Rav Ezriel’s work with Russian Jews continued, until one day, it suddenly came to a halt: “When Agudah and other organizations began to deal with the issue, my father gave them all his files, all his information and his know-how, and moved on to the next mission,” says Reb Shlomo Asher. “That’s just the way he worked.”

Public Property

While others took over the Soviet Jewry movement, one mission that never came to an end was teaching emunah specifically to shomrei Torah umitzvos — that became his life’s calling. To that end, he authored a series of seforim entitled Pirkei Machshavah, which included chapters about emunah, mitzvah observance, a connection to the Creator, and about the life of a Yid.

“An American avreich told me after the petirah, ‘I once came to your father and told him that I wished these seforim could be translated. In America, there are a lot of people who have trouble understanding Lashon Kodesh, and it is a shame that they should miss out on the treasures in these seforim.’ My father told him, ‘Then go ahead, you can translate them and sell them.’ This man was in shock: ‘You have the copyright,’ he tried to protest. And my father replied, ‘No, the rights aren’t mine. They belong to the public. The main thing is it should be a zikui harabbim, a merit for the public.’”

This approach of giving up his rights and resources for public benefit characterized Rav Ezriel’s life. “We, his children, have begun to make a reckoning to see how much money he actually spent on tzedakah and chesed,” says Reb Shlomo Asher. “We’re going through all his receipts and papers and are trying to reach an approximate amount. We’ve already tallied a sum of $120 million that my father spent for public matters, to disseminate Torah and give tzedakah. And we’re not finished yet.”

So why, except as a lecturer at Shalheves seminars, does Rav Tauber’s name never appear, not on building plaques, not on ads, not on awards certificates (even though he’s the financer and signatory of awards and incentives that add into the hundreds of thousands of dollars).

“Look,” says his son, “My father built buildings, established kollelim, supported Torah, but insisted that his name never be featured. In the few hours that we sat shivah Erev Pesach, I noted that ironically the first place where his name is going to appear is on his matzeivah.”

Not too many people remember this today, but Rav Ezriel was the person behind establishing Ohr Somayach in Monsey in 1978. At the time, Ohr Somayach, Diaspora Yeshivah, and Aish HaTorah were thriving in Eretz Yisrael, but he was the one who brought the concept of a kiruv yeshivah to America. He purchased a parcel of land in Monsey for $6 million, built a campus, and paid salaries out of his pocket.

And just as Rav Tauber knew he had a mission to spread Torah to unaffiliated Jews, he felt that within frum circles, he needed to spread those parts of Torah that were not being learned broadly.

That’s why a decade before he purchased a campus for Ohr Somayach, when he first moved to Monsey in 1968, he established the Machon Lehora’ah. “That was the first kollel in the world devoted to the study of Choshen Mishpat,” Reb Shlomo Asher explains. “Before my father established the kollel, he visited the homes of many rabbanim and asked to receive some ‘tips’ and guidance from them. Many of them tried to dissuade him, saying that it wouldn’t work. But he was undeterred. He wanted to make sure there were properly-trained dayanim in every community — he himself needed a proper beis din for a business-related din Torah and discovered that in the entire area, there were perhaps two elderly dayanim from before the war who could answer tough Choshen Mishpat questions. When my father saw a need, he just got up and did it, ignoring the naysayers.

“My father brought twenty bnei aliyah to establish the kollel and gave them a huge monthly stipend,” his son continues. “We’re talking about 43 years ago, and he paid them almost $2,000 a month. He wanted to make sure they learned all day with no distractions — they began at five in the morning and finished at six in the evening.”

The first kollel was in Monsey, but after a few years, Rav Ezriel branched out to other communities both in the New York area and in Eretz Yisrael. Hundreds of dayanim have emerged from Rav Ezriel’s Choshen Mishpat kollelim, including Jerusalem posek Rav Naftali Nussbaum, who learned in Machon Lehora’ah. Rav Ezriel partnered with Rav Yaakov Hillel to open Yeshivat Chevrat Ahavat Shalom, in which Israeli avreichim master all four sections of Shulchan Aruch, funded the Kollel Tarbitza of Dushinski chassidim and funded a Gerrer kollel that was headed by Rav Yehudah Aryeh Alter a”h, a son of the Pnei Menachem who was killed as a young man in a car accident. The Pnei Menachem was forever grateful to Rav Ezriel, and whenever he came to a tish in Ger, the Rebbe made sure that he was treated accordingly.

One of the great dayanim Rav Ezriel supported was Rav Yaakov Blau a”h of the Eidah Hachareidis beis din, who passed away in 2013. Rav Yaakov was a rare expert in Choshen Mishpat and served as a halachic arbitrator for half a century, but he didn’t have bread to eat.

“One day, he told my father that he wanted to compile a sort of ‘kitzur shulchan aruch’ on the laws of Choshen Mishpat, but he didn’t have the resources,” Reb Shlomo Asher remembers. “So my father answered him simply: ‘From now on you have money,’ and he funded the printing of ten volumes.”

Out-of-Pocket

Rav Ezriel merited to have both Torah and gedulah — he was blessed with wealth which he used to push forth his Torah agenda. As a young man, he began to deal in jewelry and diamonds. Later, he moved into the real estate field, and he was successful in every endeavor he undertook.

“I worked with my father in his real estate business,” says Reb Shlomo Asher, “and I can tell you that I had to forcibly ‘steal’ two minutes of his day to speak to him about business. He had a large office building with dozens of employees in Spring Valley, but one section was sacred, only used for Torah. Later, when the beis din was looking for a place, he allocated half of the building for the beis din.

“My father’s head was only in Torah. When people wanted to talk to him about Torah or things that would be beneficial to Yiddishkeit, he had all the time in the world, but for business — two or three minutes a day was what he gave it.”

As a high-profile, high-demand speaker, when did he have time to prepare for all his shiurim and lectures?

“Well,” says Reb Shlomo Asher, “he sat and learned most hours of the day. I never saw him sitting around resting or reading a newspaper. He was either learning or rushing to a lecture or dealing with business matters, and he ate and slept only enough to keep himself going. You could talk to him for hours — he was a fascinating conversationalist — but these were conversations with depth, hashkafah, ideology, stories of tzaddikim and Jewish history. He never spoke narishkeit, and every moment was utilized. He davened k’vasikin — that was something he adhered to strictly — including on the last day of his life. He walked himself to daven in the beis medrash, even when his health was failing.”

Rav Ezriel’s multifaceted biography was set in many locations around the world. He lectured in English, Yiddish and Hebrew — and when he was invited to places like China, Thailand, or Russia, he would use a translator.

“And he would never refuse a venue,” his son says. “It made no difference if he was asked to lecture for a thousand people or if he was called to the bedside of someone in the hospital who needed chizuk. For 15 years, he traveled each week to American prisons to give chizuk to Jewish prisoners. This entailed a trip of an hour and a half each way, and he did this before there were other organizations that helped Jews in prison. The minute such organizations were established, my father — as was his habit — disappeared from the scene.”

Rav Tauber never gave up on a single Yid, and although he could draw an audience of hundreds and his monthly schedule was chronically overbooked, he took even a shiur with two participants seriously.

“A yungerman came Erev Pesach to tell us about the vaad my father delivered each week in his house in Queens,” Reb Shlomo Asher relates. “It’s a drive of more than an hour from my father’s house in Monsey. Each Thursday night, about 30 young men would attend, but one time, the host called my father and told him that there wouldn’t be a shiur that week. ‘There’s a local simchah and a maximum of three or four people will turn up.’ My father said it him: ‘I don’t understand. There are three avreichim? Even one is enough. What difference does it make how many people come?’”

Nothing stopped Rav Ezriel, if he felt he could help someone with a hashkafah issue or some other dilemma. He would sit with people from as early as five in the morning, where he would begin a roster of chavrusas.

“Among my father’s chavrusas was the Toldos Aharon Rebbe, during the time he lived in Monsey before he became Rebbe,” says Reb Shlomo Asher. “They learned the halachos of ribbis in depth for a year and a half. Now, my father was a ‘balabos’, a layman, a philanthropist, and a man among his peers, and the Rebbe lived then in Monsey and was involved in Torah and avodas Hashem. This was my father’s way of supporting the Rebbe. Each morning, the Rebbe would arrive at the kollel my father had established, and together they learned in depth. Then, throughout the day he learned b’chavrusa with other talmidei chachamim. He learned Gemara with some of them, Shulchan Aruch and hashkafah with others.

“Hashkafah was the foundation of his life. He delivered thousands of shiurim in Tanya, on the seforim of the Maharal, Mesilas Yesharim, and Chovos Halevavos. He also gave shiurim in Chumash, Shir Hashirim and Koheles — he taught how to learn Chumash and Shir Hashirim b’iyun.”

Rav Ezriel never charged a fee for his lectures — in fact, most of his travel expenses were out-of-pocket. At the Shalhevet seminars — in Eretz Yisrael, America, England, Switzerland, South Africa, Mexico, Chile, Brazil, Antwerp and wherever else, the guests paid for the hotel at a subsidized rate, the deficit of which Rav Ezriel usually covered on his own. If someone couldn’t afford the cost of the weekend, Rav Ezriel would cover that cost as well.

One of Rav Ezriel’s most fruitful initiatives was “Veshinantam,” an Israeli-based initiative he established some four decades ago, with the accumulated cost of millions of dollars, in which bochurim are tested on pages of Gemara by heart, receiving generous cash prizes for their efforts.

“The goal was to make bochurim remember Shas by heart,” his son relates. “Each time a bochur was tested on 100 new pages, he had to also be tested on the previous 100 pages as well. The next test would be on 200 old pages and the new ones, and so forth.”

During bein hazmanim of this past Nissan, some 3,000 bochurim from yeshivos all over the world were tested on a million pages of Gemara with Rashi and Tosafos. The day before his passing, Rav Ezriel handed over $100,000 for prize money.

No Calculations

Once every few weeks, Rav Ezriel would leave his home and his business and board a plane to deliver lectures all over, to people seeking more depth in their spiritual lives. His last Shalheves seminar was in Adar of this year, just weeks before his passing. During his time in Eretz Yisrael, he would stay at his apartment on Ezras Torah Street in Jerusalem, and when he’d spend Yamim Tovim with his family in Eretz Yisrael, he’d keep one day of Yom Tov, because even though he left many years ago, he always saw himself as an Eretz Yisrael Yid.

“His dream was to live in Eretz Yisrael,” his son says. “He even purchased a plot on Har Hazeisim, but left a tzava’ah that if he passed away in America, then he should not be taken to Eretz Yisrael, and rather should be buried near his father, in Monsey.”

A week before his passing, Rav Ezriel danced at the wedding of his grandson — Reb Shlomo Asher’s son. At dawn the next morning, he was scheduled to undergo complex surgery. Reb Shlomo Asher tried to persuade him to leave the wedding early so that he could rest and get prepared for the surgery. But Reb Ezriel wouldn’t hear of it. “He danced until all his energy was depleted,” his son relates. “At the mitzvah tantz he asked that the song ‘chasdei Hashem ki lo samnu’ be sung. He danced with tremendous joy — he looked like the happiest man alive.”

During the preparations for the surgery, Reb Ezriel wrote a message to the young man who organizes the Shalhevet seminars in London: “I feel good and healthy baruch Hashem, I hope to come to the seminar whenever you are ready.” That was his message from his hospital bed.

“The next day,” his son relates, “my father wrote a message to me: ‘Shlomo Asher, thank you for the chasunah and the kibbud at the chuppah. I’m sure that during the dance of ‘chasdei Hashem ki lo samnu,’ we effected all the good.’

As someone who educated all his life that whatever Hashem does is for the good — this good arrived on Thursday, the eve of bedikas chometz, at a time that it is so characteristic for a man who worked so much but made sure no one noticed. A few hours before bedikas chometz, his soul departed — the same soul that had kindled the flame of emunah in the cracks and crevices of thousands of Yidden, departed just as Klal Yisrael prepared to kindle the flame of bedikas chometz.

“We sat down to shivah on Erev Pesach early in the morning,” Reb Shlomo Asher says. “I said to my siblings, ‘now we’re going to sit on the ground for a short shivah and at night we’re going to say Hallel twice, once in davening and once at the Seder. That was our father. That was his essence: At every moment, you need to do what is necessary. Now Hashem wants us to cry. Tonight, He wants us to say Hallel with joy — so we’ll say Hallel with joy. Without cheshbonos, without calculations. That’s what Tatty would have wanted.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 761)