Rebbetzin Rivka Gurwicz shares a deep commonality with her father, Rav Shlomo Lorincz z”l. Because he was chair of the Knesset Finance Committee, Rabbi Lorincz’s signature appears on millions of banknotes; his thumbprint touched thousands of lives. Yet he rarely spoke about his work in the public arena, stepping back into the shadows and highlighting his interactions with the gedolim to showcase yiras Shamayim and good middos.

Rebbetzin Gurwicz, too, continues to touch countless lives, both at the side of her eminent husband, Rav Chaim Ozer Gurwicz of Gateshead Yeshiva, and in her work of decades training teachers in Gateshead Sem. Talking to her, though, one is struck by her humility and modesty — and the way she continually points away from herself, giving credit to her parents, her teachers, her family for her innumerable achievements.

Makings of an Askan

It may be a discussion in contemporary Jewish society — are askanim born or made? — but as the Wehrmacht rolled across Europe, there was no luxury for academic debates. Askanim were neither born, nor made, but forged by danger and desperation. Certainly this was the case for Budapest-born Rabbi Shlomo Lorincz, a talmid in Mir who was close to Rav Yerucham Levovitz.

Summoned to register at the conscription office just before the outbreak of the war, Rabbi Lorincz prepared for his army medical examination by drinking copious amounts of black coffee and eating nothing. At the end of the examination, he was given a sealed envelope to deliver to the authorities. Outside, Rabbi Lorincz opened the envelope. The letter read: This man’s physical profile is low, but mobilize him anyway.

Rabbi Lorincz tore the letter with trembling fingers while his mind darted through possibilities of escape. England, he thought, maybe he could board a ship to England. What other options could he think of? He knew that Agudas Yisrael had been trying to arrange ships to carry Jews from Budapest to Eretz Yisrael, but without success. The Jews of Budapest had paid substantial sums of money for passage, and the lack of result had caused a furor. The organizers, knowing that only Rabbi Lorincz could get the plan back on track, requested he do so.

A train journey to Romania. Dealings with a shipping company, a team of sailors, urgent telegraphs to Budapest, urgent telegraphs to the gedolim — the ship can only leave on Shabbos. The answer: Go! Rabbi Lorincz had not planned to sail on the ship he’d organized, and therefore he didn’t take leave of his parents, but he was forced by his friends to remain on board, for they feared it was his last chance. (This was, in fact, the last ship to leave, due to the Nazi invasion, although more ships had been planned.) With no luggage or possessions, without even bidding his family farewell, Rabbi Lorincz set sail on the ship to then-Palestine.

On Shabbos Shuvah, after almost two weeks at sea, they sighted land. In an attempt to evade British arrest, the ship dropped anchor a while away from shore, and they were ferried to the beach in fishing boats. “My father used to say that he didn’t even know where they were,” says Rebbetzin Gurwicz says. “They saw a little boy running along the beach. ‘Where are we?’ they asked him. ‘This is Haifa.’ ”

That night, his first in Eretz Yisrael, Rabbi Shlomo slept on the floor in a British transit camp. “As he dozed, he felt a touch on his shoulder and the question: ‘Eppes a yeshivah bochur?’

“He opened his eyes, nodded. ‘I’m coming from the Mir. Who are you?’ ”

His midnight visitor was none other than Rav Chaim Zev Finkel (father of the recently deceased Rav Aryeh Finkel). Rabbi Lorincz hastened to send him regards from his father, Reb Leizer Yudel Finkel, under whom he had learned.

Rav Finkel spirited him away and soon Rabbi Lorincz was learning in Yeshivas Heichal HaTalmud in Tel Aviv. But the turbulence of the world, and his feeling of deep responsibility toward his fellow Jew, soon brought Rabbi Lorincz to the realm of activism: helping those fleeing from Europe establish themselves in Eretz Yisrael. He was passionately concerned for the future of the children, establishing the children’s village of Sdei Chemed for orphaned child survivors, and the yeshivah Chazon Yechezkel; in 1949, he established Moshav Komemiyus and Kfar Gidon to provide Torah-observant survivors both a home and a livelihood.

“That was the future. Children were the future,” says Rebbetzin Gurwicz emphatically. It’s not hard to hear the echo of her father z”l in her words. Rav and Rebbetzin Gurwicz are fitting heirs to this mission: Rav Gurwicz has shaped and nurtured his talmidim, and the Rebbetzin has fashioned teachers out of girls with diverse personalities and strengths.