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he Yeshiva of Telshe Alumni was born out of the earnest determination shared by graduates of Telshe Cleveland. Many had settled on the East Coast and very much wanted their children to receive an education similar to their own — without having to send them to northeast Ohio. After deliberations, it was decided that Rav Avrohom Ausband would serve as rosh yeshivah of this new venture, which would be located in a few houses in Monsey, New York. The yeshivah opened in the fall of 1980. Shortly thereafter, it relocated to Westwood, New Jersey, where it remained for three years, and then to Riverdale, New York, where it remains to this day. (The yeshivah is now known simply as “Riverdale”.)

It was a bumpy start, but members of the board knew that the rosh yeshivah wouldn’t be deterred. In fact, a message he shared before the yeshivah even opened suggested as such. At one meeting, they asked him, “How will you deal with challenges? What will you do if the yeshivah falls on hard times?”

And Rav Avrohom answered, “Torah is a one-way street. You go forward, and you go forward, and you go forward.”

Rav Avrohom was an incredible masmid, to the point where his son, Reb Yerucham, shared that he was once sitting next to his father in the “middle seat” at the front of the car, while his father sat in the passenger seat. Rav Avrohom dozed off and Reb Yerucham heard him mumbling something. He leaned in closer and heard that he was speaking in learning.

Rav Avrohom demanded this same focused commitment from his talmidim. Nothing should obstruct your growth in Torah.

Two bochurim once wished to attend the bris of their newborn baby brother, which was to take place on a Friday. As they lived quite a distance from the yeshivah, they assumed that they would stay home until after Shabbos. But when they informed Rav Avrohom of their plans, he expressed disapproval. “I want you to be back for shiur on Friday and for you to be here for Shabbos,” he said.

The bochurim explained that this would mean making their parents drive them back right after celebrating their own son’s bris.

“I understand,” said Rav Avrohom. “Take a car service back and I’ll pay for it.”

That is what happened, and the two brothers made it back partway into first seder. One of the two was in Rav Avrohom’s shiur and he approached his rosh yeshivah to inform him that he had returned.

Rav Avrohom smiled. “Don’t go to the beis medrash now,” he said. “You just invested so much mesirus nefesh. You can learn with me b’chavrusa.”

Rebbi and talmid sat down to learn, traversing the one-way street of Torah together.

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dhering to his discipline sometimes paid off in ways that seemed nothing short of wondrous. Reb Shimon Dov Notis hails from Cleveland, Ohio, about seven hours away from Riverdale by car. The final day of the zeman was approaching and Shimon Dov arranged with a group of Cleveland bochurim from a different yeshivah to pick him up in Riverdale and, together, they would journey home. The catch was that these bochurim ended the zeman after first seder while Riverdale ended after second seder. Shimon Dov shared this dilemma with Rav Avrohom.

“There is no way you are leaving before 6:30,” was his response.

“But Rosh Yeshivah!” Shimon Dov protested, “how will I get home?!”

Rav Avrohom pulled out his wallet. “How much does a flight cost?” he asked.

Shimon Dov shook his head. “I’m not taking the Rosh Yeshivah’s money,” he said.

Second seder came and Shimon Dov gave it his all, learning through the seder that sacrificed his ride home. Suddenly, at 6:15, a familiar face entered the beis medrash. Shimon Dov recognized him — it was a bochur from Cleveland!

The bochur explained that he was in Riverdale collecting for Chinuch Atzmai — per the custom of Telshe Cleveland to send out bochurim to raise funds for the organization.

“Is there Minchah here?” the bochur asked. “I’m here to daven Minchah.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” Shimon Dov smiled. “You’re here to give me a ride home.”

One talmid had taken on a position as a rebbi. Rav Avrohom kept in frequent touch with him and, after various developments considerably eased the talmid’s financial situation, Rav Avrohom put forward his opinion.

“You have a responsibility to become a talmid chacham,” he said. “As a rebbi, you are learning the same masechta each year. I think you should go back to kollel.”

But the degree to which Rav Avrohom would stop at nothing became most evident when, in 2006, his daughter Leah was tragically killed in a car accident. When informed of what happened, he jumped up.

“The same Ribbono shel Olam that brought me to dance at a wedding last night will bring me to my daughter’s levayah tonight!” he exclaimed.

At the gravesite, he shared the following thought. “The Shulchan Aruch states that one must have kavanah when saying the pasuk, ‘Posei’ach es Yadecha u’masbia…’ But now, we must have kavanah when saying the pasuk, ‘Tzaddik Hashem b’chol derachav v’chassid b’chol maasav — Hashem is righteous in all His ways.”

Later, Rav Avrohom informed his talmid, Reb Moshe Mendlowitz, that he intended to open a new kollel.

“Really?” Reb Moshe asked, well aware that the yeshivah was struggling financially. “Doesn’t the Rosh Yeshivah have other things on his mind?”

Rav Avrohom shook his head. “While the Chofetz Chaim was writing the Mishnah Berurah, one of his sons was niftar,” he explained. “The Chofetz Chaim said that this was the satan trying to stop him.

“I will not let the satan stop me from my avodah which is Torah, Torah, and more Torah!” said Rav Avrohom. “I will not only not stop but I will accelerate! There is no such thing as enough!”

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he one-way street of Torah would lead to a thousand magnificent thoroughfares as so many of his talmidim set out to build their own mosdos, guided by their rebbi’s constant advice, insight, and unbridled pride.

A talmid who opened a kollel in Lakewood informed Rav Avrohom that he had implemented a seder for chazarah.

“The way I do it in one of my kollelim,” said Rav Avrohom, “is that I have one full zeman dedicated to chazarah. I think you should do that as well — I even pay extra for it.” The talmid demurred, opining that it wouldn’t work well for his kollel.

“You know what?” Rav Avrohom responded. “Do it and I’ll take responsibility for the money.”

And that is what happened; Rav Avrohom raised well over $10,000 for his talmid’s kollel.

The talmid then reminded Rav Avrohom of a story he himself once shared. The yeshivah was short on funds; the end of the month was approaching and there simply wasn’t enough money to pay the staff.

“At Minchah,” Rav Avrohom shared, “I said to the Ribbono shel Olam, ‘This is not my yeshivah — this is Your yeshivah. Please, take care of Your yeshivah.’ ”

As he finished davening Minchah, a wealthy individual entered the beis medrash. Rav Avrohom greeted him and shared his dilemma. The man immediately offered to lend the necessary funds.

That Rav Avrohom should merit such overt deliverance does not surprise anyone who witnessed him daven. Contrary to the custom in most yeshivos, in Riverdale, the chazzan did not wait for the rosh yeshivah to complete Shemoneh Esreh before beginning chazaras hashatz. It simply wasn’t feasible — Rav Avrohom’s Shemoneh Esreh ended sometime around when the yeshivah was up to Ashrei–Uva L’Tzion.

Reb Gedalia Zlotowitz is a longtime talmid who learned in the yeshivah in its early years and continued to attend a weekly chaburah delivered by Rav Avrohom right up until the latter’s passing.

“I remember once when a bochur came to Shacharis after Yishtabach,” says Reb Gedalia. “That Shabbos, at Shalosh Seudos, Rav Avrohom brought it up, and burst into tears.”

A group of local delinquents once started up with the bochurim and the police were called. When they arrived, Rav Avrohom was davening. He didn’t move or make the slightest indication that anything was amiss.

He was talking to his Father.

Rav Avrohom’s Shemoneh Esreh on Rosh Hashanah would take an hour and a half; during Mussaf, the chazzan would slow down to ensure that he wouldn’t be past Aleinu by the time Rav Avrohom finished.

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he brilliance of his Torah and dedication of his tefillah was easily matched by the magnificence of his chesed.

A talmid once shared certain personal challenges he was undergoing. Rav Avrohom later sent him a letter stating that it would be beneficial for the talmid to type up his chiddushim on a computer. Enclosed with the letter was money for a computer.

It is impossible to calculate the sums of money that he constantly channeled to the needy. Rav Avrohom would frequently call his talmidim and, if he sensed something was amiss, did anything he could to help. A talmid once received such a phone call and assured Rav Avrohom that all was going well. Nonetheless, he received an envelope in the mail containing $1,000 with a note: “Buy something for your wife in honor of Yom Tov.” Talmidim received far more substantial sums — without even asking. If Rav Avrohom learned of a problem, he would arrange to have thousands of dollars left at the talmid’s doorstep.

Reb Moshe Majeski once received a call from Rav Avrohom. “Someone is coming to speak with me,” he said. “He’s going through a difficult time in the real estate industry and needs chizuk. The problem is that I don’t know much about real estate. I need you to explain it to me.”

They spent an hour on the phone discussing the ins and outs of real estate, time that Rav Avrohom didn’t have but dedicated nonetheless to his talmid.

Rabbi Shmuel Fisher once shared with Rav Avrohom that his mother had a difficult business-related question.

“I don’t know enough about business to help her,” Rav Avrohom said, “but Yisrael Blum does.” Rav Avrohom arranged a meeting between Mrs. Fisher and Yisrael Blum. And then he took a car service so that he could be present at the meeting as well.

Rav Avrohom once learned that a talmid who had left the yeshivah ten years earlier was struggling with various mental health issues. He reached out to a rebbi in Yeshivas Torah Temima who had a relative that was a highly qualified therapist. He arranged for the talmid’s admittance to the practice and then proceeded to pay for each session — from his personal funds.

Amidst Rav Avrohom’s absolute insistence on moving forward — down the Torah’s one-way street — he never revealed to anyone, even his closest talmidim, that he was actually terminally ill for the past 13 years. But one girl — who did not recognize him — knew that he was undergoing treatment. The girl would go to the hospital for monthly infusions and was always amused by the presence of a rabbi who was so warm and cheerful to all the personnel.

“How are you? How’s the family?” he asked every doctor and nurse.

One day, a male nurse said, “Rabbi! I got engaged last night!”

Rav Avrohom burst into the broadest smile, and even danced a bit with the new “chassan.”

An expression of his constant chesed was how he related to his talmidim. Rav Avrohom saw himself as a mechanech — a builder of people rather than merely a rebbi. He was constantly developing his chinuch skills, learning from a sefer containing a compilation of Rav Michel Yehudah Lefkowitz’s insights into chinuch. He once shared with Reb Menachem Savitz, menahel of Yeshivah Mekor Chaim, that he had developed a relationship with the legendary mechanech, Rav Chaim Segal, in an effort to further his knowledge and abilities in chinuch.

Elul in Riverdale was always a frightening time. Rav Avrohom would speak in the most somber tones about the crucial nature of the month leading up to the Day of Judgment.

One Motzaei Shabbos, a bochur in ninth grade was playing basketball and Rav Avrohom walked by. The boy froze, terrified that Rav Avrohom would chastise him for spending the precious moments of Elul on something as frivolous as basketball.

Rav Avrohom called him over. “I see you’re wearing your Shabbos shoes,” he said. “You’d play much better in sneakers. Go back to your room and put on sneakers.”

When the yeshivah was rebuilding its dorm, Rav Avrohom issued a directive to the architects. “Every bed should be positioned next to a wall,” he said.

Why?

“Because,” Rav Avrohom explained, “sometimes, a bochur feels lonely at night and wants to cry. But he wouldn’t cry in front of his roommates. He needs to be able to turn to the wall where no one can see his face. That’s why every bed must be lined up against the wall.”

His chinuch affected every aspect of life. Rav Avrohom would give shiurim on subjects not typically studied in yeshivos. He taught Daas Tevunos, Derech Hashem, and Nefesh Hachaim — he wanted to open new vistas of hashkafah for the talmidim to analyze and grow from.

He once came to a powerful philosophical question posed by the Derech Hashem. He stopped and closed the sefer. “Think about it over the week. Try to come up with an answer. Then we’ll see what the Derech Hashem says.”

Part of his chinuch was instilling in his talmidim a sense of pride in who they were and what they stood for.

A bochur once asked Rav Avrohom if he could miss night seder so that he could attend his cousin’s sheva brachos.

“You can,” said Rav Avrohom, “if you speak to your cousin and ask that you be the main speaker. Then you have to prepare the derashah and share it with me. If you do that, you can go.”

The bochur followed the advice, delivering his first “keynote address,” which he says changed him forever.

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av Avrohom and his rebbetzin succeeded in raising a beautiful family bli ayin hara; his sons, daughters, and in-law children are all dedicated to Torah and mitzvos on the highest level — following directly on the path paved by their ancestors, despite the fact that they were brought up in Riverdale, which was quite a distance from any Telsher community. Once, at a question-and-answer forum, the Rosh Yeshivah was asked how one could succeed in raising his children in line with his own hashkafos when the locale in which they live doesn’t share this vision.

“If you’re proud of who you are,” Rav Avrohom said, “if you’re proud of your mesorah — then your children will follow its ways.”

His chinuch could be tough as well; he never shied away from taking a position, no matter how unpopular.

“What right do you have to spend such money?” he would say of those who chartered private jets for travel. “You can buy a ticket for a few hundred dollars — how can you spend thousands just to be able to show that you can afford to fly private?”

He firmly enforced his position that there be no videos at the weddings of his talmidim — he would not serve as mesader kiddushin if there was. His reasoning was because he felt strongly that a video machine had no place in a Jewish home and thus nothing can be done to encourage its validation.

There were those who protested. “But Rosh Yeshivah, it would give so much pleasure to the chassan or kallah’s grandparents to be able to watch their grandchild’s wedding.”

“True,” Rav Avrohom responded. “I’m not saying otherwise. But we are frum today because someone was moser nefesh for Yiddishkeit.”

“He could give you the harshest mussar,” says Reb Gedalia Zlotowitz, “but he was still your closest friend.”

When Reb Gedalia’s legendary father, Reb Meir Zlotowitz, passed away, Reb Gedalia was thrust into the role of running the mammoth operations of ArtScroll/Mesorah. “For months, he called me, sometimes staying on the phone for an hour and a half, asking me to share the finest details and providing advice and direction. He did this until he felt I was on firm footing in the business.”

He was a rebbi for life and would forever hold an enormous space in his talmidim’s lives. “For four years,” shares Reb Moshe Majeski, “he called me twice a week just so that we should say a kapitel Tehillim together. He explained that it’s not enough to ask for brachos for success — you have to daven for it.”

Rav Avrohom went to be menachem avel a family who had tragically lost their mother at a very young age. The bereaved husband asked Rav Avrohom if he would speak with his daughters. Rav Avrohom did so, sharing the following message:

“Pharaoh said to Moshe Rabbeinu, “Lechu na hagvarim — let the men go.” The men could go, but the women must stay in Mitzrayim. Why is this? Rav Avrohom quoted Rav Elyashiv, who said that the answer lies in the words of the Midrash, “Hakol bishvil hanashim — everything is because of the women.” Pharaoh understood that the women hold the key to Klal Yisrael’s secret power. There’s a certain emunah peshutah that women possess and that men do not, which Pharaoh knew spelled his downfall.

“Your mother was selfless,” Rav Avrohom told the girls, “and it seems that this was passed on to her children as well.”

Rav Avrohom then quoted the line in Birchos Krias Shema where we say, “Ezras avoseinu Atah Hu mei’olam — a help to our fathers You are forever, magen u’moshia lahem v’livneihem achareihem — a shield and Savior to them and their children after them.”

“V’livneihem achareihem,” said Rav Avrohom, “means ‘children who follow in their ways.’ ”

“You will go in your mother’s ways,” Rav Avrohom concluded. “You will live through her and she will live through you.”

As brilliant a talmid chacham as he was, Rav Avrohom shied away from taking on a public role — practically never speaking at any event unrelated to his yeshivah.

“Why doesn’t the Rosh Yeshivah get more involved in the klal?” he was asked.

“I have my own klal!” he replied. “My talmidim are my klal!”

On a different occasion, he was asked the same question and worded his response differently. “I can’t be busy with my talmidim and the klal,” he said. “Which do you want me to drop?”

As the bechor, Rav Avrohom would make a siyum every year on Erev Pesach. But one year he didn’t. “I was too busy raising funds for my talmidim to cover their Yom Tov expenses,” he explained. “I didn’t have time to finish the masechta.”

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he solemnity of Elul in Riverdale — and the deep-rooted awe with which Rav Avrohom conducted himself during this time — will forever remain seared into the memories of his talmidim.

But this year, on the fourth day of Elul, Rav Avrohom gave his final, most powerful — albeit wordless — shmuess. He passed away suddenly, after collapsing in the yeshivah. The bochurim were not informed of the petirah right away — they continued to learn, forging onward down the one-way street of Torah.

Today, thousands mourn the man who rejoiced with them, cried for them, and taught them endlessly.

But Rav Avrohom himself provided them with a direct instruction: “You go forward, and you go forward, and you go forward.”

And, he might say, hope lies in the words of Birchos Krias Shema —  “Magen u’moshia lahem v’livneihem achareihem.” Rav Avrohom’s son, Rav Eliyahu, will now serve as the rosh yeshivah.

Through him, the Torah, the avodah, and the chesed of his father will live on.

These three pillars of creation will continue to gather strength and vigor, filling the universe with the recognition of He who created all.

And the whole world will see it.

“Uhn der gantze velt veht dos zehn.” 

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1028)