Think of Ger and you think of a chassidic army, but behind the numbers, another kind of revolution is taking place

T

he chassidic court of Ger is often defined by its numerical strength, the first thing that comes to mind when people mention the largest and most influential chassidic group in the country. That’s why I was so surprised when I was invited to what turned out to be an intimate gathering in the huge, cavernous beis medrash that takes up an entire block on Rechov Yirmiyahu in Jerusalem.

I had been to small gatherings here before. I had recently attended a rebbishe sheva brachos here which, unlike the wedding when thousands arrive, is a more modest event, where each chassid has a chance to see the Rebbe without pushing, without binoculars, without standing on milk crates.

And now again, as I entered, the huge beis medrash, which often holds tens of thousands of tightly packed chassidim, was nearly deserted. I walked for several minutes through the vast space, hearing my footsteps echo, until I reached the far corner of the building. There were just a few hundred chassidim there, like a tish in a small chassidus or a modest shtibel somewhere away from the center.

While Ger is constantly mentioned in the media, with the press focused on politics — party moves, alliances, conflicts — that is merely the outer shell. The real story happens inside, in the internal gatherings that outsiders rarely see — and one of them is a longstanding campaign to raise legions of Torah scholars fluent in the pages of Shas.

While this is a place where thousands often stand silently, absorbing what happens at the center, tonight’s event is different. No display of numbers, no attempt to impress anyone — only an internal celebration of Torah achievement.

The Rebbe sits at the head table, surrounded by family members. His face radiates unusual warmth, his peyos neatly curled. He appears relaxed, even smiling from time to time, a rare sight to those familiar with the court’s serious inner atmosphere. But most remarkable of all is that tonight, the Rebbe has time. In Ger, minutes are measured carefully — three minutes with the Rebbe is considered an eternity, and events are usually over by 10 p.m. Yet tonight the gathering lasts five full hours — from eight in the evening until one in the morning.

Ger, known for precision and punctuality, is experiencing what chassidim are calling “new times.”

IN

recent years the Rebbe has been leading a sweeping Torah initiative: Every chassid, whether young or old, scholar or businessman, should strive to gain mastery over as many masechtos of Shas as possible. If there is competition here, it’s not about wealth or status but about how many pages one has mastered.

The avreichim know thousands of pages; some are fluent in the entire Talmud. Even working men dedicate hours after work to reviewing masechtos. And even boys of ten, 11, and 12 know masechtos by heart.

The bochein has a list of each child’s name and the masechtos he’s mastered. A boy from Arad knows Pesachim, Yoma, Succah, Rosh Hashanah, Megillah, and Chagigah by heart. Another from Kiryat Gat knows Yoma, Succah, Beitzah, Taanis, and Chagigah. A 12-year-old from Bnei Brak has mastered eight full masechtos — an accomplishment impressive even for an avreich.

Children from the Gerrer kehillah in Brooklyn also came in for the celebration. The Rebbe quietly instructs the bochein, “Ask them in Yiddish.”

What I witnessed was truly remarkable: Dozens of children answering “pin-test” questions with incredible precision, reciting the exact content of specific pages across multiple masechtos without hesitation. These are the Torah scholars of the next generation.

Standing there, watching the Rebbe observe the children for hours without looking at the clock, one thing was clear: This is what remains after the politics fades.

When the children later stand in rows and sing songs of yearning for Torah, the Rebbe watches them lovingly, as though seeing the harvest of his life’s work: raising generations immersed in Torah.

These are turbulent political days for the Gerrer community, who are often mentioned in the context of political drama. Yet here, in this far corner of the vast beis midrash, there is not a trace of politics — only the building of the next generation’s talmidei chachamim.

Our generation often emphasizes externals — expensive accessories, large celebrations, public displays. It makes you wonder: Is that what the Baal Shem Tov envisioned? Is this what the great tzaddikim intended? And here, at this modest gathering of a few hundred chassidim, as I watched in awe as children rattled off masechtos in Shas while the time-conscious Rebbe sat for hours basking in their achievement, I got my answer.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1100)