The couple didn’t schlep many luxury items with them but one thing Gitel brought with her from Canada was the exquisite wedding gown she had worn the year before. It was a magnificent display item that had graced a wedding salon vitrine in Canada and she lent it to numerous kallos including the many she and Rav Yisrael married off and escorted to the chuppah.The young couple moved to Israel in 1949 and settled in Bnei Darom a newly established religious moshav not far from Ashdod where Rav Yisrael took it upon himself to serve as spiritual leader. He corresponded regularly with Rav Elimelech Bar Shaul the chief rabbi of Rechovot for complex sh’eilos that came up and often visited the Chazon Ish in Bnei Brak to discuss with him mitzvos directly relating to the Land of Israel so that he could properly pasken for his compatriots in Bnei Darom.

Gitel’s parents Rav Yochanan and Rebbetzin Twersky visited Eretz Yisrael just in time for the birth of their first grandchild Rivky and stayed with them for a period before returning to Montreal. But by the time two more children were born in Bnei Darom the Rebbe and Rebbetzin had decided to make their own move. And so in 1953 in the zechus of Rav Yisrael and Gitel the Tolna Rebbe bid farewell to his Montreal kehillah and followed his only daughter to Eretz Yisrael.

They initially settled near the Tchebiner Rav on Rechov Abarbanel in Jerusalem’s Rechavia neighborhood; meanwhile the Weinbergs left moshav life and moved to the new Bayit V’gan neighborhood which was then the western edge of Jerusalem.

Rav Yisrael Weinberg, like his father before him, had a beautiful voice and served as baal tefillah in Bayit V’gan’s Sochatchov shtiebel, where he also learned daily. (At the shivah for Rav Yisrael last month, many who came said they remembered Rav Yisrael schlepping his heavy Gemara to the shtiebel to learn. When they would ask him why he didn’t just use a Gemara from the beis medrash, he’d respond that he wanted the extra sechar for carrying it.)

The Tolna Rebbe and Rebbetzin eventually moved to Bayit V’gan as well, and opened a beis medrash at Rechov Hapisgah 60. Rav Weinberg, who had great kavod and admiration for his father-in-law, would later split his Shabbos and Yom Tov davening between the Tolna and Sochatchov shuls.

Over the years, the Tolna beis medrash became a magnet for all types of Jews, and anyone who’d ever been there surely remembers how the Rebbe was a walking image of self-negation. He never saw himself as better than the most difficult cases around him, and it never bothered him that his own honor was constantly being trampled on by the guests of his open home. They sat at his table, in his seat, in his space, but he didn’t care — he was a simple servant of Hashem. Many considered him the tzaddik nistar of the period. But with no sons, who would carry his legacy to the next generation?

Carrying the Torch

“Zeide never saw himself as a rebbe,” says his oldest granddaughter Rivka Malkiel, whose brother Rav Yitzchak Menachem Weinberg became the current Tolna Rebbe following her zeide’s passing 18 years ago, and whose son Rav Amitai (Malkiel) Twersky serves as the Tolna Rebbe of Ashdod. “Zeide always said he’s just the gesher, the bridge, to the next Tolna Rebbe. He himself, he said, was a simple chassid — a chassid of the Beis Yisrael and the Pnei Menachem of Gur [the Rebbe would regularly walk from Bayit V’gan to Geula for tishen, standing like a soldier in the shurah together with chassidim 50 years younger], and also of the Rachmistrivka Rebbes.

“Because he saw himself as the bridge, and because he didn’t have sons, he begged his grandchildren to take on the mantle and continue the dynasty,” Mrs. Malkiel continues. “He used to say, ‘When I get to Shamayim they’ll ask me, What happened to Tolna?’ “

Rav Yochanan Twersky’s father, Rav Mordechai of Tolna, came to America with two brothers — Rav Meshulam Zishe of Tolna-Boston and Rav Moshe Tzvi of Tolna-Philadelphia. Rav Mordechai made his home in New York’s Lower East Side.

“The Boston and Philadelphia rebbes didn’t leave acting rebbes for future generations, and Zeide realized that if his grandchild didn’t succeed him, Tolna as a chassidus would be lost,” Mrs. Malkiel explains. “My father made it very clear time and again that he, although a son-in-law, was not ‘in the running.’ My brother — the current Rebbe — is the oldest grandchild, and after Zeide was niftar, the chassidim said he was obligated to take it on to preserve the dynasty and fulfill the Rebbe’s request.

“He knew he was in line,” she says of her brother, who has developed a worldwide reputation as an expert mechanech, baal eitzah, and brilliant Torah scholar. “But he really didn’t want it at first. He learned in Gur all the years and was close to the Gerrer Rebbe. He said, ‘I’m a Gerrer chassid; how can I become a rebbe?’ In the end he saw that there was no choice, so he decided to take it upon himself.”

And as for Rivka’s son — the Tolna-Ashdod Rebbe — Rav Yochanan’s great-grandson?

She explains that she is the only one of her siblings who lived near her parents, the Weinbergs, in Bayit V’gan all these years since her marriage, and so her own children also grew up under the care of her grandfather, the Rebbe.

“Zeide told my son Amitai, who essentially grew up in his house, ‘I want you to be rebbe too, even if your uncle Yitzchak Menachem also is.’ He was just 22 at the time — today he’s not even 40 — but there’s a precedent for that,” she says. “Rebbe Mordechai of Tolna was a 13-year-old boy in Russia when his father died and the chassidim made him rebbe.”

Rav Yochanan Twersky requested something else of his great-grandson Amitai Malkiel as well — to change his name back to Twersky after his marriage. “Zeide wanted to have a continuation of the name, which goes all the way back to the Maggid of Chernobyl, but he had no sons to carry the name,” says Rivka Malkiel. In any case, she says, “Malkiel” wasn’t her husband’s original family name either — it was originally “Beigel,” but when her father-in-law, a Bobover chassid, came to Israel from Krakow, he wanted a more contemporary-sounding name. His own father’s name was Elimelech, which is “Malkiel” backwards.

What does it mean to Rivka, being a sister and a mother of rebbes? “Well,” she says, “It definitely obligates you, but chas v’shalom you should have gaavah from it. You know you come from such a home and it’s mechayev you to be just a little better, to push yourself a little more.”

Her father, Rav Yisrael Weinberg — scholar, searcher, independent thinker, and eclectic chassid of Tolna, Sochatchov, and other courts — later became a chassid of his own son and grandson.

Songs of Shabbos

As he was a lauded baal tefillah, another chassidus that was close to Rav Yisrael’s heart was Modzhitz. When Yisrael was still a youngster, the second Modzhitzer Rebbe, Rav Shaul Yedidyah Elazar Taub, visited Toronto a number of times and, as a guest in the Weinberg home, taught him many Modzhitzer niggunim. While he was learning in New York, young Yisrael would often go to the Rebbe to hear him sing and to learn the melodies.

Reb Shloimeh Weinberg, Rav Yisrael Weinberg’s third son, related that his father had a phenomenal memory when it came to the niggunim of Modzhitz and remembered every “kneitsh”; he was considered an expert menagein, sought after by subsequent Modzhitzer rebbes and chassidim who came to him to learn the many ethereal marches and tunes of Rebbe Shaul Yedidya Elazar.

Rav Weinberg’s neginah wasn’t relegated to the chassidic musical archives. Friends and admirers basked in his davening on a regular basis, and Rosh Hashanah was a special treat. Because the holiday is two days, each year Rav Weinberg was able to divide up — he was the baal tefillah for Mussaf at the Sochatchov shul on the first day and at the Tolna beis medrash on the second day.

Back when the Tolna Rebbe still lived in Rechavia, he heard that a position had opened at the Misrad Hadatot — the Ministry of Religious Affairs. He advised his son-in-law Rav Weinberg to apply, and thus began close to three decades of Rav Weinberg’s work within the Israeli government. Initially he was employed in the kashrus division, but he soon rose in the ranks and became director of his own department. It was to his credit that after the 1967 Six Day War when the Kosel fell back into Jewish hands, a mechitzah was instituted there and attendants were placed so that there would be a modicum of respect at the Wall.

At the same time, when the Shimon Hatzaddik neighborhood was returned to the Jews, they discovered the area had been degraded and made filthy by the Arabs who left animal sheds filled with dung there. Rabbi Weinberg secured a budget from the ministry and had the place cleaned up and transformed. But mostly, Rav Weinberg used his position to help hundreds of yeshivos and institutions receive their due benefits from the state. He had close relations with many roshei yeshivah who knew they could count on him and rely on his warm and helpful manner.

Rav Weinberg always seemed to be smiling, but that didn’t detract from his wisdom, or his ability to help out another Jew in any kind of trouble.

One time an American bochur was walking in Jerusalem’s Old City and came across an Arab who had started up with a Jew. As the Jew fought back in self-defense, an Israeli policeman suddenly appeared and began to restrain and even beat the Jew. This bochur whipped out his camera and began photographing the event, and then both he and the other Jew who had been beaten were arrested and put in jail overnight without being afforded the opportunity to make a phone call.

The following morning, the American bochur, who happened to have Rav Weinberg’s telephone number on him from the time he’d spent a Shabbos at the Weinberg home, thought of a way to get help. He told the duty officer that he needed medication desperately. Could the policeman please call this Rav Weinberg to bring him his medicine? The officer made the call, telling Rav Weinberg that they were holding a particular young man who needed medicine from him right away. Rav Weinberg, ever astute, immediately understood that it was a ploy to enlist his help in getting the bochur out of prison. Rav Weinberg hurried over to the jail and signed papers attesting that he was responsible for both the American bochur and the other fellow who’d been arrested.

Make Yourself at Home Rav Weinberg was always ready to help people, and it wasn’t just about navigating bureaucracy. In their home, which their myriad guests referred to as “Hotel Weinberg,” he and his rebbetzin hosted hundreds and hundreds of people from all over the world. These included widows, divorcees, geirim, baalei teshuvah, Israeli soldiers, students who had no family in Israel, sick people with no one to care for them, and people who introduced themselves as relatives even though they may have been fifth or sixth cousins and weren’t even sure how they were related. They would either come on their own, or were directed there by Rav Weinberg’s shver, the Tolna Rebbe, who was a magnet for just about anyone who didn’t have his own base.

Rivka Malkiel remembers how her father would sometimes sleep on the couch after giving away his bed to a guest. He didn’t want to wake his children to give up their beds and didn’t think twice to offer his. He and Rebbetzin Gitel were a team, taking in strangers who sometimes parked themselves in the Weinberg home for months on end and were treated like family. The Weinberg children say they can’t remember ever celebrating a Shabbos without a guest.

Rav Weinberg’s  grandson, the Tolna-Ashdod Rebbe,  pointed out the symbolism of his  zeide’s passing on the first day of Succos, which is the ushpizin of Avraham Avinu — the epitome of chesed and hachnassas orchim.

Shira Graz, the Weinbergs’ youngest daughter, related that on the Erev Shabbos before the passing of her mother two years ago, her parents were staying at her home in Ramat Shlomo, and Shira’s husband approached a local gemach for an oxygen tank for his mother-in-law.

When the head of the gemach discovered it was for Rebbetzin Weinberg, he exclaimed that he had been waiting 30 years to express his hakaras hatov for what she and Rav Weinberg had done for him.

As a talmid in Yeshivas Kol Torah in Bayit V’gan, he had become quite intoxicated one Purim. He had been dehydrated and very weak and had collapsed in the street not far from where the Weinbergs lived. Many people just walked by, perhaps noticing him and then continuing on their way — looking at the poor fellow with disdain and leaving him, as he says, “vi a hind (like a dog).”

However, when Rav Yisrael and Gitel Weinberg passed by, they immediately decided to take him into their home. Rav Weinberg helped lift the poor bochur, who could not stand up, and brought him to their home where he was given a bed and fluids. The Rebbetzin nursed him until he was able to get back on his feet and walk out on his own. He’d never forgotten the special treatment he received, and was grateful for the opportunity to in some way repay their kindness. He was given that opportunity only two days before Rebbetzin Gitel’s passing.

We are not privy to the esoteric system of spiritual rewards, but the Weinbergs were granted many blessings during those decades of selflessly helping others. Rav Yisrael merited to see five generations of progeny before his passing. His grandson Rav Yeshaya David of Beit Shemesh (Rivka’s son) made a shidduch with his daughter and the son of the Karliner Rebbe, and she recently gave birth to a baby girl, named after her great-great grandmother Gitel.

It’s All About Seder

Rav Weinberg kept a diary for several decades, in which he would record the events of the day — including the news relating to the wider Jewish community and Israel. And for more than forty years, he would send a weekly letter to his parents, excerpting parts of his daily diary in order to keep them part of his life. Those letters would be read at a public Melaveh Malkah that Reb Tzadok and his wife would host weekly in their home in Toronto.

The current Tolna Rebbe of Jerusalem, Rav Yitzchak Menachem Weinberg, who is distinguished by — among many other endeavors — his daf yomi shiurim (even available for listening on El Al flights), attributes his own predisposition toward “seder” and personal organization to his father. Rav Yisrael taught his son that no matter how well a bochur learns in yeshivah, if he’s not organized, his accomplishments are worth little.

Rav Yisrael Weinberg himself was an expert on personal seder. Whatever he learned he recorded. In this manner he was able to finish Shas eight times, and complete the Yerushalmi Talmud and many other goals in learning that he set for himself.

During the last twenty years of their life together, Rav Yisrael and Rebbetzin Gitel learned together every night, including Shabbos. Some of the topics they covered included commentaries on the parshah, Pirkei Avos, Midrash and the meaning of zemiros. When he was once asked about this unusual arrangement, he said it was very good for a marriage.

For all his own spiritual riches, Rav Weinberg would always demur when it came to his father-in-law. Since the latter didn’t have sons, he gave his own boys over to the Rebbe to help raise them; the Weinberg children were almost as often in the Rebbe’s home as they were in their own. Even when it came to leading the Pesach Seder, Rav Weinberg — in deference to his father-in-law — didn’t lead his own Seder for almost five decades until he was 70 years old. Only after the Rebbe passed away in 1998 at the age of 93 did he first begin to act as head of his family.

Today Rivka Malkiel lives in her zeide’s apartment on Rechov Hapisgah, the beis medrash of which is still open on Shabbos — and where, until his passing last month, her father Rav Weinberg still accessed the energy of his holy father-in-law.

As self-effacing as Rav Weinberg was, he was also the axis of influence, the facilitator, and for his own children, a living example of what they could aspire to. Yet sitting next to his son oiven ohn at a tish and at the weekly Shalosh Seudos, greeting all those who gave his son honor and drank from his wisdom, the facilitator became the chassid. Indeed, Rav Yisrael became a chassid of both his son and his grandson, serving as his own bridge to ensure that the spirit of Tolna chassidus would endure.

—Rachel Ginsberg contributed to this report

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Issue 636)