Reb Michoel Schnitzler was a man of endless positivity who saw every moment of his life as a gift — and a mission

Last Friday, as the vestiges of Pesach were being packed away, the news of the passing of Reb Michoel Schnitzler flashed in the headlines of all Jewish news sites. Many are familiar with the name Michoel Schnitzler — a name synonymous with moving Yiddish compositions and ballads, who released 15 albums with over 150 songs and composed for other Yiddish singers as well.

But those who operate within the more intimate circle of the Jewish music industry know that behind the deep baritone lay a story with its own musical score. Reb Michoel was a man of endless positivity who saw every moment of his life as a gift — and a mission. He stopped counting the number of times he paid visits to the ill and downtrodden, simply to spread a little joy, and while we may never tally all the undercover acts of chesed, one will always be remembered — at least by a certain group of boys in Eretz Yisrael.

On the Sunday before Pesach, Reb Michoel was set to travel to Eretz Yisrael where he’d spend the holiday, but shortly before the trip, he learned that Boneinu, an Israeli organization that provides care and support for orphaned children, was planning an event for that very day. Reb Michoel very much wished to attend the event to lift the spirits of these children and, to that effect, contacted Boneinu’s founder, chesed patron Reb Yaakov Eliezer Shisha. After some discussion, they realized that Reb Michoel’s flight would arrive too late — the event would already be over. But Reb Michoel was undeterred. He switched his flight to Motzaei Shabbos, which would allow ample time for the mitzvah of being mesameiach yesomim. But it wasn’t so simple. The flight was rough, with nine hours of turbulence, and when Reb Michoel arrived, he was utterly exhausted. He called Yanky Shisha and apologized — he would need to rest up for an hour or so before showing up. Shisha was sympathetic but explained that he couldn’t push off the event any later: He didn’t want the children in his charge to be up all night.

Reb Michoel agreed, so he headed out, exhaustion notwithstanding. Upon arrival, he took the mic and began bellowing out the song — and the story — that characterized his own life. The boys danced and cheered in appreciation, the years of pain and despondence fading into the background for a few hours. And then Reb Michoel shared an insight: “I myself was orphaned from my father when I was a very young boy,” he told his audience. “I always wondered why Hashem made me go through such a difficult experience. But now I think, perhaps it was for this moment — so that I can relate to what you are slogging through and help you overcome the pain.”

With that, Reb Michoel left the event room and headed back to his apartment. A week and a half later, he returned to New York, and that very afternoon, he passed away from a sudden heart attack. The news of the sudden passing reached the children of Boneinu, and the loss of yet another beloved figure in their life struck a painful chord. One boy told Yanky Shisha, “I hope Reb Michoel will send regards to my mother.”

There’s no forgetting in Shamayim. The endless kindnesses of a man who sang so beautifully and cared even more have surely been strung together as Reb Michoel takes the mic to single a final song.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 957)