Toker was a bochur in the Mir, not yet 20 years old, when he received an interesting offer.

“A friend of mine who felt I had the personality and voice offered me a gig on Arutz Sheva. It was an overnight music show, and involved basically just sitting there and making sure everything was under control. I grabbed it.”

There were two conditions attached: not to speak more than necessary — just a few words to introduce the songs — and not to speak in English.

Toker did two things right away: He spoke plenty and spoke in English. The independent streak would mark him early on and it’s a label he still wears with pride. “A radio host has appeal when he’s himself. Authenticity is a tool, and it draws people in.”

Toker’s connections with musicians served him well and the show developed a following, so when Radio Kol Chai called to offer a real show during evening hours, he seized the opportunity.

“They told me to choose one night of the week,” he recalls, “it was pure siyata d’Shmaya that I said Motzaei Shabbos. Back then, that wasn’t considered a good night for a show, but I wasn’t working with studies or rating guides. I just reasoned that on Shabbos, I would have a chance to rest, so I’d have energy.”

In the friendly confines of Kol Chai’s studio, Menachem Toker became a star.

He remained in yeshivah, but his career evolved from merely playing songs to selecting songs, and identifying singers — sort of a musical kingmaker, the necessary haskamah to make it in the industry.

“At about that time, I realized that this was for real, that I’d found my calling. I went to speak to my rebbe about direction in life, what I wanted, and how to get there.”

His rebbe is the Amshinover Rebbe of Bayit V’gan. The saintly Rebbe — nearly inaccessible, rarely visible — inhabits a dimension very much removed from the world of radio, which makes the Rebbe’s role as guide to Menachem Toker, and so many others like him, all the more remarkable.

“You have to understand the kesher that the Rebbe has with Bayit V’gan residents. It’s different. I grew up asking him all my questions, and he’s always advised me. When I went to Kol Chai, there was an opportunity for a television show as well, but the Rebbe said no, it wasn’t the right time, he didn’t see the benefit.”

Motza’sh (Motzaei Shabbos) Chai with Menachem Toker became a brand. “It turned out that people were home, the kids had no school, everyone was unwinding, and our show became a family activity.”

At 27, the radio personality who connected so easily with guests finally connected in his personal life. “Shidduchim weren’t simple. I was in yeshivah, but not in yeshivah, and everyone knew what I did. Baruch Hashem. Interestingly, my wife comes from a Karliner family and her grandfather, Reb Nachman Schneider, was one of the first frum Jews in America to have a weekly radio show, on WEVD.”

Motza’sh Chai became the flagship Toker show, but he was eventually given a daily show, from 2 to 4 p.m. each afternoon. “Zman Avir has my mark on it in a way that Motzaei Shabbos doesn’t. It’s more talking, more of an occasion for gimmicks and fun.”

On Motzaei Shabbos, for example, Toker will invite various singers and play selections from new albums, even if he personally doesn’t like the song. “It’s a question of parnassah. I can’t not play a song I don’t like or ignore a singer I don’t enjoy if it will affect his livelihood, right? During the week, if you listen, you’ll get a better sense of which singers and songs I personally connect with.”

Which singer is a favorite guest?

“Obviously, Mordechai Ben David. He took me seriously when no one else did, and we’ve been doing this for so long. He’s one of those singers who affects me — his voice, his feeling, no matter which song. I also find that Yaakov Shwekey is a great guest, because chareidim and chilonim, Ashkenazim and Sephardim, they all love his stuff. He draws in all sorts of listeners.”

Toker faces all sorts of pressures from new artists and producers, who believe that he can “make” them. “It’s not true. Even if I push a bad song, it’s still a bad song. What I can do is take a good song and make sure people are aware of it.”

Many hits were first identified by Toker. “I take credit for the success of ‘Yesh Tivkah.’ No one in Israel knew who Benny Friedman was, but when I heard that song, I saw its potential. He exploded after that. I heard ‘Ribon Ha’olamim Yadati’ one time and I said, ‘This is a winner. Let’s run with it.’ ”

But there are misses as well. “Ishai Ribo. I didn’t see that coming. He’s amazing, but I wouldn’t have imagined the success he’d have in the religious world. It’s a phenomenon of secular singers coming back to tradition, singing our songs. You can hear in Ribo’s voice that he spent time in shul as a child, and he’s coming back to us. It’s very powerful, but at first I thought it was a passing fad.”

Toker continued to rise in the ratings, dancing on the fine line between entertainment and consequence.

He created a real-time competition for acts of chesed, with finalists competing on the sheer magnitude of what they’d accomplished — who’d driven the most trempistim, delivered the most meals, collected the most tzedakah. His on-air trivia show features teenage experts in hilchos lashon hara facing off against each other.

He “borrowed” the reality TV concept from American culture and created Hakol Haba’ah, a competition between talented, would-be singers. At each round, contestants are disqualified, until only a few finalists are left standing. They sing before a panel of judges — and a massive listening audience.

The winner earns, along with the massive publicity, the chance to record his own album. The costs, production, and arrangements are all provided by the show.

Presently, they are gearing up for a new season. “We’ve had over 10,000 applications for people who want to compete. We make them sing a little on the phone, so at least we know that they’re in the parshah before we enter them.”

There were some bumps in the road to top-of-ratings supremacy.

Like getting fired, for example.

“It was strange. The station manager came over to me one day, and told me they were terminating me, effective immediately. He didn’t give a reason. I was stunned, and I asked for one more show, just to say goodbye to my listeners. I felt a real relationship with them. He said no.”

Toker made an immediate decision. “I said that I wasn’t talking, wasn’t getting bitter. I wouldn’t be busy with what had caused my dismissal or what led the people behind it to act that way.”

It’s still not clear, to Toker or anyone else, what happened, but eventually, Kol Chai — with a new leadership — came back with an apology and a request to return.

“So I did. HaKadosh Baruch Hu had removed me from that position and He put me back in.”

Toker is proud of another decision. “After Chacham Ovadiah died, the new Rishon L’Tzion, Chacham Yitzhak Yosef, took over saying the Motzaei Shabbos shiur. The station, which had always featured Rav Ovadiah’s weekly shiur, asked me to switch times and let the new shiur go first, so I would have to begin later. From a ratings standpoint, it seemed like a poor decision, but of course, I agreed. I never regretted it, and it turned out that our time slot is perfect.”

Sometimes, Toker’s cavalier manner gets him in trouble. One day, the news announcer was reading the headlines, mentioning that 400 ISIS members had been killed. Toker brashly interrupted the newscast, “Why so few? They couldn’t knock off a few more?”

Leaders in Israel’s Arab community, led by politicians, registered a formal complaint with the broadcasting authority. A large fine was issued to Toker, but the host took it in stride. He asked his listeners to pitch in and send single shekels. Within a few days, he had thousands of single shekel coins, he filled several bags with the coins and paid his fine.

Toker, a keen observer of shifting currents, has worked hard to find that balance to keep himself relevant and suitable for his chareidi audience.

He offers this assessment in a breezy, matter-of-fact tone, but it’s a statement that carries import.

“I got a phone call one day,” he says, sitting up straight, instantly serious, “from Rav Aharon Leib Steinman. The Rosh Yeshivah asked me several questions about what I do, what my goal is, how I attract younger people, and what message I send. Then he told me that there was a role to play in this generation for someone who does what I do. He wanted me to realize that, to see the opportunities, and he gave me a warm brachah.”

When Toker’s oldest son turned three, the radio host and his wife brought the child to Rav Ovadiah Yosef for a brachah and symbolic haircut. Toker didn’t introduce himself or say what he did, but Chacham Ovadiah looked right at him and said, “V’es hamateh hazeh tikach b’yadecha asher ta’aseh bo es ha’osos — You shall take this staff in your hands, with which you will perform the signs” (Shemos 4: 17). Toker understood the implicit blessing — and mandate.

These days, Toker is visible well beyond his radio show. He’s a sought-after emcee for dinners, events, and concerts; aside from being quick on the draw, he speaks English along with Hebrew. The most important quality of an emcee, however, is the ability to shine without upstaging the performer. “That’s where Menachem excels,” a close friend tells me. “He knows how to be interesting, but let someone else be the star.”

He has a weekly television show, an Erev Shabbos special on Channel Two. “They came to me a few years ago and invited me to join an existing show. I said, ‘No, thanks, get back to me when you have a show for me, my own.’”

They got back to him with a dream opportunity. The national channel was willing to feature something warm and respectful of Yiddishkeit on Fridays. “I went back to ask the Rebbe, and this time, he said yes.”

Toker’s Erev Shabbos show is often the only positive window on the chareidi community for many, and the host is well aware of the responsibility he carries. El Al Airlines features a Jewish music channel — all Toker, all the time. The website Toker.FM plays Jewish music around the clock, 24-6.

He dreams of creating a worldwide radio channel, so that Jewish kids everywhere can sit down by the radio and relax with their own music, mirroring his own happiest childhood memories.

The day after we meet, I’m driving to Bnei Brak between the hours of 2 and 4 p.m., so I switch on Kol Chai.

Toker is discussing the fierce competition between two organizations, Hatzolah and Magen David Adom. After describing just how special each one is, notes of mischief creep into his voice.

“Let’s make a conference call, let’s connect the two offices,” he says. You can imagine him gleefully rubbing his hands together behind the microphone. (Remember, this is the man who, at the heat of the divisions in the Sephardic community between Shas and the break-off party Yachad, connected Aryeh Deri and Eli Yishai, live, on air, and asked the two astonished politicians to speak to each other.)

The phone rings.

“Hatzolah, shalom.”

“MDA, shalom.”

There are a few moments of confusion — “You called me”; “No, you called me” — until both dispatchers understand that they’ve been connected by a third party.

Another few words are exchanged, and, behold, the two men know each other. They used to be friends. For real.

Toker is disbelieving. No way, he exults, a reunion on air. He can hardly believe it.

A joke gone right!

And I… I don’t know what to believe. Is this, too, a set-up? Is it real? Who knows, another day, and Menachem Toker doing his thing.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 651)