A year after the Skulener Rebbe's passing, his sweet song still resounds

Photos: Mishpacha archives

It’s been a year since the petirah of the Skulener Rebbe, Rav Yisrael Avraham Portugal ztz”l, considered the zkan haAdmorim — the last rebbe of a bygone era. For 95 turbulent years, including early years of torture and oppression, the Rebbe pushed himself beyond all physical limits in his own avodah and in his tireless devotion to Yidden everywhere. Together with his holy father, Rav Eliezer Zusia Portugal zy”a, the Rebbe suffered torture and imprisonment by the Romanian Communist regime, and after his father’s passing, continued to lead the lighthouse of Torah, chassidus, and chesed they’d created in Brooklyn.

Before World War II, Rav Eliezer Zusia, the previous Rebbe (1898–1982), focused his energy on increasing the spiritual level of the simple folk of the towns around him, and during and after the war, he became the father of hundreds of war orphans, smuggling his “family” into Bucharest, Romania, and eventually sending them off to Eretz Yisrael. For over a decade, he was the address for all religious needs under the Communist regime, for which he and his son were often tortured — and imprisoned several times for many months on charges of smuggling children to Eretz Yisrael and spying for the US and Israel. Despite the danger, Rav Eliezer Zusia and his son remained in Romania to help fellow Jews until 1960.

Once their own emigration was secured due to the intervention of rabbanim, askanim, and the US State Department, father and son immigrated to the US, initially residing in Crown Heights. There the Rebbe set to work founding the Chesed L’Avraham organization to provide relief to the Yidden who remained in Romania, which later segued into a network of schools in Eretz Yisrael to keep immigrant children in a Torah framework, and which continues until today. Those who merited to be in his presence were astonished by the length and intensity of his davening and the beauty and depth of the tunes he composed, many of which have become internationally famous today. He eventually moved to Williamsburg, where he passed away in 1982. His son, Rebbe Yisrael Avraham, who embodied his father’s passion and devotion and was additionally a baal menagen in his own right, divided his time between Boro Park and Williamsburg.

Despite physical hardship, which he seemed to transcend, Rebbe Yisrael Avraham radiated the pure joy and simchah that comes with being truly connected to holiness. During the 36 years of his leadership, he was revered for his kedushah and his dedication to the myriad Yidden who came for his hadrachah, brachos, and to be inspired by his avodas Hashem. At tishen, the Rebbe beamed, smiling upon all with genuine ahavas Yisrael, an intense love coupled with a desire for the fulfillment of their spiritual greatness. And throughout the bitter years and the sweet ones, he composed his niggunim (“Oy Yoy Yoy Shabbos,” and hundreds of others), the songs of Skulen, which reach out to the hearts of Jews everywhere, letting listeners touch a tangible outpouring of the Rebbe’s pure soul. But although the Rebbe was a lofty soul and miracle tales abound, in speaking to the Rebbe’s gabbaim, grandchildren, and followers, and listening to the stories of his more mundane activities, it seems, perhaps, that therein lay the greatest wonders.

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The Best Deal

I was once in the car with the Rebbe, when he turned to me and said, “The measurement of ahavas Hashem is ahavas Yisrael. Far deveikisn, ken zich yeder einer [Anyone can have moments of feeling a strong connection to Hashem]. But the real measurement is what you would do to help another Yid.”

Late one Thursday night, I was closing up the Rebbe’s house before going home, when a person came to the door, asking to see the Rebbe. I suggested he return on Sunday, but he said it was an urgent matter, so he went in to the Rebbe’s room. I continued locking up the doors and windows, and soon I saw that the Rebbe had left his room and gone into another room, which meant that he had gone to get money. Later when I reentered the Rebbe’s room, I saw that the Yid had left. The Rebbe was sitting there, singing a niggun for “Kol zera Yaakov yechabduhu, kidvar haMelech vedaso,” with tears of joy streaming down his face. I asked him what had happened, and he told me, “A Yid was here who had absolutely nothing to make Shabbos with… the Tatteh (everything was always about his father, the previous Rebbe, because the Rebbe never spoke about himself, ever) was always so happy when he could make a Yid happy….”

Another time, a Yid weighed down with sorrow came in to see the Rebbe. He was a father of 12 children and unemployed, and in addition, his marriage had deteriorated and almost unraveled because of the financial stress. It was late afternoon when he left the Rebbe’s room, and then the Rebbe called me in and asked me to contact a certain businessman so he could ask him to give this person a job. It was getting late for Minchah, so I suggested that we do it after Minchah, but the Rebbe said it couldn’t wait.

I made the call and the Rebbe made his request. The man, however, objected strenuously. “Rebbe, I have a business to run, I can’t just hire anyone.”

“If you take in this Yid, I’ll give you a brachah and your business will grow,” the Rebbe rejoined.

It wasn’t easy. After a very long conversation, and much cajoling on the Rebbe’s part, the businessman finally agreed to employ this man. The Rebbe’s face was shining. He called back the unemployed Yid, and I was asked to lock the door while the Rebbe spoke to him to finalize the arrangements of his new job. And when it was all sorted out, the Rebbe looked like someone who had just made the best deal of his career.

—RABBI AVRAHAM YITZCHAK BLUM, gabbai