Meanwhile, at the convention, the tension was palpable. Rabbi Krohn wasn’t just a fixture at the Agudah Convention — he was a beloved figure, one whose words touched hearts and souls. Yet there was also an incontrovertible feeling that Rabbi Krohn would want the convention to go on. Everyone tried their best to make the Shabbos one of chizuk and simchah, even as they continued to say Tehillim for the recovery of Paysach Yosef ben Hinda.

Astonishingly enough, the “Friday Night with the Maggid” address took place as scheduled, albeit with some modifications. When Rabbi Krohn was taken to the hospital, Reb Chananya had taken his father-in-law’s hat and folder for safekeeping. Now, last-minute arrangements were made for Rabbi Shragi Malinowitz to pinch-hit for Rabbi Krohn. Rabbi Malinowitz later described Rabbi Krohn’s notes as almost having a trop of their own, filled as they were with colored stickers, numbers, and a multitude of directional marks. Thankfully, grandson Dovid Kramer was familiar with Rabbi Krohn’s style, and he reviewed the notes with Rabbi Malinowitz to help him get the gist of the speech, which, ironically enough, was titled, “Embracing Hashem’s Plan; Practical Lessons in Emunah and Bitachon.”

In a break with tradition, “Friday Night with the Maggid” began with Tehillim for Rabbi Krohn, followed by Rabbi Malinowitz delivering what Reb Chananya described as “a magnificent speech.” He shared Rabbi Krohn’s stories and content along with a few thoughts of his own, the uplifting messages serving as a calming influence on an emotional night. Similarly, Rabbi Shlomo Mandel’s Shabbos morning derashah on remaining faithful during difficult times also struck a chord, particularly when he segued into a discussion on the importance of remembering the pasuk “piha pascha b’chochmah.” In addition to those words being applicable to Rabbi Krohn, an inimitable inspirational speaker, Rabbi Mandel explained that the word piha was also roshei teivos for Rabbi Krohn’s name, Paysach Yosef ben Hinda, and asked everyone to daven for his refuah.

The next day, Chananya, his wife Faige, and their son Dovid walked to Stamford Hospital to see how their father was doing and provide chizuk to their mother.

“It was a little scary, because we didn’t know what we were going to see when we got there,” said Reb Chananya. “But we were able to tell my father-in-law that he had spoken the night before via proxy, through Rabbi Malinowitz, which turned out to be a beautiful moment during a difficult time.”

Only HaKadosh Baruch Hu knows how many perakim of Tehillim were said for Paysach Yosef ben Hinda over that Shabbos. And only HaKadosh Baruch Hu could have known how the convention theme — b’emunaso yichyeh — would end up becoming the title of the next chapter of Rabbi Krohn’s life.

Rays of Light

On Motzaei Shabbos, Rabbi Avrohom Krohn, the second of the five Krohn children and rav of Khal Zichron Zev in Manchester, New Jersey, turned on his phone as he left shul. But not having actually checked his messages, Reb Avrohom had no idea that his father had had a stroke, or that all of Klal Yisrael was already davening for Paysach Yosef ben Hinda.

It was only when he got home, and his wife asked if he had spoken to his mother, that Rabbi Krohn discovered what had happened.

“I looked at my phone to see if I had missed a call or a text from my mother, and saw a message from the gabbai of my shul asking if we should say Tehillim,” remembers Reb Avrohom. “He had seen the news on Yeshiva World and it was already public. If I would have seen that text before I walked into the house, I would have had no idea what was going on.”

From day one, the Krohn family decided that they had no intention of listening to any stroke statistics, or hearing about the limited window of recovery for stroke victims, especially for an 80-year-old like their father. The family knew that medical data didn’t account for what mattered most to them — tefillah and zechuyos Rabbi Krohn had accumulated through years of inspiring others.

“We weren’t working with statistics here,” explains Reb Avrohom. “We were working with a man that Klal Yisrael needs, who has helped so many individuals and so many groups of people. We were trying to make the best decisions, and were going to try our best to overcome any obstacles.”

Seeing his father at Stamford Hospital some 36 hours after his stroke, Rabbi Avrohom Krohn already caught glimmers of a spark that was soon to emerge as a full-fledged flame. One of the first things Paysach Krohn said to his son was that he wanted to catch up on his Nach Yomi.

“I asked him if he was sure, and he said yes, and told me to read,” says Reb Avrohom. “He fell asleep before I got through the first pasuk, but then he woke up and asked me if I was there, and if I was continuing. That in and of itself was so inspiring.”

Rays of light continued to emerge at Stamford Hospital, where the family was inundated with well-wishes, tefillos, and other gestures of support. One particularly memorable email came from a man sharing the story of a special guest who visited his Los Angeles yeshivah when he was in eighth grade. It was his turn to serve as the gabbai at the yeshivah’s minyan that week, explained the writer, and in addition to having the privilege of giving the choshuve visitor an aliyah during leining, it was his responsibility to make the Mi Shebeirach for some 50 cholim. As he ran quickly through the list of names, the guest reached out to the eighth-grade gabbai and tapped him on the cheek, telling him to slow down. He explained that every name represented a real person, with a family, and that he needed to say each one with kavanah.

“That message has stayed with me for 18 years, and that speaker’s name was Rabbi Paysach Krohn,” continued the writer, in an email that he sent to hundreds of people. “Today, he needs our tefillos, so please take a minute to daven with kavanah for Paysach Yosef ben Hinda.”

It’s doubtful that when Rabbi Avrohom Krohn read that email to his father, he could have anticipated his father’s reaction just two days after his stroke. Putting on as much of a smile as he could muster at the time, Paysach Krohn asked his son to tell him what part of the story was his favorite.

“I knew it would be his part as well — the tap on the cheek,” recalls Reb Avrohom. “Most guests would have just stayed out of it, or a real ba’al shitah would give the kid mussar, and the kid would be embarrassed. But here, he got the point across in such a positive way that it changed his tefillah from that moment on. And that’s how you give mussar — you want to give a message because you care, not just to say your piece.”

The fact that Rabbi Krohn was able to pick up on the subtle nuances of the story was a positive sign, as was his concern about his weekly commitment to record a pre-Shabbos devar Torah and brachah that was sent out by eight different organizations, reaching approximately a thousand listeners. While the vort on the parshah and the concluding brachah are identical in each message, Rabbi Krohn records eight different introductions, one for each group.

“He was drifting in and out of clarity that week, and he kept saying, ‘I have to record the brachah for yesomim,’ ” recalls Reb Avrohom. “The whole week in Stamford, that was on his mind.”

Eager to assuage their father’s concern, Reb Paysach’s sons, Rabbi Avrohom and Rabbi Eliezer, a rav in Clifton, New Jersey, split up the recording efforts that week. Together they made sure that their father could rest assured that his devoted followers would still be receiving their weekly dose of inspiration, even if it wasn’t coming directly from their favorite motivational speaker.

Meanwhile, as the Krohn family began adjusting to their altered reality, they were buoyed by the incredibly uplifting outpouring of love from the global Jewish community.

“The idea that the whole world was stopping for my husband — it was tremendous,” notes Mrs. Krohn. “You have no idea what that meant to him. Everyone had his back. We’re all on these Tehillim chats, which can be difficult at times, but you should know that at times like this, they’re so valuable.”

Angels in Orange

After nearly a week in Stamford Hospital, Rabbi Krohn was transferred to Kessler Rehabilitation Institute in West Orange, New Jersey, to begin the next phase of his recovery. There, too, while setting out on the arduous process of therapy, the Krohns experienced moments they will never forget.

“Everyone told me before we went to Kessler that I had to call a man named Joe,” recalls Mrs. Krohn. “I call him up and tell him we’re coming tomorrow, and he says to me, ‘Mrs. Krohn, you don’t have to worry about anything.’ ”

Arriving in Kessler on a Thursday, the Krohns found a kosher refrigerator, a microwave, and an urn waiting for them. Joe, a member of the West Orange community who goes all out to help shomer Shabbos Jews at the rehab center, made sure that they had restaurant-quality food for Shabbos and that Rabbi Krohn had a minyan to daven with, as well as a sefer Torah. Touched by the selflessness of the men who came to daven with him, Rabbi Krohn shifted into Maggid mode, doing the best he could to speak for them three times during his first Shabbos at Kessler, never once realizing that delivering those inspirational words was the best therapy of all.

Day after day, members of the West Orange community proved themselves to be exemplars of chesed. People Rabbi Krohn had never met before came to help him put on his tallis and tefillin. Members of the Krohn family were able to take advantage of the largesse of a community member who bought a large house within walking distance of Kessler for the exclusive purpose of hosting patients’ families, so that they could be with their loved ones over Shabbos. And the chesed wasn’t limited to volunteers. Rabbi Krohn has high praise for the staff at Kessler, describing them as “the greatest tzaddikim in the world.”

His wife concurs. “We were a case of ki malachav yetzaveh lach lishmorcha b’chol derachecha,” she says. “From the moment this happened, we went from one malach to the next — the Hatzalah member who was walking next to my husband, the other Hatzalah volunteer who was maybe 20 feet away, to the hospital, the emergency room, and up on the floor. Everyone was outstanding. And then at Kessler, we were once again in the hands of selfless malachim, both Jews and non-Jews.”

While Rabbi Krohn was receiving care that was as warm as it was exceptional, the reality of rehab was still very stark. Patients aren’t permitted to get off their beds by themselves — they have to call for a staff member who uses a mechanical hoist to lift them. Similarly, when the therapists wanted to work with him on walking, he was placed in a steel brace that extended from his shoulders to his toes.

“It’s not only humiliating,” shares Rabbi Krohn. “It’s also very frightening as you wonder if you’re ever going to walk again.”

The steady stream of visitors that Rabbi Krohn had at Kessler included some notable names in the Jewish music world, among them Yaakov Shwekey, who had met Rabbi Krohn only once or twice before; Abie Rotenberg, who had been in Rabbi Krohn’s Pirchei group in Kew Gardens, Queens, decades earlier; Shloime Dachs; and Baruch Levine, Reb Avrohom’s chavrusa, who traveled from Waterbury to Kessler with his guitar to visit with Rabbi Krohn as well.

“All these guys, they get paid to sing, and here they were doing it pro bono, lifnim mishuras hadin,” notes Rabbi Krohn, who in his inimitable style, chose to turn those visits into opportunities to inspire others. “I called the other Jewish patients when they came, so it was like a little concert for them as well.”

Those signature Rabbi Krohn moments continued during his time at Kessler. When Rabbi Krohn and the other Jewish patients were brought to a balcony to light their menorahs on Chanukah, he was more than happy to oblige when the children of another stroke patient, a Satmar chassid, asked him to share a few words of encouragement.

“He spoke about how none of us would have ever thought we’d be where we are right now, but if this is what Hashem wants, then let’s make the best of it,” shares Reb Avrohom. “We heard from one family member that it gave them so much chizuk to go forward, but really, my father was giving himself that shmuess as much as others.”

And that wasn’t all. While at Kessler, Rabbi Krohn called his grandson Rabbi Moshe Dov Heber, one of several members of the Krohn family who are published authors, explaining that he wanted to write an article on bikur cholim. Rav Moshe Dov’s first reaction was astonishment, but he quickly realized that it was just the natural next step in his zeidy’s mission to inspire others.

“He always speaks about how you cannot just go through something, you have to grow through something,” notes Rabbi Heber. “So to me, it was clear that having just gone through a stroke, he was intent on growing through it.”

The two spent many hours collaborating on the article, which ran on the pages of this magazine on the final day of 2024. In it, Rabbi Krohn shared his thoughts on how being a patient gave him a greater understanding of the mitzvah of bikur cholim. In addition to offering advice on visiting (don’t stay too long) and reminding patients how much they are loved (something a choleh can never hear too often), the article discusses the importance of showing gratitude to nurses, doctors, and other caregivers.

“From the aides to the nurses and doctors, each person who cared for me deserves a heartfelt thank-you letter after my recovery,” Rabbi Krohn wrote. “I am personally keeping a list of their names, as I feel it is very important to show proper hakaras hatov.”

Speak Up

After four weeks of rehab at Kessler, Rabbi Krohn was ready for discharge, but with his home still undergoing the necessary modifications to accommodate a wheelchair, alternate arrangements had to be made, at least for the short term. On Asarah B’Teves, daughter Elisheva Perlstein and her husband Rav Ephraim welcomed Rabbi Krohn to their Far Rockaway home, which had previously been made wheelchair accessible for another family member.

The next turning point in Rabbi Krohn’s recovery happened when Rabbi Yaakov Bender, rosh yeshivah of Yeshiva Darchei Torah, came to the Perlstein home to be mevaker choleh, together with a few bochurim. In the course of the visit, Rabbi Bender told Rabbi Krohn that Darchei Torah would have to be his first stop when he was ready to return to the speaking circuit.

“Speaking publicly was the farthest thing from anyone’s mind,” recalls Reb Avrohom. “At that point he couldn’t move around or even stand, let alone organize a speech or speak clearly. This was only a little more than a month after the stroke.”

But the idea that he could be speaking in public once again was like oxygen to Rabbi Krohn. A week later he turned to his wife and said, “Let’s call Rabbi Bender. I’m ready.” Somehow, less than seven weeks after his stroke, Rabbi Krohn gave a speech that lasted some 30 to 40 minutes at Darchei Torah. It was a gloriously emotional experience, with the entire yeshivah turning out to hear the Maggid speak once again. The yeshivah fihred tish as if a revered rebbe had come to town, with live music and singing; virtually every Jewish news site featured the joyous announcement of Rabbi Krohn’s return to public life.

Not long after that, a Five Towns organization reached out to Rabbi Krohn to ask him if he could speak at an upcoming parlor meeting, and the phone calls kept on coming. The effect was transformational. Rabbi Krohn’s schedule, which had previously consisted of therapy sessions, naps, and meals, was suddenly filling up with hours of research and writing as he prepared for his next speech.

Incredible as Rabbi Krohn’s progress sounds, Reb Avrohom injects a note of realism. “Recovery from a stroke isn’t happily ever after,” he explains. “My father may be Mr. Positivity for the whole world, but he has days where he gets frustrated or sad. Running around the world and meeting people isn’t on the horizon for him for now, and it hasn’t been for a year. That’s been an adjustment.”

One of the many invaluable pieces of advice that the Krohns received came from a doctor, who urged them to remember that life is a series of hills and valleys — moments when things are going well, and moments that are difficult to navigate.

“If you know that those hills and valleys are normal, you can pick yourself up much more easily,” explains Mrs. Krohn. “No matter how hard you try, you can’t always stay on the high, but when you’re in a valley, if you know that people are rooting for you, and helping you get out of that valley, you can do it.”

Hitting the Books

After spending several weeks in Far Rockaway, Rabbi Krohn finally returned to his home in Kew Gardens, which had been outfitted with a variety of accessibility aids, including a chair lift and wall bars positioned strategically throughout the house. It was time for the Krohns to settle into their new normal.

With Rabbi Krohn getting so much chiyus from his speaking engagements, it stood to reason that writing would be another platform that would yield tremendous benefits. Rabbi Krohn credits his grandson Rabbi Heber for encouraging him to delve back into a book on tefillah that he had already started before the stroke. Davening had always held a special place in Rabbi Krohn’s heart, and he had spoken on numerous occasions on the importance of every person having their own siddur, where they could underline phrases that resonated, and add notes that would enhance their individual tefillos.

Suffering a stroke had given Rabbi Krohn even more profound insights on davening, deepening his connection with HaKadosh Baruch Hu. Sharing those thoughts in a book was an idea that warmed his heart. Further sweetening the deal was Rabbi Heber’s insistence that stroke victims would be incredibly inspired by reading a book authored by a stroke survivor.

Of course, while writing a book didn’t involve walking, it still presented certain challenges for Rabbi Krohn, whose mobility was still significantly limited. With limited use of the fingers on his left hand, typing wasn’t a viable option, so daughter Chaviva Pfeiffer, another published family member, went to her parents’ house twice a week to type up stories as her father dictated, with Mrs. Krohn taking slots as well.

The process of seeing his thoughts evolving into a story with a teachable lesson was a fascinating one, recalls Mrs. Pfeiffer.

“At the end, we had to tie everything together, and my father would stop and think how to do it,” she says. “I would just sit and wait — it wasn’t more than ten seconds until he would dictate one or two more sentences that pulled the whole thing together with a neat little bow.”

When progress seemed slow, ArtScroll’s Rabbi Nosson Scherman would reach out to Rabbi Krohn, gently inquiring about the book’s progress. Rabbi Krohn admits that there were logistical problems as he threw himself back into his work as a speaker and an author.

“I have over a thousand seforim in the house, yet even getting out of the chair by my desk to get a sefer is a project,” shares Rabbi Krohn. “Sometimes I can tell my aide, Voltaire, what color sefer I need, or if I need my Tehillim, he can do that.”

The Philippine-born Voltaire has become an indispensable part of Rabbi Krohn’s life. Having been with the Krohns for nearly a year, Voltaire knows about stopping Rabbi Krohn’s walker as they pass through any doorway with a mezuzah, and his vocabulary has grown to include words including “mamash” and “kein ayin hara.” And since Rabbi Krohn still has difficulty raising his left arm above shoulder level, it’s Voltaire who helps him with his tallis and tefillin on days when there’s no one else in the house to do it.

“We are so gebentsht to have Voltaire,” says Mrs. Krohn. “He has no father, and believes that my husband has taken on that role. He said to my husband a few weeks ago, ‘I believe Hashem sent me to you and you to me.’ We’re not talking about work — we’re talking about a relationship.”

Affectionately referring to his charge as “Rabs” on occasion, Voltaire prods Rabbi Krohn ahead in his mobility journey with a mixture of persistence and respect.

“Just recently, we had to double the number of steps that I take each day, and he said to me, ‘Please don’t be angry if I push you, but I’m pushing you because I want you to be able to walk on your own,’ ” shares Rabbi Krohn.

Trying to get in 1,000 steps each day in the dead of a frigid New York winter is no small task, with the cold weather forcing Rabbi Krohn to complete his quota by circling his house.

“Sometimes you have to force yourself to do it,” admits Rabbi Krohn. “I just had a day where by seven or eight o’clock I had only done 300 steps, so we walked around from the dining room to the office, around and around. It’s hard.”

While Rabbi Krohn doesn’t shy away from admitting that therapy is hard work, he isn’t one to dwell on negatives. Each night before he goes to sleep, he tries to think of ten things for which he would need to say the pasuk, “Hodu LaHashem ki tov ki l’olam chasdo,” knowing that looking for the good makes you a better person. As he ticks off each one, he repeats Dovid Hamelech’s timeless words of gratitude, saying Hodu LaHashem ki tov, thanking Hashem for the many brachos that he sees in his life on a daily basis.

In his signature style, Rabbi Krohn uses pesukim to power himself through repetitive physical and occupational therapy exercises, infusing each one with a hefty dose of inspiration. A list that appears in his newest book, The Maggid on Tefillah, in which he breaks down several pesukim by their word count, with Rabbi Krohn choosing a pasuk whose number of words matches the number of repetitions he needs to complete for his own exercise.

“Often the reps are tedious and boring,” writes Rabbi Krohn in The Maggid on Tefillah. “I found that if one uses phrases from davening to repeat as they do these reps, one feels a closeness to Hashem through the davening, and that elevates the reps to a higher stratum.”

The theme of finding opportunities to become close to Hashem is one that is repeated on every page of the book, which draws on personal experiences including his illness and ongoing recovery. While that concept has always been the constant refrain echoing throughout Rabbi Krohn’s life, these days it colors his every waking moment, infusing his davening with an intensity and a vibrance like never before.

“It used to be that when I made the brachah Zokef Kefufim, I thought of someone who’s bent over and Hashem straightens that person out,” explains Rabbi Krohn. “But for me, it started to mean something new when I couldn’t move my fingers after the stroke until the Eibeshter gave me the koach to straighten them out. Now, every morning when I say that brachah, I think about my fingers. It’s a new insight into my fingers that I never had before.”

The Maggid on Tefillah, which was released in November 2025, has been a big seller for ArtScroll. And while Rabbi Krohn has dedicated his life to being mechazek others, he can’t help but be inspired by the fact that he’s been able to turn his stroke into a vehicle that helps people better connect with Hashem. He hopes that readers will use the inherent lessons in The Maggid on Tefillah’s stories as a springboard to take their personal tefillos to the next level. Most of all, Rabbi Krohn is confident that anyone who opens up the book will find a story that will impact and inspire them, affecting their tefillah in a positive way.

“Take a tefillah and concentrate on its meaning,” advises Rabbi Krohn. “Find an expression that talks to you. If you underline those words and you know the meaning and you think about those words, suddenly that tefillah becomes a different kind of tefillah.”

You’re Never Alone

Rabbi Krohn’s stroke wasn’t the first time that he has been tested seriously in his life. At the age of 21, he found himself responsible for caring for his mother and his six brothers and sisters after his father, Rabbi Avrohom Zelig Krohn, passed away at the age of 47.

“He carried them,” his wife says simply. “He walked his sister down the aisle still during the shloshim.”

People who are faced with significant adversity early in life typically react in two different ways, explains Mrs. Krohn. Some simply shut down, confident that their life is over, while others find ways to pick up the pieces and move on.

“None of us should ever be tested, but if you have the nature of being able to pick up the pieces, you can soar, b’siyata d’Shmaya,” she says.

Still, Mrs. Krohn acknowledges the role of the Jewish community’s support in getting her family through their most difficult moments.

“I told my kids that when you’re part of Klal Yisrael, you’re part of a team, and you’re never alone,” she says. “As much as we tried our hardest to carry ourselves, we couldn’t be where we are today without the Jewish community standing behind us.”

Today, it is the Krohns who are providing support to others, especially stroke victims. Rabbi Krohn has received calls from Milwaukee, Detroit, Cleveland, New York, New Jersey, and more, and being mechazek others energizes him as well. Each request for help gives Rabbi Krohn the opportunity to continue his life’s mission of helping others, and his wife describes him as the poster boy for “don’t give up, don’t give in,” an expression from a motivational book titled Stronger After Stroke that spoke directly to Rabbi Krohn’s heart.

“He always tells me, ‘People are going through so much — I can’t imagine how they’re getting through it,’ ” says Rabbi Heber. “I think back to a year ago, and how he’s been through so much… it’s incredible that he’s still looking at the positive and still thinking of others.

“There are always things in life that will be sources of chizuk. You have to look for them, and that’s what I believe his hatzlachah has been for so many years.”

Rabbi Chaim Dovid Zwiebel, executive vice president of the Agudah, remembers visiting Rabbi Krohn after the stroke and telling him that he was looking forward to hearing his “Friday Night with the Maggid” session at the 2025 Agudah convention. At the time, it felt like one of those things you say to a sick person to give them hope, even though you don’t really expect it to happen.

But with his unshakeable faith in the Ribbono shel Olam, Rabbi Krohn rose to the challenge. While the Agudah ultimately went with a two-day summit this year in lieu of a convention, in a format that didn’t accommodate a Maggid-style speech, Rabbi Krohn was more than up to the task of delivering his usual session.

His response to challenge perfectly portrays him as the embodiment of b’emunaso yichyeh, the theme of that fateful Agudah convention a year before, paired with his mantra of growing through adversity.

“Every day that we see him up on the podium somewhere, we reflect on how amazing it is to see how HaKadosh Baruch Hu restored him to a place where he can give over the chizuk that he always did,” says Rabbi Zwiebel. “What does that mean for us and the little tzaros that we face every day? Everyone has his pekeleh in one form or another and this is just a reminder to never give up. Never give up.” —

Unstoppable

I’ve interviewed Rabbi Krohn on several occasions, and had the privilege of soaking up his inspiring words during a five-day Project Mesorah Poland trip, so I’m well aware of his passion to inspire, his love of humanity, and his seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy.

Yet even as Rabbi Krohn now shared some of the frustrations that crop up in his post-stroke life, our conversation was filled with positivity, highlighting at least part of the reason why he is doing so well (notwithstanding the most important element of any recovery — siyata d’Shmaya from the ultimate Rofei Cholim). He tells me how he holds his phone in his left hand to keep it active while talking on the phone, or how he bends the fingers of his left hand back and forth, yet another form of exercise recommended by his therapists. The diligence and persistence that have brought Rabbi Krohn to where he is today amazes me, but then again, just about everything about Rabbi Krohn amazes me.

Rabbi Krohn quickly dispels any notions that I might have about how he might be slowing down these days. He tells me about his upcoming Shabbos at a Samcheinu weekend for widows, outlining the stories he plans to share on connecting to Hashem and with others. Because the hotel is large, Rabbi Krohn knows he won’t be able to manage with his walker, but Voltaire will be there to push him in his wheelchair.

Just a week earlier he had attended another event in Fairlawn, New Jersey, speaking five times over the weekend. The excitement was evident in Rabbi Krohn’s voice as he told me how thrilled he had been to hear from two young women how much they enjoy the weekly devar Torah and brachos that they get by email each week through Links, an organization that provides support to children who have lost a parent.

“You have no idea how much chizuk that gives me,” Rabbi Krohn shares.

Rabbi Krohn tells me that when I finish reading The Maggid on Tefillah, I need to let him know which stories inspired me the most. If it were anyone else, I would wonder: Does this person really care what I think? But this is Rabbi Krohn, and I know he does.

I ask him what the plans are for his next book. I don’t even bother asking if there’s going to be a next book — it’s obvious that there will be. He tells me that he and his children have already been tossing around ideas, with another book of inspirational stories likely to be his next project.

About 15 minutes before Shabbos my phone pings with a text from Rabbi Krohn.

“This is Paysach Krohn,” reads the message. “I just wanted to give you a special thanks for the wonderful interview…. Have a great Shabbos and thanks again for your special concern.”

Even on a short Friday, Rabbi Krohn had made sure to follow up and express his appreciation, one more reason why he has captured Klal Yisrael’s collective heart over the last several decades. Rabbi Krohn may be a highly sought-after lecturer and the author of 20 books, but at the end of the day, he goes out of his way to make sure that every person knows just how much he cares about them and how much he lives to inspire us all.

Is it any wonder that he’s everyone’s favorite author and speaker?

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1101)