Reb Yehudah Zev survived several labor camps and excruciating torture at the hands of the Nazis and by the time the war was over he was left all alone in the world. He came to Eretz Yisrael on an illegal aliyah ship was exiled toCyprusby the British and then with the establishment of the state he settled in Tel Aviv.

This gentle scholarly young man whose family had been turned to dust and ashes rented himself a room on Chevron Street near the Trumpeldor Cemetery. He lived in that room alone for decades devoting his life to learning Torah and delving into its secrets.

After the war, he rarely laughed. “How can I laugh after seeing all my friends and family murdered?” he once told an acquaintance who tried to make him smile. Serious and alone, he walked through the streets of Tel Aviv, a tallis over his shoulders in accordance with the German custom — although he wasn’t married. He also wore a gartel like the chassidim, and on Shabbos he wore a kapote.

Reb Yehudah Zev never looked for honor, and in fact preferred that people leave him alone. One day not long after he settled in Tel Aviv, he walked into the Chazon Ish’s beis medrash, sat down on a bench and began to learn. After a few minutes, he felt a soft pat on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw a short man with a wide smile.

“How are you?” the older man asked warmly.

Reb Yehudah Zev, who had heard of the Chazon Ish but had never seen him, tried shaking off this man who was clearly disturbing him. “Sir, please don’t bother me,” he replied. “I’m trying to learn.”

The Chazon Ish, in his modesty, fell silent and left without identifying himself. But a short time later, Reb Yehudah Zev discovered the identity of the man who had approached him. He went over to the Chazon Ish and begged for forgiveness.

The Chazon Ish asked him what he did.

“I’m looking for work,” Reb Yehudah Zev replied.

“I heard that the Tel Aviv municipality is looking for workers in its surveying department. Apply for the position and they’ll hire you,” the Chazon Ish advised.

Indeed, the gadol hador’s advice bore fruit: Reb Yehudah Zev went to the city hall, applied and was hired as a street surveyor, a job he held for many years.

Undercover

The years passed, and anyone who didn’t look beneath the surface might have seen Reb Yehudah Zev as a typical Holocaust survivor who failed to reconstruct his life. He was a bachelor, a loner, perpetually dejected, and he held an unconventional job. His acquaintances from work and from the neighborhood didn’t see greatness in him; perhaps they even saw the contrary.

Yet under the facade of a plodding mundanity, Reb Yehudah Zev burned with flames of holiness. He spent many solitary hours delving into the secrets of Torah, and created a bubble of sanctity and purity around himself. While his legs worked the humid streets of Tel Aviv, his mind was busy navigating the pathways of Hashem.

Only a few knew his secret, and those few were people like himself: lions in Kabbalah, often nondescript in their private lives. Over the years, Reb Yehudah Zev became close to many mekubalim, including the Baal HaSulam, Rav Yehudah HaLevi Ashlag, whom Reb Yehudah Zev considered his mentor in Kabbalah; Rav Yehudah Tzvi Brandwein of Stretin; and the mekubal Rav Moshe Yair Weinstock and his brother Rav Yosef Weinstock.

Rav Moshe Weinstock presented Reb Yehudah Zev with his sefer Hageonim V’hamekubalim for mishloach manos one year and also wrote a personal inscription inside, something he rarely did. In fact, their correspondence was considered a valuable collector’s item. Kedem auction house recently sold a letter written by Rav Weinstock to Reb Yehudah Zev, containing chiddushei Torah in matters of Kabbalah, with handwritten comments by the latter and stamped “comment by Yehudah Zev.”

Over the years, Reb Yehudah Zev became a prominent member of the chaburah of kabbalists in Tel Aviv, those who seemed to the outside world to be simple laborers. He was a disciple of “the Shoemaker,” Rav Moshe Yaakov Ravikov, head of the group of four mekubalim who were nicknamed after their jobs. The others were “the Painter,” Rav Yehudah Patilon; “the Street Cleaner,” Rav Yosef Voltoch; and the last surviving member of the group, “the Milkman,” Rav Chaim Ezra HaKohein Fatchia.

Reb Yehudah Zev maintained contact with the tzaddikim of his generation — a connection that didn’t attract too much attention, as many war-scarred Jews found solace in the gedolim who were fellow survivors. Yet years later it emerged that those ties were much closer than anyone had imagined. The gedolei hador were not only acquainted with him, they also shared secrets and soared to Heavenly realms with him.

He was especially close to Rav Aharon of Belz and the Klausenberger Rebbe, and often conferred with the Be’er Moshe of Ozherov and the Ruzhiner rebbes who lived in Tel Aviv — Bohush (where he often ate), Husyatin, and Vasloi.

Before the war, Reb Yehudah Zev was in contact with the Imrei Chaim of Vizhnitz, who also settled in Tel Aviv. It had been years since they saw each other, and then when Reb Yehudah Zev finally met the Imrei Chaim’s brother, the Mekor Baruch of Seret-Vitzhnitz, he bent over and kissed the Mekor Baruch’s hand, thinking it was the Imrei Chaim, who looked just like him.

Suddenly he realized that it wasn’t the rebbe he knew, and so he retreated. The Mekor Baruch, noticing his embarrassment and realizing what had happened, smiled and said, “Although I am not Chaim Meir, I will not give back the kiss…”

As much as he looked like a simple laborer on the outside, he was in fact an expert in all areas of both hidden and revealed Torah, and would often write down comments in the margins of the seforim he learned. Eventually he photocopied many of those annotations and compiled them into the seforim Ohr Levi and Ziv Yehudah. He also wrote the kabbalistic works Toras Yehudah Zev and Yazal Mayim MiDolio

The Beggar

But it wasn’t only his greatness in Torah and Kabbalah that Rav Yehudah Zev concealed. Toward the end of his life, it emerged that he was in fact one of the biggest baalei chesed in Tel Aviv. Although most of his acts of tzedakah were never publicized, some deeds were revealed. For example, every Erev Shabbos for many years, he would purchase large quantities of challos and would covertly distribute them to needy families all over the city. He would also collect names of people who were ill or who needed a personal salvation, and would daven for them and light candles in their merit — knowing that he had the spiritual power to turn around their decree.

In his hidden years, he would often visit wealthy people to solicit money for tzedakah, appearing like any other shnorrer who approached people for his own sustenance. Years later, says Rav Stern, he commented that he was a loyal chassid of the Satmar Rebbe, who demanded that his chassidim not suffice with giving charity, but should also make the effort to go solicit funds themselves.

When he saw that more sums were needed for the poor, he would travel to Jerusalem and stand at Kikar Shabbos begging for alms. His simple, rumpled appearance made people think he was one more beggar on the street, but that didn’t deter him. Only after his pockets were filled with coins would he hurry to Meah Shearim to give the money to the Toldos Aharon Rebbe for distribution.

The capacity to stand firm and not bend one’s principles, even in the face of humiliation or worse, was a legacy Rav Yehudah Zev imbibed from the chassidic masters who surrounded him in his youth, and especially his own grandfather. One Shabbos, when the Nazis had invaded his town, a truck pulled up in front of the house and several Nazi soldiers jumped out, demanding that his grandfather — who owned a grocery store — open the store immediately. The holy grandfather apologized, saying that he was not able to open the store on Shabbos, but if they came back after Shabbos he would give them whatever they needed. The Nazis laughed. Pointing to a nearby wall, they told him that if he refused to open the store within ten minutes, they were going to shoot him against that wall.

Refusing to break Shabbos to open the store, he walked to the wall and stood there waiting calmly. While the Nazis were deciding if it was really worth their while to shoot him, another jeep pulled up and a second group of Nazis emerged. They began yelling at the first group, demanding to know what they were doing there. They answered that they needed provisions and were about to take them from the grandfather’s store. The second, higher-ranking group ordered the first group away from the village — before anyone could be shot. But in those ten minutes, young Yehudah Zev learned a lesson about steadfastness that he would never forget — even if it meant suffering insults,  humiliation, or even the threat of death.

Always a Surveyor

For 50 years Rav Leibowitz lived the life of an eccentric, grouchy, reclusive old man. But in 1991, when he turned 70 and moved to Bnei Brak, to the home of Rav Chaim Stern, the revelation of who he really was began to emerge.

The gedolei hador who had kept in contact with him while he lived in Tel Aviv now flocked to him in Bnei Brak, catching the attention of a curious public, who needed just a few “miracle stories” until they too began streaming to Reb Yehudah Zev in large numbers.

The transformation was quick — from a strange, eccentric figure, he turned into a wonder-worker with a direct line to Heaven; all at once he went from being a street surveyor to an open tzaddik who was a magnet for masses.

Soon the wondrous stories began to spread, and people seeking yeshuos emerged from his room with a new light in their eyes. To this day, Reb Yehudah Zev’s acquaintances claim that he could “read” each person’s spiritual status as soon as he walked in.

“A surveyor remains a surveyor,” says Rav Stern. “He just went from being a surveyor of roads to a surveyor of souls.”

Many of his disciples knew that Reb Yehudah Zev would occasionally criticize them and rebuke them harshly for nothing. Finally,  one of them asked for an explanation.

“When a person enters my room, I see that he’s accompanied by prosecutors that surround him,” Reb Yehudah Zev explained. “They want to do bad things to him. When I rebuke him and shame him, I sweeten the decrees hovering over his head and block the prosecutors from being able to talk. I have never pained another Jew nor been truly angry at anyone. This display of anger is only to benefit his soul…”

“One day,” Rav Stern relates, “a prominent rebbe came to visit Reb Yehudah Zev. When the rebbe sat down and then gave his hand in greeting, his host suddenly began to rant: ‘Who are you? Your father was a tzaddik, but you? Vinegar, the son of wine!’ The rebbe was so embarrassed and shocked, he didn’t know what to do. He could not understand what he had done wrong to have Reb Yehudah Zev strike out at him like that, and in front of other people to boot.”

A short time later, Reb Yehudah Zev sent a special messenger to the rebbe’s home to apologize. “You are a tzaddik yesod olam,” the message relayed. “I didn’t mean to cause you distress and you should not be angry at me, chalilah. But I had no choice. I saw a decree hovering over you and I wanted to annul it. It is only because I admire and respect you that I acted as I did.”

In time, the rebbe told his confidants that Reb Yehudah Zev had actually done him a great favor with his piercing rebuke. During the period before that visit, several babies in his chassidus had been born with mental disabilities, Down syndrome, or other ailments.

“It was like an epidemic and I was devastated,” the rebbe related. “The chassidim came crying to me and I couldn’t help them. All I could do was daven and plead that the decree be annulled. But from the day I visited Reb Yehudah Zev, all these difficult events stopped and the decree was annulled in Heaven.”

View from Above

Whatever information is known about Rav Yehudah Zev Leibowitz, much more will be hidden forever, even as his word carried tremendous weight in the Heavenly realms. And as connected as he was to the gedolim and chassidic masters of the last generation, what many don’t know is that he was the principle spiritual guide of Rav Shalom Arush, the world-renowned Breslov mashpia and author of the Garden of Emuna series.

When Rav Leibowitz passed away six years ago, he didn’t have many possessions in the physical world, but he bequeathed his tefillin to Rav Shalom. And he left him something else as well. Before he died, he told Rav Arush several things he saw coming to the world before Mashiach’s arrival. One of those things, Rav Arush publicized, was that uprisings and infighting would sweep through the Arab countries. As for the other predictions, Rav Arush’s disciples say their rebbi is waiting for an auspicious time to reveal them.

Sharing the Burden 

Rav Stern’s grandfather, Rav Chaim Moshe Mandel, was probably the closest person to Rav Leibowitz, and they understood the responsibility they shared. “They had a say in the Beis Din shel Maalah,” Rav Stern says.

“My grandfather, Reb Chaim Moshe, served as a sandak at a bris in the middle of the Gulf War. He turned to the father, a close friend named Naftali Sternfeld, and said, ‘I thank you for giving me the opportunity to serve as sandak, because the ideal conditions have been created in Heaven for tefillah and we effected great things Above.’

“On the day of my sister’s wedding,” Rabbi Stern continues, “three hours before she was supposed to leave for the hall, she was suddenly overcome with severe stomach pains. The family became hysterical, afraid it was appendicitis, and as they were deliberating what to do, Reb Yehudah Zev appeared. He noticed the tension. ‘What happened?’ he asked. When he was told about the pains, he entered the room where the kallah was writhing in pain. ‘Where exactly does it hurt you?’ he asked. My sister pointed to the place of the pain, and Reb Yehudah Zev took out his handkerchief and instructed her to place it on the problematic area while he began to murmur pesukim and tefillos. A few moments later, the pains passed as though nothing had ever happened.”

On 13 Adar, Taanis Esther 5756/1996, Reb Yehudah Zev entered the Stern home distraught like they’d never seen him. “A terrible terror attack is going to happen today,” he revealed. “My friend and I will travel to the Kosel to try and annul the decree.”

His friend, Rav Chaim Moshe Mandel, foresaw what was about to happen. That day, in between seeing people, he cried out, “We need a Purim miracle today, may HaKadosh Baruch Hu send us yeshuos…” No one knew what he was talking about. He repeated this cry dozens of times as though it were an alarm bell for the tragedies about to take place.

Around four in the afternoon, a huge explosion shook the street near Dizengoff Center in Tel Aviv. A suicide bomber from the Gaza Strip tried to enter the mall, but changed his plan when he saw a guard at the entrance. Instead he blew himself up in the middle of the crosswalk at the intersection of Dizengoff and King George Streets. The bomb he’d strapped on weighed some 20 kilograms and included nails and ball bearings to maximize casualties and damage. Thirteen people were murdered and 125 were injured. Among the injured were many youths dressed in Purim costumes.

“They didn’t succeed in thwarting the decree,” says Rav Stern. “But I believe they managed to reduce the scope of the carnage. Who can know the secrets in Shamayim?”

When his good friend Rav Mandel passed away in the summer of 1996, Reb Yehudah Zev was plunged into deep mourning. He expressed his pain and revealed a bit of the joint mission that he had felt they had borne together: “As long as Rav Mandel was alive, we worked to annul decrees upon Am Yisrael. But now, with my partner gone, how will I deal all by myself with everything that is on my shoulders? Who will help neutralize the decrees?”

Rav Yehudah Zev Lebowitz lived 14 more years, but although during this time his reputation spread, when he passed away in Elul 2010, he took his secrets with him to the grave, leaving behind his esoteric seforim, his good deeds, a halo of secrecy — and perhaps a sweetening of the decrees for us as we embark on the new year.

Rachel Ginsberg contributed to this report

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 626)