The lad began studying practical halachah under Meknes dayan Rav Chaim Mashash considered Morocco’s foremost halachic authority at the time; he also forged a close relationship with Chacham Chaim Berdugo under whose instruction young Rafael Baruch came into his own as a widely-acknowledged Talmudic scholar. He was crowned with the title ofdayan when he was just 18 yet he defied the accepted custom and refused to don the special robe and tarboosh that came with that position. It was only a decade later that he began dressing in rabbinic garb — after the passing of his father — at which time Rav Rafael Baruch was named the rav and av beis din of Meknes.

Rav Rafael Baruch with his young wife behind him dived into his new position with utmost dedication and sacrifice. On the one hand he feared no man yet he would be moved by the sight of any Jew in need of help. On Erev Shabbos he would go from store to store imploring the Jewish storeowners to close their businesses early. He brought the strictest standards back into the realms of kashrus and mikvaos and he established a number of organizations to aid those in need: “Bikur Cholim ” which offered medical assistance; “Malbish Arumim ” which provided clothing; and “Mohar Habetulot ” a hachnassas kallahfund. But most important to him was Jewish education and he established a yeshivah and even set up an adult-education program. He also created “Shuvu Banim” to help boys learning in secular schools find their way back to authentic Torah Judaism.

There was no prayer more intense than his plea that his progeny remain forever attached to the Torah even if the Moroccan Jewish street was offering a different lifestyle.

This deep concern was expressed in various piyutim he authored, the most famous being “Ashoreir Shirah.” (Many can hum the first line without looking inside — “I will sing a song in honor of the Torah, more precious than fine gold, pure and clear….”)

As concerned as he was for the spiritual welfare of the next generation, Rav Rafael Baruch was also extraordinarily attentive to the many Jews who made up his kehillah. The day communal salaries were distributed, a group of needy men would congregate outside the Rav’s door; they knew he would take one-third of the wages for himself and distribute the rest to the poor. And when he prayed for parnassah, the Rav could be heard beseeching Hashem not only on behalf of his own family, but for all the poor of the Jewish people as well.

Rav Rafael Baruch’s love and concern for his fellow Jews extended beyond his immediate community. Every meshulach and itinerant tzedakah collector knew that the Toledano family would provide him with a place to sleep, food and drink, and a generous donation. In fact, the Rav gave so much money to tzedakah that his righteous wife felt that she had no choice but to summon her husband, the mara d’asra, to a din Torah. The case was heard by Chacham Berdugo, who looked at the distinguished defendant in surprise and asked for his response.

“Doesn’t Rav Rafael Baruch know that the halachah prohibits giving more than one-fifth of one’s income?” he asked.

“Kevod Harav,” Rav Toledano replied, “if this money were being used for the mitzvah of tzedakah, you would be correct. But I do not give money to the poor because of the mitzvah of tzedakah — I give because of my own personal need to do so. If I loved a certain food and spent large quantities of my money to buy more and more of it, would I be at fault for loving that food? Well, the ‘food’ I love so much is tzedakah….”

Guard These Children

“Come to me, Nissim,” the righteous Rabbanit Mazel Tov, daughter of Rav Rafael Baruch Toledano and young mother of four, called out to her eldest son. She was lying in bed, just barely managing to hold on to the last vestiges of life in the wake of a lung infection for which the local doctors had no cure. As her husband, Rav Yosef ben Rav Shlomo Toledano — another scion of the illustrious family — sat at her bedside, she made one final plea to her nine-year-old son. “Nissim,” she whispered, “you must remember throughout your life to learn Torah lishmah! Learn Torah lishmah… and tell this to your brothers as well….”

She turned to her revered father and begged him to take young Nissim under his wing. And with that last plea, she left the world, leaving behind four orphaned children and a bereaved husband, who would later go on to marry her sister, Geulah. Rav Rafael Baruch kept his promise, and Nissim grew up in his grandfather’s home.

During those years, some families sent their sons to learn in Tangiers, but most of the local boys stayed in Meknes to learn in the yeshivah that Rav Rafael Baruch opened in his shul, which was headed by Rav Shimon Vanunu. About 150 bochurim came from all over Morocco to study in Rav Toledano’s yeshivah in Meknes, where the Rav arranged room and board for them at the homes of local Jewish families. But some talmidim coming from remote North African villages with substandard levels of hygiene brought along skin ailments and other contagious diseases, causing others to recoil from them. Rav Yitzchak Ochana, who later became the rav of Kiryat Shemonah, generously opened his home to all those unfortunate bochurim and devotedly cared for them, arranging for doctors and medications.

The course of study was a three-year program after which the bochurim would return to their communities and serve as shochtim, mohelim, members of the chevra kaddisha, and purveyors of other religious services. After three years, Nissim, his brother Michael, and his uncle Yaakov — Rav Rafael Baruch’s son — wanted to continue learning on a higher level, but when the new learning cycle began, they were the only “old faces” in their group.

The Shabbos when a meshulach named Rabbi Meir Cohen came from Great Britain to Morocco marked an unheralded yet pivotal moment for the Sephardi Torah world. The chamin was brought to the table, and the Ashkenazic visitor’s eyes opened wide in astonishment as Rav Rafael Baruch suddenly confided to his guest, “What will become of my grandson Nissim, whom I promised to care for? What kind of a Jew will he turn into?”

“Rav Toledano,” Reb Meir said soothingly in an effort to comfort his host, “what is the problem? There are other yeshivos in the world. Why, you can even send him to London!”

The idea seemed bizarre at the time, remembers Rav Michael, Rav Rafael Baruch’s grandson who is today the nasi of the yeshivos Ohr Baruch and Brit Yaakov. “It was as if someone had suggested taking a spaceship to the moon for a chavrusa.” Besides, he told Mishpacha, “there was a simple, practical issue: The students of the yeshivos in Europe learned in Yiddish, a language the Toledano family didn’t speak or understand. But when my brother Nissim, who was 14 at the time, got wind of the idea, he jumped on it. ‘Even if my brother and uncle don’t go, I’ll go to London on my own!’ he announced.”

Reb Meir Cohen left their home promising to find a suitable institution for the boys, but months went by and they still hadn’t heard back from him. Then, in the fall of 1949, a letter arrived, informing them that a yeshivah had been found — Toras Emes, headed by Rav Moshe Schneider and commonly known as “Schneider’s.” It was a prestigious institution where Rav Moshe Schneider’s sons-in-law, Rav Eliezer Lopian and Rav Zeidel Siemiatycki, also served on the faculty.

Rav Rafael Baruch was happy to accept the proposal, but with one stipulation regarding the terms under which he would agree to send his son and grandsons: During the first year, the Rav penned, because the students also studied English and math, Gemara study wasn’t as advanced, but was on a much higher level for second-year students, who by that time were no longer required to learn secular subjects. Therefore, wrote the Rav, the boys should remain in the first-year class for limudei chol and skip to the second year class for Gemara, a class more suited to their level.

London Bridges

And so it was that three young boys found themselves standing at the arrivals terminal in London. They didn’t speak the local language and knew no one, but soon noticed a religious-looking man and assumed he was sent from the yeshivah to fetch them.

“We are the Toledanos,” said Michael, the youngest of the three, as he bravely approached the emissary. The yeshivah rep was quite shocked — he’d been told that three young boys would be coming from Morocco, and he imagined that the trio would be dressed in exotic foreign garb. Little did he expect to see three young men wearing fine European shirts and shivering in the unfamiliar chill of Great Britain.

On that first day of yeshivah, Nissim — a budding talmid chacham who had been honed in the Torah of halachah and psak, was exposed to a “chakirah” of Rav Elchonon Wasserman for the first time in his life, and his heart began to beat wildly. He was exposed to a style of analysis that he had never encountered before — how had he lived until now without the world of lomdus? Later, Nissim promised himself that he would make sure every Sephardic yeshivah bochur in the future would have the same exposure. It was a promise that made his peers laugh, yet which he went to great lengths to fulfill until his passing in 2012.

Avreichim were assigned to teach the young bochurim Yiddish, and they began to flourish in their new environment. “Look at the bochurim from Morocco, who barely know the language,” Rosh Yeshivah Rav Moshe Schneider praised them in one of his addresses to the entire student body. “Look how they learn: They are always the first to arrive and the last to leave.”

The young men were enamored with the new style of learning they had discovered. “Did you ever see a drunkard receiving a bottle of high-quality whiskey?” Rav Nissim Toledano once said. “That’s what we were like. We were drunk on the Torah; we were crazy for it.”

During their time in England, the Toledano boys developed friendships with many other students in the yeshivah, including famous philanthropist Reb Moshe Reichmann, Rav Yitzchok Tovia Weiss, the Gaavad of the Eidah Hachareidis; and Rav Moshe Sternbuch, the Raavad.

“We didn’t return home for over two years,” remembers Rav Michael Toledano. “We spent all the Yamim Tovim and the summers in London, until we became the best bochurim in the yeshivah. When they saw how we had succeeded, the yeshivah sent emissaries to Morocco to recruit another 25 bochurim. Today, many of those bochurim have become well-known roshei yeshivah in Eretz Yisrael and throughout the Jewish world.”

As other boys began to arrive from Morocco, Nissim was wary about the creation of a separate subgroup. He wanted to be fully integrated into the yeshivah, without being marked as “one of them.” And so at the end of the winter zeman when he was 16, he traveled to Gateshead and met with Rosh Yeshivah Rav Leib Gurwicz, the son-in-law of Rav Eliyahu Lopian, to ask to be accepted there. The Rosh Yeshivah was hesitant, fearing that the young bochur was not yet advanced enough. “Right now we’re only accepting bochurim for the advanced beis medrash level,” he said.

Nissim Toledano was not deterred. “If the Rosh Yeshivah gives me a Ketzos and chooses any siman, I will agree to be tested on it thoroughly within half an hour,” he said.

Rav Leib smiled in surprise. “So you know what the Ketzos is?” he said. Nissim jumped right into the sugya, and half an hour later, the stunned Rosh Yeshivah could say nothing more than, “You’re accepted.”

New Friends

In the late 1950s, Rav Rafael Baruch was visiting Moroccan ?migr? communities in France, when he met up with Rav Yosef Shlomo Kahaneman, the Ponevezher Rav, who was collecting funds for his yeshivah in Eretz Yisrael. Rav Toledano spoke with him at length, mentioning his grandsons in England.

“Bring them to us,” the Ponevezher Rav suggested, and Rav Rafael Baruch promised to remain in touch. By that time, some of the bochurim in the family had already returned to Morocco; Nissim, though, had remained in England, fearing that if he returned to Morocco, he would remain in Meknes forever. Rav Rafael Baruch sent a telegram to Gateshead, informing Nissim about the yeshivah in Bnei Brak. The idea intrigued him, and so after an absence of nearly three years, Nissim returned to Morocco and from there, traveled on to Eretz Yisrael.

During that zeman, he made new friends at Ponevezh, including a few isolated Sephardic students such as Rav Yehuda Ades, and there was his own uncle, Rav Yaakov Toledano, who had arrived earlier. Later on he would be joined by Rav Emanuel, Rav Gavriel, and the other family members. It is said that the Ponevezher Rav promised Rav Rafael Baruch Toledano that any of his progeny who wished to learn in Ponevezh would be accepted, but regardless of the veracity of that promise, there was hardly ever a time when there wasn’t at least one Toledano in the yeshivah.

Ponevezh wasn’t the only litvish yeshivah whose halls the Toledanos graced. After learning in Tangiers, Gateshead, and Ponevezh, Rav Betzalel — a nephew of Rav Rafael Baruch — had his heart set on Rav Yosef Dov (Berel) Soloveichik’s Yeshivas Brisk in Jerusalem. He was granted an entrance exam, but was told in advance that there was no room left in the yeshivah.

“One thing I must tell you,” he told Rav Berel. “You have never had a talmid like me.”

“What do you mean?” the Rosh Yeshivah asked.

“I’m a Yiddish-speaking Sephardic bochur from Morocco, who wishes to learn the Torah of Brisk.”

Rav Berel was pleased with his response, and Rav Betzalel became the yeshivah’s first Sephardic student.

A Vow and a Meal

At the end of Elul, two years after he arrived in Ponevezh, Rav Nissim married the daughter of Rav Yaakov Sudri, a son-in-law of Rav Avraham Raful. The Ponevezher Rav walked him to the chuppah, as his father and his grandfather Rav Rafael Baruch were unable to make the journey. Rav Nissim did have some family with him, though — his brothers, his uncle Rav Yaakov, and his cousin Rav Yaakov Moshe Toledano, who was serving as the chief rabbi of Tel Aviv and the Minister of Religious Affairs.

The Shabbos sheva brachos took place on Rosh Hashanah in the Kahaneman home — and involved a hataras nedarim for the Ponevezher Rav himself. Several years earlier, the Rav had spent Rosh Hashanah at the home of one of the yeshivah’s supporters abroad, but due to his concern over various kashrus issues, the Rav told his host that he had taken it upon himself not to eat with others on Rosh Hashanah. As a result of that quick-thinking kabbalah, the Ponevezher Rav didn’t eat with his own family on Rosh Hashanah over the ensuing years either. But in honor of the Toledano chassan, he annulled his neder and partook of the meal with all the guests.

No Yiddish?

“Would you have agreed for your father-in-law to take me for a son-in-law?” Rav Nissim asked Ponevezh mashgiach and personal chavrusa Rav Chaim Friedlander one day after learning.

The mashgiach, who was the son-in-law of Kol Torah rosh yeshivah Rav Yonah Martzbach, didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said sincerely.

Rav Nissim’s eyes twinkled. “I have an aunt named Miriam, my grandfather Rav Rafael Baruch’s daughter. She is exactly like me. You should suggest her to your father-in-law for your single brother-in-law Rav David.”

Rav Chaim Friedlander tried to extricate himself from the trap, explaining that there are major differences between a distinguished Moroccan family of rabbanim and a highly respected family of Yekkes. Both families were wonderful, but they were not suited to each other, he argued.

“But you said just a minute ago that you would have taken me,” Rav Nissim said.

Rav Chaim finally conceded and decided to investigate the suggestion; indeed, the shidduch came to fruition. And so it was that an Ashkenazic branch of the famed Toledano family emerged, with the marriage of the daughter of Rav Rafael Baruch Toledano to the son of Rav Yonah Martzbach.

One of the Toledano family’s Israeli-born Ashkenazic progeny once met with Rav Shach. To the Rosh Yeshivah’s surprise, the grandson didn’t speak Yiddish. “I can understand that a Martzbach doesn’t know Yiddish,” Rav Shach told him, “but how could it be that as a member of the Toledano family you don’t know Yiddish?”

The Same Fire

At the fifth Knessiah Gedolah of Agudas Yisrael, which took place in Jerusalem in 1964, there was a new face at the mizrach wall.

Along with gedolim such as the Beis Yisrael of Gur, Rav Moshe Feinstein, Rav Zalman Sorotzkin, the Tchebiner Rav, Rav Elya Lopian, the Vizhnitzer Rebbe, Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz, and Rav Yechezkel Abramsky, there was another imposing figure, dressed in elegant robes and a red velvet tarbush. Rav Rafael Baruch Toledano — who had received awards from both the rulers of Morocco and France — had left Meknes the year before and settled in Bnei Brak, ending the long chain of Toledano rabbinic influence in the city.

But he was still burning with the same fire. “How?” Rav Rafael Baruch cried, his broken voice filling the large hall of the Knessiah Gedolah as he faced the Jews of the Holy City. “How can we come before Hashem without bringing along our youth?” He implored the leaders of the Ashkenazic community to help bring the young people of the Sephardic world back to the path of Torah.

Rav Rafael Baruch’s grandson Rav Nissim never forgot his own promise to open a yeshivah for Sephardic bnei Torah. At the time, Eretz Yisrael had excellent yeshivos such as Porat Yosef; the style of learning, though, was geared to produce rabbanim. Rav Nissim wanted to import the Ashkenazic learning style to the Sephardic community — in his view, it would provide a certain vitality that the new generation of Sephardic youth in Eretz Yisrael needed.

Rav Nissim Toledano was about 30 years old at the time — living off a stipend from Ponevezh and working as a private tutor, the combined income of which permitted him to buy the bare minimum to feed his growing family — when Israeli chief rabbi Rav Yitzchak Nissim appeared on his doorstep with a tempting offer: If Rav Toledano would become a dayan, he’d receive a handsome salary, transportation, a private telephone line (a valuable perk at the time), and a pension plan. Rav Nissim considered the offer but in the end felt compelled to turn it down. He couldn’t violate his promise to the Sephardic youth. Their Torah was more important to him than a career in dayanus.

His friends and colleagues couldn’t believe his decision, but Rav Nissim was undeterred. He made the rounds of various yeshivos, recruiting Sephardic bochurim — including future Sephardic chief rabbi Rav Shlomo Amar and Rav David Abuchatzeira. “You will soon see,” he said confidently, “that a new generation of our bnei Torah will rise up.”

Yeshivat She’erit Yosef opened in the rear beis medrash of the Lederman Shul on Rechov Rashbam in Bnei Brak, where Rav Nissim lived. He donated his apartment to the yeshivah, converting it into a dorm, and moved into a rental apartment nearby. The yeshivah soon merged with his uncle Rav Shmuel Toledano’s newly established yeshivah in Be’er Yaakov, although it meant that every day Rav Nissim would travel from Bnei Brak to Tel Aviv, taking a bus from there to Ramle and then walking to Be’er Yaakov. At night, he took the same route back. Every Shabbos, he and his family slept in a rundown room in a hovel crawling with bugs and rodents, until two years later, when he settled in Be’er Yaakov permanently.

Rav Nissim was the trendsetter, but it was a foregone conclusion that the next generation of Toledanos would open their own yeshivos. Rav Gavriel Toledano founded Yeshivat Ohr Baruch; Rav Yaakov Ben-Naim, the son-in-law of Rav Yaakov Toledano, founded Nachalat Moshe; and Rav Betzalel established Zohar HaTorah. Rav Yaakov Toledano, Rav Rafael Baruch’s youngest son, spent over a decade learning in the kollel of Rav Eliyahu Dessler in London, and then went on to create — together with his wife, a French-born educator — a string of Torah institutions in France for Jews who had emigrated from North Africa. In later years, Rav Yaakov established Yeshivat Chazon Baruch in Jerusalem’s Har Nof neighborhood, traveling back and forth between Eretz Yisrael and France, until he finally settled on Rechov Sorotzkin in Jerusalem — where he assisted his nephew, Rav Betzalel, with the founding of Yeshivat Zohar HaTorah near his home.

Rav Rafael Baruch, who passed away 45 years ago this week, on 18 Cheshvan 1971, lived to see his legacy carried on in the next generation and his beloved grandson’s dream being fulfilled, infusing him with confidence that his cherished Moroccan kehillah would yet reattach itself to the eternal blessings of the Torah world.

All the Way Back

Rav Nissim, who passed away in June 2012 at the age of 78, decided to do away with a generations-old custom at every Toledano wedding — where one of the family rabbanim chants the names of the past 15 generations of the family, covering hundreds of years of rabbanus and scholarship as far back as the Spanish expulsion. Rav Nissim’s children though, at his request, do not observe this custom. First of all, he explained to them, it might create a sense of improper pride. It also represents an unfair burden on the audience, but most of all, he declared, “I don’t care that there are so many generations behind us. I want 15 generations of Torah and chesed in the future!”

One family member related that as a youth, he had certain learning difficulties that drew him to a bad crowd and nearly pushed him off the derech. But the thought that he would be the first descendant of Rav Rafael Baruch not to uphold his legacy was too great a burden to bear.

Because regardless of whether the names of their forbears are read aloud at their weddings, Rav Nissim’s own children and grandchildren know that the influence of their illustrious ancestor, Rav Rafael Baruch, accompanies them in all their endeavors.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 635)