Rav Asher Druk is an old-style maggid with a modern twist

Photos: Avi Gass

He’s a throwback to the maggidim of old, traveling from city to city to urge his people to improve, to change, to strive for more.

But Rav Asher Druk has spiced his Yerushalmi legacy and considerable speaking talents with a twist perfectly tailored to today’s generation: his mixture of stories, Torah insights, and exhortations is set to a background of gentle guitar strumming, and when he reaches an emotional climax, he switches from his usual rapid-fire pace to melodious notes that seem almost like a prayer. The music opens hearts to his messages, says the 21st-century maggid, and isn’t that the secret of his craft?

The Holly Oaks neighborhood in Manchester, New Jersey, is a small community full of young frum families and modest homes. It looks like another outpost of Lakewood, but it has yet to achieve the vibrance that has become synonymous with the bustling Torah metropolis. There are just two daily Shacharis minyanim, and rarely does one catch any sight of an Israeli meshulach making his holy rounds. That’s what made this summer visitor such an anomaly.

For one golden week during bein hazmanim, a broad and bearded man, clad in a resplendent rekkel and an up-hat clamped tightly onto his forehead, rushed through the door of the Holly Oaks shul every morning, his head stooped slightly and eyebrows creased with intent. He took a seat at the front of the shul, donned his tallis and tefillin, and in a resonant voice that matched his energetic posture, sang the birchos hashachar, relishing each word as if it were delicious, mouthwatering candy. The warmth infused in that accented davening resonated through the shul, evoking images of stone alleyways and pure-eyed children: It was the sound of Yerushalayim.

After Shacharis, the man took his leave — not with the intensity of his entrance, but in a calm, almost leisurely manner. He slowly ambled out, taking care to wish each of those in his vicinity a personal “gutt morgen,” radiating a certain sunshine on all who crossed his path.

At first, the neighborhood Jews assumed their guest was a prestigious rabbinic figure visiting America on behalf of his mosad. Then, after a few days, they learned just who their Israeli visitor was: the famed Yerushalmi maggid, Rav Asher Druk, known for his unique method of wrapping stirring messages in the most charming of packages.

Five thousand miles from his homeland and heartland, far from an audience with a natural affinity for his mixture of modern Hebrew and Lashon Hakodesh, Rav Druk still managed to gain a following.

Before he set out on his daily schedule, a crowd inevitably formed around Rav Druk, waiting to hear his thoughts and insights. There was something about his way of speaking — despite there being nary a word in the native English of his listeners — that drew people in. Even pre-coffee, the famed maggid regaled his audience with brachos, chizuk, and pithy observations.

After a mispallel confided that he was scheduled for an important medical appointment later that week, Rav Druk drew him close.

“You’re going for a procedure?” he asked, his expression serious but his eyes twinkling. “It’s not just going to go well. We’ll daven for you — and you’ll see, it’s going to be better than you ever expected! The doctors aren’t going to believe what they see when they review your results!

“Der Eibishter iz der Rofei chol boser — Hashem is the Healer of all flesh,” he went on. “His abilities aren’t limited to just making sure that you get better — He can make you healthy and give you kochos you didn’t even know you had!”

Rav Druk stopped mid-stride and looked at his impromptu audience, his hand gesturing for those around him to come closer.

“You’ve all heard about Rav Yankel Galinsky, yah?” he asked.

Even the few mispallelim talking off to the side stopped their conversation at what promised to be a good story.

“Rav Galinsky once told me that when he was in Siberia during the war, he didn’t know if he’d even make it to the next day. The labor was backbreaking and the temperatures were freezing. Every day, people would just drop dead from exhaustion.

“Rav Galinsky davened that Hashem should be mezakeh him to kevuras Yisrael, a proper Jewish burial. That was the neis he was hoping for. But then what happened?”

Rav Druk’s voice turns melodic, and he begins to chant in that Yerushalmi melody that sweeps up listeners with its plaintive sweetness. “Hashem did much more than that. He took Reb Yankel out of Siberia. He gave him a wife, and children, and eineklach. Then uhr-eineklach, even uhr-uhr-eineklach. Reb Yankel said shiurim and put out many seforim” — here the maggid pauses, then winks — “and he even got azah sheine picture,” referencing the smiling photo of Rav Galinsky that graces the cover of his famous Ve’higadta series.

The audience lets out a collective laugh. This Yerushalmi maggid is like no one they’ve ever met. He’s inspiring yet understanding, artlessly genuine yet clever and entertaining. He’s able to uplift these Jews during the post-Shacharis rush in a New Jersey suburb — because despite their external differences, Rav Asher Druk “gets” them.