The Greatest Privilege of All
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Rav Shmuel Auerbach was much more than a brilliant scholar with thousands of talmidim — he was also available to all the multifaceted residents of his neighborhood
(Photos: Mattis Goldberg, Baruch Yaari, Mishpacha archives)
T
he American bochur who came to learn in “Maalos” entered the large beis medrash on the first day looking for the rosh yeshivah. Used to the formality of the American yeshivos, he searched for the impressive chair in front of the beis medrash, or perhaps a private, well-appointed office off to the side.
One of the talmidim pointed to the back row, where a man with a radiant countenance sat half-leaning on the bench, his head in the crook of his arm as he looked into an open Rashba. He appeared the happiest man on earth.
“That’s the Rosh Yeshivah.”
The man who scaled the summits of Torah greatness was one who also moved easily among the people. The man who’d endured personal pain poured warmth and love upon his talmidim.
“But it wasn’t two parts of his personality,” says a talmid. “It wasn’t like he descended from his heights to lift someone up. It was all one. He was a fire in learning, and that warmth was what you felt when you spoke to him.”
This child of the Old Yishuv was perfectly at home — as was his saintly father before him — in Jerusalem’s Shaarei Chesed neighborhood, where he would walk with only a single talmid, making sure to be accessible and available to all the neighborhood’s multifaceted residents.
But with the Rosh Yeshivah’s passing last Shabbos morning, it’s the memories that will continue to inspire them.
Like that of the family that lost its young father just days before Yom Tov. In the hours after getting up from shivah, the home was suddenly quiet. Children of all ages walked aimlessly around the house. The freshly widowed mother didn’t know how to start to contemplate the approaching Yom Tov, let alone the rest of her life.
And then there was a knock at the door, a knock so gentle and refined that most of the family members didn’t even hear it. One of the little girls opened the door and hurried to call her mother to give tzedakah to the person standing there. The mother came over to the door and gasped in shock. Standing there was the rosh yeshivah of Maalos HaTorah, Rav Shmuel Auerbach.
The Rosh Yeshivah entered the house, and for the next hour, inquired about the goings-on in the family, and where the children were in school. As though he weren’t a rosh yeshivah who had hundreds of students waiting for him, or a respected leader who was constantly presented with questions of crucial importance. As though it were a regular day, not Erev Rosh Hashanah, when he would spend hours in meditation and cheshbon hanefesh in preparation for standing before the King of Kings. But when there is a heartbroken widow and fresh orphans trying to navigate the next steps, they come before everything.
It’s My Oxygen
Rav Elya Brudny, rosh yeshivah of Mir-Brooklyn, shares one of his own memories. Rav Elya had lost his own esteemed rebbetzin, and brought his brokenhearted children along on a visit to Eretz Yisrael.
Rav Elya took his grieving family to Rav Shmuel. The Israeli rosh yeshivah with the saintly visage showered them with chizuk and hope, speaking of the Ribbono shel Olam’s great compassion and kindness. Only later on did Rav Elya tell his family the truth — that this man who exuded such serenity and joy had himself tasted the incomparable pain of childlessness, and had also lost his rebbetzin, his most trusted friend and confidante.
In fact, Rav Shmuel’s life was long chain of transcendence, rising above the here and now and inhabiting the world of Torah, of yiras Shamayim, of Kabbalah and of purity.
It’s a story that began on the eve of the Day of Purity, in a home of purity: Yom Kippur 5692/1931.
In the humble home of the renowned gaon Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach and his wife, Rebbetzin Chaya Rivka, in Jerusalem’s Shaarei Chesed neighborhood, the atmosphere of the holy day was combined with a lofty sense of joy and gratitude: The couple had just been blessed with their first child, who would illuminate the world with his Torah, his diligence, his genius, and his spiritual elevation.
Like other children his age, young Shmuel began to learn in the only cheder in Jerusalem at the time, Talmud Torah Eitz Chaim, where he remained until his marriage. But even the Holy City of that time, where gedolei olam lived in a rarefied spiritual atmosphere we can only fathom, the young bochur stood out with his tremendous diligence, his knowledge, and his refined middos. Even as a child, while the other children were out playing, he was sitting and learning.
“Despite the fact that all of Rav Shlomo Zalman’s boys were talmidei chachamim of great stature, Rav Shmuel had a special status,” says Rav Avraham Yosef Leizerson, chairman of Chinuch Atzmai and a cousin of Rav Shmuel. “He was the bechor, but there was something else — his father deeply appreciated his oldest son’s diligence and hasmadah, which were truly remarkable. In fact, his father would often identify himself as “I, Shmuel’s father.”
The Torah was the highlight of his life, his source of joy and tranquility, and the tremendous knowledge he had of all its secrets, coupled with his phenomenal memory and remarkable diligence, meant that already as a young bochur he was an erudite talmid chacham, whose reputation spread among the scholars of his generation. He developed a close relationship to the gedolim of the last generation, including the Chazon Ish, the Brisker Rav, the Tchebiner Rav, Rav Isser Zalman Meltzer, and later, with Rav Elazar Menachem Mann Shach and Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv.
“Rav Shmuel was a young avreich when he entered the inner circle of the Tchebiner Rav, who was already toward the end of his life and was surrounded by the elderly ‘lions’ of Torah,” says his nephew, Rav Chaikel Auerbach, who became very close to Rav Shmuel when his father, Rav Baruch — Rav Shmuel’s brother — passed away.
While a bochur, Rav Shmuel once suffered excruciating headaches. The doctor he consulted with asked him about his daily activities and diagnosed the cause of the pain as the strain he exerted in his learning. The doctor told him to take a break.
But Rav Shmuel explained that Torah learning was the source of his life and the sustenance for his soul. “Can you forbid me to breathe?” he asked the doctor. “Learning Gemara is like air for me.” The surprised doctor agreed to a compromise, allowing him to learn — but only bekius. Indeed, for an entire year, Rav Shmuel fulfilled the mitzvah of “Venishmartem me’od lenafshoseichem” and instead of his rigorous Gemara sedorim, he delved into sifrei chassidus, in which he became proficient. (In later years, he enjoyed quoting chassidishe seforim to chassidic visitors, and it was this study that also helped him when he entered the portals of Kabbalah.)
Rav Shmuel married Rebbetzin Rachel, the daughter of Rav Pinchas Eliezer Paksher. The young couple first lived in the Mekor Baruch neighborhood, and Rav Shmuel began studying in the kollel affiliated with Eitz Chaim. In those days, neighbors noticed that the young avreich would sit down to learn on Motzaei Shabbos and he would return home after Shacharis on Sunday morning, still wearing his shtreimel.
“Rav Shmuel Auerbach’s greatness spanned all areas of Torah,” Rabbi Leizerson adds, “and while he was still relatively young, he began to learn Toras Hanistar, in which he became proficient. He would sit and learn in Yeshivas HaMekubalim Shaar HaShamayim, established by his grandfather, Rav Chaim Yehudah Leib Auerbach ztz”l.
In fact, Rav Shmuel’s very last limud, late last Friday night, was the study of the Zohar Hakadosh on Parshas Tetzaveh, his weekly seder in the mystical work.
Like Their Own Sons
While he was still a young avreich, Rav Shmuel was asked to serve as rosh yeshivah of Shem Olam, the yeshivah of the Amshinover chassidus. The Amshinover Rebbe shlita has been an admirer of his throughout the years, and once remarked that he considers him his rebbi who taught him Torah. From there, Rav Shmuel began teaching in Yeshivas Itri, and later in Yeshivas Kol Torah, where his father served as rosh yeshivah and where Rav Shmuel headed the kibbutz of the older bochurim.
In 1982, Rav Shmuel began charting his own path: He established Yeshivas Maalos HaTorah in Shaarei Chesed, the neighborhood where he grew up and where his venerated father still lived. At first, the yeshivah was formed like the “kibbutz” he’d run before, intended for older bochurim — but within a few years, younger students who were bnei aliyah found their way there as well.
Back in the neighborhood with his father Rav Shlomo Zalman, the two would daven Shacharis together and then Rav Shmuel would walk his father back home, accompanied by his younger brother, Rav Baruch, when he was still alive. The three would then eat breakfast together.
“Despite the closeness between them, Rav Shmuel never spoke in his father’s presence,” one family member relates. “He didn’t make any comments, didn’t ask or state his opinion, even though he was already a giant in Torah and a rosh yeshivah in his own right. His complete submission to his father was awe-inspiring. For the same reason, he refused to write articles for the Moriah Torah journal, explaining that he couldn’t write in the same place that his father wrote, because this could be interpreted as though he was on the same level. Only after Rav Shlomo Zalman’s passing did he begin writing his own chiddushim there.”
Another talmid relates that he once came to ask Rav Shmuel regarding the mitzvos of Purim in the Ramot neighborhood, which was detached from Jerusalem when it was first built. “Rav Shmuel said that from the perusal of the poskim one can conclude that the mitzvos of the day should be performed specifically on the 14th of Adar, but because his father had already ruled that the day should be celebrated on the 15th (with the rest of the city), he could not offer another ruling.”
The Rosh Yeshivah, who did not have children of his own, treated each talmid with fatherly love, investing tremendous efforts in ensuring their success. He was known to encourage talmidim to learn and grow, but also to eat breakfast and get enough sleep.
As he became like a father to his talmidim, Rebbetzin Rachel was like their mother, opening her home to them, offering warm meals and a listening ear, and feeling their simchah as if it were her own — which, really, it was.
“Before every bochur’s wedding, the Rebbetzin would go to the Kosel and say the entire sefer Tehillim for him,” says nephew Rav Chaikel Auerbach. “She would also purchase items he needed as a chassan. The Rav and the Rebbetzin would often travel to the aufruf or Shabbos sheva brachos, just like mechutanim.
“He participated in my simchahs as if he were the baal simchah,” Rav Chaikel continues. “And remember, he never made a simchah of his own. Yet he wasn’t shy about discussing it — he would often talk about the fact that he had no children, and that those who are blessed with children should give constant thanks to Hashem for the gift He’s given them.”
The Greatest Merit
Rav Shmuel established a yeshivah ketanah, Noam HaTalmud, also in Shaarei Chesed. “The deep way of thinking that characterized him was manifested even in the way chavrusas were arranged for the bochurim,” one talmid related. “He would invest a lot of time in figuring out which bochur would suit another bochur for the first seder and which other one would be best for the second seder. He took the weaker boys under his wing and tried to facilitate their advancement, but at the same time, he didn’t want the very talented boys to suffer. It was a complex task and Rav Shmuel invested into it not only his brilliant mind, but most importantly, his heart.”
Rav Shmuel’s every shmuess began with words of hisorerus about the merit his students have to be among those learning the beis medrash. “He would urge the bochurim to think about how many people there are in the world and how many are Jews. And of the Jews, how many are mitzvah observant, and of those, how many yeshivah bochurim are there, and taking all this into account, how we should never stop thanking Hashem for this privilege that we have,” the talmid continued. “He would always repeat his father’s point — that the worst thing was to be an am ha’aretz, and he was always afraid that perhaps he would forget something, and chalilah would not merit to be described as a ‘talmid chacham.’ But he had chavrusas throughout the day, until late at night — he didn’t know what ‘private time’ meant.”
The talmidim of Maalos HaTorah were not the only ones who absorbed the Rosh Yeshivah’s love of Torah. Avreichim knew that if they were able to be mechadesh something, there was no one more suited than Rav Shmuel with whom to share it. Rav Shmuel would truly appreciate the extent of the achievement.
A young man who lived in Mekor Baruch was once learning on a Friday night when he came up with an illuminating chiddush in the Rambam. The very next morning, he made sure to daven Shacharis at Shaar HaShamayim where he knew he could find Rav Shmuel (that was before the Auerbachs moved back to Shaarei Chesed). But that’s not the end of the story. The following Shabbos, Rav Shmuel approached the young man, and noted the source of the specific chiddush he had presented. The avreich was stunned, and asked Rav Shmuel if he had learned the sugya that week. When the answer came back negative, he realized right away that the Rosh Yeshivah had known the source the previous week already, when he first spoke to him.
“Why didn’t the Rav tell me this last week?” the avreich asked in surprise.
Rav Shmuel placed a loving hand on his shoulder. “I saw how happy you were, how enthusiastic you were about the chiddush, and I didn’t want to ruin that good feeling for you. If I would have told you that someone had already thought of it before you, how would you have felt?”
The year 1990 was the most difficult one for the Rosh Yeshivah. His devoted Rebbetzin passed away suddenly after suffering a stroke at a Shabbos family simchah, leaving Rav Shmuel bereft and alone.
“It was a devastating time for him,” says Rav Chaikel, “but with great fortitude, he picked himself up from the dust and redoubled his efforts in learning and teaching.” And with no real home to return to in the evenings (four cold walls didn’t count), he would stay in the yeshivah throughout the day and into the night, essentially moving in. Rav Shmuel named a series of his seforim — a compilation of his derashos — in her memory, entitled Ohel Rachel.
Rav Shmuel seemed to have a knack for stretching his days longer than 24 hours, for if he learned day and night, how did he have the time to be one of Jerusalem’s greatest tzedakah disseminators?
“It was quite amazing how much tzedakah went through his hands,” says Rav Chaikel. In 2016 alone, his “Shaarei Chesed” gemach distributed over 79 million shekels. People would deposit huge sums with him, even though he never fundraised in his life, because they knew the money would reach the most worthy targets.”
It’s known that Rav Shmuel had a special place in his heart for orphans and widows, and when he would provide assistance for them, he always made sure it was done with utmost dignity. “I remember one destitute almanah who he helped, a proud woman who was in need of furniture and had been used to a certain standard,” says Rav Chaikel. “He told the askanim to skip the discount furniture stores in Jerusalem and travel to Tel Aviv instead, where quality and style are superior.”
The Tent is Empty
Friday night, Parshas Tetzaveh, 5778. Yeshivas Maalos HaTorah.
Nothing prepared the talmidim for the night that would forever be etched in their hearts. On Friday morning, the Rosh Yeshivah didn’t feel well. A doctor was summoned, but didn’t discern anything more catastrophic than a cold, and recommended a standard fever-reducer. Four months ago, Rav Shmuel underwent a heart catheterization procedure, yet despite the ensuing weakness, coupled with his advanced age, the Rosh Yeshivah returned to nearly normal functioning. (In his inimitable dedication to the plight of orphans, after the procedure, even in his weakened state, he traveled to Bnei Brak to officiate at the chuppah of a yasom as he’d promised, returning to Jerusalem so feeble that he went straight to the emergency room. For Rav Shmuel, it was always about the other person and how he could be of service.)
Last Leil Shabbos, though, Rav Shmuel didn’t feel well enough to give his regular Friday night shmuess in the yeshivah, but he did daven with the tzibbur, and during the seudah, which he ate in his room — along with his confidant Reb David Biderman and two other talmidim — he said divrei Torah, sang zemiros and even remained after the seudah to learn.
Throughout the years, he would make sure to lein Parshas Zachor himself. On Friday night, though, he remarked to his talmidim that he didn’t know if he would able to read Parshas Zachor.
At 11:00, the Rosh Yeshivah retired for the night, and urged those who were present to do the same, so that they could rise early to daven in the yeshivah and hear Parshas Zachor. Those words — the concern for the mitzvah, the dedication to fulfilling Hashem’s will — would be his last.
A few moments later, Reb David heard the Rosh Yeshivah coughing and he worried. He hurried into the room, and seeing the Rosh Yeshivah unresponsive, he summoned emergency services, who arrived within minutes and began administering resuscitation.
The medics were able to get a pulse, and evacuated Rav Shmuel to Hadassah Medical Center. But in the ambulance, Rav Shmuel suffered another heart attack, and so he was rerouted to Shaare Zedek, which is closer.
For the next 40 minutes, emergency medical personnel worked to save the Rosh Yeshivah’s life. Medical askan Reb Benny Fisher arrived at the scene, having already updated Rav Shmuel’s brother Rav Ezriel Auerbach shlita, Fisher’s neighbor, who lives in nearby Bayit Vegan.
“I arrived at the hospital a few minutes after midnight,” Fisher related in an interview on Motzaei Shabbos. “The Rosh Yeshivah was still alive. I asked the staff, ‘Am I seeing right?’ They said, ‘Yes. You see 38 minutes of resuscitation, but the pulse has not started up again.’ I looked at his two talmidim, David Biderman and Yisrael Wiesel, and said to them, ‘Listen, this is the time you have to say Shema.’ I told them that I had been to Rav Ezriel and that he was on his way.”
At 12:35, the Rosh Yeshivah, age 86, returned his holy soul to its Creator. Within moments, the news traveled to the talmidim in Maalos HaTorah, who hastened on foot to the hospital. On Motzaei Shabbos, as the news spread of the Rosh Yeshivah’s sudden passing, the Jewish world was plunged into mourning, a gaping void leaving his followers and Am Yisrael in grief.
His mitah was brought to Yeshivas Maalos HaTorah, where thousands of talmidim gathered and tore their clothes, as they parted from the man who was also their father. For the sake of kavod haTorah, it was decided by gedolei Yisrael to postpone the levayah to Sunday morning, despite the custom of not keeping a deceased person in Jerusalem overnight.
Rav Shmuel did not have children, but thousands of talmidim owe him their spiritual lives.
Rav Shmuel’s magnum opus, Darchei Shmuel, is on Maseches Ohalos. Talmidim reflect that Ohalos, part of seder Taharos — which the Rosh Yeshivah had completely mastered — was, in a sense, his mesechta.
“The Rosh Yeshivah lived in an ohel, a tent,” says a disciple. “He was his own man, one with his Torah, one with his taharah, one with his beloved talmidim.”
And now that tent is empty and bereft.
(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 700)
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