Morah Chaya Devora imbued each of her students with the most powerful appreciation for tefillah

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everal weeks ago, alumni of the Moriah School in Englewood, New Jersey, some who haven’t seen each other in decades, converged on a home in Kew Gardens Hills. On their faces were identical somber expressions, with a hint of nostalgia, a yearning for something that was, and is no longer.

They were coming to be menachem avel the parents and siblings of their teacher, Morah Chaya Devora Senft a”h, who they lovingly called “MCD.”

Chaya Devora passed away after battling illness for four and a half years. Though she hadn’t yet married nor borne children of her own, her scores of students and the stories they told left no doubt as to the profundity, and endurance, of her legacy.

They spoke of her great joy in all of Yiddishkeit. They described the programs she initiated, like an Erev Shabbos oneg and special Rosh Chodesh events.

And they spoke of tefillah.

Morah Chaya Devora imbued each of her students with the most powerful appreciation for tefillah and she enshrined this emotion in a tangible gift: a siddur for each of her students to take home.

And here, at this painful place and time, the extent of the lasting effect this left on her students became evident.

A woman shared how her daughter, now in a secular college, davens every day because of Morah Chaya Devora’s inspiration.

“I cherished the siddur my entire life,” one man said. “At my wedding, I davened from it under the chuppah.”

Another man sent an email, sharing how he maintains a lasting joy in the words of Pesukei D’zimra — something he internalized from Morah Chaya Devora.

Chaya Devora Senft gave her hundreds of students the gift of joy and enthusiasm and a lifetime of inspiration.

As the decades passed, they continued to daven from the siddurim they held so dear.

And now, as those pure words ascend before Hashem’s Throne, Morah Chaya Devora, standing right nearby, can watch and shep nachas.

The Lens

An aerial shot shows a breathtaking view of the annual Nshei Adirei HaTorah event, held in in the parking lot of Tower Five, the latest addition to Lakewood’s corporate park. A crowd of 17,000 women gathered for divrei chizuk from the Lakewood roshei yeshivah and rabbanim, who lauded and encouraged the attendees for their exalted roles.

A Promise and a Legacy

These pages recently featured the uncanny coincidence — or, to be more accurate, the open Hashgachah pratis — of ArtScroll’s release of a translated and elucidated Minchas Chinuch (Musach HaShabbos) on what turned out to be the yahrtzeit of Rav Yosef Babad, the author of the Minchas Chinuch. We’ve since learned that this isn’t merely providential — it’s actually the fulfillment of a promise.

Rav Yosef Babad served as the rav of Tarnopol, which was home to many chassidim hailing from the courts of both Sadigura and Sanz. At one point, bitter rivalry erupted between these two factions and, while Rav Babad subscribed to neither, as rav, he was inevitably implicated. A band of zealots, infuriated by his position, took matters into their own hands, entered his home and made off with countless notes of his chiddushim on a multitude of Torah segments.

Rav Babad was incredibly distraught over the loss. His brother-in-law was the Sanzer Rav, Rav Chaim Halberstam ztz"l, known for posterity as the Divrei Chaim, and the saintly Rebbe came to offer words of comfort.

“Is there anything left?” he asked.

Rav Babad sighed. “Just a small sefer, a commentary on the Chinuch.”

“Publish it,” the Divrei Chaim told him. “It will be accepted throughout Klal Yisrael.”

And so the sefer Minchas Chinuch was sent for publication. This vast, brilliant, nuanced, complex, and comprehensive sefer is the collection of insights is apparently a fraction of what he had in his written notes.

Upon reflection, it’s obvious that the sefer’s success is uncanny. Hardly a beis medrash exists without a set, it’s a bar mitzvah-gift favorite, and full shiurim on Minchas Chinuch are regularly delivered. When one stops to ponder this, it’s clear that something supernatural is at hand.

The sefer’s success flows from the brachah, and the promise, of the Divrei Chaim.

And now, as it becomes further accessible through the initial elucidation of the sefer’s section on the melachos of Shabbos, it’s clear that the ancient brachah is as alive as ever.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1082)