Longtime mechanech Rabbi Leibish Lish learned through his own challenges about connecting with a child’s inner world

Photos: Naftoli Goldgrab, Yossi Goldberger, Personal archives

 January of 2020, some 90,000-strong packed into the MetLife Stadium for the 13th Siyum HaShas. More than three years have passed since then and, should nature run its course, the memories would have waned by now.

Their dissipation has been strangely reluctant, though. The unity, the joy, the clarion call for further growth in Torah, continue to live on in the hearts and minds of all who were there.

Nature, for some reason, has not been running its course.

And that could well be because it wasn’t all that natural. These were moments when we knew we were encountering something otherworldly; the neshamah, which never forgets, gave a small leap and we all felt it.

Such moments are never forgotten.

And that’s why, for many, the name, or at least the face, of Rabbi Leibish Lish will ring a bell. He wasn’t the keynote speaker, but something about his 180-second speech carried all the magic it needed to remain a lasting memory.

“This is Rabbi Lish,” he began and the force in his voice demanded immediate attention. They turned in his direction, taking note of the dynamic figure with a red beard and curly peyos, sitting next to a young boy.

The audience grew silent, as he shared the story of this child, whose name was Shimon Yehuda. Three years prior, Shimon Yehuda had been diagnosed with a brain tumor that was so severe that the doctors wouldn’t even consider treatment. The family turned to Rav Yitzchok Koledetsky, who told them that Shimon Yehuda should work to finish one full masechta. Shimon Yehuda took the gadol’s instructions seriously, and he persevered, ultimately completing Maseches Berachos.

“He never gave up!” Rabbi Lish roared into the microphone. “Day after day, in the most difficult times… it was tough, it was hard, but he wouldn’t even skip a day!”

Then Rabbi Lish’s voice jumped a few more decibels to the point where it virtually cracked. “Please join me in giving Shimon Yehuda a truly well-deserved round of applause!”

And the crowd of 90,000 did exactly that.

The speech ended, Rabbi Lish sat down, and the program moved on to its next segment.

But the minutes-long address left the audience with some lingering questions.

Who is Rabbi Lish? How was he so comfortable speaking before such a mass gathering? Where did he develop such overwhelming passion?

And highly sensitive listeners had a more nuanced question. The opening sentence — “This is Rabbi Lish” — seemed a bit simplistic. Couldn’t he have begun with something more profound?

These are all good questions. And they all have excellent answers.