It’s the storyline in so many chassidishe ma’ases; the rebbe instructing the ba’alagole to prepare the horses, for they will be traveling. Where? It isn’t clear. Why? Equally vague. But these stories armed generations of listeners with emunas tzaddikim, with an awareness that when tzaddikim say ‘go’, there is a destination, a goal, a plan.
The Upper West Side of 2014 bears little resemblance to the dirt roads of the Ukraine of old, but the storyline is still playing out; the rebbe said go.
Amidst well-maintained brownstones and well-maintained people of the Upper West Side, the Young Israel building is an island, a break from chic coffee bars and Chinese Laundromats. Beyond the magnificent sanctuary there is a staircase, and then another set of stairs. Four such flights and there is a small room, an attractive little shtiebel.
In the tiny room off the shul sits a rebbe; a relatively young man who has already accomplished much, shining the light of authentic Yiddishkeit into the streets of secular Tel Aviv, nourishing an ever-growing clientele with a unique mix of old-world chassidus and a brand of encouragement that is very 2014.
Why, if he leads a thriving shul in Tel Aviv and a respected yeshiva in Bnei Brak, does he sit here, in distant Manhattan? Why, if his heart is firmly planted in the East does the rebbe and his family sit here, in the freezing West?
Because the rebbe said go.
And to him, emunas tzaddikim is tangible.
WHATEVER NEEDS TO BE DONE
The Koznitzer Rebbe, Rav Shimshon Moshe Sternberg, is heir to one of the glorious legacies in chassidus. The great Koznitzer maggid, Rav Yisroel Hopstein, was amongst the ‘fathers’ of Polish chassidus, a prime link in transmitting Toras haBaal shem Tov to the masses. The dynasty continued up until the second World War, a series of vibrant rebbes; the final pre-Holocaust rebbe, Reb Ahre’le of Koznitz, is somewhat of a legend.
Untraditional in methods, the ‘Vilder Rebbe’, as some referred to him, wrought extraordinary results through erratic behavior. Without leaving the path of Koznitz, the rebbe reacted to the call of hour, engaging in outreach to the many young men leaving the path of Yiddishkeit, pulled by the allure of the haskala. The young people in the coffee-houses of Warsaw and Krakow were Reb Ahre’le’s chassidim; he spoke their language and was remarkably successful in drawing them back to the ways of their fathers. This path he charted- chassidus-fueled kiruv- is being traveled by the present Koznitzer Rebbe, who counts many of the inhabitants of secular Tel Aviv amongst his chassidim.
The rebbe has received many first-person stories from elderly Tel Aviv residents who still recall the fiery Reb Ahre’le.
“Reb Ahre’le’s didn’t veer from a mesorah of Koznitz,” the rebbe clarifies, “the mesorah is to what needs to be done; in his time, that was the challenge of his generation, so it was necessary.”
Reb Ahrele traveled all over Europe, reaching London in his search for disenfranchised young people.
“I met an older Yid who told me that he how he’d been a rebellious teenager, and he’d cut off his peyos and beard. One day, Reb Ahre’le saw him on the street and he cried out, “Tomorrow you’ll be by me. And you’ll look like a Yid!” The young man related that he had no power in the face of the rebbe’s bold proclamation, feeling himself led back home by the force of the rebbe’s word.
The rebbe shares an incident he heard from a survivor, about how Reb Ahrele went to visit a particular shtetel. He asked the chevra kadisha members to accompany him on a walk through the outskirts of town and when they did, he stopped at a particular field. He recited the pessukim to sanctify it as a beis hakvaros and walked around its perimeter; years later, the Nazis came and shot the Jews of that town, burying them in a massive hole- right in the middle of the field which the rebbe had hallowed.
But Reb Ahrele didn’t only appeal to the masses; the best and brightest went to him as well.
“Rav Schach told me that he went especially to meet him, and Rav Wosner told me, with great emotion, that he owes all his success in life to a bracha he received.”
Rav Shmuel Wosner was a talmid of Chachmei Lublin, and the mashgiach there, the sainted Reb Shima’le Zelichover, told the bochurim that the Koznitzer Rebbe, Reb Ahre’le, was the pillar of the midda of shemiras habris, personal holiness, of the generation. Inspired, the young Rav Wosner went to meet him. Reb Ahrele told Rav Wosner that he was destined to be a great moreh hora’ah.
“Rav Wosner was crying when he remembered the story.”
Within the chassidus, it was known that Reb Ahrele would sometimes slap his chassidim; years later, after the war, it emerged that all those young men who’d been slapped by the rebbe- at the time, so humiliating- had survived the war.
LONE SURVIVOR
Reb Ahre’le himself died before the war. He had several brothers; the youngest, Rav Yisroel Elazar, was soft-spoken and gentle. He’d traveled to Eretz Yisroel in the 1920’s and established a chassidic settlement called Kfar Avodas Yisroel, honoring the legacy of the Koznitzer Maggid. (In time, the name was changed to Kfar Chassidim). When Reb Ahre’le died, Reb Yisroel Elazar returned to Europe, serving as a rov in Paris before eventually leaving for the United States.
Then came the Holocaust and the near-total destruction of the chassidic centers in Eastern Europe; from the house of Koznitz, there was almost no one left. The humble rebbe in Crown Heights, Rav Yisroel Elazar Hopstein, was the lone survivor of the great dynasty and the remaining chassidim rallied around him, their hope for the future of a great chassidus.
The rebbe had but one daughter and she married a brilliant young talmid chacham named Rav Shlomo Aryeh Sternberg, a prize disciple of Rav Chaskel Sarna. When the Sternberg’s had a son, the chassidim rejoiced; the child, they hoped, meant that Koznitz would endure. The Chevron-educated Reb Yerachmiel understood that his infant son was a crown prince and he made one request. “Not until he gets married, let him develop normally.”
Today, that piece of advice equals the success of this affable, approachable rebbe.
TZADDIKIM AREN’T ONE-DIMENSIONAL
Young Shimshon attended Yeshiva K’tana in Manhattan and when he reached mesivta age, his father asked an old friend, Rav Shneur Kotler, which was the finest yeshiva high school in America. Rav Shneur replied that the yeshiva in Philadelphia was an excellent choice.
“I loved it there. The roshei yeshivos, Rav Elya Svei and yblct’a Rav Shmuel Kamenetzky were exceptional role models. Rav Elya had this way of a speaking, with such clarity and forthrightness, that went straight to the soul.”
The rebbe recalls a seminal moment in his chinuch. “The whole yeshiva went to Boro Park to participate in the levaya of Rav Boruch Sorotzkin, it was a freezing winter day.”
At the time, Rav Elya was a relatively young rosh yeshiva and the wider Torah community wasn’t yet acquainted with him.
‘If I would tell you the Ribbono shel Olam said ‘lo signov’, that its forbidden to steal, you would all be insulted,’ Rav Elya said, ‘ Yet you raise your children with luxuries and excess that will make it difficult for them to support themselves honestly.’
Voss vet zein mit di kinder, what will be with the children, Rav Elya famously cried that day.
“This was the heimeshe crowd he was addressing, yet he didn’t mince words. It was a courageous speech.”
“I envy the rebbes,” Rav Elya once quipped to the chassidishe talmid, well aware of his yichus, “their chassidim listen to them.”
The Philadelphia talmid discovered the writings of the Satmar Rebbe, the Divrei Yoel, and he felt drawn to them.
“The Satmar ideology wasn’t very popular, I remember walking down West End Avenue with the sefer Vayoel Moshe under my arm. People noticed and started to shout at me, they were very upset. I understand that for Holocaust survivors, the State of Israel was a sign of hope, but at the same time, look at the Satmar Rebbe; a tzaddik, a kadosh, a gaon, he had nothing with the pleasures of this world…he certainly earned the right to have an opinion, yet people weren’t prepared to listen.”
The rebbe shares the story of a former soldier who was discharged from the IDF after sustaining serious injury. “And he told me that the only way he was able to go on after that was with the checks he received every month from Satmar, simply because he was a Jew in distress, no other reason.”
The rebbe’s point is central to his entire philosophy- to his entire being. “Emunas tzaddikim doesn’t mean ‘holding’ of a tzaddik, but believing that there is much more to the person that you can see or perceive. Tzaddikim aren’t one-dimensional. The Satmar Rebbe was just an example.”
SO NAÏVE
The Sternberg family davened at the West Side shtiebel of the Brodde Rov, Rav Steinberg. When Reb Shlomo Aryeh Sternberg was niftar suddenly, leaving over a seventeen year old orphan, the Brodde Rov called Rav Elya Svei and asked that the boy be allowed to leave yeshiva each Shabbos and be with his mother.
“Rav Elya had tremendous respect for the rov and he agreed, so I would get a ride home every Friday with Rav Mendel Kaplan, who lived in Broolyn and went home for Shabbos.”
The relationship with Reb Mendel also influenced the future rebbe. “His simple greatness; the way he would shovel the path from the dormitory to the beis medrash in the morning, before the bochurim were even up. Each week, after we crossed the bridge into the city, Reb Mendel would pull over and call his wife from a pay-phone, just to tell her he was in town, because the gemara says that it isn’t derech eretz to barge into a house unannounced.”
The loss of his father raised other questions for the young man. It was another opportunity to hone his emunas tzaddikim.
“A well-meaning neighbor drove me to shul shortly after my father’s passing, and he said, “I assume you’ll leave yeshiva now and go to college, you have to help support your mother.” I answered that my roshei yeshiva knew what was best for me and I would follow their direction, and he said to me, “Oh, you’re so naïve.”
Replied the future rebbe. “If that is naïve, then I hope I never lose my naïveté.”
From Philadelphia, the bochur traveled to Eretz Yisroel, becoming a talmid of Rav Nochum Partzovitz at the Mir. The Eretz Yisroel years also put the rebbe in touch with the older Koznitzer chassidim headquartered at the Tel Aviv shtiebel. Reb Shima’le Elbaum, the mythological gabbai, would learn b’chavrusa with the future leader of the chassidus.
After a few years in Eretz Yisroel, the rebbe returned to America as a talmid in the Mirrer Yeshiva in Brooklyn, where he became close with the mashgiach, Rav Don Segal.
He recalls how that relationship reinforced his innate emunas tzaddikim.
“The mashgiach is spiritually sensitive, very aware. I remember how, after he moved back to Eretz Yisroel, he came here for a visit and we arranged accommodations for him. The mashgiach asked that there not be a television anywhere in the apartment, and the owner assured us that there was none. But when the mashgiach walked in, he immediately paused. He went to the corner of the room for a few moments and said tehillim, before announcing that there was a television somewhere nearby; he was right, of course; when you see this type of clarity, you can’t help but be humbled.”
After a few months in America, the rebbe married the daughter of Rav Sholom Flam, the Strettiner Rebbe of Flatbush. Together, the young couple set off to Tel Aviv to meet their destiny.
The newly crowned Koznitzer Rebbe and his rebbetzin earned the respect of the locals from the outset. Did being a tolerant American help?
“Being a Yid helped, feeling a connection with every other Yid.”
The youthful rebbe and his ‘chevra’ at the old shtiebel in the heart of secular Tel Aviv seemed to have the right recipe for the hungry souls that came in off the street. The rebbe remembers a chol hamoed Sukkos evening, one year after Yitzhak Rabin had been murdered. There was a huge demonstration in Kikar Hamedina, a massive outpouring of Leftist passion. Then, many of the activists walked down the block and accepted a cold drink in the Koznitzer sukkah, imbibing an atmosphere that transcended ideology and dogma.
In addition to searching secular Jews and chozrim b’tshuva, the shtiebel had a core group of elder chassidim; from them, the young rebbe learned simple faith.
WINNING TICKET
There was an older chassid named Reb Duvid Bimlich who came to the rebbe’s zaide, the previous Koznitzer Rebbe, with a request. He and his wife had never been blessed with children and he desperately wanted to write a sefer Torah to ensure that they would be remembered, but he lacked the funds. He wanted the rebbe to give him a bracha to win the lottery. The rebbe blessed him.
Reb Duvid went directly from the rebbe to the sofer, where he ordered the sefer Torah. After the drawing, he went to the lottery offices with the ticket in his hands. His nephew, who accompanied him to the offices, wondered where he’d checked the results to confirm his win. Reb Duvid looked at him in surprise. ‘I don’t have to check- the rebbe gave a brocha.” The nephew was hesitant to walk in with a ticket and assumption without having checked the numbers, but his uncle didn’t waver. Sure enough, Reb Duvid accepted his winnings and went to pay the sofer. The sefer Torah lives on in the Koznitzer shul, testament to the power of emunas tzaddikim.
The young rebbe was inspired by the simple faith of the older chassidim, most of them Holocaust survivors. One Yom Kippur, the rebbe was in his room off the beis medrash in the middle of the night, and he heard a voice from within the shul.
It was one of these chassidim, an older man who’d endured much. He had a wooden leg, and he’d traveled some distance to be in Koznitz for the holy day.
“He was alone in the shul, standing the aron kodesh and crying, “Ribbono shel Olam. My father would come to Koznitz. My zaide would come to Koznitz. Its not easy for me to walk, but I’m here too…I’m by the rebbe like they were. In that zechus, Ribbono shel Olam, give me a gut yohr.”
The rebbe concludes the touching tale. “There is no koach stronger than that, his simple faith.”
A PATH
The rebbe grew close to many of the gedolim- both chassidish and litvish- and observed their emunas tzaddikim as well. When Rav Shach founded his Degel HaTorah party, he asked the influential rebbe for his support. The rebbe, who was very close to the Ponevezher rosh yeshiva, explained that he personally didn’t vote in Israeli elections, in deference to the opinion of the Satmar Rov.
Rav Shach immediately withdrew his request. ‘If so, then you should be praised- that is a noble path to follow.”
The point, says the rebbe, is that a person must cling to a path, any path, charted by tzaddikim. Even while Rav Schach worked single-mindedly for the success of his party, he appreciated an opposing mesorah.
The rebbe reveres the Satmar Rebbe, Rav Schach and the Lubavitcher Rebbbe.
“We don’t pick and choose, or take sides in disagreements between gedolim. Imagine we had the opportunity to bring a kvittel to Rav Yonasan Eibschutz and Rav Yaakov Emden- would we decide which one is better? We would run to both. The differences between them have nothing to do with us.”
The rebbe was in a taxi, chatting with the driver, a secular Israeli who seemed particularly bitter. It emerged that the fellow had no children, and he was in great pain. The rebbe suggested that he get a bracha from a tzaddik, and the driver cut him off with obvious hostility. “No more tzaddikim for me…I tried that and it didn’t work.”
The taxi driver told his story. He’d written a letter to the Lubavitcher Rebbe in New York, and the rebbe had replied that if his wife would begin to keep the laws of family purity, they would be helped.
“And here we are, years later, and despite my wife’s hard work, we haven’t seen results.”
“I don’t believe it,” the rebbe answered, “it cannot be that the Lubavitcher Rebbe blessed you that way and you weren’t helped.”
The taxi driver pulled over and rummaged around in his trunk, finding the letter.
There, the rebbe offered his blessings, as the driver had said. But where the rebbe’s secretary had type-written the directive about upholding the halachos of purity, the rebbe had added, in pen, the words ‘k’din,’ according to the law.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe had underlined the word three times, making it clear that the bracha was contingent on adherence to the halacha.
The Koznitzer Rebbe asked his new friend a few questions. It turned out that while the couple had allowed the spirit of purity to enter their lives, the laws of purity were being completely ignored and in fact, the driver’s wife had never really fulfilled the halachos properly.
“I got the chills looking at that letter, three times the rebbe had underlined the word ‘k’din.’ I thought to myself that the same thing that has ruined his emunas tzaddikim has strengthened mine!”
The Koznitz Rebbe gently pointed out that to the driver that he and his wife hadn’t yet met the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s conditions and he put the driver in touch with a local Chabad shliach who would help him implement the necessary changes.
“But what I take out of that story is how like the taxi driver we all are, we set the terms and then we complain that the blessings aren’t coming our way.”
A SHTREIMEL IN TEL AVIV
The wider Torah community took notice of the beacon of light emanating from Tel Aviv. Rav Don Segal came to join in the tish of talmid- but before he did, he was mattir neder. He’d accepted upon himself, years earlier, that he would never go to Tel Aviv. After the tish, he commented that there was a new sense of purity in the city that hadn’t existed previously.
During the Gulf War, a Sephardic resident of Tel Aviv approached Rav Chaim Kanievsky to ask about his assurance that no missiles would fall on Bnei Brak. ‘What about Tel Aviv?”
‘Koznitz is there, right?’ asked Rav Chaim, ‘so then you have nothing to worry about either.’
Not long after the rebbe settled in Tel Aviv, he got word that his grandmother had taken ill. The rebbetzin of the previous Koznitz Rebbe had never been sick before- not even with a cavity.
“The Babbe had given birth in the house. I remember how in her seventies, she was being hospitalized for her first time, for cataract surgery. I came up to the house to see how I could help her before she went, and she told me that she was okay, she was all prepared. She explained that she learned the daily portion of Chok l’Yisroel, but since she was worried that her eyesight would be impaired, she’d learned three days ahead, just to be on the safe side.”
“So you can imagine that when she hospitalized that second time, I was anxious to go visit her. The doctors said that she only a day or two left to live. I went to be mazkir her by the Steipler- she was a Twerski, from home, and he remembered her family from Hornsteipel- and I also asked for a bracha for my trip.
The Steipler didn’t think it was necessary to travel. “You can’t leave the people in Tel Aviv alone at this time of year, before Rosh Hashana.”
The rebbe explained that this was the lone grandparent he had and it was important for him to be there.
“A shtreimel in Tel Aviv is important,” said the elderly gadol, “I assure you that nothing will change until you’re able to get to America.”
So the rebbe pushed off his trip- against the advice of the doctors, who were certain he’d missed his chance at a proper farewell- until he felt able to leave his flock. Upon arriving in America, he went straight to the hospital and parted from his grandmother- and then participated in her levaya.
ENVELOPED BY EMUNAS TZADDIKIM
As the shtiebel flourished, the rebbe was urged to expand his activities; Torah- in depth learning- is a hallmark of Koznitz chassidus. The seforim of the Koznitzer Maggid on Shas are classics in the yeshiva world and it seemed a natural next step. The yeshiva in Bnei Brak started small, but quickly grew in one of the finest chassidishe yeshivos in a city bursting with good yeshivos.
Between the yeshiva and the shul, the rebbe’s life was overflowing.
But he also had a rebbe. Rav Yisroel Mordechai Twersky of Rachmestrivka was an old-world rebbe; he lived in Yerushalayim, but his place was within the walls of the beis medrash, where he spent most of his time.
The soul of the young Koznitz rebbe was bound up with that of the Rachmestrivka Rebbe.
“I would come into him and I wouldn’t talk, not ask for a bracha or tell him my problems, nothing. He would start talking and I would just listen. He was my rebbe.”
In time, the Koznitzer Rebbe became attuned to the nuances in his rebbe’s speech, learning how and what to infer from the rebbe’s choice of words, even his silence.
One year the Koznitzer Rebbe was in America before Purim, and he called the Rachmestrivka Rebbe about something. Before he hung up, the Koznitzer said that he was planning to be home, in Eretz Yisroel, before Purim and that they would see each other on Purim.
“But the rebbe hesitated, and so I understood that I wouldn’t be back in Eretz Yisroel for Purim.”
The rebbe and his attendants left America for home two days before Purim. In the rebbe’s hand luggage, he carried his hair-cutting machine. “In Koznitz, we have the minhag to get a haircut before reading the Megilla and I felt that I would need to have it with me.”
The gabbaim had no problems making the flight home; the rebbe was the lone passenger re-routed through Spain. “They assured me that I would be home for Purim, but I sensed that I wouldn’t.”
Once in Spain, new issues arose and the airline personnel apologized and re-booked the rebbe for a flight on the day after Purim.
“I had my hair-cutting machine, but in Koznitz, we also have the minhag to toivel in a mikva before Megilla. I contacted the local shul and the rabbi was very helpful. He told me that the local mikva wasn’t used much, but I was in luck. That very afternoon it had been repaired, so I would have a kosher mikva. I spent a Purim in Spain, feeling enveloped by emunas tzaddikim.”
FAR FROM HOME
One day, about fifteen years ago, the Rachmestrivka Rebbe told his chassid, “Your mother still lives in Manhattan, you grew up there, you should really go and open a shul there. The neighborhood can use it.”
Caught by the surprise, the Koznitzer nodded. “Okay, I will make arrangements to find out what the options are, to figure out how and where.”
“No, don’t delay,” said the older rebbe, “you should leave immediately.”
And so the Koznitzer didn’t hesitate. He boarded a flight and, with wife and young children in tow, set out for America. He spent a few months trying to establish a shul, but eventually, the needs of family, kehilla in Tel Aviv and yeshiva in Bnei Brak pulled him back home, the time not yet ripe.
This happened fifteen years ago. The Rachmestrivka Rebbe- with whom the Koznitzer subsequently became a mechutan when his eldest daughter married his rebbe’s grandson- left this world close a decade ago.
And now the Koznitzer Rebbe has decided that the time is ripe to give it another try.
“It’s been weighing on me for years, when a rebbe says something, we have to trust that he sees more than we do.”
The rebbe still has younger children, and the family is crowded in his mother’s small West Side apartment. The rebbe’s teenage bochurim learn together in the small shul.
It isn’t easy. “We miss Eretz Yisroel very, very much. It’s a hard thing to put into words.”
“Rav Elya Svei once told me that Rav Yaakov Kamenetzky remarked that he gave advice to people, and the Steipler also did, yet the Steipler had open ruach hakodesh while he, Rav Yaakov, did not. ‘The difference is that he lives in Eretz Yisroel,’ Rav Yaakov said, ‘while I don’t’. I heard this from Rav Elya.”
The small shtiebel has been enjoying success. Like its celebrated counterpart in Tel Aviv, it’s a place where any sort of Jew can feel welcome.
Yitzchak Rosenthal, a West Side real-estate developer (of Shalsheles music fame) is one of those who ‘happened’ into the shtiebel. His father-in-law was joining him for Shabbos and he had yahrzeit; he needed an amud and someone suggested that he would have no problem getting it at the small minyan upstairs from the Young Israel.
They made the trek up the stairs- and Yitzchak hasn’t left since, invested heart and soul into Koznitz.
Rabbi Dovid Cohen, rabbi of the Young Israel- the host shul- concedes that since Koznitz has moved in to the building, the Young Israel has enjoyed extraordinary bracha as well.
The rebbe’s casual, unpretentious manner, his flawless English, and a natural appeal have made him an address for all sorts of searching souls.
Much as he misses home, he enjoys the dialogue with the Jews of Manhattan.
“In Eretz Yisroel, the media and politicians have invented this ‘hate’ between us and them, charedim and chilonim, and every conversation and exchange is charged with emotion. Here, its much more casual, its much easier to interact without them feeling threatened.”
One Friday night, a young man was invited off the street to come in and complete the minyan. The pony-tailed visitor kept to himself, respectfully participating the tefilla but clearly indifferent.
After davening, he walked the rebbe home and explained that he wasn’t comfortable praying in a venue where men and women were separated. He found it primitive; he himself felt that there no reason a man should feel distracted by the presence of a woman at all, and it shouldn’t interfere with concentration.
The rebbe asked his companion if he could taste the difference between eggs, meat and chocolate. The fellow said that he certainly could. ‘But I knew great tzaddikim who couldn’t differentiate between different tastes, it wasn’t important to them and thus, it wasn’t noticeable at all. Food was simply nourishment, nothing more.”
“There is another sort of person who can’t tell the difference,” the rebbe continued. “A sick person, whose taste buds are numb. The tzaddik and the sick person both don’t have an appetite, but not for the same reason.”
The fellow agreed, not sure where the rebbe was headed.
“If someone is unaware that there is a woman next to him, it might not mean he’s a saint…he might simply be too sick to realize it. He is numb.”
The gentleman began to cry. “You have no idea rabbi, its so true….”
Much as the rebbe sees the work to be done on the Upper West Side, he longs to be back home. “Its yissurim to be away from Eretz Yisroel.”
But for now, as he sits far from his beloved shul and yeshiva, living out of suitcases
His is a journey of emunas tzaddikim; there are many who preach, who can provide brilliant oratory and moving stories about the ideal. The rebbe from Tel Aviv who has put everything on the side so that he might fulfill the directive of his own rebbe…he is living emunas tzaddikim.