Maybe
it was ordained On High that I should have to take a circuitous route
to meet my rebbi — that I should first be required to survey the vast
landscape of Yiddishkeit.
I grew up on Grove Street in old Monsey,
our family the only Modern Orthodox baalei teshuvah — perennial
outsiders in a predominantly yeshivish neighborhood. We were raised to
be open, accepting, and respectful of all. My parents chose their Jewish
destiny; we were always made very aware of our responsibility to think
for ourselves and “do our own thing” in avodas Hashem. Our background
allowed us the opportunity to explore the Torah’s many different
pathways.
After a year in Eretz Yisrael, when I was trying to
learn Torah seriously for the first time as a student at Yeshiva
University, the challenge of “finding my place” in avodas Hashem was
real. I was drawn to chassidus, engaged intellectually with Modern
Orthodoxy, enamored of “the yeshivah world,” and ideologically at home
in religious Zionism. There was so much beauty and opportunity in the
diversity of Jewish communities. Yet so much seemed scripted, and the
search for self, more like deciding which box to fit into, which set of
cultural norms to adapt. As aspiring bnei Torah, did we really have to
choose one way to the exclusion of all others?
While perusing old
copies of the Jewish Observer between classes on the fifth floor of the
YU library, I got my answer. I finally met the tzaddik who would become a
formative influence and inspirational force in my life: Reb Shraga
Feivel Mendlowitz ztz”l. A tribute marking Reb Shraga Feivel’s 35th
yahrtzeit penned by Rav Yitzchak Chinn, a close talmid, took my breath
away.
The piece described an episode that took place in 1943, just
a couple of blocks from where I’d eventually grow up in Monsey. Reb
Shraga Feivel was sitting outdoors with a group of yungeleit, and asked
one to turn over a large stone embedded in the ground. As he did, swarms
of insects scurried about in every direction.
Said Reb Shraga
Feivel: “Do you see those creatures? For their entire existence under
that rock, they believed the world to be a dark, dreary place. By
overturning that stone, you have revealed a whole new world, filled with
light and beauty. In exposing them to the sun and sky, you’ve
introduced a new dimension of reality into their lives.
“That is
our mission in this world — to roll the heavy stones off souls and
reveal the Yiddishe neshamah, to allow the ohr haShechinah to shine.
When we have moved the boulders, we can lift our eyes to the Heavens,
behold our Creator, and know our Yiddishkeit.”
In meeting Reb Shraga Feivel, I felt as though a stone had been lifted — and a new ray of light was shining in.
Reb
Shraga Feivel defied definition and categorization; not tethered to any
specific one of the shivim panim laTorah, he embodied the infinite
expansiveness of Yiddishkeit. Reb Shraga Feivel’s way of learning Torah
revealed its awesome unity: plumbing the commentary of Rav Shimshon
Raphael Hirsch to explain challenging passages in Tanya — and vice
versa. Chassidus, mussar, nigleh and nistar — for Reb Shraga Feivel, it
was all One.
Even while quoting freely from the writings of Rav
Avraham Yitzchak HaKohein Kook, Rav Shraga Feivel maintained a close
friendship with and deepest respect for Reb Yoelish, the Satmar Rebbe.
At Torah Vodaath and Beis Medrash Elyon, classic yeshivah learning was
complemented with shiurim on Tanach and tefillah, the teachings of Reb
Tzaddok HaKohein of Lublin with insights on the intricacies of biblical
grammar. Rambam’s Shemonah Perakim and Rebbe Nachman’s Sippurei Maasios,
Chovos Halevavos, Ramchal and the Tzemach Tzedek.
Fusion implies
bringing together of separate, individual parts to form a complete
whole. Reb Shraga Feivel didn’t “fuse” discrete parts; he was drawing
from a higher source.
“The Tree of Life was in the center of the Garden” (Bereishis 2:9).
Reb Shraga Feivel taught: No matter how disparate the various ideas and
approaches in Torah that we learn may seem to be, they are all
different approaches to the Eitz Chayim. As long as the Tree of Life is
“b’soch haGan” — and Torah is at the center — it can be approached from
all directions.
Reb Shraga Feivel carried the dialectic within
himself: charisma and humility, passionate activism and hisbonenus,
intellect and emotion. A gadol who saw himself as a regular person, “Mr.
Mendlowitz” shunned all honorifics and trappings of kavod. A public
figure, constantly surrounded by talmidim, who relished privacy and
quiet. An idealist with two feet firmly on the ground, Reb Shraga Feivel
upheld unwavering fidelity to his Hungarian upbringing, while attuning
his incredible sensitivity to the needs and realities of the postwar
American Jewish community.
Uncompromising in his
dedication to truth — at a time when ideology mattered — Reb Shraga
Feivel was unabashed in voicing staunch opposition to innovations he
felt threatened tradition, but still managed to maintain respectful
working relationships with those he vehemently disagreed with.
“Hashem
sefasai tiftach” — in asking the Ribbono shel Olam to open our mouths
and sing His praise, we aim to emulate His infinite nature, to be big,
expand our boundaries, open our borders. As Reb Shraga Feivel would say:
“Der seichel iz elastish” — the mind is elastic. If we are
intellectually honest, it can be stretched from one extreme to another.
Hotziah mimasger nafshi.
Reb Shraga Feivel’s natural expansiveness
validated drawing from approaches in Yiddishkeit that seemed to
conflict: “Some souls drink from Tanya. Others from the Ramchal. Still
others from Rav Hirsch. I drink from all of them, though at any given
time, I might drink from one in particular.” From Reb Shraga Feivel came
“insider” confirmation that the search for truth and the fulfillment of
ratzon Hashem is more about “a Torah perspective,” as opposed to “the
Torah perspective.” “Taamu u’reu ki tov Hashem,” for a searching Jew,
Reb Shraga Feivel catered a fresh, bountiful, and spiritually healthy
smorgasbord of theological opportunity.
Reb Shraga
Feivel’s open heart felt the joys and pain of Klal Yisrael, burned for
Torah, and was deeply connected to Eretz Yisrael — in love with
everything holy. Sensing the Divine vitality that pulsates through all
of creation, he was a baal avodah who heard all of nature singing
Hashem’s praise. Reb Shraga Feivel enjoyed spending time in nature, and
often looked toward the sky, davening from what he called “the siddur of
David Hamelech.” When a talmid inquired of his rebbi’s preference of
davening next to a window: “He thinks I’m looking out, but actually, I’m
looking in.”
Reb Shraga Feivel’s singular focus on “looking in” —
on living a life of penimiyus, nurturing the inner worlds of others,
and encouraging in-depth limud HaTorah — inoculated against
superficiality. Every Jew can be an “insider.” With Torah at the center,
we are all equally close.
Reb Shraga Feivel suffered a heart
attack when he heard that the Old City had fallen into Jordanian hands
during Israel’s War for Independence. Doctors warned him against
learning Baal Shem Tov al HaTorah — Reb Shraga Feivel’s excitement when
learning the heiliger Baal Shem made his sensitive Jewish heart race
dangerously.
“V’hasirosi lev ha’even v’nasati lachem lev basar.”
In the end of days the Navi Yechezkel promises that Hashem will remove
our hearts of stone and restore our natural hearts of flesh — a
fleishige heart that senses that every moment in this world is
revelation of Hashgachah pratis and an opportunity to draw close to
Hashem. Or as Reb Shraga Feivel would say, “Der grester glick fun leben
iz leben alein — the greatest fortune in life is life itself.”
Again
and again I have returned to Yonoson Rosenblum’s masterful biography of
Reb Shraga Feivel; it is a book that changes my life at each new stage I
reread it, each time feeling a deeper yearning for Reb Shraga Feivel’s
guidance, his expansive heart filled with ahavas Hashem and ahavas
Yisrael, nuance and complexity.
Working in the Jewish community, I
am privileged to see the absolute best of Klal Yisrael. But even when
everyone has only the best of intentions, things can often get personal,
and worthy mosdos of different stripes step on each other’s toes.
Dedicated professionals and volunteers, even rebbeim and menahalim,
passionate for their specific cause, can get territorial over donors,
programs — even social services. It’s hard not to get caught up in all
of it. Business is business, people are people.
Asking myself,
“What would Reb Shraga Feivel do?” invariably leads to clarity and
magnanimity, ayin tovah and expansiveness. Reb Shraga Feivel was never
confined or defined by where he worked — even by the yeshivos he
founded, nurtured, and led. When the fledgling Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim
Berlin was struggling with recruitment, Reb Shraga Feivel transferred
some of his most prized talmidim there, sending his best guys to join
“the competition.”
It wasn’t that Reb Shraga Feivel was so
confident in his yeshivah that he was unafraid of competition; he simply
saw that in the world of truth and penimiyus, there is no competition.
Ovdei Hashem are all working for the same Boss, at different points in
the Garden, facing the same Center. Reb Shraga Feivel would remind his
talmidim — in and out of yeshivah — that regardless of our professional
identity, we are all “sheluchei d’Rachmana,” messengers on a mission
from G-d.
As Reb Shraga Feivel’s 70th yahrtzeit approaches on
Gimmel Elul, I am thinking about the tzaddikim hatehorim described by
Rav Kook — the purely righteous who do not complain about darkness, but
instead increase light. Now more than ever, how desperately we crave Reb
Shraga Feivel’s purity, righteousness, and encouragement, to lift the
stone that covers our hearts, weighing us down and blocking out the
light.
I’d grown up literally around the corner from that tree
under which Reb Shraga Feivel sat with his talmidim decades earlier,
feeling like a perennial outsider. Maybe my not being born to a
particular derech with set minhagim and clear mesorah was Hashem’s way
of setting the stage for the unlikely kesher I feel with Reb Shraga
Feivel. If in our search for meaning we are motivated l’Sheim Shamayim,
then we are all insiders.
When we aspire to live each moment with
penimiyus, we will find our place in the Torah world, cleaving to the
Eitz Hachayim, the Tree of Life at the center of our lives.
Enough
complaining about our generation and all that is lacking! “L’oro
neilech” — the time for us has come in our search for dveikus to do the
heavy lifting, for the ohr haShechinah, for Soul-Glow.
Tzaddikim b’mitasam nikra’im chayim — Reb Shraga Feivel zy”a, chai v’kayam! —
https://mishpacha.com/in-love-with-everything-holy/
Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 722. Rabbi
Judah Mischel, executive director of Camp HASC and former rebbi at
Yeshivas Reishis, is a popular teacher of chassidus and founder of Tzama
Nafshi, an organization dedicated to fostering Jewish education and
inspiration. He lives with his family in Ramat Beit Shemesh, where he is
a talmid muvhak of mashpia Rav Avraham Tzvi Kluger and translator of
his works.