Thursday, September 24, 2026

All credit goes to Rabbi Ephraim Zalman Galinsky and The Mishpacha

 | MAGAZINE FEATURE |

THE MISSING LINK  

The forgotten legacy of Rav Chaim Brisker's chassidish son-in-law


Photos: Eli Cobin, Mishpacha archives, additional image sourcing by Dovi Safier

Few people know that in addition to three illustrious sons, Rav Chaim Brisker had a daughter for whom he chose a chassidishe bochur, a gaon and tzaddik named Rav Tzvi Hirsch Glickson. And even fewer know that 81 years after he and his children were murdered, his Torah lives on, salvaged by a star talmid who held onto those precious, unknown notebooks throughout years and continents

Irecently embarked on an informal research project, asking local yeshivah boys, older kollel avreichim, and even respected marbitzei Torah if they could list the children of the famed Rav Chaim Brisker, considered the father of all modern- day yeshivos worldwide. As I expected, all my respondents listed Rav Chaim’s three sons: Rav Yisrael Gershon, Rav Moshe, and Rav Yitzchak Zev, the Brisker Rav. Without exception, no one mentioned Rav Chaim’s fourth child, a daughter named Sara Rasha, and her esteemed husband Rav Tzvi Hirsch Glickson. To my great surprise, even official historic websites skipped over this important detail.

Compounding the mystery is the high regard in which this gaon and tzaddik was held by all who knew him personally. One of the last eyewitnesses alive today who met Rav Tzvi Hirsch and was amazed by his tzidkus and toil in Torah is the revered posek Rav Moshe Sternbuch. In fact, Rav Sternbuch frequently mentions Rav Tzvi Hirsch in his shmuessen as a prime example of how total immersion in Torah was a reality not so long ago. Most recently, Rav Sternbuch spoke before thousands of yungeleit at a siyum held at the Mir in Yerushalayim, about the time Rav Tzvi Hirsch stayed in the Sternbuch home in England. He described his extraordinary hasmadah and tzidkus as a model for all bnei Torah to strive toward.

The impetus behind my quest to learn more about this forgotten gadol came on a recent, hectic Erev Shabbos, when I found a dear friend and neighbor standing at the doorway with a brand new sefer in his hands. Rav Yehuda Bulman, a respected rav in Neve Yaakov and a popular lecturer and mechanech in several seminaries, had brought me a sefer. In a few hurried words, he shared that his father-in-law, Reb Yitzchak Friedland, had just achieved his lifelong goal of publishing his father’s handwritten shiurim with the Torah of Rav Tzvi Hirsch Glickson Hy”d, the only son-in-law of Rav Chaim Brisker and a devoted talmid, who perished during the war together with his entire family.

This brief Erev Shabbos encounter led me on a fascinating journey in an attempt to trace the life story of this forgotten gadol. I learned of the incredible tale of the shidduch between the founder of the Lithuanian, analytical derech halimud and a very young chassidish bochur, barely 18 years old. Even more astounding was the fact that decades later, this same bochur went on to establish a litvish-style yeshivah in the heart of predominantly chassidic Warsaw between the two World Wars, attracting hundreds of students in a relatively short period.

Chapter 1: Lost in the Pages of History

The Gaon’s Revolution

The Brisker dynasty features many stellar talmidei chachamim and gedolim, but in this article we’ll focus on Rav Chaim Brisker’s only son-in-law, who somehow escaped the spotlight of history. The shidduch between Rav Tzvi Hirsch Glickson, the Polish bochur, and Sara Rasha Soloveitchik, daughter of the giant of Lithuanian scholarship, was an extremely unlikely one, underscored once we gain an understanding of the dynamics and culture that the young chassidish bochur grew up absorbing.

Two major turning points for Yiddishkeit in Lithuania (and the communities throughout eastern Europe subsequently influenced by them) are both related to the Vilna Gaon. The first relates to the style of learning adopted by Lithuanian Jewry.

While the main focus of the Rishonim is striving to understand the simple meaning of the sugya at hand, at some point, from about the 1500s onward, a different style of study known as pilpul became popular. This method emphasized comparison of several sugyos all over Shas all at once, cross referencing one to another. While the draw behind this approach was the ensuing captivating discussions and battles of minds, there were many who felt that this method of learning, which involved lengthy, convoluted explanations, led to conclusions that were contradictory to halachah. Moreover, opponents felt that the overemphasized focus on such mental gymnastics resulted in learners spending less time on the crucial basics needed to understand Torah and derive accurate halachic rulings.

Because of these reservations, the Vilna Gaon, who lived some 200 years later, subsequently introduced an entirely new method of learning, which was closer to that of the Rishonim. This method called for learning the simple pshat of the sugya thoroughly, accompanied by the major Rishonim, striving to reach a halachic conclusion from these sources. This would be achieved by covering ground and gaining proficiency in a wide range of sugyos, with a very careful reading of each and every source. The Vilna Gaon felt that focusing on discovering novel questions and searching for sharp and complex answers to them left little time to actually grasp the heart of each sugya.

Building on this dramatic change in derech halimud, an additional shift in focus was later instituted by Rav Chaim Brisker. This change involved striving to formulate the underpinnings of each sugya using abstract terminology. Once a certain sugya was precisely defined in such a manner, this terminology would be used to differentiate it from other seemingly similar ideas discussed elsewhere.

Instead of comparing sugyos all over Shas one to another, this method confined the sugya at hand as unique and not comparable to other seemingly similar ideas mentioned throughout Shas.

A second revolution, this time spearheaded by the primary talmid of the Gaon, Rav Chaim Volozhiner, focused on creating an organized and systematic framework for bochurim, both young and older. Although the title “yeshivah” unquestionably existed for many centuries before Rav Chaim’s times, it usually referred to informal gatherings, usually held in the local shul. Bochurim who were lucky to be free from assisting their families in the workforce simply gathered in the local shul and learned there with others of varying ages.

If the town was lucky to have a Talmudic genius as their local rav, these bochurim could take advantage of his eruditeness and ask him for his opinion on their respective topics of study. At times the rav would even deliver shiurim to the boys occupying his shul.

Rav Chaim Volozhiner was not happy with this state of affairs. Firstly, because there was no one supervising the learning schedule and no one in charge of arranging appropriate shiurim geared to the differing age groups and varying levels of the talmidim. And all this was aside from the fact that poor students had to take care of their personal needs by themselves. Rav Chaim witnessed a dramatic decline in serious Torah study in his days and was intent on rectifying the situation. His vision led him to found the famed Yeshivas Volozhin, which remains until this day the protype of the majority of the yeshivos worldwide.

In a short period of time, hundreds of bochurim flocked to Volozhin, enjoying the very structured environment conceived by Rav Chaim. Some scholars are of the opinion that the actual mastermind behind the idea was the Vilna Gaon himself, who implemented it through his close talmid.

Holding Firm in the East

While the above revolutionary changes took root in Lithuanian communities, in chassidic Poland the great Rebbes chose to retain the traditional method of pilpul. In fact, until the termination of organized Jewish life during World War II, the famed Poilishe derech halimud was kept very much alive.

My rosh yeshivah, Rav Hillel Zaks ztz”l, told us of a meeting that took place in a vacation resort between a great Polish Rebbe and the famed Rav Boruch Ber Leibowitz, the prime disciple of Rav Chaim Brisker. The Torah discussion that ensued between these two great men left both of them perplexed, reflecting the vast gap in their respective approaches to understanding any given sugya in Shas.

The organized yeshivah system also did not take root in Poland. The great chassidic rebbes were of the opinion that what was good for Lithuania was not appropriate for Poland. However, this approach did shift over the years leading to the war, culminating in the creation of Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin by Rav Meir Shapiro and a vast network of yeshivos founded and directed by the rebbes of Radomsk.

While we cannot know for sure why the chassidic rebbes objected to the litvish model of organized yeshivos, we do know their opposition was rooted in ideology. In responsa authored by the great Rebbe Chaim of Sanz, he stresses that he had heard reasoning explaining the Polish stance from the rebbes of previous generations.

Change Comes to Poland

While most of Polish Jewry held firm to the old method of pilpul, a new method did emerge in Poland itself, spearheaded by Rav Avraham Borenstein, known as the Rebbe of Sochatchov or simply as the Avnei Nezer, after his sefer by that name. The Avnei Nezer was the prime talmid and son-in-law of the Rebbe of Kotzk, renowned for his adherence to the middah of emes and a demanding approach as a rebbe to his chassidim.

Similar to the Lithuanian objection to pilpul, the Avnei Nezer preferred a careful study of the words of the Rishonim and clarifying the pshat of the sugya at hand. Unsurprisingly, his sefer Eglei Tal, an analytical study on 11 of the 39 Melachos Shabbos, was enthusiastically received and learned in Lithuanian-style yeshivos worldwide.

The Avnei Nezer established a yeshivah in Sochatchov, where he taught his talmidim according to his unique style of learning. (Incidentally, one of the great geonim to immigrate to the United States during World War I was Rav Michoel Forshlager of Baltimore, a prime talmid of the Avnei Nezer in Sochatchov.)

Another close talmid of the Avnei Nezer was a wealthy businessman and Torah scholar by the name of Rabbi Avraham Yaakov Glickson who resided in Warsaw. Reb Avraham Yaakov merited to have a prodigious son named Tzvi Hirsch, and invested much time tutoring him in Torah, in addition to hiring private melamdim to teach him. Interestingly, Reb Avraham Yaakov was of the opinion that one must follow the dictum of the Mishnah stating one must be fluent in the Six Sedorim of Mishnah by the age of 15, and did not teach his son Gemara until that age (as heard from Rav Herschel Schachter, as heard from Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik).

Possessing a unique intellect, young Tzvi Hirsch mastered the entire Mishnah and knew it by heart by the age of 12. In addition, he mastered all the references to sugyas in Shas mentioned by the commentaries of the Mishnah but did not study the Gemara inside until later on in life. Rav Moshe Sternbuch testified recently that when Rav Tzvi Hirsch visited England to fundraise for his yeshivah, he heard him mumbling Mishnayos by heart, in order not to waste a minute without Torah study.

Reb Avraham Yaakov also made sure that his young son would absorb the derech halimud of his own rebbi the Avnei Nezer by arranging for his rebbi to talk with him in learning.

 

Chapter 2: Surprising Choice

When Rav Chaim decided to give his daughter’s hand in marriage to a chassidish bochur who hadn’t learned Shas inside yet until very recently, the news made waves.

When Rav Chaim visited Warsaw, all the city’s great Talmudic minds came out to greet him and talk with him in learning. Two young budding Torah scholars named Tzvi Hirsch Glickson and Nosson Spiegelglass (later one of the great geonim of prewar Poland) joined the crowds hoping to meet with Rav Chaim.

Rav Chaim immediately grasped the sheer genius of Tzvi Hirsch and promptly offered him his only daughter, Sara Rasha, as a shidduch. Tzvi Hirsch consulted with the Rebbe of Gur, of whom he had become a chassid, and the rebbe encouraged Tzvi Hirsch to grab the opportunity. And so at the young age of 17 years old, Tzvi Hirsch Glickson from Warsaw became the son-in-law of the gaon of the yeshivah world.

News of the unlikely match quickly made rounds, and people close to Rav Chaim asked why this great lamdan took a chasiddish bochur illiterate in Shas as a future son-in-law. Rav Chaim responded that he preferred to train a young bochur himself in the study of Shas rather than to choose one who had learned on his own and try to change his “crooked” way of thinking at an older age.

Brisker family tradition has it that there was an encounter between Rav Chaim Brisker and Reb Avraham Yaakov way before they became mechutanim, in a chance meeting in Lodz. Rav Chaim had come to Lodz and was seeking out a minyan to hear Krias HaTorah. Upon finding that some of the ten Jews assembled had already heard the Torah reading, Rav Chaim ruled that the kriah could not take place without a complete minyan of men who hadn’t heard it yet. One of the assembled had enough courage to disagree with Rav Chaim on the matter, proving his point from one of the Rishonim. While Rav Chaim was not convinced, this encounter marked the first meeting between the future mechutanim.

Under Rav Chaim’s Tutelage

After the chasunah, Rav Chaim’s newlywed young son-in-law became a full-fledged talmid of his, toiling in Torah together with his youngest son, Rav Yitzchak Zev. At a certain point, Rav Chaim entrusted them with summarizing his chiddushei Torah in writing. At one such session, after which Rav Chaim orally delivered a chiddush in their presence, the two sat down again to clarify the sugya between themselves but came up with several questions.

When they entered his room hoping to ask their questions, Rav Chaim looked up and said, “I know why you came to me. Since you were bothered by this and this problem, well, the answer is such and such, and you can rely on me that when I say you can write up the chiddush, I know what I am talking about.” And all this was without them saying one word.

These wonderful, fruitful years were interrupted by World War I, when Rav Chaim’s family, including Rav Tzvi Hirsch, were forced to flee to Minsk. In Minsk, the Russian government decided to draft previously exempt personnel into the war effort. Rav Chaim was faced with the dilemma whether or not to forge documents for his son and son-in-law attesting that they were officiating rabbis which might have assisted them in avoiding the draft. Ultimately, he chose not to, but sources debate the reasoning behind his decision. Some believe Rav Chaim feared that these false exemptions would prevent authentic officiating rabbis from receiving their rightfully deserved exemptions. Others are of the opinion that Rav Chaim did not trust the Russians and was afraid that once the young men’s information would be in their hands, they would draft them nevertheless, now that they could easily be tracked down. In any event, Rav Chaim somehow managed to prevent them from being drafted without forging any documents.

Rav Chaim passed away toward the end of the war, while it was still impossible to reach Brisk because of security concerns. His levayah and kevurah took place in Warsaw, where he was buried alongside his grandfather-in-law, the Netziv of Volozhin. Rav Tzvi Hirsch and Rav Yitzchak Zev decided to remain in Warsaw, where Rav Tzvi Hirsch knew the great lamdanim of Warsaw, such as his old friend Rav Nosson Speigelglass and Rav Menachem Ziemba Hy”d.

Brisk Meets Warsaw

At the same time, there were others stuck in Warsaw, including a leading Yerushalmi talmid chacham named Rav Yeshaya Winograd, initially sent by Yeshivas Toras Chaim in Yerushalayim as a fundraiser to Lithuania. During this visit, he stopped over in Brisk and participated in a shiur delivered by Rav Chaim.

Rav Winograd was bothered by Rav Chaim’s line of thought, but hesitated to interrupt the shiur with a question. After much deliberation, Rav Winograd just said, “But in Chullin…” before the crowd hurriedly shushed him in deference to Rav Chaim. Nevertheless, Rav Chaim heard and asked Rav Winograd to continue with his question.

“It seems to me that the Rav’s chiddush is not aligned with a sugya in Chullin,” Rav Winograd said. Rav Chaim immediately grasped what he had in mind and roared, “Not enough that it is not aligned with my chiddush, it completely contradicts my chiddush!” And he stopped the shiur right there. (As heard from Rav Moshe Mordechai Schulzinger.)

This encounter with Rav Chaim made a deep impression on Rav Winograd, who decided to delay his departure from Brisk so he could absorb Rav Chaim’s unique derech halimud. Eventually, the war forced him to flee to Warsaw, where he learned of Rav Chaim’s passing.

Fueled by his fierce love for Rav Chaim and his methodology, Rav Winograd conceived the idea of creating a yeshivah named after Rav Chaim that would follow his unique style, a previously unimaginable feat. But considering the fact that Rav Chaim’s son, Rav Yitzchak Zev, and his son-in-law, the chassidic Rav Tzvi Hirsch, had decided to stay in Warsaw, Rav Winograd had hope that under their leadership, the yeshivah would take off, even in chassidic Poland.

A local philanthropist named Mrs. Sima Brodie, the widow of Rabbi Yaakov Broide (the donor of the Batei Broide neighborhood in Yerushalayim), graciously donated the yeshivah campus on Genche Street 45, alongside another complex allocated to an elementary school and yeshivah ketanah under the auspices of the yeshivah.

The yeshivah, named Toras Chaim after Rav Chaim Brisker, saw immediate success, with an enrollment of hundreds in its very first years of existence. While Rav Yitzchak Zev returned to his hometown of Brisk to assume his father’s position as rav soon after the yeshivah’s opening, Rav Tzvi Hirsh remained in Warsaw and Toras Chaim flourished.

Not only young boys born into Lithuanian families were drawn to the yeshivah but full-fledged chassidim as well, which was remarkable considering the totally different style of learning between these two sectors of frum Jewry.

One of these talmidim, a Gerrer chassid by the name of Shlomo Freidland, studied in Toras Chaim for four years and recorded his rebbi’s shiurim in a neatly organized notebook. It would ultimately be the only surviving remnant of Rav Tzvi Hirsch’s Torah.

Blending Two Torah Kingdoms

At a later point, Rav Tzvi Hirsch’s own son-in-law Rav (Avraham) Meir Finkel Hy”d, son of Rav Eliezer Yehuda Finkel, the rosh yeshivah of Mir in Europe and Eretz Yisrael, joined the yeshivah’s staff, serving as a rebbi and assisting his father-in-law in running the yeshivah.

A description authored by Rav Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, the Seridei Aish, recounting the months he spent in the Warsaw ghetto, offers vivid testimony of Rav Meir’s genius. Rav Weinberg recounts the great mesirus nefesh of the talmidei chachamim who toiled in Torah even while in the ghetto, and describes plans to print a compilation chiddushim on one specific halachah relating the prohibition of chometz on Pesach. He singles out the article submitted by Rav Meir Hy”d as one that “blew people away” due to its sheer brilliance.

Rav Meir was murdered by the Nazis, and his father, Rav Eliezer Yehuda, abstained from eating meat until the end of his life.

Family lore recounts an interesting anecdote concerning the wedding of Rav Meir and Tzirel, the daughter of Rav Tzvi Hirsch. The chasunah took place in Drozgenik, a small resort town not too far from Grodno that had a local rav. Although all the gedolei hador were present at the wedding of Rav Chaim’s granddaughter with the grandson of the Alter of Slobodka (Rav Eliezer Yehuda’s father), none of them served as mesader kiddushin, in deference to Rav Chaim’s opinion that the mara d’asra (the local rav) deserves this kibbud.

Until the Bitter End

The yeshivah was in existence for 20 years until the outbreak of World War II. There are two conflicting accounts describing Rav Tzvi Hirsch’s last days. The first, by his brother-in-law Mordechai Driehoren, claims that he passed away in the Warsaw ghetto in 1942, while another account, submitted to Yad Vashem in 1957 by Adina Pomerantz of Bnei Brak (relation not specified) testifies that he perished in Treblinka in that same year.

Rav Moshe Sternbuch recounts a discussion he had with the Seridei Aish (who was with Rav Tzvi Hirsch in the Warsaw ghetto), whose account concurs with the testimony submitted to Yad Vashem by Adina Pomerantz.

Rav Weinberg told Rav Sternbuch that although Rav Tzvi Hirsch and his entire family were suffering from starvation, he was constantly learning with his sons with great hasmadah, oblivious to his surroundings. He actually authored a sefer under these harsh conditions dealing with the complex issue of terumas hadeshen (the avodah in the Beis Hamikdash involving removing the ashes of the previous day’s korbanos) and other complex halachic topics.

He also married off a son in the ghetto, who was murdered shortly afterward, along with his kallah and his mother, Rav Tzvi Hirsh’s wife. In a shiur delivered by Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, he described the horrific death of Rav Tzvi Hirsch’s son, Rav Yeshaya, and his newlywed kallah at the hands of the nazi beasts. Rav Tzvi Hirsh himself was then deported to Treblinka and murdered, with words of Torah constantly on his lips until the end.

All of his children, among them young talmidei chachamim, were murdered during the war (aside from one who passed away before the war), as well as his son-in-law Rav Meir Finkel, who died from complications caused by the malnutrition common in the ghetto.

 

Chapter 3: Preserved  for  Posterity

From Warsaw of the 1930s to Yerushalayim of 2023…

My neighbor Rabbi Yehuda Bulman, whose Erev Shabbos visit swept me on a journey into the past, introduces me to his father-in-law, Yitzchak Friedland. Sitting comfortably in his Jerusalem home, I merit to hear the third part of the tale. He tells me about his father, Rabbi Shlomo Meir Friedland, a loyal talmid of Rav Tzvi Hirsch who recorded some of his shiurim for posterity.

Rav Shlomo Meir grew up in a small village near Warsaw. His father was a Gerrer chassid, and their large family enjoyed prosperity thanks to the factory they owned in Warsaw. However, World War I signaled a change to the family’s fortunes. A German war plane bomb destroyed the factory completely, leaving the family penniless, with many mouths to feed.

The Friedlands were forced to send out their older children to work so they could contribute to the family’s income; however, Shlomo Meir, the youngest son, was deemed too young. At first, he attended cheder in his hometown but subsequently, as his thirst for Torah learning became apparent, his parents decided to enroll him in Yeshivah Toras Chaim in Warsaw. Shlomo Meir excelled in his studies (eventually receiving semichah there), and drank in the clarity and depth of Rav Tzvi Hirsch’s shiurim, which he was careful to record in extremely clear handwriting.

As a staunch Gerrer chassid as well, Shlomo Meir figured out a way to quench his thirst for chassidus in a novel manner. Until this day, the highlight of the year for Gerrer chassidim is Shavous, when thousands of chassidim gather to spend Yom Tov with the Rebbe, at that time, the Imrei Emes ztz”l (who himself was niftar on Shavuos of 1948). And while Shlomo Meir did not have the funds to cover the cost of traveling from Warsaw to Gur, he was undaunted.

Every day he received a kopeck from his mother to cover the cost of the bus ride from his home to Toras Chaim. Shlomo Meir opted to go and return from yeshivah by foot, an hour-long  walk each way, and save the money for Shavous in Gur. He later recounted that the Shavous in Gur in the presence of the Rebbe was the highlight of his life.

Move to the Fruited Plains

While Shlomo Meir was flourishing in Toras Chaim, his time there came to a halt when he was recruited to join Yeshivas Rabbeinu Yitzchak Elchanan (RIETS) in New York. Rabbi Dr. Dov Revel, RIETS’s founder, was looking for ways to enhance the Talmud study in his yeshivah, striving to emulate the level that existed in Europe. To this end, Rabbi Revel dispatched his right-hand man, Rabbi Dr. Shmuel Sar, a musmach of Telz, to Warsaw to search for yeshivah boys of high caliber. Rabbi Sar’s mission was to persuade them to come to RIETS, where they would simply learn in the beis medrash, without learning English or any secular studies.

Knowing a lamdan when he saw one, in 1935 Rabbi Sar recruited 21-year-old Shlomo Meir, who was still single, to join RIETS. But Rabbi Revel’s plans did not materialize entirely as he had hoped: All the European bochurim who joined the yeshivah at Rabbi Sar’s behest did learn English and eventually became rabbis in the States, Shlomo Meir among them.

He stayed in RIETS for five years, where he also learned English and received a second semichah (aside from the first he received in Toras Chaim), enabling him to search for a rabbinic position in the United States. Rabbi Friedland was offered a position in the small town of Athol, Massachusetts. He stayed in Athol for two years until 1942, when he decided to move back to New York and settled in Forest Hills. There he founded Congregation Ahavath Sholom.

Years later, when some of the members of the congregation wished to tamper with the Orthodox character of the shul, Rabbi Friedland protested that the suggested changes ran contrary to the shul’s charter. Not willing to back down, one member asked how Rabbi Friedland knew that.

“Because I wrote the charter,” he responded.

Enduring Bond

As a respected rav in New York, Rabbi Friedland used his connections to help Rav Tzvi Hirsch fundraise for the yeshivah of his youth. In fact, Reb Yitzchak shows me a letter written to Rav Shlomo Meir and signed by Rav Tzvi Hirsch.

(On the subject of Rav Tzvi Hirsch’s fundraising efforts, a different heartwarming anecdote centers around Rav Boruch Ber Leibowitz, the prime talmid of Rav Chaim Brisker. Rav Yitzchok Isaac Tendler, a long time rebbi in RJJ and a close talmid of Rav Baruch Ber, was living in New York when his rebbi came to collect funds for his own Yeshiva Knesses Beis Yitzchak in Kamenitz. Eager to assist, Rav Yitzchok Isaac organized an evening to help raise funds for the yeshivah. At this same time, Rav Tzvi Hirsch was also fundraising in America for Toras Chaim.

At the event, Rav Boruch Ber gave a fiery speech culminating in the request to donate to… Toras Chaim. The speech made a tremendous impression and Toras Chaim received a lot of money that evening. Distraught, Rav Yitzchok Isaac asked Rav Boruch Ber why he had sabotaged the fundraising effort for Kamenitz. Rav Borch Ber replied, “The Rebbe [Reb Chaim Brisker] did so much for Klal Yisrael. Does not he deserve that we pay him back a little?”

As news of the atrocities committed against Jews all over eastern Europe reached American soil, Rabbi Friedland worked tirelessly to obtain visas for his family. He eventually managed to bring over his parents, brothers, and sisters to America. Not content with this achievement, he repeatedly tried to obtain visas for cousins as well. To his great sorrow he did not succeed. In a letter written to him by one his relatives, they stressed that if the visas would not arrive in the next few days there would be no hope left for them. This was the last correspondence he had with these cousins.

In December 1945, at the age of 32, Rav Shlomo Meir married Devorah Rechil Skolnick. Her father, Reb Dovid Aryeh Halevi Skolnick, was from Lemberg, or Lviv, now Ukraine. Rebbetzin Friedland was a loyal wife, mother, and supporter of her husband’s endeavors until his untimely passing.

Rabbi Friedland remained a staunch Gerrer chassid throughout his life, even after adopting a clean-shaven American appearance. He remained loyal to the upkeep of Gerrer mosdos worldwide, and made a point of attending each and every dinner, parlor meeting, and Melaveh Malkah dedicated to the cause.

His last appearance was when he joined a group of chassidim who came to greet the Lev Simchah (before he became Rebbe of Gur) at the airport. During this event, he suffered a serious injury to his knee. He had been suffering from a heart condition for several years, and this injury complicated his health situation further. In 1966, Rav Shlomo Friedland passed away at the relatively young age of 51.

His Torah Will Live On

After his death, his children found his prized possession: a neat and orderly notebook containing the shiurim he had heard years earlier from Rav Tzvi Hirsch, whom he had revered and loved his entire life. The notebook doesn’t display the rushed writing one would expect of someone summarizing a live shiur. Apparently, Rabbi Friedland first summarized the shiurim while Rav Tzvi Hirsch was speaking, then copied and edited them once again later on.

The cherished notebook, now in the hands of Reb Yitzchak, propelled him with a sense of mission to publish the last remnant in this world of his father’s rebbi’s Torah. While several chiddushim of Rav Tzvi Hirsch were recorded by Rav Boruch Ber in his Birkas Shmuel and are learned in yeshivos worldwide until today, there was no organized sefer of Rav Tzvi Hirsch’s Torah, nor are there any surviving descendants of his family.

Reb Yitzchak carefully guarded this notebook for years, attempting from time to time to find someone who had the expertise to work on the project and would appreciate its magnitude. But the breakthrough came about only after Reb Yitzchak fulfilled another lifelong dream and settled in Eretz Yisrael.

Reb Yitzchak’s dream to publish his father’s rebbi’s shiurim never left his mind, and he began once again to search for the right man for the job. Someone suggested Rav Simcha Pachtman, a local talmid chacham in his own right, as a suitable candidate. Rav Pachtman immediately grasped the true value of the shiurim and set out to transcribe them for print.

A second stage, which would significantly enhance the future sefer, was to find Torah scholars fluent in the Torah of Brisk who would compare the content of the sefer with other existing writings of Rav Chaim Brisker. These included his own writing in Chiddushei Rabbeinu Chaim Halevi and the notes of his live shiurim compiled in the sefer known in the yeshivah world as Rav Chaim’s Stencils.

In addition, Reb Simcha invested much effort in compiling a fascinating preface which focuses on the little-known details of Rav Tzvi Hirsch’s life. The only preexisting source describing Yeshivah Toras Chaim was a short chapter in a historical book titled Ishim v’Kehilos authored by Rabbi Moshe Tzinovitz who knew Rav Tzvi Hirsch personally. The current sketch in the preface to the newly released sefer Shiurei Toras Chaim is the only existing biography of Rav Tzvi Hirsch and his family, coupled with a description of his unique yeshivah in Warsaw.

Several weeks ago, the Yefe Nof publishing house produced the sefer, which was received with acclaim by Torah scholars and yeshivah students. Eighty-one years after he and his family were murdered in Treblinka, this great gaon and tzaddik’s legacy lives on due to the efforts of a loyal talmid and his devoted son.  —

Shiurei Toras Chaim

The recently released Shiurei Toras Chaim focuses on the shiurim delivered by Rav Tzvi Hirsch Glickson spanning the years during which Rabbi Friedland attended his yeshivah in Warsaw. One of the trademark symbols of a litvish style yeshivah is the cycle, spanning several years, during which the yeshivah strives to cover the “yeshivishe masechtos” in depth.

Practically speaking, this means that instead of investing the years in yeshivah to finish Shas, the yeshivah chooses to focus on several select tractates and learn them with a focus on understanding these sugyos in depth and defining the laws mentioning in them in precise abstract terms (primarily according to terminology laid down by Reb Chaim Brisker).

The tractates chosen are usually from the sedorim of Nashim and Nezikin.

In sefer Shiurei Toras Chaim, Rabbi Friedland recorded shiurim delivered by Rav Tzvi Hirsch on the following masechtos of Seder Nashim: Gittin (laws of divorce) and Kiddushin (laws of marriage). From the masechtos of Seder Nezikin he recorded shiurim on Bava Kamma, Bava Metzia, and Bava Basra (all dealing with monetary halachah). A third part is dedicated to general topics discussed in depth in the yeshivah world.

Aside from the shiurim themselves, the Torah scholars engaged by Rav Simcha Pachtman provided cross references for the chiddushim in the name of Rav Chaim Brisker as heard from Rav Tzvi Hirsch, comparing them to similar chiddushim that appear in other sources quoting Rav Chaim’s chiddushim. These are of particular importance since the precise definition of these abstract terms are the fundamental aspect of the Brisker derech. Other footnotes deal with providing sources of terms mentioned in Rav Tzvi Hirsch’s shiur, clarifications, and cross references to works of Rishonim on these topics.

A fascinating addition to the sefer is an exhaustive preface dedicated to the life of Rav Tzvi Hirsch, tracing his marriage to Sara Rasha, the daughter of Rav Chaim Soloveitchik; his appointment as rosh yeshivah of Toras Chaim in Warsaw, where his duties included the requisite fundraising; and his death and the death of all of his children before and during the war.

 

Lithuanian Aristocracy

The Brisker dynasty began with the Beis HaLevi, the first Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik (many descendants would later carry this name). Rav Yosef Dov himself was a descendant to many great Torah scholars but was the first Soloveitchik to carry the title “Rav of Brisk.”

Rav Yosef Dov, a grandson of Rav Chaim of Volozhin, was appointed co-rosh yeshivah of Volozhin alongside the Netziv, a son-in-law of Rav Yitzchak of Volozhin (and son of Rav Chaim). He later left Volozhin to accept the position of Rav of Slutzk. Many Volozhin talmidim followed him there, in addition to new ones who came to hear his shiurim. After leaving Slutzk due to disagreements with askanim, he spent a short period in Warsaw, before moving to Brisk where to assume the rabbanus, succeeding Rav Yehoshua Leib Diskin who was forced to flee to Eretz Yisrael.

Although the Beis HaLevi had many children from three marriages, his son from his second marriage, Rav Chaim, stands out as the founder of the current day yeshivah method of learning, the “Brisker Derech.”

Another son, Rav Simcha, (from his third wife), was rav of Mohilov and taught in the yeshivah of Rav Pesach Pruskin. Rav Simcha reached the shores of America where he taught a small group of select talmidim in New York and eventually was appointed the rav of Anshei Brisk in the city.

A son of Rav Simcha was Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik of Spring Valley, father of Rav Yitzchak Soloveitchik of Yerushalayim and Rav Simcha.

Rav Chaim Soloveitchick assumed both of his father’s positions, first as co-rosh yeshivah of Volozhin alongside the Netziv, where he introduced his unique analytical methodology, then as rav of Brisk. (He was actually a grandson-in-law of the Netziv, as he married the daughter of Rav Refael Shapiro, son-in-law of the Netziv.)

When the Russian authorities closed down the yeshivah in Volozhin, he became rav of Brisk, where he saw his main mission as Rav to be involved in day-to-day activities of chesed, caring for the welfare of the city’s inhabitants. Halachic rulings were left to the dayan, Rav Simcha Zelig Riger Hy”d.

Rav Chaim himself had three sons. The oldest, Rav Yisrael Gershon, was a great Torah scholar and tzaddik who assisted his grandfather the Beis HaLevi during his lifetime. An extant photo shows an elderly Rav Yisrael Gershon with the talmidim of the yeshivah ketanah of Brisk, a possible indication that he was a marbitz Torah in this yeshivah. Rav Yisrael Gershon was killed during the war and was survived by his son Rav Moshe of Switzerland, recognized as the foremost gadol in Europe for many years until passing in 1995. His son is Rav Boruch, the rosh yeshivah of Yeshivas Toras Zeev (formerly in Yerushalayim, currently in Beit Shemesh).

Rav Chaim’s second son was Rav Moshe, who was appointed first as rav of Raseiniai and then of Chaslovitch. Later on, he served as rosh yeshivah in Tachkemoni in Warsaw and finally as rosh yeshivah of Yeshivas Rabbeinu Yitzchak Elchanan in New York. His sons were Rav Yosef Dov of Boston who succeeded him as rosh yeshivah in RIETS; Rav Aharon, the rosh yeshivah of Brisk in Chicago (aside from earlier positions held in Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin and Skokie); and Dr. Shmuel, a chemist. Rav Moshe’s two daughters were Mrs. Shulamis Meiselman (mother of Rav Moshe Meiselman, Rosh Yeshivas Toras Moshe in Yerushalayim); and Dr. Anne Gerber.

The youngest son of Rav Chaim was Rav Yitzchak Ze’ev, known as Rav Velvel, or the Brisker Rav, who assumed his father’s position as rav of Brisk and taught an elite group of hand-selected talmidim from the major yeshivos of Europe at his home in Brisk. Although not a formal yeshivah setting, many of the subsequent gedolim of the next generation considered themselves talmidim of the Brisker Rav because of these sessions. These informal shiurim continued upon the Brisker Rav’s arrival in Eretz Yisrael during the war, this time catering to the elite talmidim of the existing yeshivos in Eretz Yisrael.

His sons were Rav Yosef Dov of Yerushalayim, who opened the first formal yeshivah of Brisk in Yerushalayim (now headed by his son Rav Avraham Yehoshua); Rav Chaim, known in the yeshivah world for his sharp and lomdishe wit; Rav Meshulam Dovid, who eventually founded an additional Yeshivas Brisk in Yerushalayim; Rav Rephael, who dedicated his life to assisting his father and was involved in early battles for upholding Yiddishkeit in the newly formed State of Israel; and Rav Meir who taught select talmidim in a small yeshivah setting.

The Rav’s two sons-in-laws were Rav Michel Feinstein, Rosh Yeshivas Beis Yehuda in Tel Aviv; and ybl”ch Rav Yaakov Schiff, currently based in Yerushalayim. Three other children were murdered during the war together with the Rav’s Rebbetzin Hy”d.

The fourth sibling was a daughter of Rav Chaim named Sara Rasha, who married Rav Tzvi Hirsh Glickson. Hashem yikom damam.

 

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 995)


Wednesday, September 23, 2026

The Shiur He Lived:Rav Ahron Soloveichik’s greatest shiur was how he never gave up

The Shiur He Lived
Photo: Family archives

Rav Ahron Soloveichik taught in institutions spanning the frum spectrum, but that wasn’t the only dichotomic aspect of this gadol b’Torah, who was at once sensitive, compassionate, and humble, yet uncompromising in his halachic standards and undeterred by pain and disability. Ahead of his 25th yahrtzeit on 18 Tishrei, Mishpacha presents a portrait of Rav Ahron Soloveichik

One morning in the late 1980s, not long after my family had made aliyah, my father a”h told us that Rav Ahron Soloveichik had come to Yerushalayim, and he’d be taking us boys to hear him speak. At the time, the gadol’s name was new to me; while we were all familiar with the brother 14 years his senior, Rav Yosef Dov, the legendary rav in Boston and rosh yeshivah of RIETS, I hadn’t yet heard about Rav Ahron.

We arrived at the newly built Ramada Hotel, where Rav Ahron was scheduled to speak. We listened intently to his fiery critique of the idea of surrendering land to the Arabs in return for peace, which he felt contravened halachah. But more than the speech, which was delivered in impeccable English, interspersed with a heavily litvish-accented Lashon Kodesh, what made an everlasting impression was Rav Ahron himself.

When he was wheeled into the convention hall in a wheelchair, what the audience saw was a frail, aged rav who had suffered a massive stroke and had lost control of his left hand and the ability to walk unassisted. However, once he began speaking, you heard the roar of a lion. He spoke forcefully but deliberately. His thoughts were articulated in erudite vocabulary, and the comprehensive forethought that had gone into his delivery was apparent. That day, I saw how sheer willpower could triumph over physical difficulty.

Now, as we approach Rav Ahron’s 25th yahrtzeit on 18 Tishrei, I find myself returning to that encounter. And speaking to talmidim and family members only strengthened that initial impression: Rav Ahron Soloveichik, scion of the Brisker dynasty, brought together ironclad devotion to halachah with exquisite sensitivity to the feelings of others, and a burning ahavas haTorah with the capacity to enjoy the simplest pleasures of life. Those who knew him viewed him as one of the great gedolim of his era.

Always Young

The inner strength needed not to capitulate to the limitations life may have introduced was something embedded in Rav Ahron’s chinuch from his youngest years. Rabbi Chayim Soloveichik, Rav Ahron’s youngest son and the rav of Kehillat Ohr Shalom in Ramat Beit Shemesh, recounts a story he heard from his father.

Rav Ahron was just a young boy when his father Rav Moshe left his home to spend some time in another town in Europe for health reasons and Ahreleh, as he was called back then, accompanied him. They were still there over Chodesh Tishrei, and on Yom Kippur night, Rav Ahron davened fervently alongside his father.

When davening was over, Rav Moshe turned to his son. “Ahreleh, I don’t understand,” he said. “You said the whole davening b’kol ram, but when the chazzan said “Al tashlicheinu l’eis ziknah,” you didn’t even say it quietly. Why not?”

Rav Ahron replied, “I should worry about old age now? I’m a little boy. Why would I even say that sentence?”

Rav Moshe turned to him and said, “You’re mistaken. There are two types of old age. There is actual old age, and there is emotional old age. Actual old age is when a person reaches his seventies, his eighties, his nineties, and yes, you are very far from actual old age. But emotional old age can happen to anyone, at any age.

“When a person is trying to accomplish something and finds himself frustrated [easily] and wanting to give up, that is called emotional old age. And what you’re asking from Hashem is that when you begin to feel frustration, [because] you can’t accomplish, give me the strength that I will be able to go ahead and persevere and accomplish.

“A person can feel emotionally old at a very young age and emotionally young at a very old age, but you always need to ask Hashem for help.”

“This is a lesson that he always taught us,” recounts Reb Chayim. “Be a gibor, feel young, and don’t give up.”

Rav Ahron was a sought-after marbitz Torah in yeshivos across the spectrum. While still unmarried, he was offered his first position by Rav Moshe Feinstein as a rebbi in Mesivta Tiferes Yerushalayim (MTJ); Rav Moshe once commented that “no one can explain a Rambam like Reb Ahron.” He was subsequently offered the position of teaching the highest shiur in Chaim Berlin by Rav Hutner, who knew him from childhood.

After Rav Ahron married Rebbetzin Ella, the couple settled down in Manhattan. The Rebbetzin, the daughter of Rav Moshe Shurin, a prominent rav from Lita and later a rav in the US, was an educated woman who was fluent in Tanach and composed her own poems. For the rest of their lives, she was a full partner of Rav Ahron’s in all his endeavors. Rav Ahron continued teaching in Chaim Berlin, commuting daily by subway, though he’d often miss his stop due to his total immersion in learning.

During this time, Rav Ahron’s older brother, Rav Yosef Dov, asked him to substitute for him in RIETS. He agreed and began teaching two shiurim daily, one in RIETS and another in Chaim Berlin, aside from additional weekly shiurim.

Rav Ahron was teaching in RIETS when he was offered a position as rosh yeshivah in the Midwest, which he accepted, serving in this post for a period of time before he opened Yeshivas Brisk in Chicago.

Rabbi Moshe Kletenik, av beis din of the Vaad HaRabanim of Greater Seattle and rosh beis din of the Pacific Northwest Regional Beis Din under the auspices of the RCA and Beth Din of America, was a close talmid of Rav Ahron, as well as a chavrusa and friend of his son Reb Moshe.

He points out the dichotomy of Rav Ahron’s personality. “We are taught, ‘L’olam yehei adam rach kakaneh — a person should be as pliable as a reed.’ On the other hand, ‘Kol talmid chacham she’eino kasheh kebarzel eino talmid chacham — A talmid chacham must be stiff as iron.’ In general, Rav Ahron interacted with people rach kakaneh, with compassion and chesed. But when it came to a matter of principle, he was kasheh kebarzel.”

Rav Ahron’s humility never stifled his integrity and fortitude: The gevurah of his father and grandfathersran like a vein of rock through every difficult choice in his life.

Before making the decision to take the job in the Midwest, Rav Ahron consulted Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky. He told him he thought the move would perhaps be a challenging one for Rav Ahron personally, but would be significant for Klal Yisrael insomuch that it would strengthen Torah and religiosity in that part of America. That was all Rav Ahron needed to hear.

He moved, and as Rav Yaakov had predicted, he indeed suffered setback after setback. After assuming his position, he instituted a policy that required his musmachim to sign a contract that they would not accept a position in a shul that did not have a proper mechitzah. His firm stance caused friction within the community. But he never wavered in the face of opposition, and no deterrent was sufficient to make him back down on matters of principle.

When the sale of a shul to a proselytizing Asian sect was about to go forward in flagrant violation of halachah, Rav Ahron made his opposition abundantly clear. In return, he received a letter warning him that consequences would ensue if he didn’t back down from his public opposition to the sale. The letter arrived while he was giving shiur — and achieved nothing. Rav Aharon not only redoubled his own efforts, but turned to his talmidim and urged them to continue to do all in their power to protest and stop this violation of halachah from occurring. He refused to give in; how could he?

 “As a descendant of the Beis HaRav and Shevet Levi,” he once wrote, “I am not one of those who will agree under pressure to kneel to the Golden Calf.” 

Scion of a Dynasty

A brief look at the Brisker dynasty highlights Rav Ahron’s illustrious lineage. The founder of the dynasty, the Beis HaLevi, Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, had several children, the most famous of whom was the renowned Reb Chaim Brisker, who succeeded his father both as rosh yeshivah of Volozhin and later as rav of Brisk.

Reb Chaim had three sons and one daughter. The second-to-oldest son, Rav Moshe, was recognized early on as a Talmudic prodigy. In 1929, Rav Moshe immigrated to New York, accepting Rabbi Dr. Bernard Revel’s offer to fill the position of the Meitscheter Illui, Rav Shlomo Polachek, as the head of Yeshivas Rabbeinu Yitzchak Elchanan (RIETS).

Rav Moshe and his wife Pessia had five children, three boys and two girls. Rav Yosef Dov of Boston, their oldest son, would later fill his father’s position in RIETS. Reb Shmuel, their next son, later became a chemist who taught at Yeshiva College. Rav Yosef Dov would talk about Reb Shmuel’s gadlus baTorah in glowing terms. The youngest of the brothers was Rav Ahron, who was born in 1917.

When Rav Moshe left for America, his family initially stayed behind in Europe. Before leaving, Rav Moshe arranged for a young Torah scholar to learn with Ahron while his father would be away. This Torah scholar would later become famous as Rav Yitzchak Hutner. Decades later, Rav Feivel Cohen, author of Badei Hashulchan and a talmid of Rav Ahron in Chaim Berlin, related that Rav Hutner told him that if he wanted to know what it meant to have real ahavas haTorah, he should look at Rav Ahron Soloveichik. He added that he had known Rav Ahron as a young child and that his love for Torah then was already something extraordinary.

After studying almost all of Bava Kamma and the entirety of Rambam’s Hilchos Nizkei Mammon with his charge, Rav Hutner told the young Rav Ahron to write his own bar mitzvah pshetl. During a family trip to visit his uncle in Brisk, the discussion centered around the 13-year-old’s independently crafted speech. The Brisker Rav was deeply captivated by his nephew’s scholarship, and spent hours analyzing Bava Kamma with him.

Eventually Rav Moshe sent for his family to join him in America, where Rav Ahron studied under his father in his shiur in RIETS for over ten years. After his father’s passing, he continued in his older brother Rav Yosef Dov’s shiur for one year.

For the Love of Torah

Rav Ahron’s son Rabbi Chayim Soloveichik recalls his father’s learning as an integral part of his childhood. “No matter how late I went to bed, my father was learning, and no matter how early I got up, he was already learning.”

One particular Shavuos morning, when Reb Chayim was a teenager, it was impressed on him just who his father was. He was 17, and after learning through the night and then davening Shacharis, he and his father walked home together. Exhausted, the teenaged Chayim went straight to sleep. He left the window in his room open and at about 11:00 in the morning, he woke up to the sound of his father learning on the front porch.

Reb Chayim recalls his surprise. My father went to rest after 9:00, and he’s already up at 11:00?

“I quickly got dressed, went downstairs, and asked my father, ‘Abba, what are you doing?’

“‘I’m learning,’ he responded.

“‘I know you’re learning, but aren’t you tired?’ I said.

“I will never forget his answer. He looked at me and said, ‘What do you think? I learned a whole night to sleep a whole day? I slept a bit and I’ll sleep tonight, but now I’m going to learn more.’ ”

Reb Chayim recalls how his father’s love for Torah overrode his physical distress. “After the stroke, my father was in a lot of pain,” he says. “You could see it on his face; you could hear it. But when he was learning Gemara, especially when he was giving shiur, you could see his face relax. And then, as soon as he would close the Gemara — obviously you can’t teach forever — the pain would come back.”

Reb Chayim shares an idea his father used to say over, citing the Rambam in Hilchos Talmud Torah (1:8), where he says that every Jew has to learn Torah. He could be poor or rich, healthy or in pain, old or lacking strength, but everyone needs to learn Torah.

Rav Ahron would point out that the Rambam doesn’t usually delineate the personal situation a Jew may find himself in when discussing other mitzvos. And he explained why: “Because Torah is different. When a person learns Torah, it helps him overcome these problems. He forgets that he’s poor; he forgets his pain.”

“And that was my father,” says Reb Chayim. “When he learned, the pain left, and you could see it on his face. My father didn’t just learn Torah; he lived it, and everything he learned became part of his personality.”

Teaching by Example

Rav Ahron’s son Rabbi Chayim Soloveichik says his father always taught by example. One of his favorite divrei Torah came from parshas Vayera: “Ki yedativ lema’an asher yetzaveh es banav v’es beiso acharav veshamru derech Hashem la’asos tzedakah u’mishpat — For I have known him because he commands his sons and his household after him, that they will keep the way of the L-rd to perform righteousness and justice.”

Rav Ahron would frequently cite this pasuk, asking, “What does it mean, ‘He commanded his household and then they will keep the ways of the L-rd?’ How does that work? Because he commands them, they will keep the derech Hashem?”

And Rav Ahron would answer that Avraham Avinu led his household by example, and his personal example would inspire them to continue on the derech Hashem.

It wasn’t only self-discipline that Rav Ahron modeled for his family. He taught them the significance of precision in halachah, the importance he attributed to family, and the joy that could be found in the simplest elements of life.

“Being the baby of the family, I had the privilege of walking with my father to shul every Shabbos morning until he had his stroke,” Reb Chayim remembers. “He would speak about everything — Torah, other things that were going on — and then, at some point, usually around the time we passed the bank and he saw the time, he would say to me, ‘Chayimke, did you say Shema yet?’

“The answer was usually no. And he would say, ‘Oy, you must say Shema right now, as the zeman of the Magen Avraham is approaching. Please stop for the first parshah and I will wait for you. Then you can continue with the other two parshiyos and walk while you are saying the rest of Shema.’

“This happened almost on a weekly basis, and it taught me, number one, the importance of saying Shema at the right time; number two, that even though most of the world would stop just for the first pasuk, since there are Rishonim who hold you should stop for the first parshah, why not try to fulfill that shitah also; and number three, the importance he gave to walking with his children. He stressed the fact that he would wait for me until I was ready to continue walking again.”

While Rav Ahron suffered from significant pain and limitations at the end of his life, none of that overshadowed his inner happiness.

“My father was always b’simchah,” Reb Chayim says, “and he would try to make other people happy as well. What made him happy? All the simple things in life. In the last years of my father’s life, he would travel every week to New York to give shiur, and he always insisted on taking a house key with him, even though my mother was always home. He loved coming home. When he came home on Thursday night, he wouldn’t ring the bell; he would open the door with his key. He would tell my mother that he was home with the biggest smile on his face. He loved being at home. It made him so happy.

“I think he taught me, in many ways, to be happy with the simple things in life. This is actually one of the ideas that he mentioned regarding the Simchas Beis Hashoeivah: Why was water such a central part of the celebration? Because water is simple, and we have to be happy and recognize the simple things in life that HaKadosh Baruch Hu gives us.

“This personified him. He was so happy with his family — his wife, my mother, who was always there, they did everything together; his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, students, and friends. I remember my father as always being happy.”

On Guard

Rav Ahron’s talmidim remember his care and unpretentious manner as well. Rav Avishai David, today a prominent rav in Ramat Beit Shemesh, recalls his first encounter with Rav Ahron.

“I was 13, and I’d often arrive early to Yeshiva University High School to daven and play basketball before classes. One morning, needing a safe place for my briefcase, I found a Torah scholar with a fiery red beard learning Gemara in the library. Not knowing who he was, I asked if he could watch my things.

“Instead of simply agreeing, he asked me, ‘What is my status? Am I a shomer chinam, a shomer sachar, a socher, or a sho’el?’ Seeing that I had no idea what he meant, he invited me to sit down and proceeded to teach me the laws of shomrim. After discussing the various categories and opinions of the Rishonim, he concluded that he would be a shomer chinam.

“Throughout the day, I noticed that the rabbi carried his Gemara in one hand and my briefcase in the other wherever he went. This went on for several days, and he continued guarding my briefcase with extraordinary care.

“One day, Rav Dovid Lifschitz saw me taking a book from the briefcase and asked what was happening. When I explained, he was shocked. He told me that my ‘shomer’ was none other than Rav Ahron Halevi Soloveichik, one of the gedolei hador and leading roshei yeshivah, and that it was inappropriate for me to have such a great Torah scholar carrying my briefcase. Embarrassed, I immediately took it back.

“The following day, Rav Ahron noticed that I had not given him my briefcase and asked why not. He assured me that he had properly fulfilled his responsibilities as a shomer chinam and had not been negligent in any way.

“I was astonished. This great Torah scholar had no concern for his own dignity; instead, he worried that perhaps I had taken back my briefcase because he had failed in the responsibility he had accepted.”

Rabbi Yaakov Borow, another talmid, shares a story that happened after Rav Ahron had suffered the massive stroke that left him paralyzed on his left side.

“In 1984, my brother Ephraim got married and Rav Ahron came to St. Louis for the wedding to be mesader kiddushin. This was when he had already suffered a stroke, and moving around was a tremendous strain for him. My maternal grandfather had passed away three days beforehand, and Rav Ahron paskened what my mother could do at the wedding — she could only attend the chuppah.

“I remember clearly Rav Ahron dragging himself up to the chuppah and the scraping of his walker as he did so. He left the wedding shortly afterward, and I was sure he had gone to rest from the trip and the strain of officiating. I was shocked to discover later that he and one of his sons traveled to my home in order to be menachem avel my mother and her brothers after the wedding.”

Rav Ahron’s talmidim often got married out of town, and they would arrange a ticket for Rav Ahron so he could join their simchah. Rabbi Chayim Soloveichik remembers asking his father, “Let’s say the boy couldn’t buy you a ticket. Would you go to the wedding?”

“Of course,” Rav Ahron replied. “How could I miss a wedding of a talmid?”

Rabbi Kletenik recalls how Rav Ahron came to be menachem avel him and his brother when they sat shivah for their father. It was Erev Shabbos in the afternoon, and the brothers mentioned that they had a problem, as all their Shabbos shirts had just been laundered in the past few days. Without hesitation, Rav Ahron said, “Give me the shirts, and I will put them on.”

“Rebbi, no,” they pleaded, to no avail. He marched to the bedroom and said, “Give me the shirts.” Removing his jacket and shirt, he put on one shirt and then the other so that they were no longer freshly laundered, and said, “Now you have shirts for Shabbos.”

And Rav Ahron’s care for others wasn’t limited to his talmidim or even only to Jews. He was once standing on the subway platform near a middle-aged Roman Catholic priest. Suddenly a homeless man sitting on a bench attacked Reb Ahron. He pushed him onto the subway tracks, but the force of the push caused the attacker to fall down as well. Reb Ahron climbed back onto the platform and saw the attacker lying on the tracks. Realizing that an approaching train could kill him, he immediately returned and struggled to pull the man to safety. He succeeded, and the man unsteadily walked away.

When the train arrived and Reb Ahron prepared to board, the priest, who had witnessed the entire incident, stopped him and asked, “Who are you?” He then expressed his astonishment. “I have never in my life seen anyone like you!”

The Brisker Derech

“Once, when I was still a teenager,” recalls Rabbi Chayim Soloveichik, “I asked my father what exactly is the Brisker derech. He told me I should learn a few more years and then I would understand. After a few years, I opened up the conversation again, and he didn’t say two dinim or cheftza-gavra. He said the Brisker derech is that after you learn a sugya well, with all the Rishonim, you look at the Shulchan Aruch and you make sure how, through the Gemara, you come to every point in the halachah. He taught us all that when we learn Tanach, Gemara, or Torah, the point is lilmod v’la’asos.

“Whether it’s mussar, Chumash, Gemara, it all has to become part of you. And we saw him as a walking Shulchan Aruch.”

Rav Ahron’s halachic precision had particularly dramatic influence when it came to the observance of the laws of yashan in America today. The basic idea of this halachah is that grains that took root prior to Pesach are yashan and permitted to be consumed, but if they did not take root prior to Pesach, they are chadash (new crops) and may not be consumed until the following Pesach.

In the 1950s, the Streit’s company asked Rav Ahron to give hashgachah to their products. As part of his prior research before agreeing, he carefully examined where the flour came from. His investigation revealed that American wheat was no longer routinely being stored for long periods of time, and therefore, flour available commercially could no longer automatically be regarded as yashan.

Rav Ahron made his supervision of Streit’s conditional upon the company using only yashan flour for all of their products, and they agreed. His personal commitment was equally strong: Because yashan bread was difficult to obtain, he relied on matzah instead, until he acquired a freezer that allowed him to keep a supply of appropriate products.

Rav Ahron continued promoting the observance of yashan after relocating to Chicago. He persuaded one local bakery to meet yashan standards, and in time additional bakeries followed suit.

The Wordless Shiur

In 1984, at the age of 67, Rav Ahron suffered a massive stroke that initially left him unable to walk, in addition to losing the use of his left arm. The neurologists offered little hope, predicting that he would be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Rav Ahron, however, would not accept the prognosis. Drawing on extraordinary determination and force of will, he laboriously taught himself to walk once more. One step at a time, he achieved what the doctors had regarded as beyond medical possibility.

Nor did he merely regain enough mobility to live quietly at home. Rav Ahron returned to teaching Torah in Chicago, and even assumed further responsibilities that demanded tremendous effort. In his final years, he would travel by plane from Chicago to New York, where he gave shiurim three days each week. With a cane in hand, he made the painfully slow journey from his house to the airport, from the airport to the car, and finally from the car to the yeshivah, every step requiring enormous exertion.

On one particular morning, as Rav Ahron was making his way toward the staircase — the beginning of his long and difficult trip to the yeshivah — he fell. His devoted rebbetzin urged him to seek medical care, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He had a shiur to give that day, and he was determined to deliver it. Only after the shiur was finished did he consent to be taken to the emergency room, where to the doctors’ incredulity, they saw he had been walking with a broken bone.

The doctors may have found this difficult to comprehend, but those who knew Rav Ahron were far less surprised. He didn’t view physical hardship simply as an obstacle, but rather another means through which he could devote every part of himself to serving Hashem.

On another occasion, Rav Ahron’s son-in-law was speaking with a deeply broken young man who desperately needed encouragement, but nothing he said seemed to penetrate. Finally, having exhausted his ideas, he asked Rav Ahron to speak with the young man himself.

Rav Ahron took the phone and began describing, in his European-accented English, the physical suffering that he personally endured. He then told him, “If I can do it, then you definitely can. Don’t give up! Hachalash yomar gibor ani. [Let the weak one say, “I am strong.” (Yoel 4:10)].” By the time the conversation ended, the young man on the other side of the line had gained a renewed determination to continue with life.

Rabbi Chayim Soloveichik remembers how after his father’s stroke, his mother took the night shifts in the hospital and he took the day shifts, intending to help his father put on his tefillin. The first morning, he arrived a little late, and found his mother had already helped his father. The second morning, when he again came a little late, his father told him, “I figured it out by myself.”

“For many years my father would put on tefillin by himself,” Reb Chayim says. “His left hand would shake, and he had to concentrate deeply and strongly… It took so much energy. After he put on his tefillin, his jacket would be drenched from the effort.

“I remember someone who was a student in Yeshiva University once told me, ‘If my children would only see and understand the effort your father put into that mitzvah, they would never need any more chizuk in doing mitzvos.’ ”

He wasn’t the only one to express this sentiment. Many of Rav Ahron’s talmidim felt the most important shiur they learned from their rebbi was the one he delivered by virtue of his very being in those last 17 years. Each morning, while descending the stairs in intense pain, he would hold tightly to the railing and count his steps with the words used by the Kohein Gadol on Yom Kippur: “Achas, achas v’achas…” What others would have experienced only as torment, Rav Ahron regarded as avodah — a sacred opportunity to accept with love the service that had been assigned to him by the One Above. 

The writer wishes to thank Reb Baruch Kelman and many other talmidim of Rav Ahron for their assistance in preparing this article for print.

All credit goes to Rabbi Ephraim Zalman Galinsky and The Mishpacha

  | MAGAZINE FEATURE | THE MISSING LINK   By  Rabbi Ephraim Zalman Galinsky   | JANUARY 16, 2024 Email Print The forgotten legacy of Rav Cha...