Ten months after the tragic bus accident in Israel that left our dear son-in-law in a coma, on the ninth day of Kislev, Rabbi Eliezer Geldzahler passed away.
Notwithstanding the unprecedented volume of vigils, prayers, supplications, importuning and acts of charity, kindness and piety worldwide dedicated to his recovery, the response of the Master of the Universe, our Heavenly Parent, was “no.”
From the depth of our collective pain, comes the inevitable question, “Are we to understand that our prayers were in vain? That the never ceasing recitals of psalms of our devoted friends everywhere were for naught?”
One of Reb Eliezer’s students related a parable of two fathers who enter a clothing store to purchase garments for their families. One is very specific about the requirements, i.e. style, size etc. The other moves through the store quickly, choosing one suit after another.
When asked for an explanation about their different approaches, it came to light that the former had only one child to clothe and had to make sure that the suit was perfect for him. But the latter had a house full of children and figured that if a garment wasn’t quite right for one, it would undoubtedly fit another one of his children.
Similarly, the Almighty has many beloved children. For some unfathomable reason that only He knows, our prayers could not fit or work for Reb Eliezer in the way that we had hoped.
But without a doubt, the massive, positive, spiritual energy released by our supplications will work for the many others who need them. And hopefully, they will also provide strength for his wife, our daughter Baila, and their 13 beautiful children.
Most certainly these prayers will accompany Reb Eliezer to his eternal abode and be a merit for his soul. They are a good fit for someone, somewhere and certainly we and our world are better because of them.
The mind-boggling impact of the mere 46 years of Reb Eliezer’s life on so many is impossible to distill in words. Thousands came to the four different funeral sites, hearts heavy with personal grief, to pay tribute to a great man.
The mother of one of his students spoke of her son’s love for him, remarking that her son had convinced her that he had been Reb Eliezer’s favorite student, until she later met scores of other mothers who had the same experience.
They added that for these young men, the loss of a biological father could not have evoked a greater sense of loss. Reb Eliezer had molded and shaped them into menschen [good people] with a positive self-esteem and self-worth.
The capacity to bring out the best in others and make them feel special was not limited to his hundreds of students; it extended to every person who crossed his path.
Reb Eliezer was an imposing figure in his broad 6-foot-2-inch frame. He had the physical stature of a leader. Impressive as that was, most notable however was the light that accompanied his presence — a bren, a fire, a light of joy and aliveness. The earth literally danced beneath his feet. He was thrilled to be alive.
Life to him was always beautiful, exciting and full of opportunities. Nothing ever dampened his spirit. “Gevaldig!” (“Awesome!”) was his every ready response when asked how he was and how things were going.
His passion for life extended first and foremost to the study of Torah and to the recitation of prayers. He was a first-rate, major-league Torah scholar. Anyone who knew him can easily conjure up the image of Reb Eliezer babysitting, a child in his lap, one on each shoulder, and another climbing over his head — and all the while he is unfazed, fully concentrating on the tome of the Talmud open before him.
His sense of privilege and fiery excitement for learning created a breath of fresh air in a school system that generally promoted learning as a heavy-duty responsibility that smacked of burden and pressure.
His magical spirit created an environment in which his boys engaged in all of their daily activities with fervor. They played, they ate, they sang and they danced with passion and zeal.
Paradoxically this continual enthusiasm, which one might have thought would detract from their learning and praying, liberated an energy that produced greater volume and depth of study than in any other parallel institution.
His keen understanding of youth, (perhaps because he never ceased to be young at heart) revolutionized the yeshiva system. One summer we visited with him in his yeshiva in the mountain site.
He set a goal of 500 blatt (folios) of Talmud for his students’ summer study — an enormous amount. The students worked tirelessly to achieve their objective.
At the successful conclusion of the summer session, they celebrated upon reaching their goals.
At 2 a.m., Reb Eliezer announced that since the boys had done so well, the evening (or morning) would conclude with a jaunt at swimming. It was pitch dark outside, but that did not deter him.
The rosh yeshiva [dean], or Rosh, as he was lovingly referred to, drove his car down the steep hill to the pool and provided illumination for the boys with his headlights. Initially I shuddered with my conservative sensibilities on edge, but I had to admit that it sure worked wonders for the boys.
His care and concern for each student was legendary. Long after they left his yeshiva, they drew on his counsel and guidance. He would come to our community in Milwaukee with his family for the holidays and was constantly on the phone, sought out by his students, his alumni and others from every corner of the globe.
After the funeral in Boro Park, it began to drizzle. Someone remarked to seven-year-old Naftoli Tzvi, Reb Eliezer’s son, that even the heavens were crying.
He vehemently protested and said, “No. When my totty [father] was born, the heavens must have cried because they had to part with him. But now, these must be tears of joy because they have him back with them.”
To hear the voices of my young grandchildren as they belt out the Kaddish (memorial prayer) is nothing short of heart wrenching. The little ones do it with real gusto — especially since one of their teachers told them that when their father, who is in heaven, hears their voices, he joins hands with the angels and dances.
The image of their father dancing is a very real one to them. The only question they had was whether the angels know how to dance.
As for myself, Baila’s mother, presumptuous as it might be, I ask the Almighty to remember His promise to be the “Advocate of widows and the Father of orphans.”
Only He can step in and give Baila the requisite strength to raise her children, to nurture the great potential within each one of them and bring to fruition Reb Eliezer’s legacy encased in their very genes.
And for all of us collectively, may God finally usher in the long awaited millennium, when there will be an end to all suffering and wherein “He will wipe the tears from every face.”
Rebbetzin Feige Twerski is the wife of Rabbi Michel Twerski, spiritual leader of Congregation Beth Jehudah. She is an internationally-known educator and lecturer.
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