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 Teaching Us How to Face Death A Tribute to HaRav Shlomo HaKohen Eisenblatt This article first appeared in Yated Ne'eman (English Edition), 5.5.01. When the holy Reb Simcha Bunem of P'shischa
reached his final hour, his wife began to cry. "Why do you weep?" he
asked her. "All my life has been a preparation for this moment." The
lives of tzaddikim and Gedolei Torah are just as instructive as their
Torah teachings -
and so are their departures from this life to the life of the World to Come.
Just as Rav Shlomo Eisenblatt, zt"l, the late Mashgiach of Yeshivas
Darkei Noam, instructed his talmidim in dealing with the intellectual
challenges of Gemorah and Poskim, so did he instruct us in dealing with the spiritual
challenges of living -
and dying. Dedication to Torah During the difficult years that followed the
Holocaust, HaRav HaTzaddik R' Mordechai Shlomo Friedman, the Boyaner Rebbe zt"l,
emerged as a key figure in the renaissance of Jewish religious life in
America, attracting many young people from marginally observant American homes
and bringing them into the gates of Torah and Avodah. One of those hidden
jewels the Rebbe found was my revered teacher, Rav Shlomo Eisenblatt, zt"l.
At age ten he became one of the ketzelach, the youngsters so designated
after their mentor, the legendary Boyaner Chassid, HaRav Velvel Katz, shlita
(who now resides in Bet Shemesh). Three years later, he walked into Mesivta
Torah VoDaath, without parental encouragement and entirely upon his own
initiative, and asked to be enrolled as a talmid of the yeshiva. The
Menahel agreed, and, like Shevet Yissaschar, vayeit shichmo lisbol -
he eagerly submitted himself to the yoke of Torah. After marrying his Rebbetzin, the daughter of
HaRav HaGaon R' Refael Elchanan Rabinowitz, zt"l, Rav Eisenblatt
devoted the rest of his life to learning and disseminating Torah, whether as a
Rebbi in Elizabeth, a Menahel and Maggid Shiur in Be'er Shmuel, or Moreh
D'Asrah of Johannesburg, South Africa. However, he finally found his niche when
he became Mashgiach Ruchani of Yeshivas Darkei Noam, established by HaRav Moshe
Horowitz, Bostoner Rebbe of New York, zt"l, and directed by HaRav
Pinchos Dovid Horowitz, the Bostoner Rebbe of Flatbush, shlita. The Mashgiach was a rare personification of the derech
of Mussar, albeit with a distinctly Chassidic touch. His powerful shmuessen
every Erev Shabbos addressed the problems of real life, without
platitudes or clichés. Intellectually creative and emotionally intense, these
lectures sought to imbue the talmidim with the highest spiritual ideals - ideals that
the Mashgiach lived and breathed. Materialistic indulgence was abhorrent to Rav
Eisenblatt. The simple dignity of his home was readily apparent to the many
former students, congregants, and guests who crossed his threshold seeking his
sage counsel. Invariably they would find the Mashgiach in the dalet amos
of his study, peering over a Gemorah by the light of an old lamp taped onto an
improvised base to make it the needed height. His library consisted of many
hundreds of well-worn seforim representing the full spectrum of Torah,
tightly packed into bookcases made out of wooden crates and discarded
materials. (A few weeks before his passing, a devoted talmid presented
him with three new bookcases, which the Mashgiach never saw.) Every extra
dollar he earned went to pay for the Torah education of his beloved
grandchildren -
whose names he often gave to his talmidim, with the humble request that
they mention them during their prayers. His Final Sickness Seven years ago, the Mashgiach was diagnosed
with a form of leukemia. However, this did not become public knowledge until he
fell grievously ill two years later. When I went to visit him during his
recovery, he told me that he had "good days, and bad days," when he
could hardly get out bed. Some of his students could not believe that this
paragon of inner strength and simcha could be frightened or depressed.
"I'm sorry," he told them, "but I am just a human being."
He explained that he recently had read a biography of one of the leading
figures in the Mussar Movement. It described how the doctors once found that
the sage had developed a tumor, which they immediately removed and sent to a
lab, to determine whether or not it was malignant. After three days, the report
came back that the tumor was benign. The sage confessed that those were the
most difficult three days of his life. "And he was seventy years old at
the time!" Rav Eisenblatt concluded. Yet through the very physical and emotional
adversities that confronted him during his final years, the Mashgiach developed
new powers, as he drew upon the depths of his emunah and bitochon
in coming to grips with his condition. "Gam ki eileich b'gai tzalmoves,
lo irah rah, ki Atoh imadi," the Psalmist declares. "Though I
walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are
with me…" (Tehillim 23:4). Rav Eisenblatt's hasmada in Torah
study remained undiminished, and his compassionate attention to the problems of
others, even from his hospital bed in the Bone Marrow Unit, took precedence
over brooding about his own. A Living Torah Complaint about the ways of Hashem was
unthinkable to the Mashgiach. During his first bout with Leukemia, I came to
him to ask for a brochah for a young Kohen who had been divorced twice,
and now was having problems finding a shidduch. In describing this
fellow's unfortunate circumstances, I inadvertently used the word 'brutal.' "Never say 'brutal,'" the Mashgiach
gently enjoined. "If the Eibishter sends something to a person, it
must be good." At the end of this interview (in which I may
have overstated my case), the Mashgiach remarked, "This world is indeed a
terrible place -
but a Jew doesn't belong to this world b'chlal." *** Three years ago, after the Mashgiach underwent
another series of chemotherapy treatments, R' Tuvia Krischer came to visit him,
and found that the Rebbetzin had gone out momentarily. Opening the door a few
inches, he heard the Mashgiach screaming in pain from the bedroom. "Rebbe!" he called out in alarm.
"Do you need help?" The house fell silent. After a minute, the
Mashgiach came to the door and greeted his guest with a smile. "Everything
is fine," he assured him. "Please come in!" *** While in the hospital, Rav Eisenblatt learned a shiur
in Gemorah almost every afternoon with R' Yaakov Klein, who attended him with
rare devotion. When he woke up in the early hours of morning, R' Chaskel
Rubenstein and his twin brother, R' Shimon, were usually at his side. The
Mashgiach would wash his hands, recite the Birchos HaShachar, and then
instruct them: "Zug! Zug! Read the Gemorah!" This seder continued until he became too
wracked with pain to follow the words. Nevertheless, whenever a talmid
came to visit, he would ask him to read a few lines from any sefer he
happened to have. "A little Torah is also very good!" he would say. *** I once noticed that he was davenning with
an ordinary Nusach Sefard Siddur, when I knew that he preferred to daven
with the Siddur Ari that contains the Kabbalistic kavannos (permutations
of Divine Names). "I think I have a Siddur Ari with the kavannos at
home," I told him. "Would the Rebbi like me to bring it to him?"
The Mashgiach nodded to the affirmative and smiled. I found the volume, and
brought it to his room that night. However, the following afternoon, the
Mashgiach asked his Rebbetzin to return the Siddur Ari. "Thank you,"
he said, "but you may take it back. I am just a simple Jew!" I
understood that now he was embarking upon an even higher way of Divine service. *** The Mashgiach's fierce will to live exemplified
the words of the Mishna: "Better is one hour of repentance and good deeds
in this world than the entire life of the World to Come" (Avos 4:17).
In the Beis Medrash of Darkei Noam, the Mashgiach taught us da'as.
In his dying months he taught us something that transcends even Torah
knowledge: ratzon -
the fiery will to serve Hashem, without any trace of self-interest. Erev Shabbos HaGadol, three days before he
passed away, Rav Shlomo Kupetz, his one-time chavrusah and colleague at
Darkei Noam, stood at his bedside. The Mashgiach repeated deliriously, again
and again: "Yagdil Torah v'yadir…" Then his face became red
with emotion, and, while looking at an invisible presence in front of him, he
said, "Ich shlug zich mit eich! I'm going to fight you! I still
have a lot to do!" I must have looked puzzled by these words. "He's arguing with the Malach Hamoves,
the Angel of Death" Rav Kupetz explained. *** The Maggid of Mezeritch writes that three days
before his death, a tzaddik can perceive the animating Divine word in
all things. Three days before his death, the Mashgiach's face seemed luminous,
the tone of his skin almost like that of a child. *** During the first week of Nissan, night after
night, the Mashgiach told us that he was worried about reciting the Kiddush
HaLevana (Sanctification of the New Moon). "I don't know if I will
live from one minute to the next," he matter-of-factly explained. At last, the moon appeared. However, this
presented the Mashgiach with a sheiloh in halacha: should he
first daven Ma'ariv, or bentch Kiddush Levana? Although his
mental powers were weakened by days of running a high fever, the Mashgiach
determined that he should say the Ma'ariv prayer up to the Shemoneh Esrei, and
then recite the Kiddush Levana. We helped him walk to the window, and wash his
hands again. I offered to join him. "Not you!" he shook his head.
"I am a choleh (an invalid) -
but you have to say it outside!" Then he looked at the moon through the window,
and said the prayer with intense fervor, even clapping his hands in ecstasy. *** On the last Erev Shabbos before the Mashgiach
left this world, Rav Kupetz stood beside him. The Rebbetzin had gone home to
light her Shabbos candles, after which she would trek back to the hospital to
remain at her husband's side -
as she did day after day, and night after night. I excused myself from him,
saying that I still had to go to the mikveh in honor of Shabbos. "Mikveh!" he whispered, and
smiled longingly. "Mikveh!" *** Once a nurse came into his room and found the
Mashgiach holding a heavy folio volume of the Gemorah on his chest. When she
offered to put it on a nearby table, he weakly cried, "No! I'm a Jew, and
I need this!" *** Eventually he had to resort to holding
photocopies of the daily blatt, and reviewing them with the talmid who
attended him. At 1:00 a.m. one morning,
he turned to R' Ari Simha and asked him to make him photocopies of several blatt
right away, while his mental faculties remained clear. Without delay, R'
Ari took the masechta, left the hospital, and drove to the Shomer
Shabbos Shul on 13th Avenue, to inquire as to where he might find a copy center
at such an unusual hour. "Try the Copy Corner on this block,"
he was advised. "Sometimes the manager locks up, but keeps working until
late." R' Ari knocked on the window. "What do you want?" a voice called
back in reply. "A few blatt from this Gemorah for
my Rebbi!" R' Ari explained. The door was unlocked, the copies were made, and
in less than fifteen minutes, R' Ari was back in the hospital, learning with
the Mashgiach. *** On the second day of Yom Tov, less than 24 hours
before he expired, he insisted to R' Ari Simha: "You can see that my blood
has not turned to Torah yet. I still have to learn!" *** During a moment of lucidity, he remarked to Rav
Shlomo Kupetz: "Everything has a Heavenly cheshbon. Afflictions
that I can bear, Hashem gave me; afflictions that I cannot bear, He
didn't give me. I need people to help me learn Torah and daven - so Hashem made
sure there would be tzaddikim and heligeh kinderlach around
me!" To the Mashgiach, we were all tzaddikim - regardless of
our present spiritual condition. He always looked at the p'nimius, the
inner point in a person, and recognized the hidden good. *** Because I live near the hospital, he asked me
and my son and grandson to come to Hospital to recite the Hallel at the end of
the Haggadah with him. On Seder night, we came to his room at 1:30 a.m., and I
opened the Haggadah to the requisite page. On the left was the text of Hallel,
on the right, the last paragraph of Birchas HaMazon (Grace After Meals).
Instead of beginning Hallel, however, the Mashgiach began to recite the last
paragraph of bentching: "Yiru es HaShem kedoshav, ki ein machzor
l'yeraiav… Revere HaShem, His holy ones -
for to those who revere Him, nothing is lacking!" He fervently repeated
the last phrase, "Ki ein Machzor l'yeraiav… To those who revere
Him, nothing is lacking!" After he
fell silent, I asked him if we should recite the Hallel, and he said,
"Yes." When we came to the responsive passages, the
Mashgiach led the prayer. "Hodu LaShem Ki Tov, ki l'olam chasdo… Praise
Hashem, for He is good; His kindness is everlasting!" We listened and
watched intently. The Mashgiach's joyous devotion in the midst of his physical
anguish gave us the strength to reply, "Hodu LaShem Ki Tov, ki l'olam
chasdo!" This was the last time we were privileged to see him in this
life. May HaRav Shlomo Ben Yeshaya HaKohen be a meiliz
yosher, an eloquent intercessor, on behalf of his family, his chaveirim
and talmidim, and all Klal Yisrael, amen. |