For a number of reasons, I am ill-equipped to write either a biographical piece or a hesped on Rabbi Berel Wein. But, like hundreds of thousands, I have learned from him and can share some of his thoughts. One persona vignette, however, will stay with me forever and can serve an introduction.
When he was planning aliyah, Rabbi Wein was the head of two wonderful institutions, a shul and a yeshiva. It soon became clear that he would hand over his yeshiva to a worthy successor, Rabbi Mordechai Wolmark, who has since brought even more Torah and new talmidim to Shaarei Torah. To my surprise, he asked me to follow him as the mara d’asra of his shul, Bais Torah. I felt honored but somewhat confused, because I didn’t know Rabbi Wein that well, and at the time I didn’t know much about the community of Monsey either. Rabbi Wein resolved the latter deficiency by taking my rebbetzin and me on a tour of Monsey, with the rov himself as both driver and tour guide.
Honestly, it was probably the funniest, most inspiring and deeply astute ride of my life. Rabbi Wein commented on each communal institution and group with love, profound insight and withering criticism—with equal skewering—of all factions from right to left. The characterizations were hilarious but always accurate, fair and far from lashon hora of any individual. I felt overwhelmed, entertained, and respectfully turned down the offer. But I listened to his history tapes as often as I could, went to his shiur at Beit Knesset Hanasi, where he became the rov in his later years, and continued to admire and attempt to follow in the master’s ways.
Elul is always a time propitious for mussar and introspection. But few people these days want to hear admonishment or even mild criticism. Rabbi Wein, however, had the ability to cut to the heart of issues and human foibles with humor and positive recommendations for change. The following are some examples of Rabbi Wein’s teachings and a sample of his influence on his talmidim over the ages.
First, for it defined his life and work, Rabbi Wein famously taught us that history, and especially Jewish history, is the saga of individuals. Sometimes they are famous, sometimes nearly unknown. Rabbi Wein saw in the Vilna Gaon and the Baal Shem Tov and others who could seemingly not be mentioned in the same sentence or breath the divine spark of change and righteous leadership that the generation required. Rabbi Wein’s wide lens and panoramic view allowed for differing approaches and apparently contradictory ideas to meld into Hashem’s plan for both continuity and the uniqueness required of each new generation.
In his own words, “history is too important to be left to the historians” (preface to Triumph of Survival). In his humility, but also self knowledge, he knew that only someone with a tremendous breadth of Torah knowledge—his chiddushei Torah are incredible—can evaluate and present the nuances of gedolei Yisroel’s guidance at various times. This led him to the conclusion that we wish everyone in Klal Yisroel would hear that “The more I read and study Jewish history, the clearer it becomes that there is an Author and Planner Who guides Israel to its destiny” (end of that preface). In our day, when so much of the so-called journalism and presentation of current events is littered with misunderstanding, outright anti-Semitism and just plain ignorance, we must long for the loss of the master historian, who in his own words was not a historian at all, but—I would contend—a historic figure himself.
If Elul is a time for personal introspection, it is also a time for answering the question Reb Berel put to us, directly or by implication: “Where do I fit into the Jewish Destiny and Plan?”
In his last few years when he had lost his sight, Rabbi Wein amazingly dictated numerous lectures completely by heart that were transcribed with the aid of AI technology. In his inimitable wit to the very end, he declared AI to be anti-Semitic. He explained that whenever he said the word “prophet,” the AI produced the word “profit,” so to speak, labeling Jews as mercenary and money-hungry. A great line, but also an Elul cautionary note. We must be careful not only about our vocabulary, but also about how our words are heard and perceived. The metaphor is both dramatic and practical. At the very least, during Elul, let’s be very careful with each every word that comes from our mouths, pens and computers.
A friend shared with me a beautiful story about Rabbi Wein, which I feel is also a timeless but particularly Elul lesson. Dr. Jonathan (Yogi) Wachspress, a prominent member of my shul and respected dentist, was a talmid of Rabbi Wein’s in mesivta and bais medrash from 1984 to 1988. He tells the following tale: “When I was in Shaarei Torah, I had an unfortunate incident where I lost control of my car while driving out of the yeshiva parking lot and crashed my car into the shul, Bais Torah (the shul and yeshiva share the parking lot). Boruch Hashem, no one was hurt, but part of the front of the shul collapsed. The whole yeshiva saw what happened. I was thoroughly embarrassed and I felt awful. I walked around the yeshiva the next three days devastated and in a daze.
“On the third day, Rabbi Wein called me into his office. He told me that the insurance adjuster had inspected the damage and discovered that I had actually uncovered a weakness in the building. It may eventually have collapsed on its own and now it could be repaired properly. He proceeded to explain to me about Hashgocha Protis—that unfortunate events in one’s life are a blessing in disguise. Looking back, I’m not sure it was true that the building was faulty (it certainly was not car-proof), but I believed it at the time and rebbi’s reassurance did the trick. I snapped out of my gloominess. Unfortunately, I lost touch with rebbi after I left Shaarei Torah, but twenty-five years later, I was in Eretz Yisroel and I went to daven in Rabbi Wein’s shul in Rechavya.
“After davening, I went over to say hello to Rabbi Wein and reintroduce myself. I said, ‘Do you remember me?’ He said, ‘Sure. Did you rent a car here?’ Puzzled, I responded, ‘Yes, I did.’ To which he quipped, ‘Well, this shul is Jerusalem stone.’
“I remember Rabbi Wein telling us in yeshiva that our learning in any yeshiva would be like time-release medicine that we would draw on for a lifetime. Rabbi Wein will continue to impact us and guide us for the rest of our lives.”
What an Elul shmuess. Isn’t every experience really a time-capsule slowly impacting our lives? Elul is for looking back and forth. We should look back and try to ascertain what we learned from everything that happened to us during the year. Then, after we have internalized the facts and understand their purpose, we can use them to make the new year better, higher and more constructive. Along the same lines, Rabbi Wein also used to say, “No two people are alike. When a person is important, he does things importantly. When he feels unimportant, he does things unimportantly. Everybody’s name is in G-d’s book, but we each write our own chapter in that book.”
I don’t know if Rabbi Wein made up a bubbeh maaseh to save a young boy from depression and humiliation. But I can testify that four decades later, his caring reassessment of a possibly apocalyptic event helped to recreate a wonderful husband, father, grandfather and talmid chochom.
Rabbi Wein wrote many books, with thousands of chapters and hundreds of thousands of hours of teachings. But with these words, he taught each of us that our accomplishments need not be on pages or recorded in lectures. They are inscribed in heaven during this season and should be dusted off, examined and cherished as our own legacy for the future.
In the book Vintage Wine, Dr. James Weiss, an Associate Professor of Education at Manhattan College, who became frum through Rabbi Wein, shares wit and wisdom from his rebbi and spiritual benefactor. One of my favorite lines is: “The great balancing act of life is to know who you are and not get depressed by that knowledge.” As usual, the line is both funny and poignant, simple and profound. In the tapestry Rabbi Wein weaves about the tragedies and triumphs of the early 18th century, he demonstrates how the Vilna Gaon and the Chassidic leaders dealt with the fallout from the Tach VeTat massacres of 1648-49 and the depression that set in after the unmasking of the false messiah Shabsai Tzvi.
Although today most of the great battles between Chassidim and Misnagdim are over, Rabbi Wein showed us how the Vilna Gaon, with his emphasis on deep Torah learning, and the Baal Shem Tov, with his stress upon simcha and prayer, gave world Jewry new hope, self-respect and goals for the future. Today, Misnagdim quote the Tanya and Sefas Emes and Chassidim learn Ketzos, Nesivos and Brisker Torah. Rabbi Wein showed us how not to be petty, but to be, what my rebbi, Rav Hutner, used to call “broad Jews.”
As we enter into Elul and beyond, let’s embrace Rabbi Wein’s appreciation of all Torah-true Jews. He taught us to realize that the Borei Olam does run the world and is constantly in charge. Therefore, we never need to be disappointed or depressed, anxious or gloomy. He showed us how much one can accomplish and how glorious the human spirit really is. Rabbi Wein’s message is good for Elul and great for the rest of the year as well.
