A hesped on the Brisker Rov delivered at his levaya
by Maran HaRav Shach yblct"a. 11 Tishrei this year
marks the 40th anniversary of the passing of the Brisker Rov,
zt'l. Maran HaRav Shach, shlita, was especially
close to the Brisker Rov.
Impossible to Appreciate
No matter what words of eulogy or appreciation we use, they
will only serve to detract from the stature of the
niftar, for we are not capable of grasping what he
really was. We find something like this in the gemora
(Bovo Kama 59), where Eliezer Zeira, wanting to mourn for
Yerushalayim, donned footwear that was customary for
mourners, and the members of the Reish Galusa's household
asked him, "Are you worthy of mourning for Yerushalayim?"
The explanation of this gemora is that no external
action could possibly encompass the dimensions of the
dreadful loss that befell us with the churban Beis
Hamikdosh. Performing such an act would actually lessen
the significance and belittle the dimensions of the tragedy,
because it could not possibly express or represent what in
truth happened. We, who are able to mourn for Yerushalayim,
are only permitted to do so inasmuch as we are fulfilling the
halochos fixed by Chazal for all generations and are
obeying their command.
This occasion, the petirah of our great teacher, the
gaon and av beis din of Brisk zt'l, is the
same. It is impossible for any words to properly evaluate and
to eulogize such a great man. Instead let us talk about the
event, as people discuss what has happened to them with each
other. Everybody is able to take part in such a discussion,
arousing one another to the terrible calamity, sounding the
alarm and crying out.
For example, if a man sees that a fire has broken out at
night in a house where men, women and children are all
sleeping, unaware of what has happened, he certainly has to
yell and wake them up from their slumber. No excuses, such as
his inability to shout and arouse people, are at all
relevant. Even a dumb man would have to find a way to arouse
the people and save them.
That is our position; we have been literally left orphans. We
have to cry out at our situation, having been left by
ourselves, utterly alone -- who will now fill the breaches?
From whom will we be able to seek counsel and advice? We are
orphaned in every sense.
In the times of Chazal, we also find this state of orphanhood
befalling Klal Yisroel, in the mishna at the
end of Sotah, "When Ben Azai died, there were no
longer any who applied themselves to learning; when Ben Zoma
died, there were no longer any who expounded pesukim;
when Rabbi Akiva died, honor of Torah stopped; when Rabbi
Chanina ben Dosa died, there were no longer any men of deeds
. . ." Although if Chazal tell us that there were no more men
of application or of deeds, then that is the fact -- with
Rabbi Chanina's death, the entire world was orphaned from men
of deeds -- there are still differing degrees of orphanhood.
There is an orphan who has lost his father, a second has lost
his mother too, while another is all alone, with no relatives
either.
In the same way, our spiritual orphanhood is growing from
generation to generation. Even in our own times, we remember
our teacher the Chazon Ish living among us. We would bring
every difficult problem to him and he would guide and lead us
along the paths of our lives. Then, he left us and our master
Reb Isser Zalman zt'l, the Torah gaon,
remained. He too, left us and the Brisker Rov was left,
literally like an only child. He was the sole survivor of the
gedolei Yisroel.
Teacher of Klal Yisroel
He was the teacher and the beacon of all of Klal Yisroel --
Rabbon shel kol bnei hagoloh in the full sense of the
word, not as a mere title. All bnei Torah, in every
yeshiva, learned his divrei Torah. All over the world,
difficulties and solutions were repeated in his name. His
teachings were on the lips of everyone, and were said over
with such admiration and decisiveness, something that has not
happened with any other godol beTorah in recent
generations.
Even without a sizable yeshiva, he merited his words being
listened to everywhere, which is an indication of how great
his Torah was. Everyone mentioned his questions and answers,
bochurim in yeshiva ketanos, boys in their
bar mitzva droshos. Who else merited such
comprehensive and far reaching Torah?
And how pleasant his words were! How much firm, solid truth
they contained! And what joy they infused, just as when they
were given at Sinai. One's soul simply overflowed with
happiness, so joyful and so illuminating were his words. So
much so, that I remember once, twelve years ago, leaving his
house in such a happy frame of mind and meeting a certain
talmid chochom, to whom I expressed myself in my great
joy saying, "I don't know whether or not I deserve any
Olom Haboh, but if I do, I've consumed it in the joy
I'm experiencing from the chiddush I've heard from our
teacher, the Brisker Rov!"
Such were the feelings which his precious words engendered in
us. In every part of Torah, he propounded novel
interpretations and elucidated, with wonderful depth and
clarity, whether it was a difficult Rambam or a posuk
in the weekly parsha. He encompassed everything with
his luminous mind, always with the same characteristic
penetration and comprehension.
His great father remarked about him that the halocho
followed his opinion in every matter. And this was no
mere bon mot because he was his son for in fact, his
father was more exacting with him than he was with others.
The niftar z'l, related that his father would always
dismiss his Torah and say that it was nothing, and he would
only find out from others that his father had repeated his
divrei Torah to them and had praised them.
It once happened that his father said a certain
chiddush and he disagreed and understood differently
and argued with his father. He used to record his father's
chiddushei Torah for him -- it was Reb Chaim's
practice to explain his Torah to his sons and they would
write it down -- but this time Reb Velvel didn't want to
write. He told his father that he didn't understand the
matter and that he couldn't write it down. Years later, he
regretted what had happened. Not because he hadn't written,
so he said, for he hadn't understood and why should he have
written down something that he didn't understand? He was
upset that he hadn't penetrated to his father's meaning.
Once, after Reb Chaim's petirah, he met a certain rov
who asked him, "Would you like me to tell you a
chiddush of your father's?" and he repeated the very
chiddush that Reb Yitzchok Ze'ev had failed to
understand and had not written down. The rov added that Reb
Chaim had told him that it was possible to learn differently
and that "my son Reb Velvel learns differently." Reb Chaim
had then explained what Reb Velvel maintained and summed up
the point upon which they disagreed. Reb Yitzchok Ze'ev
rejoiced to hear this. His father had really accepted what he
said, and only towards him had he brushed what he said aside
as worthless.
And as severe as he was in his words and in his attitude to
his son, he testified that the halocho followed him in
every matter. With his petirah, Klal Yisroel has lost
the "only child" that remained to it. Moreover, the entire
Brisker dynasty, his father Reb Chaim and his grandfather,
have all been lost to us through this petirah, for he
was the continuation of the chain, explaining and
transferring its Torah -- and now we have lost all that.
We were able to turn to him and receive answers to
everything. If he said that something was difficult, we knew
that it was truly difficult and that this was no mere
chatter. If he responded, "I don't know," that itself was
sufficient answer.
Now, after his petirah, when a question arises, there
will be no one to turn to and nowhere to go. We have been
left utterly orphaned.
And besides his superlative greatness in Torah, how great was
his fear of Heaven, his piety, his separation from
worldliness, his meticulous observance of halocho -- they
knew no bounds. And he involved himself with Torah study,
with fearsome application. He always spoke divrei
Torah; even in his sleep, he was never heard to utter
anything other than Torah. During his last weeks too, when he
was in terrible suffering, he spoke divrei Torah all
the time and his lips were always murmuring pesukim
such as, "Yiheyu lerotzon imrei phi," etc. He said
Shema Yisroel many times, "ani Hashem Elokeichem,"
"ein od . . ." his lips whispered divrei Torah
without respite.
Precision in Mitzvos and Meaning
And how careful he was over fulfilling mitzvos! If a woman
came to him seeking his prayers for Divine mercy, he would
bless her and when she left, he would give a small coin to
tzedokoh, fulfilling the words of the gemora,
"Rav gave a pruta to a poor man and then prayed." He
did this before every tefilla, and even when someone
was sick, he would first give a pruta to
tzedokoh.
He was particular in the same way everywhere over every
detail. How stringent he was over the mitzvo of
tefilla! When he was sick and he suffered from every
tiny movement, he took great care over personal hygiene for
tefilla, and was very stringent, though it caused him
dreadful suffering. He appointed a guard to stand next to him
while he said Krias Shema, to listen in case he,
chas vesholom, missed a word. He would say, what help
is the guard if he doesn't watch over me during the first
posuk to see that I concentrate properly?
We can learn how pure his thoughts were in concentrating on
Shema, from the explanation he once gave of the words
of the gemora and Shulchan Oruch, which say
that when saying the word "Echod," one should
acknowledge Hashem as King over all four directions in Heaven
and on earth, and that this is sufficient. He asked, why are
one's thoughts when saying the word echod being
stressed here, and not his thoughts when saying Hashem's
name, which is also mentioned in the posuk?
In answer, he explained that there are two obligations:
first, "I am Hashem your G-d," and second, "You shall have no
other gods." The Name of Hashem, in this posuk,
represents Hashem's rule over us, while the word echod
implies that we should have no other gods. Other gods can
only refer to something in terms of the creation and within
the creation. Therefore, when saying echod, it is
sufficient to make Hashem King over all four directions of
Heaven and earth [for this excludes any other power in the
creation].
This does not suffice for Hashem's Name, which alludes to, "I
am Hashem your G-d," Who is above any concept that belongs to
the creation. When saying Hashem's Name, it is therefore not
enough to make Him King of all four directions, and we must
have in mind whatever He is.
He had other explanations like this one in his prayers and
they were not just abstract ideas. They represented the deep
comprehension that he had developed through his toil and
reflection on the precise meaning of the prayers according to
their halochos.
True Bitochon
He would worry and tremble over his own situation, from fear
that he was not conducting himself correctly and he would
dismiss his own worth. During his final days, on one of the
occasions before Rosh Hashanah when he asked, "What will
be?"
I comforted him with the words of the Yerushalmi (Rosh
Hashanah perek 1:3) where the gemora says that
Klal Yisroel arrive at Rosh Hashanah dressed in white,
groomed and washed because they are certain that a miracle
will be performed for them, unlike the way of the world
where, when a man is summoned to judgment, he wears black
clothes and mourns over his fate. In our present situation
too [I said,] he ought to be certain that a miracle would be
performed for him.
However, he answered, "In what, in what should one be
certain?" and proceeded to explain the Yerushalmi and
to elucidate the following words in Rabbi Shlomo Ibn
Gabirol's piyut, Keser Malchus:
"My G-d, if my sin is too great to bear, What will You do for
Your great Name? And if I do not hope for Your mercy, Who
else will take pity on me except for You? So, even if You
kill me, I beseech You. And if You seek my sin I will flee
from You to You. And I will protect myself from Your anger in
Your shade."
What do the words, "I will flee from You to You" mean? He
showed that the Rambam also uses this expression in his
commentary to the mishna on the fourth perek of
Rosh Hashanah: " . . . for they are days of service and self
effacement and fear and dread of Hashem and fear of Him and
fleeing from and taking refuge in Him."
He then explained Chazal's words in the Yerushalmi in
the following way. Only someone who feels himself to be in
distress can possibly be said to trust in Hashem. In that
case, despite this person's troubles he relies on Hashem and
trusts in Him. Such a person is [rightly] called a ba'al
bitochon, one who possesses the trait of trust.
This is the meaning of the words in the piyut, "I will
flee from You to You." This man is so frightened and trembles
so at the prospect of his judgment that he wants to run away
from it. Then his trait of bitochon puts him in a
position where he runs both from and to Hashem. If a man
doesn't feel himself to be at all distressed, however, and he
feels calm and safe, then he is not trusting in Hashem at
all.
Now, on Rosh Hashanah we are certain that a miracle will be
performed for us. However this is the day of judgment, on
which the angels quake and are gripped by dread and
trembling. It is imperative that we are afraid and that we
tremble on this day -- and only after this is it possible to
have trust and to dress in white, to shave and to wash. This
is actually Klal Yisroel's virtue, that they trust in
Hashem, unlike the nations. If, though, we do not tremble
from yom hadin to begin with, what place is there for
bitochon? And he concluded by asking about himself,
"If so, how can I trust?"
Rejoicing and Apprehension
We find in the gemora (Moed Koton 25), that when
tzaddikim die, Hashem rejoices at their arrival in the
Heavenly academy, just as a groom rejoices over his new
bride. My uncle, our master the gaon Reb Isser Zalman
Meltzer zt'l, explained that the gemora is
careful to speak of "a new bride," for it is referring to a
second marriage.
It is the way of the world that in a first marriage, when a
young man marries a young woman, both sides rejoice in
complete happiness. If however, in later years, the wife dies
and the husband is left a widower with small children, he
sees in time that he cannot take care of them and he seeks a
new mother for them, and marries a new bride. If it is her
first marriage, the bride rejoices but the groom may seek a
corner to himself and shed tears of apprehension. Will this
woman be a good mother to his children?
So it is when a tzaddik dies. The joy is mingled with
apprehension. What will be the fate of the orphans?
We, the generation that has been left without any teacher or
leader, are able to explain the gemora according to
its plain meaning. "A new bride" refers to a first bride and
the gemora expresses the Creator's great joy when a
pure and pious soul comes to Him in Heaven.
The truth is, that we should question what occasion there is
for such great joy in the Heavenly academy with the arrival
of a godol of our times, when there are tano'im
and geonim already sitting there? Surely their
greatness exceeds his.
However, it is only possible to ask this question according
to our way of evaluating things, whereby we rejoice in any
addition to what we have. For example, if a millionaire earns
a dollar, he'll be happy because in addition to his million,
he has one more and he now has a million and one. He is happy
at the addition of the dollar, not with the dollar itself.
It is not so with the Creator's joy over a tzaddik who
comes to him. The joy is not over the addition of the
tzaddik to those who are already there, but over the
tzaddik in and of himself. This is why the
gemora stresses "a new bride." It is something new,
without any relation to whatever has gone before. The Creator
rejoices over the tzaddik for what he is, because he
merited to elevate himself and to attain purity and piety,
according to the will of his Maker.
Since this petirah, we must be aware that we are
obligated to fill the empty space. New gedolei Torah
must develop, as it says, "Before the sun of Eli [Hacohen]
set, the sun of Shmuel Horomosi rose," (Bereishis Rabbah,
Chayei Sorah). New gedolim arise and everyone
should aspire to be one of them.
It is clear and is universally agreed upon, that greatness
does not come by itself. The merit of righteous ancestors can
help, but no godol's greatness came by itself and one
has to toil in Torah study. Whoever learns becomes a scholar.
The great niftar is with us now and if he were to ask
something of us, everyone would certainly make a sacrifice to
fulfill his request. And what is the wish of the
niftar? That he should strengthen and encourage us;
that everyone should make an effort, according to his
abilities and as far as he can, to take the niftar as
a personal example, both in Torah study and in yiras
Shomayim, following his path, and growing and
ascending.
(This hesped was published in Michtovim
Uma'amorim, cheilek III.)
