How does a Jewish woman achieve fame? By doing the will of
her husband, by being his helpmate in life.
Anybody who knew the Meisels knew that Mrs. Meisels shared
the mission of her husband (ylt'a) of making Cleveland
into a city of Torah. Rabbi Meisels was charged by his
Rabbeim, the late Telzer Roshei Yeshiva, Rabbis Bloch and
Katz zt'l, to teach Jewish children in the Hebrew
Academy of Cleveland, which he has been doing for over four
decades, as teacher, principal, curriculum advisor and
pioneering author of workbooks and study aids.
Mrs. Meisels was his sounding board, critic and cheering
squad. She was also the one who reheated his suppers night
after night, took every phone call and delivered every
message patiently and accurately, and never made personal
demands on his time. She even became a maven herself
in the pursuit of his various interests. Yet for all of their
activities in partnership, they maintained a strict division
of labor in their home and each zealously guarded his
turf.
The Meisel's mission in making Cleveland into a city of Torah
was not limited to their professional duties as educators.
Together and individually, they were heavily involved in
building and maintaining the mikve, running a
community day camp, introducing cholov Yisroel and
working for the Chevra Kadisha. Their entire life was
pervaded by a consciousness that they represented Torah
Judaism in Cleveland. Their home had to be well-kept so
people should realize that Torah Jews were `civilized.'
The Meisels made a point of patronizing non-religious
tradesmen in order to have the opportunity of engaging them
in conversation and showing them that a frum Jew can
have a `good life.' The obligation to spread Torah like
Avrohom Ovinu by impressing non-religious neighbors and
acquaintances with the beauty of Yiddishkeit was a prime
feature of their life. The children fondly remember the
hustle of packing up all eight of them for the long drive to
New York to spend Pesach with grandparents, but the car did
not pull out of the driveway until Mrs. Meisels had wished
all of the neighbors a "Gut Yom Tov" in person or by
phone.
Mrs. Meisel was devoted to her children and actually, rarely
left the house when not in the call of duty. She took
tremendous pride in her children's accomplishments, as
captured in the following family favorite tale:
At a simcha in Cleveland during the bitter cold
winter, Mrs. Meisels was standing among a group of
fashionable ladies attired in mink coats. A good friend
approached her and kidded her good naturedly, "Nu, Rivka,
where's your mink?" Without missing a beat, she replied, "I
have one in Yerusholayim, one in Chicago, one in Cleveland,
one in Silver Spring and several in Lakewood," referring to
children STILL learning in kollelim.
Mrs. Meisel believed in a healthy balance of activities for
children growing up in those years -- youth groups, camp,
skating, scrabble and baseball. The most serious and sacred
values were transmitted with massive doses of warmth,
attention and happiness, but the tone in the Meisels' home
was set by the measure of histapkus, sufficiency. The
family enjoyed everything to the proper degree and felt
perfectly happy with their lot. As her son put it, "My mother
was in competition with no one."
Mrs. Meisels never lectured her children. If she got upset
about something, she said her piece once: "That's not the way
we talk..." Keeping the needs of others in mind was another
integral feature. The children knew that before they took the
last piece of cake, the last pickle in the jar or the last
drop of soda in the bottle, their mother would admonish them,
"Think of the next person."
A secret was holy of holies. You could trust Mrs. Meisels
implicitly never to reveal anything you wanted to keep under
wraps. After the children married, the Meisels hosted many
individuals and families who came to Cleveland to seek
medical attention. When confidentiality was called for, she
did not reveal the names of her guests or the nature of their
visit, even to a son who was in and out of the house. Once,
years later, a former guest revealed his identity to a
Meisels grandchild in a most surprising way. The home was
open, but modesty and privacy prevailed.
Mrs. Meisels predated the popularization of Shemiras
Haloshon, but practiced it to the limit. Her cardinal rule:
"If you have nothing good to say, don't say it!" A telephone
was an instrument for conveying important messages and did
not necessarily belong in the kitchen over one's shoulder
where it could be abused while one's hands were busy... She
only spoke about people when it was needed to help with
shidduchim, especially of older singles. Co-teachers
described how Mrs. Meisels would greet everyone with a
friendly "Good morning" at the recess break and then, rather
than spend valuable time sharing the latest gossip, would go
off to the side to say Tehillim. But when speaking was
productive, she was unstinting with plenty of words of advice
and encouragement for the many who sought her counsel.
In those years, it was uncommon for women to daven two
full tefillos a day, but even when the children were
infants, she managed shacharis and mincha
faithfully and as the children grew up, more time was spent
davening but never at the expense of her
obligations.
"Patience is a virtue" she often said, and exhibited this
trait for her special education students. Only due to her
persistence and encouragement did her charges learn to read
siddur or recite the ma nishtana by heart. She
gave her sympathetic ear for many people for whom others did
not have the time or patience, and would visit or host them
on Shabbos afternoons.
The Meisels home was always open to guests. Many students
studying in various schools in the Cleveland area were
invited for Shabbos meals. A former Yavne Seminary student
recalls the scene of Rabbi Meisels benching all the
children, at which she felt lonely and homesick. When he
finished, he turned to her and warmly wished her a "Good
Shabbos". When Mrs. Meisels immediately remarked, "That is
his blessing for you!" she immediately felt part of the
family.
A young Iranian couple who had enjoyed many meals with the
Meisels recalled that when their first son was born, Rabbi
and Mrs. Meisels and their youngest daughter trudged through
a snowstorm, quite a distance, to join them for their
sholom zochor. They were the only guests who came, and
their presence added the same warmth and caring that this
couple had experienced in the Meisels home.
As Mrs. Meisels had excelled in fulfilling her role as wife
and mother, so too did she fulfill her role as patient during
the remaining two years of her life when she became ill. She
made a supreme effort to keep her spirits up and not feel
sorry for herself, speaking in a strong, firm voice, smiling
her beautiful smile and dispensing advice and encouragement
from her sickbed. Drawing from the reservoirs of quiet
strength built over seventy years, she kept her home happy
and normal throughout. She put the needs of others ahead of
hers and tried to be as independent as possible. When asked
by hospital orderlies if she perferred to be transported in a
bed or a wheelchair, she would say, "Whatever is best for
you." She was particular to thank every visitor,
helper or nurse even when she was in such pain that she could
hardly speak. But even then, she radiated calm and control.
"I am in peace because all of my children are what I wanted
them to be," she would say.
*
When Mrs. Meisels, a seventh generation Jerusalemite, was
brought to America as an infant, her illustrious Porush
relatives saw the family off at the port with tears streaming
down their faces. They were sure that the Brenners would
assimilate in America and be lost to their glorious
tradition. When the family partriarch came to visit eighteeen
years later to see what was left of his poor children and
grandchildren, he was dumbfounded.
"A house just like in Shaarei Chessed, and Rivkale, the
youngest, wears long sleeves, learns chumash and wants
to marry a Ben Torah!"
This was in Williamsburg. `Rivkale' transplanted the
selfsame values and practices of Shaarei Chessed to
Cleveland, which is today, thanks in great measure to the
Meisels, a city of Torah in the richest sense of the
word.
