The Rabbi and the Professor
Rabbi Ari D. Kahn
(The following is based on a combination of first - hand knowledge
and a composite reconstruction of events as retold to me.)
Many years ago when I was a
relatively young yeshiva student I had the opportunity to study with one of the
great rabbis of the previous generation. His name was Rabbi Yisroel
Zeev Gustman and he may have been one of the greatest rabbis of the 20th century.
He was certainly the greatest "unknown" rabbi: While he fastidiously
avoided the limelight and was therefore unfamiliar to the general public, he
was well known to connoisseurs of Torah learning.
His meteoric rise from child prodigy
to the exalted position of religious judge in the Rabbinical Court
of Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski at around the age of twenty was the stuff
of legend – but nonetheless fact. Many years later, I heard Rav Gustman's
own modest version of the events leading to this appointment: A singular
(brilliant) insight which he shared with his fellow students was later repeated
to the visiting Rav Chaim Ozer, who invited the young student to repeat this
same insight the following day in his office in Vilna. Unbeknownst to Rav
Gustman, the insight clinched an argument in a complex case that had been
debated among the judges in Rav Chaim Ozer's court – and allowed a woman to
remarry.
One of the judges adjudicating the
case in question, Rabbi Meir Bassin, made inquiries about this young
man, and soon a marriage was arranged with his daughter Sarah. When Rabbi Bassin
passed away before the wedding, Rabbi Gustman was tapped to take his
place as rabbi of Shnipishok and to take his seat on the court. Although
Rav Gustman claimed that he was simply "in the right place at the right
time," it was clear that Rav Bassin and Rav Chaim Ozer had seen greatness
in this young man.
While a long, productive career on
the outskirts of Vilna could have been anticipated, Jewish life in and around
Vilna was obliterated by World War II. Rav Gustman escaped, though not
unscathed. He hid among corpses. He hid in caves. He hid in a pig pen. Somehow,
he survived.
For me, Rav Gustman was the living
link to the Jewish world destroyed by the Nazis. I never had to wonder what a
Rav in Vilna before the war looked like, for I had seen Rav Gustman, 35 years
after the war. At the head of a small yeshiva in the Rechavia section of Jerusalem,
Rav Gustman taught a small group of loyal students six days a week. But on
Thursdays at noon, the study hall would fill to capacity: Rabbis,
intellectuals, religious court judges, a Supreme Court justice and various
professors would join along with any and all who sought a high - level Talmud shiur that
offered a taste of what had been nearly destroyed. When Rav Gustman gave shiur,
Vilna was once again alive and vibrant.
One of the regular participants was a
professor at the Hebrew University, Robert J. (Yisrael) Aumann. Once
a promising yeshiva student, he had eventually decided to pursue a career in
academia, but made his weekly participation in Rav Gustman’s shiur part
of his schedule, along with many other more or less illustrious residents of
Rechavia and Jerusalem.
The year was 1982. Once again, Israel was
at war. Soldiers were mobilized, reserve units activated. Among those called to
duty was a Reserves soldier, a university student and a Talmudic scholar, who
made his living as a high school teacher: Shlomo Aumann, Professor Yisrael
Aumann's son. On the eve of the 19th of Sivan, in particularly
fierce combat, Shlomo fell in battle.
Rav Gustman mobilized his yeshiva:
All of his students joined him in performing the mitzvah of burying the dead.
At the cemetery, Rav Gustman was agitated: He surveyed the rows of graves of
the young men, soldiers who died defending the Land. On the way back from the
cemetery, Rav Gustman turned to another passenger in the car and said,
"They are all holy." Another passenger questioned the rabbi:
"Even the non-religious soldiers?" Rav Gustman replied:
"Every single one of them". He then turned to the driver and said,
"Take me to Professor Aumann's home.”
The family had just returned from the
cemetery and would now begin the week of shiv’a – mourning for
their son, brother, husband and father. (Shlomo was married and had one child.
His widow, Shlomit, gave birth to their second daughter shortly after he was
killed.)
Rav Gustman entered and asked to sit
next to Professor Aumann, who said: "Rabbi, I so appreciate your coming to
the cemetery, but now is time for you to return to your Yeshiva". Rav
Gustman spoke, first in Yiddish and then in Hebrew, so that all those assembled
would understand:
"I am sure that you don't know
this, but I had a son named Meir. He was a beautiful child. He was taken from
my arms and executed. I escaped. I later bartered my child's shoes so that we
would have food, but I was never able to eat the food – I gave it away to
others. My Meir is a kadosh – he is holy – he and all the six
million who perished are holy."
Rav Gustman then added: “I will tell
you what is transpiring now in the World of Truth in Gan Eden –
in Heaven. My Meir is welcoming your Shlomo into the minyan and
is saying to him ‘I died because I am a Jew – but I wasn't able to save anyone
else. But you – Shlomo, you died defending the Jewish People and the Land of Israel’.
My Meir is a kadosh, he is holy – but your Shlomo is a Shaliach
Zibbur – in that holy, heavenly minyan.”
Rav Gustman continued: “I never had
the opportunity to sit shiv’a for my Meir; let me sit here
with you just a little longer.” Professor Aumann replied, "I thought I
could never be comforted, but Rebbi, you have comforted me."
Rav Gustman did not allow his painful
memories to control his life. He found solace in his students, his daughter his
grandchildren, and in every Jewish child. He and his wife would attend an
annual parade (on Yom Yerushalayim) where children would march on Jerusalem in
song and dance. A rabbi who happened upon them one year asked the Rabbi why
he spent his valuable time in such a frivolous activity. Rav Gustman explained,
“We who saw a generation of children die, will take pleasure in a generation of
children who sing and dance in these streets.”
A student once implored Rav Gustman
to share his memories of the ghetto and the war more publicly and more
frequently. He asked him to tell people about his son, about his son’s shoes,
to which the Rav replied, “I can't, but I think about those shoes every day of
my life. I see them every night before I go to sleep.”
On the 28th of Sivan
5751 (1991), Rav Gustman passed away. Thousands marched through the streets of Jerusalem accompanying
Rav Gustman on his final journey. As night fell on the 29th of
Sivan, 9 years after Shlomo Aumann fell in battle, Rav Gustman was buried on
the Mount of Olives. I am sure that upon entering Heaven he was reunited
with his wife, his teachers and his son Meir. I am also sure that Shlomo Aumann
and all the other holy soldiers who died defending the People and the Land of Israel
were there to greet this extraordinary Rabbi.
On December 10th 2005,
Professor Robert J. Aumann was awarded the Nobel Prize in economics. I am sure
he took with him to Stockholm memories of his late wife Esther, and
his son Shlomo. I suspect he also took memories of his Rabbi, Rav Gustman.
May it be the will of God that the
People of Israel sanctify His Name by living lives of holiness which will serve
as a light to the nations – and may no more children, soldiers or yeshiva
students ever need to join that holy minyan in Heaven.
Postscript:
The last time I saw Rav Gustman, I
was walking in the Meah Sharim/Geulah section of Jerusalem with my
wife and oldest son who was being pushed in a stroller. It was Friday morning
and we saw the Rosh Yeshiva, we said hello, wished him “Good Shabbes.” Then, I
did something I rarely do: I asked him to bless my son. Rav Gustman looked at
the toddler, smiled and said “May he be a boy like all the other boys”. At
first, my wife and I were stunned; what kind of blessing was this? We expected
a blessing that the boy grow to be a zaddik – a righteous man
– or that he be a Talmid Chacham – a Torah scholar. But no, he
blessed him that he should be “like all the boys”.
It took many years for this beautiful
blessing to make sense to us. The blessing was that he should have a normal
childhood, that he have a normal life, that he have his health… Looking back, I
realize what a tremendous blessing Rav Gustman gave, and why.
Today, that son - Matityahu, and our
second son Hillel, are soldiers in combat units in the Israeli Defense Forces.
Brave, strong, motivated and idealistic, they are wonderful soldiers, wonderful
Jews. I pray that they return home safely along with all their comrades, and
live normal lives – “just like all the boys”.
© Rabbi Ari D. Kahn 2009
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