These days [19th of Iyar], about six years ago, one of the giants of journalism and communication in the State of Israel passed away – the late Adam Baruch. In addition to being the editor of the 'biggest' newspapers in the country, Yedioth Ahronoth and Maariv, and the inventor of a new 'journalistic language', characterized by 'lean', clear and correct writing, Baruch was also one of the only intellectuals who, in his books and in his life, managed to create this wonderful integration between religion-halacha and our daily lives.
Since Blessed is He, one of the great men I was influenced by, and since the sages have already said that 'their words are their memory,' I chose to bring, on the anniversary of the miraculous man with the casket, a collection of short stories from the vast expanses of his books published by Keter, about his great-grandfather, Rabbi Yitzhak Yaakov Wechtpougel, Rosh Yeshiva and Rav of Mea Shearim, and his grandmother, Rebbetzin Bluma Rachel, a blessed memory of the righteous.
The Land of Israel was poor and its rabbis were poor. Until great scholars also engaged in slaughtering for their livelihood, and Yitzhak Yaakov traveled with his eldest son, David, who was already a young rabbi, throughout the Land of Israel and no rabbinical position was found for him. And he was still in Netanya and Hadera was already apologizing for not appointing his son as rabbi there, and he was still in Nahariya and Afula was already apologizing, and so on until a letter arrived from Philadelphia about the possibility of a rabbinical position that God would later elevate to a real position, and David traveled from Jerusalem to Philadelphia.
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And the night before their son's departure, she said to her husband, if David leaves here, it will be as if I have bereaved my firstborn son. He said to her: Bluma Rachel, Bluma Rachel, you will still be blessed with sons and sons of sons from your firstborn. She said to him, He will not leave, but will enter with you in partnership in your rabbinate, in your yeshiva. He said to her, If so, I resign my rabbinate immediately, because the yeshiva cannot be redeemed in such a partnership. She said to him, So, your arrogance, your rabbinate against my bereavement?! He said to her, Bluma Rachel, it is in your power to decide that he will remain here in the rabbinate in my yeshiva, and if so, from today I am resigning from my rabbinate and earning a living as a slaughterer, and I will not complain about you from here until the end of all days. She said to him, What do I have as a slaughterer, what do I have a livelihood, when I myself am already being slaughtered from my son's departure from here?! And from their great turmoil they only fell asleep at dawn.
And in the morning, when he returned from the yeshiva's synagogue, she said to him, "He will laugh and curse, he will laugh and curse, you will not complain about me from today until the end of time, and you are a Torah scholar, taking it upon yourself to make a living as a slaughterer, and I, a wicked woman like me, have been complaining about you since the first day of my son's trip, as if the Blessed One, blessed be He, would not stand by His side because of you?!"
And at noon, and in the morning, he traveled to Philadelphia, and God, the Holy One, was with him both in the air on the plane and on the ground in Philadelphia [Seder Yom, 227].
The case of a Jew who swore on a prayer book reached Shi'ite Agnon, And they did not know whether this oath was like an oath on a Torah scroll. And Rabbi Yitzchak Yaakov said to Agnon, "Thus it has been revealed to me from heaven that this oath is like an oath on a Torah scroll." And Agnon looked at Rabbi Yitzchak Yaakov's face to see a smile on his lips, and behold, he discovered a smile, and yet he asked, Rabbi Yitzchak Yaakov, thus it has been revealed to you from heaven? From heaven?! And Rabbi Yitzchak Yaakov opened the Rashba's questions and answers, with the Rashba's answer on the matter of an oath on a siddur, etc., and behold, the Rashba writes there: "Thus it has been revealed to me from heaven." And Rabbi Yitzchak Yaakov said to Agnon, "Thus it has been revealed to me from heaven to act in this according to the Rashba" [Batum Lev, 269].
Everything is comforting. Do not sort the comforters into more important, less important, and unimportant. Although sorting is in our nature, sorting comforters is our mental and spiritual waste. It is said of my grandfather, Rabbi Yitzchak Yaakov Wechtpougel, that he wept for his son, Rabbi David, the late, with the postman who for years brought him Rabbi David's letters from Philadelphia to Jerusalem [Chainu, 393].
And more about Nehama. About a month after Passover 1948, an Irgun emissary arrived to inform them that Shmuel [their little son] had disappeared in a raid on Jaffa, etc. And in the meantime, Rachel and Rabbi Yitzhak Yaakov knew this before the emissary arrived, from heaven. And they comforted the emissary, who spent that night in their home [Batum Lev, 277].
All those seven bitter years [When their dead son Samuel disappeared], God, blessed be He, boasted before the angels and before all the multitudes of His servant, Rachel's daughter, that, despite everything, she did not doubt Him. And all those seven years, Satan tormented God, blessed be He: "Didn't this Rachel's daughter doubt You even in the chambers of her heart?! You are so righteous! Give her to me and she will doubt already"! He gave him a day to doubt one Rachel's daughter.
The flower of Satan laughs to Mea Shearim. And that day was the eve of Rosh Hashana. And in her tears, Rachel washes the entire floor of her house, all the dishes, the entire yard, all the windows and all the doorframes for Shmuel, and boils all the laundry in them, and still her tears overflow like water to the sea, and she is surrounded by water.
And since Satan cannot stand water, he hovered over Rachel's womb for the entire day, making signs and grimaces at her, and in the end he returned empty-handed, just as he had come [Seder Yom, 240].
It's already been decided that morning that I will return with Grandpa., Rabbi Yitzhak Yaakov Wechtpoegel, on my Bar Mitzvah sermon, which is about the Jewish issue and his tefillin, and here is Grandpa neither in his home nor in the yeshiva nor in the court of law nor on the streets of Mea Shearim, until his assistant revealed to me that no decree comes from the mouth of God except with the consent of the righteous of the generation [the secret of God to reveal], and God is now consulting with Grandpa and Rabbi Abramsky and other rabbis in a place that only they know where He is [where is His place of honor], and that afternoon Grandpa will return to Mea Shearim. And so it was. And the decree? Well, that decree was annulled, and God returned His sword to its sheath [In Good Faith, 354].
Her son in America would send her Yiddish newspapers., which contains fantasies by the writer Bashevis Singer, she asked her grandfather what the ruling was on reading these fantasies. He knew that she knew that these fantasies should not be read, because they take a person away from the world. And if she knew for herself, why was she asking? He understood that she was asking for permission. He suggested that she read Bashevis's stories only on Shabbat afternoons. In the summer between three and four. In the winter between two and three. On Shabbat afternoons, people are exhausted and their eyelids droop. If she reads in the afternoon, she will fall asleep immediately and Bashevis' fantasies will evaporate from her head. And so it was [Seder Yom, 325].
She rules at the window and he is in the inner room, And I never saw him sitting in the window. And once I saw Grandpa sitting next to her, and I really shivered. It was like I met a live lion in the grocery store.
And slowly it became clear what had happened. Twice a week for years, my grandmother and grandfather would invite poor people to the lunch table. Three or four poor people at a time. Poor people they found on the street and regular poor people, sitting at the table with greater confidence than a family member. And one of them is an aggressor, sitting like a king in the regiment and chasing grandma from here to there, and he is never satisfied with her.
Sometimes she would look for her grandfather's protection. And it didn't come. And once she asked him about it. He said to her: 'Bluma Rachel, you rule your house all week, and the one hour a week that you don't rule paints your life black'? She said to him: 'It's true.' He said to her: 'If I talk to him like that.' She thought a little, hesitated a lot, and finally said to him: 'Don't talk.' He said to her: 'What's changed'? She said to him: 'I'm paying for this hour a week, for one minute of forbidden pride... Years ago I was proud of my friends that I was dating you.' She said, her face on the floor. 'Come on, come on, Bluma Rachel,' the rabbi said, trembling a little, stood up, closed the book, sat down next to her, his elbow almost touching hers [ibid., 328].
A few of the few uplifting stories of Adam Baruch Rosenblum, son of Asher and Nechama, and grandson of Rabbi Yitzhak Yaakov and Bluma Rachel Wachtpoegel. And more than I wrote, I was silent and tearful.
