Wednesdays With The Rosh Yeshivah, Reb Yaakov Kamenetsky Zatzal On His 25th Yahrtzeit

wednesdaysBy Yisroel Besser. There are many things about Rabbi Avrohom Kamenetsky’s relationship with his father that made it unique. He was Reb Yaakov’s ben zkunim, privy to a sacred Wednesday ritual — a weekly Yom Tov of sorts — when he would spend the day learning with his father. He was also the only Zevulun in a family of Yissachars — and he was the one entrusted with his father’s last wishes. A special glimpse into the gadol who carried American Jewry on his shoulders, yet who tried to conceal himself, hoping more than
anything else to be forgotten

There is a certain quality to Rabbi Avrohom Kamenetsky’s voice — perhaps it can be best described as ne’imus, pleasantness — that makes him sound uncannily like his great father. When he answers my call, it gives me a jolt.

I ask if I can come speak with him about his father, Reb Yaakov. After assuring me that he has nothing to add to all that’s been written and recorded, he tells me I am welcome. I suggest Tuesday afternoon. He would prefer Monday night. I hesitate, and he picks up on it. “I see that Tuesday is better for you,” he says conclusively, “so Tuesday it will be.”

Clearly, his father’s son.

There are many things about Reb Avrohom’s relationship with his father that make it unique. He is the youngest of the Kamenetsky children, the ben zkunim. In addition, he merited a weekly learning session with his father, driving from his Flatbush home to Monsey every Wednesday, where father and son would spend the day together, learning.

Reb Avrohom shrugs. “Look, I had more time than the others; I was in business and able to set my own hours. My siblings are busy day and night in chinuch, carrying the burdens of yeshivos and talmidim.”

And this I find amazing. “What was that like, being the lone ‘Zevulun’ in a family of Yissachars? Did your father have special advice or encouragement for you?”

He smiles, appreciating the question. “Here’s something for you,” he says. “I will share it; perhaps others will find it useful.”

The Torah Of Zevulun Reb Avrohom started out as a rebbi, teaching at Toras Chaim, the yeshivah headed by his older brother, Rav Binyamin. It was not an institution where salaries could be taken for granted. “Money was tight, but one day I heard from the other rebbeim that there was a check. It was good news. I waited and waited, but mine never came. I went to my brother and I asked him if it was true that there was some money for paychecks? ‘Yes,’ he said with a sad smile, ‘but not enough for me, and not enough for you, Avremel.’ It was tough. I said to him, ‘At least you’re building Torah with your self-sacrifice, but why do I have to do this?’

“During the summer, I decided to find a way to make some extra money, and I davened that the Ribono shel Olam should guide me to a product that I could sell, but that wouldn’t involve schlepping heavy samples. Inspiration struck — I realized that every single manufacturer needs boxes for shipping.”

That idea seemed to fit all his criteria, but of course, before pursuing it, he discussed it with his father. And thus spoke Reb Yaakov:

“Avrohom,” he said, “you want to engage in mischar, commerce. Remember what the term means. If you have something that someone else needs and you can provide it, that is mischar. The moment that you are giving him things he doesn’t really need, then that is not mischar at all. Then, you have no more heter for the bittul Torah.”

All of Reb Yaakov’s children received guidance based on their particular needs, appropriate to their situation. “I was in business, so he told me to recite Parshas Vayishlach on Motzaei Shabbos, as well as the tefillah of Ribon kol HaOlamim, printed in the bentschers. Vayishlach, Chazal tell us, was recited by the chachamim before they went to Rome, and hence a protection for someone engaged with the wider world. And the tefillah? He said it’s a precious tefillah. Every one of us got what we needed.”

Your Calling Being in sales allowed Reb Avrohom to make his own schedule, enabling him to devote himself to his father. “My father felt that it was my destiny to have this special relationship with him, a sort of calling.”

He elaborates:

“I once asked him what was Rav Yisrael Salanter’s goal with the mussar movement: was it that a person should ‘remake’ himself? He said of course not, because then someone with a ‘krumme kop’ would become even more crooked. A skewed perception would result in skewed behavior. Rather, he said, Rav Yisrael wanted something else. Just as there is a Shulchan Aruch that delineates how a Jew serves Hashem, so too, there is a Shulchan Aruch, a code, in proper interpersonal behavior. He said that the way to know the ‘halachah’ in how to behave is to study the accounts of Chazal, the stories in Chumash, Midrash, and Gemara, and learn how a person reacts.

“In fact, he quoted his rebbi, the Alter of Slabodka, who once said, ‘Others think one can develop as a baal mussar without Torah, without knowing how to learn. Of course it’s not true. How can a person know how to react to a situation without being thoroughly well versed in the stories of Chazal?’

“My father said all this by way of introduction. He went on to explain how each of the Avos had his own destiny, his own strengths and challenges, and they paved the way for all of us. He referred to the words of Chazal about Yaakov Avinu’s various sons and the time each of them spent with him, and he smiled. ‘I’m afraid, that this is your shickzal, your destiny.’”

And so Wednesday became a special day — a sort of weekly Yom Tov — in the life of Reb Avrohom, the day he was “ragil” to be with his father.

Sometimes, Reb Yaakov would come to his son. “One week he called me and asked me to make some time available on Tuesday. Of course, I freed up the day. He arrived at my house and suggested we go for a drive. He directed me to Ridgewood, New York, to the cemetery, and he led me along its path. Suddenly he stopped. ‘Here it is,’ he said, indicating the spot he had selected for his eternal rest. He handed me an envelope with the deed, and said, ‘Take this; you’ll have it when the time comes.’”

And when that day came, twenty-five years ago, the Kamenetsky children looked to their youngest brother, who — as expected — knew their father’s wishes precisely.

Around This Table After Reb Yaakov moved to Monsey, the Flatbush home of Reb Avrohom became his Brooklyn headquarters. “He expected that moving out to Monsey would free him up from meetings and conferences, but, of course, that’s not the way it turned out. So whenever he was in the city, he would come to this house and receive people.”

Surely, I remark, this gave the family a unique perspective: not just a revered rosh yeshivah, but a grandfather as well.

Reb Avrohom’s smile answers the question.

A thought strikes him, and he invites his rebbetzin to step in and join the conversation, to share her memories of Zeidy and his visits. The vignettes seem to be fresh in her mind.

“Around this table, the children got rides on his shoulders. I can still see him, holding them tightly and laughing as he marched them around the table. Even our youngest daughter, when he was already over eighty years old.”

I have merited interviewing many gedolim. I have sat in their rooms and seen the places where they carried out their lofty avodah, where they toiled in Torah or poured out their hearts in prayer. Here, I see the room where the elderly gadol carried his giggling young eineklach … and something tells me that this, too, is a holy room, no less than all the others.

Rebbetzin Kamenetsky lights up at another memory. “He would eat lunch here, and he would invite me to join him. ‘Itta Chaya, come sit here,’ he would say, and then he’d make me tell him about each child in turn, what they were up to, their successes and challenges. He was really interested.”

She laughs. “We have three boys born back-to-back, a year apart. Of course, they were boisterous and unruly, and I once complained to him about how hard it was. ‘Ober Itta Chaya, du host gevolt yingelach — But Itta Chaya, you wanted boys!’ I understood his message: that’s how boys are, there was nothing wrong with them or me. It was the last time that I ever complained.”

Reb Yaakov was part of many intimate moments, the regular give-and-take that makes up family life.

“Our daughter was intent on sewing a skirt for herself. She was about twelve years old, and there she was with pins and a ruler, concentrating on a large swath of plaid material in front of her. Zeidy stopped and stood watching her for a moment, asking her what she was working on. ‘I am going to make a pleated skirt,’ she said. ‘It won’t work,’ he told her. She insisted that she had made all the calculations and it would work. True to his usual style, he didn’t persist and walked on.

“Hours later, she admitted in frustration that it hadn’t worked out, and she asked him how he’d known. ‘Simple physics,’ he replied.”

They share another recollection about Reb Yaakov’s practical comprehension of scientific concepts.

“I once brought him a cup of coffee, and he wasn’t ready to drink it yet,” recalls the rebbetzin, “yet he added the milk to the cup. I was surprised, because he had moved the cup to the side. He noticed my confusion and explained that, according to physics, adding the milk would actually keep the drink hotter than leaving it without milk.”

“Tell him about the davening,” says Reb Avrohom as he and his wife share a smile.

“Oh, of course. I once served him supper, and he was anxious about not having davened Maariv yet, and wanted to appoint a shomer, someone or something to remind him, as the halachah requires. He looked around and asked me for the bottle of dish soap, which was called Dawn, and he placed it on the table in front of him. He laughed and explained that in Russian, the letter ‘w’ is pronounced like a ‘v’ — ‘so it’s telling me Daven, not Dawn.’” [Read full article in this week’s Mishpacha Magazine]

This content, and any other content on TLS, may not be republished or reproduced without prior permission from TLS. Copying or reproducing our content is both against the law and against Halacha. To inquire about using our content, including videos or photos, email us at [email protected].

Stay up to date with our news alerts by following us on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.

**Click here to join over 20,000 receiving our Whatsapp Status updates!**

**Click here to join the official TLS WhatsApp Community!**

Got a news tip? Email us at [email protected], Text 415-857-2667, or WhatsApp 609-661-8668.

4 COMMENTS

  1. I had the Zechus to spend a Shabbos afternoon With H”HG Rav Yaakov ZT”L. I will never forget the experience. I had a number of complex Hashkafah questions that I wanted to discuss, I was all of 20 years old at the time. My appointment was for an hour or two before Mincha. I knocked on Reb Yaakov’s door at the time of the appointment and it seemed that Reb Yaakov was sleeping. I will never forget looking through the glass of the front door, watching this Gadol get up from the couch where he was asleep and putting his glasses on. He then proceeded to brush his Payos behind his ears and open the door to let me in. He invited me to sit at the dining room table and only then went to the sink to wash Negel Vaser. The details of the conversation were even more fascinating but that is for another time and place. This was a true Gadol in every sense of the word. The perfection of Torah and character, he is truly missed. TZ”B.

  2. Unbelievable

    We should all take this to heart

    Sitting around during work hours & surfing the net- isn’t mischar- its bitul torah- & Geneva- stealing from your boss

Comments are closed.