The Wandering Jew

The Jewish Home | JULY 28, 2022

The Wandering Jew Encounters With The Rebbe Rabbi Shlomo Halberstam – Bobover Rebbe, zt”l

By Hershel Lieber

Twenty-two years ago, on the first day of Av, 5760, the great tzaddik and beloved chassidishe Rebbe, Harav Shlomo Halberstam, Hadmor M’Bobov, was niftar. The Rebbe needs very little introduction to the public, as his name and his fame is known worldwide. He was the oldest surviving son of his father, Rav Ben Tzion, Hy”d, who perished in the Holocaust and a direct descendent of Rav Chaim the Sanzer Rebbe, as well as from other renowned Rebbishe dynasties.

After losing his family in the Holocaust, the Rebbe managed to escape and make his way to Budapest where he was deeply involved in Hatzolah activities on behalf of Klal Yisroel. After the War, he reluctantly took on the mantle and leadership of survivors who originated from the Polish region called Galicia.

After arriving to the United States, the Rebbe started from scratch to rebuild Bobov. His main focus was to start a Yeshiva, which eventually became the base for a reemerging Bobover Chassidus. He was highly successful, and at the time of his petira, the Rebbe had a huge following in Boro Park, where he was located, as well as in Israel, Canada, England, Belgium and other cities of the United States. Many institutions, ranging from shuls, yeshivos, mesivtas, girls’ schools and summer camps, were among the projects that he initiated and brought to fruition. He was respected in every circle and beloved by his followers. yehi zichro baruch – v’zechuso yogein aleinu.

The following article was written by me to transcribe my memories of the relationship that I had with the Bobover Rebbe, zt”l. I documented these recollections so that I can leave a legacy for my children and their descendants as well as a written record for myself.

My connection with the Bobover Rebbe, Rav Shlomo Halberstam, zt”l, has a history dating back more than a century. My grandfather, Hershel Lieber, a”h, who I am named after, learned at the first Bobover Rebbe, Rav Shlomo, who was niftar in 1905. Although my grandfather did not have a close relationship with the next Rebbe, Rav Benzion, Hy”d, my family’s connection to Bobov resumed during the early war years.

During World War II, my parents were together with the third Bobover Rebbe, Rav Shlomo, zt”l, in the Bochnia Ghetto. My parents developed a remarkably close relationship with him and his son Naftulche, zt”l, when my mother was zoche to save the Bobover family that were in the Ghetto. The story is very long and is part of my mother’s memoir titled “A World After This.” In short, being that my mother was born in Munkatch, Czechoslovakia, and was not a Polish citizen, she was exempt from living in the Ghetto. Her birth certificate was used to forge other certificates for members of her family as well as for the members of the Bobover mishpacha. Leaving the Ghetto opened up an escape route for all of them to reach Hungary.

In Budapest, my parents were again together with the Bobover Rebbe and some of his sisters, and they bonded in an everlasting relationship. My parents even traveled to Bucharest, Romania, after the War at the request of the Rebbe to prepare Pesach for him since he had lost his Rebbetzin during the Holocaust. This relationship continued when we all finally reached the shores of America.

Although the Rebbe lived on the Upper West Side of Manhattan during his first years in America and we lived in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, my parents went to visit him very often. Later on, when the Rebbe moved in the mid-fifties to Crown Heights, the close bonds between our families remained, but the distance between Crown Heights and Boro Park, where we eventually moved to, led to a more frequent involvement.

In Boro Park, my father could not find a chassidishe yeshiva for me to attend. When the Rebbe opened the Bobover Yeshiva in Crown Heights, I was nine years old and I traveled daily from the fourth grade on with about twelve other boys to Crown Heights. The yeshiva then was relatively small, and the Rebbe himself would on occasion look into our classroom. I was enamored

At my Sheva Brachos with the Bobover Rebbe, zt”l

My father Mechel Lieber, a”h, (standing third left) with (l-r) the Dancing with the Bobover Rebbe, zt”l, at my Sheva Brachos Bobover, Stuchiner and Bluzhever Rebbes, zt”l, during the sixties

by the Rebbe’s warmth and smile and began considering myself as a Bobover chassid. I would always look for an occasion to go to Bobov for a Shabbos or Yom Tov. I spent many Shabbosim and Yomim Tovim at my relatives, Asher and Shifra Scharf, whose sons Moshe Yankel and Beinish were near my age, just to be by the Rebbe.

Simchas Torah and Shavous were the two Yomim Toivim that I always spent in Bobov. I remember the davening, the tishen, the singing, the dancing, and especially the Rebbe’s spirited Hakofos. I remember wait-

ing to get sherayim from the Rebbe and particularly the two occasions when the Rebbe singled me out with a special portion of sherayim. On both of these times, he related to everyone at the tisch how my mother was the messenger for his family’s survival during the War.

The most memorable times that I cherished were when I would arrive before a Shabbos or Yom Tov. I would join a select number of guests in the Rebbe’s reception room as he prepared to go to shul in the evening. He was served a hot tea in a glass with a silver holder. Between sips, the guests were able to approach him and be greeted by a warm “Shalom Aleichem.” After making a Borei Nefoshos, the Rebbe said the Leshaim Yichud and the bracha as he donned his tallis. He placed his shtreimel on his head and with regality walked briskly to the shul as the guests followed behind him to greet the Shabbos Malka.

The two times a year that were most impressionable to me at the Rebbe were Yom Kippur and Simchas Torah. On Yom Kippur, especially during Kol Nidrei, the view of the shul was like a mirage from a heavenly scene. Everyone dressed in white kittlach and talleisim looked like angels. The Rebbe’s davening was awesome and emotional and inspired the entire congregation to join vigorously in the tefillos.

On Simchas Torah, the Rebbe’s energy was contagious, and his dancing of the Hakofos in the middle of a large circle stirred everyone to sing louder and louder with passion and vigor. This went on for a number of hours with the intensity never waning.

I spent seven years at the Bobover Yeshiva from the fourth through the tenth grade. I also spent a number of summers at Camp Shalva, the yeshiva’s summer camp. The Rebbe put on my tefillin when I became bar mitzvah. I was actually the first bachur from the yeshiva that became thirteen. I stood out from many other

boys as I did not wear chassidishe clothing, but I was not the only one. After the tenth grade, Bobov was not offering a regular high school education, so my parents switched me to Torah Vo’daas, but I still kept on coming back to Bobov for Yomim Toivim.

The Rebbe was there for our family in every situation. When my father was sick in 1959, the Rebbe came to be mevaker choleh. I remember that incident clearly. My mother, a”h, had painted a full size portrait of the Rebbe which the president of the Bobover Yeshiva, Dr. Friedman, ordered to be hung in the new yeshiva building in Crown Heights. When it came to the Chanukas Habayis of the building, the close chassidim of the Rebbe could not fathom the idea that a portrait of the Rebbe would hang in the lobby. The painting remained with our family where we treasured it dearly. When the Rebbe visited my father after his operation, she asked one of the gabbaim if she could show the painting to the Rebbe. They dismissed her request with the words “es past nisht.”

As the Rebbe was leaving, my mother approached him and told him the following: “The Rebbe surely knows that I have made a portrait of him. Would the Rebbe be interested in seeing it?”

The Rebbe responded, “Avade, sure.” He went back into the living room put on his glasses and admired the painting and complimented my mother’s talent. The painting now hangs prominently in my dining room.

When my father, a”h, was niftar in 1966, the Rebbe came to the levayeh and also came to be menachem avel our family. He came to our home in 1968 for our Sheva Brochos and danced a mitzva tantz with my wife, Pesi. After my chasunah, I started davening mainly in Bobov but went many times to Bluzhev as well. I would go annually with a kvittel to the Rebbe before the Yomim Noroim, as well as on special occasions. The Rebbe always asked me about my mother and gave her heartfelt brachos. Over the years I stopped davening in Bobov on a regular basis because of other considerations. On one occasion when I was by the Rebbe with a kvittel, he asked me, “Hershel, why don’t I see you more often?” I responded, “I truly wish the Rebbe better Chassidim than me, but Rebbe, believe me, that you have no one as loyal and faithful as I.”

I responded, “I truly wish the Rebbe better chassidim than me, but Rebbe, believe me, that you have no one as loyal and faithful as I.”

Portrait of the Bobover Rebbe painted by my mother Lola Lieber, a”h, in 1956

Standing behind the Bobover Rebbe at the Sheva Brachos of my brother-in-law Eli Kroen The Bobover Rebbe putting tefillin on my son Mechel in 1996 Bringing Netilas Yadayim for the Bobover Rebbe at the Sheva Brachos of my brother-in-law Eli Kroen

In 1979, I was asked to daven in Warsaw, Poland, for the Yomim Noraim, which was very exciting to me. My father-in-law was adamantly against my going. His prewar and war experiences in Poland made him extremely fearful of me being there. Being that we clearly did not see eye-to-eye concerning this trip, my father-in-law made a proposal to me. Knowing my relationship as a chassid of the Rebbe, he suggested that we both go to ask him for his advice and guidance. Frankly, even though I was afraid that this may doom the whole venture, I had no choice but to agree. We made an appointment and entered the Rebbe’s study. After a few words of greeting, I got to the point. I told the Rebbe that I was asked to be the chazzan in Warsaw for the coming Yomim Noraim and wanted his opinion about this undertaking. Before my father-in-law even had a chance to explain his objection, the Rebbe expressed his excitement and enthusiasm about my going and told me what a wonderful thing this would be for depressed community there. He gave me his bracha to be matzliach in inspiring the kehillah with my tefillos. My fatherin-law tried to inject his fear about going to Poland, but the Rebbe brushed it aside with his blessing that I would be fine and reiterated how important it is that I go. As happy as I felt about the Rebbe taking on my cause, I can’t say that I didn’t feel somewhat sorry for my father-in-law.

Since that trip, I became involved with many projects both in Poland and the Soviet Union, and I was very often by the Rebbe in consultation about my missions. The Rebbe actually funded a trip that I undertook to Poland to find Jews who were looking to reconnect to Yiddishkeit. I was involved with a number of children who eventually left Poland, and some went on to learn in Bobov. On a number of occasions, I brought some of the Polish emigres to the Rebbe for chizuk.

There is one incident that remains in my memory to this very day. I had met a Jewish woman in the Warsaw Shul on Yom Kippur who was from Ukraine. She asked me to sponsor her son who wanted to learn about his heritage to come to America. When I returned to New York, I helped the young man to obtain a visitor’s visa to the United States. After he arrived and as we were driving home from the airport, Roman, who spoke a bit of English, told me two things.

First, he wanted to know if I could help him to get a bris. I was pleasantly surprised that having a bris was an important thing on his agenda. I told him that I would assist him, and he would get a bris very soon.

The second thing was even more shocking to me. He told me that he heard that there was a rbbi from the town of Bobowa in New York and that he wanted to meet him. I told him that he surely means the Bobover Rebbe whom I know very well, and I would make the arrangements that he would meet him. Two days later, I set up a meeting with the Rebbe. I went along with Roman and told the Rebbe that Roman had been very intent on meeting him. The Rebbe spoke to him in Polish, and I noticed how the Rebbe was excited after Roman told him something. The Rebbe turned to me and told me in Yiddish that Roman’s father’s father was the mayor of Bobowa and that he remembers him well. He added in a hushed voice that his grandfather was “nisht kein kleine antesmit” (not a small anti-Semite). After I told the Rebbe that Roman came here to study Yiddishkeit and that we would soon give him a bris, the Rebbe with a twinkle in his eye added, “Kik, mir hoben yezt a neier Bobover einikel!” (Look, we now have a new Bobover descendent!)

I once introduced the leader and teacher of the Russian frum community in Moscow, Rabbi Eliyahu Essas, to the Rebbe. The Rebbe was very impressed with his accomplishments. There was a time that Rebbe invited me to join some meetings with Polish officials concerning the state of Jewish cemeteries in Poland. When I returned from trips abroad, I went to the Rebbe to report about my trips and showed him many photographs. He was very interested. I remember one occasion when the Rebbe was scheduled to go out to the airport to greet his new son-in-law, Rav Baruch Avrohom Horowitz. At the time I was in his reception room showing him photos, and his gabbai, Rav Shmiel Horowitz, came in three times to say that it was getting late, but the Rebbe was focused on my stories and photos. The Rebbe was a great source of encouragement and inspiration for many of my undertakings and his brachos helped me achieve many of my goals.

After getting married, we had three

Showing photos of Poland to the Bobover Rebbe in 1988

daughters but no sons. On Purim of 1982, I was part of a Purim shpiel play which was performed in the Rebbe’s presence. When I finished my performance, I went over to the Rebbe for a bracha and asked him that he should daven that we have a boy. Less than ten months after Purim, we had our son, Mechel.

Being that I was connected to both the Bluzhever and Bobover Rebbes, many of our family’s life cycles were shared. My first daughter Itty’s naming and my son Mechel’s upsherin were held by the Bluzhiver Rebbe. My youngest daughter Chavi’s name-giving and Mechel’s tefillin leigin were done by the Bobover Rebbe. The Bobover Rebbe’s son Naftulche, zt”l, was mesader kiddushin at Chavi and Volvi’s chasunah . During difficult times or sicknesses, the Rebbe was the address where we shared our fears and sorrows and came to be consoled.

During my stay in 1990 in Palm Springs, California, the Bobover Rebbe was there, and I had the opportunity to talk with him a number of times and I once even walked him back to the place he was staying. Before leaving New York, I already heard that the Rebbe was in Palm Springs, and I realized that I would be davening together with him daily. I was a bit embarrassed that I did not wear Rabbeinu Tam tefillin and was worried that he may notice. Nevertheless, I was not ready to commit myself to that minhag. Since I had my father’s a”h Rabbeinu Tam tefillin, I checked them out, had them fitted for me and made a tenai (a conditional acceptance) that I will wear them only for this period of time. This would not obligate me to wear them in the future. I always say jokingly that “the Bobover Rebbe made me wear Rabbeinu Tam tefillin.” In a sense that’s true because I never stopped wearing them since. I was not in the United States when the Rebbe, zt”l, was niftar and missed his levayeh. This is something I still cannot come to terms with. I go to his kever every time I go to my parents’ kevarim; they are interred in the same Beis Olam. I think of the Rebbe often, and it gives me extreme satisfaction that I had this close relationship with him. At times, when I reminisce about him, I am even moved to tears. His regal image and his warm smile remain in my mind and will accompany me forever.

Hershel Lieber has been involved in kiruv activities for over 30 years. As a founding member of the Vaad L’Hatzolas Nidchei Yisroel he has traveled with his wife, Pesi, to the Soviet Union during the harsh years of the Communist regimes to advance Yiddishkeit. He has spearheaded a yeshiva in the city of Kishinev that had 12 successful years with many students making Torah their way of life. In Poland, he lectured in the summers at the Ronald S. Lauder Foundation camp for nearly 30 years. He still travels to Warsaw every year – since 1979 – to be the chazzan for Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur for the Jews there. Together with Pesi, he organized and led trips to Europe on behalf of Gateways and Aish Hatorah for college students finding their paths to Jewish identity. His passion for travel has taken them to many interesting places and afforded them unique experiences. Their open home gave them opportunities to meet and develop relationships with a variety of people. Hershel’s column will appear in The Jewish Home on a bi-weekly basis. ruc hi _ sc haefer _ rsinterior