Rav Yitzchak Blaser, often called Rav Itzele Peterberger, is usually considered the most prominent of the disciples of Rav Yisrael Salanter and is the source of most of the writings attributed to Rav Yisrael. Rav Itzele wrote several works, Ohr Yisrael, Kochavei Ohr, and Nesivos Ohr, which he states are comprised completely of the thoughts and opinions he learned directly from Rav Yisrael.

Aside from the many articles that Rav Itzele published in various rabbinic journals, his primary published work is called Pri Yitzchak. At the time he published the first volume of this work, he had no children, and he was the only surviving descendant of his father. Rav Itzele had two brothers, both prominent talmidei chachamim and rabbanim. Unfortunately, both passed away as young men without progeny.

I truly wish that I had had more opportunity to learn from and spend time with Rav Dovid zt”l, the legendary mashgiach in Ner Yisrael, but these were not Hashem’s plans.

When I entered shiur beis, officially the second year or level in Ner Yisrael, then given by Rav Kulefsky, zt”l, Rav Dovid gave shiur gimel, the shiur above Rav Kulefsky’s, which I should have entered the next year. Unfortunately, on the 11^th of Teiveis, which was on Shabbos that year, Rav Dovid had a massive coronary attack and passed away within a few hours. So, although I heard his powerful musar shmussen (discourses) both during the Yomim Nora’im season and every Shabbos, and had occasion to ask him shailos in halacha, I was unable to benefit from attending his daily blatt shiur, his weekly iyun chaburos (in-depth analyses of the Gemara topic we were studying in yeshiva), or the relationship I would have been able to develop had the Ribono shel Olam granted him more than 64 years on this earth. For this reason, my own memories are supplemented by both Ner Yisrael traditions and Rav Dovid’s written works to provide a full picture of who Rav Dovid was and what he taught and embodied.

I am sitting down to write this the day after the Rosh Yeshiva’s 38^th yahrzeit. In honor of the occasion, I emailed my article about him that appeared in the Where What When as the first of this series of articles. I received such incredible, positive feedback that it brought back many memories. I ended up rereading the original article at least half a dozen times, and each time, I thought of more stories and more lessons that the Rosh Yeshiva taught me. As I noted in the earlier article, I will refer to him in this article exclusively as “the Rosh Yeshiva.” I cannot bring myself to refer to him any other way.

Halacha

The Rosh Yeshiva was my final authority in halacha, but, far more than that, he was my daas Torah, directing me in the decisions that would build chinuch and Yiddishkeit in the small Torah community where I served as rav. On numerous occasions, I called him to ask what I should do in a given situation, and there were as many times that I asked him how to halachically navigate a challenging circumstance. Often, it was a question of what type of halachic standard was required for a community’s kashrus. At times, it was to determine whether a geirus (conversion) was acceptable for someone to become a member in our shul. Always, the Rosh Yeshiva’s piskei halacha and advice were available. They were, without question, a significant factor in the success of my years in rabbanus and the institutions that I was able to build. I note that the Vaad Hakashrus I built there is a highly respected organization over 40 years later as is the shul where I was rav, notwithstanding the fact that both have had numerous changes of personnel.

Here are some stories of advice regarding communal matters that I received from the Rosh Yeshiva:

When I was young, I had, as most people do, experienced various types of shuls and rabbonim. There were the older, European rabbonim, whom I respected but could not identify with; they did not represent something that I would consider doing. The rabbis I met who were clearly American did not attract me for the exact opposite reason. I did not see their role as teaching Torah. Often, the role of rabbi involved all sorts of halachic compromises that to me were completely unacceptable. And these rabbis appeared to me to be more social workers than rabbonim. I was looking for a rav to be a rav who would be a teacher of adults and a role model for his congregants. Although it would seem that this is the obvious role of a rav, at the time, the American scene of rabbonim and shuls did not have many young rabbonim whom I felt were worthy of the title, nor were the congregations interested in hiring this type of rav.

Rabbi Eliyahu Krieger was my menahel in high school. Born in Berlin to an Eastern European family, he arrived in the United States when he was young and studied in Yeshiva Torah Vadaas under Rav Shraga Feivel Mendelovitz, who single-handedly created Torah chinuch (education) in the United States. Rav Shraga Feivel created Torah Umesorah, whose mandate was to build Torah day schools in every small Jewish community in the United States. To accomplish this, he rallied gedolei Yisrael from across the spectrum to support Torah Umesorah’s activities and programs. Yet this was a sidebar to his official endeavors, which were to build Yeshiva Torah Vadaas in Brooklyn, Kollel Beis Elyon in Monsey, and various programs to train Torah teachers. He created the yeshiva settings whereby Rav Shlomo Heiman, Rav Reuven Grozovsky, Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky, and many others were able to influence the American Torah scene, and he was also instrumental in the building of several other yeshivos in America.

Returning to Rabbi Krieger, whereas most of his contemporaries who arrived on the American shores as refugees from the Nazis were eager to start businesses or pursue professions, Rabbi Krieger was interested in studying in yeshiva and became a disciple of Rav Shraga Feivel. This meant that he became committed to chinuch, as did the most of Rav Shraga Feivel’s talmidim. As happened to many, he also became the de facto “rabbi of his family,” since he was the first one to receive a yeshiva education and develop that perspective on life.

When I moved to Brookline, Massachusetts, in the late 1960s, Rav Levi Yitzchok Horowitz, better known as the Bostoner Rebbe of Boston,* had a shtiebel-type shul on Beacon Street, right near the border of Brookline (which is a separate municipality) and the Brighton neighborhood of the city of Boston. At that time, the Rebbe himself no longer lived in the shul building but in an adjacent house, but the building still contained the room where the Rebbe held his seudos (today they would be called tishin), had his sukkah, baked matza (using a firewood oven in the basement), and had numerous hachnasas orchim rooms upstairs. The shul part of the building on the main floor still had all the appearances of a somewhat converted house.

The Rebbe himself was the attraction of the shul. There was no community to speak of at that stage. The shul had a few gabbayim to make sure that the daily minyan was somewhat organized. There wasn’t much of what we would call an organization. All of that would happen later.