ב"ה

Tragedy In Our Midst

A terrible tragedy. An incomprehensible blow. A fearful decree.

As much as we struggle to verbalize our grief, words cannot describe the enormity of the tragedy that has befallen us. Rivers of pain engulf us. Our minds cannot comprehend what has happened, our hearts cannot contain the pain.

No ... no ... there are no words that can express what is in the heart of each of us in such difficult and painful days.

Paper and pen cannot possibly describe the horrific occurrences, mere words cannot tell of the calamity that has befallen us.

What is there left to say? Haelokim matza es avon advdecha, Hashem has found out the iniquity of your servants. A mantle of mourning and anguish wraps all of Klal Yisrael in every place in the world, but we must pay special heed to the blow that was dealt in our very midst. One of the people who fell, and not just anyone, but someone as unique and special as the late Rabbi Shmuel Tzvi z"l.

The world stands on three things, and in all of them Rabbi Shmuel Tzvi excelled.

Torah

Rabbi Shmuel Tzvi loved learning Torah, it was his passion. At night as well as by day, he was immersed in his learning. Our eyes blur with tears as we remember those days, we long to see him once again bent over the pages of his Gemara, to see him grapple with the complexities of Halacha until the early hours of the morning, and the many other times, practically around the clock, that he learnt Torah with sincerity, with purity, completely detached from the vanities of this world. His face radiated such joy and happiness when he heard a good chiddush, you'd think he'd won the lottery. And when those chiddushim came from a student, whom he'd taught the sugya to, his delight was felt in the entire study hall.

Rabbi Shmuel Tzvi was not content with achieving personal satisfaction in his Torah learning, he wanted to share that joy with others too. He aspired to teach Torah to as many people as possible, with unparalleled devotion. Whether in the yeshiva "Maor Einim" in Beitar Illit, where he instilled in his students yiras Shamayim and love and appreciation for Torah, as only he knew how to do, or whether in the Kollel Yoreh De'ah, where he invested all his energies to teach the yungerleit so that they too could achieve spiritual heights in their Torah learning and hora'oh.

Avodah - Prayer

He was unique in the way he prayed. No matter how hard we try, we cannot portray the picture of R. Shmuel Tzvi absorbed in prayer. It was a true depiction of a servant in the presence of his Master. To speak during prayer? G-d forbid! He had an attitude of utter reverence from the moment he entered the shul, all the more so during davening.  Rabbi Shmuel Tzvi didn't rush through his davening, his prayers were recited slowly and deliberately, he would begin with one minyan and end with the fifth minyan following it!  Like the kohein gadol who entered the Kodesh Kedoshim on Yom Kippur with awe and fear, Rabbi Shmuel TTzvi approached each prayer service, not just on Yom Kippur, on every single day of the week. Whoever stood next to him could not engage in trivial conversation, not because he would reprimand them, but because they simply couldn't behave thus in the holy environment which he wove around himself.

Tzedakah - Charity

He was singular in his charitable endeavors. He helped every needy person, no questions asked.  He had outstanding middos and never slighted anyone. He kept far away from lashon hara and machlokes. All that came out of his mouth were words of peace and truth – divrei chachamim b'nachas nishmaim, the words of wise people are spoken gently.

When R. Shmuel Tzvi heard somebody utter inappropriate words, he was repulsed by it as if it were forbidden food. When he said to the person who uttered a bad word that he should rinse his mouth, they saw that he meant it in all seriousness. Rabbi Shmuel Tzvi had a holy mouth and his speech was free of any trace of gossip. People knew that there was no speaking forbidden speech or bad language around him.

"Rabbi Shmuel Tzvi was a true chassidishe Yid," we hear people say again and again, their voices choked with tears. They speak about his holy and pure ways as something reminiscent of previous generations. They talk of the way he basked in the holiness of Shabbos, as if there was a fire of dveikus burning inside him.

Rabbi Shmuel Tzvi was a wonderful father, too. With his wise insight, he was able to combine his personal spiritual aspirations in his Torah study and yiras Shamayim, and devotion to his students, with his close involvement in the running of his home. He never cut corners and was exceptionally devoted to his wife and eight children.

All this came to an abrupt and terrible end…

A trip to Meron for the yahrtzeit of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, with his typical joy and ardor and prayer, with hope to bring home new infusions of strength and salvation and blessings – it all came to a terrible and painful conclusion, tormenting and piercing every heart. Bar Yochai went down to his field and selected the best apples… it is a decree we cannot ever understand.

It is difficult to relive those the long and difficult hours, filled with anguish and heartbreak. It is painful to think back to his last moments, and after that, the long and dreadful hours that stretched through the night with immense concern for his welfare, not knowing of his whereabouts, the fear, the misgivings, the terror.  Since that terrible night when the world as the Klagsbald family knew it came crashing around them, the nightly fears and terrors are relived again and again.  The seemingly endless hours that they stood outside the fenced compound of Abu Kabir, waiting with dread for their worst fears to be confirmed. Oh Tatte! We cannot think of that time, but neither should it be forgotten. Instead of seeing him come back from Meron on a spiritual high, his face radiating joy, the family had to wait outside the iron gate to hear the indescribably awful news, eternal hours of 'meisoh mutal lefonov,' his corpse lies before him. It seemed that he didn't want just yet to be paid his last respects, for his family to say their final goodbyes and to sit down to be comforted… it seemed that even that small measure of relief was denied them, and their unbearable pain was prolonged. Those difficult moments cannot be erased from our minds and hearts.

We don't have any questions chas v'shalom. Hashem's ways are just. But Tatte in Himmel, how much can we bear?

Eight young orphans. Eight shining lights that flicker like the lights of the menorah with a pure emunah and bitachon. Raised with the righteousness and faith that Rabbi Shmuel Tzvi personified, along with his wife who is now left alone to raise them, they are now left bereft like a ship tossed on a churning sea, the memories of that dreadful night seared in their consciousness, possibly tormenting them for years to come.

Can we leave them to suffer alone? Can we remain apathetic to their pain? It takes inhuman strength for the family to face the challenges lying before them, but it would also take inhuman callousness for us to say, "This isn't my problem."

We cannot bring back the wonderful husband and father this family has lost, but we can alleviate their suffering somewhat, to bring in a little light that can dispel their darkened world, to enable them to get back at least somewhat to their life as they knew it, to enable their oldest son to enter the world of shidduchim, to enable them to reclaim some of the joy that had always been such a core part of their lives.