We commemorate Yom HaZikaron and immediately celebrate Yom
HaAtzmaut just a week after remembering the Holocaust on Yom HaShoah. These
days are filled with emotion as they commemorate the two most momentous events
in recent Jewish History. I don’t know about you, but this is a roller-coaster
of emotion and a lot to process. How can we make sense of this crazy and momentous
week?
Here is a story that I think touches all the bases.
Rabbi Yisroel Zev Gustman may have been one of the greatest rabbis of the 20th century that nobody has ever heard of. His meteoric rise from child prodigy to the exalted position of religious judge in the Rabbinical Court of the famed Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski at the age of 20 was the stuff of legend -- but nonetheless fact. While a long productive career on the outskirts of Vilna could have been anticipated, Jewish life was obliterated by the pain of World War II. Rav Gustman escaped, though not unscathed. He hid among corpses. He hid in caves and under bushes. He hid in a pig pen. He somehow survived.
After the war, and a brief sojourn in America, Rav Gustman became
the head of a yeshiva in the Rechavia section of Jerusalem, Netzach Yisrael. He
taught a small group of loyal students six days a week. But on Thursdays at noon,
the study hall would fill to capacity: Rabbis, intellectuals, religious court
judges, a Supreme Court justice and various professors would join along with
any and all who sought a high-level Talmud class. When Rav Gustman delivered a
lecture, Vilna was once again alive and vibrant.
One of the regular participants was a professor at the Hebrew
University, Robert J. (Yisrael) Aumann. Once a promising yeshiva student, he
had eventually decided to pursue a career in academia (and was awarded the Nobel Prize in Economics in 2005), but made his weekly
participation in Rav Gustman's class part of his schedule. The year was
1982. Once again, Israel was at war. Soldiers were mobilized, reserve units
activated. Among those called to duty was a reserves officer, a university
student and young father who made his living as a high school teacher: Shlomo
Aumann, Professor Aumann's son. On the eve of the 19th of Sivan, in
particularly fierce combat, Shlomo fell in battle.
Rav Gustman mobilized his yeshiva to participate in the funeral
and burial of the fallen soldier. After the burial, he told his driver,
"Take me to Professor Aumann's home."
The family had just returned from the cemetery and would now begin
the week of shiva -- mourning for their son, brother, husband and
father. Rav Gustman entered and asked to sit next to Professor Auman. He spoke,
first in Yiddish and then in Hebrew, so that all those assembled would
understand:
"I am sure that you don't know this, but I had a son named
Meir. He was a beautiful child. He was taken from my arms and executed. I escaped.
I later bartered my child's shoes so that we would have food, and I gave it
away to others. My Meir is a kadosh -- he is holy -- he and all the six
million who perished are holy."
Rav Gustman then added: "I will tell you what is transpiring
now in the World of Truth in Gan Eden -- in Heaven. My Meir is welcoming your
Shlomo into the minyan and is saying to him 'I died because I am a Jew
-- but I wasn't able to save anyone else. But you -- Shlomo, you died defending
the Jewish People and the Land of Israel.' My Meir is a kadosh, he is
holy -- but your Shlomo is a Shaliach Zibbur -- a Cantor in that holy,
heavenly minyan."
Rav Gustman continued: "I never had the opportunity to sit shiva
for my Meir; let me sit here with you just a little longer."
Professor Aumann replied, "I thought I could never be
comforted, but Rebbi, you have comforted me."
Rav Gustman and his wife would attend an annual parade held in
Jerusalem before Pesach. They would join their fellow spectators and excitedly
watch the children march through the streets. When asked by a colleague why he
participated in this annual event, he replied, “We who saw a generation of
children die will take pleasure in a generation of children who sing and dance
in the streets of Jerusalem.”
Rav Gustman and many others of his generation are the perfect
guides for our generation. He and many like him felt a love for the land of
Israel, for the people of Israel, and for the heroes of Israel. It is a love we
need to make sure to absorb within ourselves.
We need to stop and focus. We need to remember. We need to
acknowledge the murder of the innocent and the sacrifice of brave warriors and
then celebrate God’s gift of the State of Israel. Am Yisrael Chai!
