Voice of History

For Rabbi Berel Wein, the historical narrative wasn’t just about the past, but about the present and future — about life itself, woven with the dramatic chronicle of unshakable Jewish faith. Yet his scholarly and rabbinic achievements rested on the foundation of his early life, growing up in Chicago among the previous generation’s gedolim — and on an unquenchable love for the greatest saga of all: the survival of his people

IF you walked into Rabbi Berel Wein’s Rechavia apartment in recent years, chances are  you caught a glimpse of something rare: the sight of real thinking.

Not the mere brain activity that most of us engage in, but sustained, active thought. Head in hand, withdrawn from the surroundings, pondering something deep — that was my first impression of Rabbi Wein a few years ago, when I asked for some time to discuss a Jewish history project.

When I entered, I beheld a legend. The larger-than-life rabbi, rosh yeshivah and raconteur who’d placed volumes on all of our shelves, and Jewish history on the Orthodox world’s curriculum. There he sat, his sight failing but his penetrating vision ranging through the Jewish ages.

What I discovered in that first conversation was that for Rabbi Wein, history wasn’t about the past for its own sake. It was about the present and future — about life itself.