At the Crossroads of Generations  

AS

was extensively covered in these pages last week (“Voice of History,” Issue 1075) and in tributes throughout the greater Jewish world, Rabbi Berel Wein was known for many things. His talmidim in yeshivah knew him simply as their rebbi and rosh yeshivah; his congregants knew him as their rav; many in the wider Jewish world knew him as a distinguished orator, head of kashrus at the OU, a venerated talmid chacham, and a prolific author of dozens of books on Jewish history and other educational topics. His trademark Chicago accent made his thousands of lectures on Jewish history, Navi, Pirkei Avos, and many other Torah subjects instantly recognizable. And of course, to his family he was a caring parent, doting grandfather, and proud great-grandfather.

But my connection to him was much more personal. For me, he served as a mentor, role model, guide, and teacher. I had grown up on his Jewish history books and cassette tapes — they kindled my passion for our nation’s past, which has continued unabated over the ensuing decades, even though it has transitioned from being my hobby to being my career. Interestingly enough, when I expressed concern to him that my passion for Jewish history would flag once it became my job, he set me straight with a healthy dose of pragmatic advice.

“Passion dissipates, a business is more likely to be long-lasting,” he told me.

As a child, I absorbed his recordings on prewar Lithuanian yeshivos, and later, I prepared lengthy notes from those lectures for the early tours I guided in Europe. It was then that I appreciated Rabbi Wein’s proximity to that vanished world. When he discussed Grodno and Rav Shimon Shkop, it was filtererd through the experiences of his father, Rav Zev Wein (known as “Reb Velvel Chullin” for his mastery of that particular masechta when he was a talmid of that yeshivah).