He sat by his zeide daily, through winter and summer and sickness and health. And every day, Rav Aryeh Elyashiv, the grandson of Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv ztz”l, watched his beloved grandfather give to the klal. Now, six years after his zeide’s death, Reb Aryeh opens up and shares what he saw
Photos: Mattis Goldberg, Mishpacha archives
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av Aryeh Elyashiv sits in a closet-sized room near the entrance of the caravan and blocks the doorway.
The mashgiach is in there, Rav Don Segal, his eyes closed as he sways back and forth and listens to the derashah from inside the crowded room. A slim young man balances a tray covered in small white plates, a slice of Yerushalmi kugel and a pickle on each, and tries to get through the tiny room to access the shul.
No, Reb Aryeh coolly holds up a hand, not now. Wait for the derashah to end. Don’t crowd the mashgiach. There is something in his posture, in his motion, that lets the young waiter know that he’s someone to be listened to — and it’s not just because he runs the kollel in the caravan.
Reb Aryeh’s zeide is gone six and a half years now. This caravan, at one time the central switchboard for the Torah world, has long been orphaned. Reb Aryeh keeps it going, making sure it’s kept up, that the avreichim who learn there are paid, that the glory of what was isn’t forgotten.
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