Rav Meilech Biderman has no formal beis medrash, yeshivah, mosdos or website, yet he dances through life, taking thousands along on his journey to the Heavens with both feet on the ground. A privileged glimpse at the magnetic force who, like every Jew he touches, is nothing and everything
photos Flash90, Mishpacha archives
I’ve never seen anyone get out of a car like that. On this late summer day, as pedestrians on Bnei Brak’s Rechov Rashi appear to wilt from the intense heat, Rav Meilech Biderman springs out of the small black car and moves, liquid-like, from the passenger seat across the sidewalk to the shul entrance. He is nodding to one passerby, smiling to another. An earnest young man with a dusty black hat and dark suit stops Reb Meilech because he just has to share an incredible vort. It’s a fairly well-known vort. If I’m familiar with it, then Rav Meilech Biderman has known it forever.
But he leans forward to listen, and in his eyes I see the joy — hearing a vort he knows, giving life to its teller. Now Reb Meilech enters the shul and slides into a plain wooden chair at the head of the table. The shiur will be broadcast to an audience of thousands, but around the table, there are just a few people, regulars, it appears, who come to be part of the experience. He asks for a Chumash, then closes his eyes for a moment. There is a flicker, a hint of something in his face — a glimmer of fatigue.
“The coffee is coming,” his young driver whispers, and Reb Meilech smiles in gratitude.
He opens the Chumash and the words pour out in a tumble of unfiltered fire, each vort, story, comment delivered as if this thought alone will make the day worthwhile. The coffee arrives and Reb Meilech grasps the cup with both hands. His eyes go up for a moment, he says the brachah, and as he sips, a near-visible surge of energy lifts his shoulders. The hot drink, the way he holds it and sips it, is a shtickel Torah too.
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