Rav Zalman Nechemia Goldberg’s halachic mastery crossed every divide
The shivah house for Rav Zalman Nechemiah Goldberg saw a full spectrum of visitors, the chassidic rebbe with three escorts mingling with the Sephardic dayan, the litvishe rosh yeshivah and the rav of a moshav with a knitted yarmulke crowding in alongside the men in striped Yerushalmi caftans and the professor with a cap and notebook. The crowd was heterogeneous, but so appropriate; it was simply a reflection of how Rav Zalman Nechemiah lived.
Over the past few decades, the heaviest halachic questions were addressed in this small dining room. Dayanim, rebbes, rabbanim from all sectors. Doctors — they all came. There were never gabbaim or attendants here. Anyone with a query just knocked at the door, presented the question, and got an answer — delivered with an unforgettable smile.
He walked alone in the street, without escorts or drivers. He gave thousands of shiurim, traveling anywhere he was asked to go, by bus. Sometimes he’d even stand next to the driver to make sure that no one would get up to offer him a seat — even not the in last year of his life.
Rav Zalman Nechemiah Goldberg, who passed away a few weeks ago, left behind a generation wondering who they would turn to for psak. His sons, Reb Aharon, Reb Chaim, and Reb Eliyahu share memories of their esteemed father with Mispacha.
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