My shul proves that large doesn’t necessarily have to mean impersonal
Khal Hisachdis Yireim Veretzky, colloquially known as Rav Landau’s Shul, was once described to me by Rabbi Nosson Scherman, of ArtScroll fame, as the “crossroads of Flatbush.” And that’s no exaggeration.
It has nearly round-the-clock minyanim, and for anyone who grew up — or attended yeshivah — anywhere within reasonable driving distance, it’s nearly statistically impossible not to meet somebody you know after entering its doors.
Regulars include prominent roshei yeshivah (often asked by total strangers before a minyan starts for hadrachah); rabbanim of note (who agree to pasken sh’eilos); askanim (being pestered about the latest communal goings-on but who, almost always, answer with a practiced smile); frum performers; and average balabatim.
Later into the evening, yeshivah bochurim — despite secluding themselves in out-of-the-way corners or in the balcony ezras nashim — can be overheard, before returning home or to their dorm rooms, discussing their dates. The good, the bad — and the “I’m sure she’s perfect for somebody else.”
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