He saw the Bronx blossom from a fledgling immigrant enclave to a thriving center of Jewish life. He walked the streets on Shabbos afternoon, fielding respectful greetings from hundreds of Jews. He brought his impressions of Jerusalem’s Torah giants back to the Yankee congregants of the shul that became his life’s work. Now the congregation has dwindled, the children have moved on, the neighborhood has taken on a new and less friendly reputation – but Rabbi Zevulun Charlop is still there, the faithful rabbi who is committed for life to the Young Israel of Mosholu Parkway
It’s time for Shacharis. Everywhere, Yidden are wrapping tefillin around their arms, opening siddurim, reciting Birchos HaShachar.
The sun has risen over the Bronx as well, filtering down through the elevated train tracks to paint the crowded streets with the same golden light as the rest of the city. The noise of traffic, both human and automotive, rises up to merge with the clanging of the train above. There is the metallic roar of grates being lifted, as the stores along Jerome Avenue open for another day of business: the 99 Cents store is selling “many items for 79 cents and 59 cents,” the furniture store is offering “E-Z credit,” and the proprietor is setting up boxes outside Cee and Cee Department Stores.
I turn left on to 210th Street and, though it’s only seven-thirty, receive grim looks from people sitting in their cars, waiting to pounce on the spots that will open up as people head off to the day’s work.
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