The Holocaust survivors struggling to scratch out a living during the week, became kings in shul on Shabbos
S
habbos in our Brooklyn shtibel offered a musical feast.
When my family emigrated from Israel to the United States in the late 1950s, there was no doubt where we would be davening — the Modzhitzer shtibel in Crown Heights. My mother’s sister was married to Reb Nachman Shenker, brother of the famous Modzhitzer baal menagein Reb Ben Zion Shenker z”l. My parents were friendly with the Shenkers, and my father, Rabbi Akiva Besser z”l, and Reb Ben Zion often collaborated in music. So even though our apartment address was 777 Eastern Parkway, directly across the street from Lubavitch — and sometimes I would see the Rebbe go out for an early morning walk — Modzhitz was our shul.
Davening in Modzhitz was a unique experience for me, something I looked forward to every Shabbos. The president of the shul was Reb Yitzchok Taub, son of the late Modzhitzer Rebbe. Reb Yitzchok had an amazing ability to make a little kid like me feel important. He actually talked to me like I was an adult. And he got a kick out of my calling him Rabbi Mr. President.
Another role model for us young people was Reb Avrohom Shenker, who was married to the Rebbe’s daughter. He was a tremendous talmid chacham and had outstanding middos. Yet he was very tuned into the modern world and was especially good at communicating with youth. His incredible humility also had a great impact on us.
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