Montreal's Rav Pinchas Hirschprung was a pulsing link to the yeshivah and vision of Rav Meir Shapiro
I
n Montreal’s attractive Outremont neighborhood, a large park covers a full square block. I drive there and see snow dancing in the light, small piles of it sitting like cushions on the dark green benches, the water fountain peeking through a cap of white.
I park the car and walk down a winding path, a blanket of sparkling ice spreading before me, and the memories come, recollections of contentment mixed with awe.
Contentment, because is there anywhere safer for a child than next to his father, holding hands on a cracked sidewalk?
The awe was for the man we were about to see. We children of Montreal were raised to know what he was, what he represented. Every Yom Tov, my father, along with his friends and their children, would walk from the “uptown” neighborhood where we lived to the more chassidish “downtown” neighborhood. We were going to visit the Rav.
Create a free account to keep reading.
