We Knew He Cared

Klal Yisrael’s Rav

By Avrohom Birnbam

He wasn’t my rav, but I’d been in his office several times to discuss knotty issues, questions I couldn’t discuss with anyone else. I’d seen the lines in his living room, people waiting to speak to him in the post-midnight hours. I’d seen other rabbanim, people who had come in from the West Coast and even Eretz Yisrael just to consult with him. I thought I knew him, but I was so wrong.
During the year since Rav Shlomo Gissinger’s passing, I’ve been on a journey: writing a book about his life and the people whom he helped. As I interviewed person after person, I realized just how little I knew. He’d hid his towering greatness under the guise of a helpful, local, Lakewood rav, while his influence spanned the whole Jewish world. He dedicated his life, giving away his privacy, his sleep, and even the time he could have spent learning to help others. When he opened a small shul in his basement in the mid-1980s, he certainly had no inkling that he would one day become Klal Yisrael’s rav.
The following are just a small sampling of excerpts from my upcoming book, to be published by ArtScroll and released in October/November 2020, entitled At Any Hour: HaRav Shlomo Gissinger. How one rav impacted individuals, families, and generations.

Ping Pong on Rosh Hashanah

Confused.
Upset.
Alone.
In turmoil.
That pretty much described Bruce’s* inner landscape. He was a young teenager who’d been living with his parents in the Modern Orthodox stronghold of West Orange, New Jersey until his parents turned his life upside down.
It began with a Shabbos visit at some rabbi’s home in Lakewood… which he didn’t join.
It continued with a relationship that was slowly bringing them closer and closer to a more enhanced level of Torah observance… to which he didn’t subscribe.
It culminated in a move to the ultra-Orthodox stronghold of Lakewood where his parents became members of Khal Zichron Yaakov… which he completely resented.
Bruce wanted nothing to do with his parents’ new adventure, but he couldn’t exactly venture off on his own.
Rosh Hashanah was approaching and the Gissingers invited the Abrams* to join them for the entire Yom Tov. Bruce had no choice but to sullenly accompany his parents, but he was not going to make it easy.
The long, serious davening was more than he had bargained for, and by the time the seudah was over, Bruce’s mood had plummeted even further. His parents were terrified that at the rate things were going they might lose this precious, sensitive neshamah to Yiddishkeit.
Bentshing was over, and the adults began leaving the table when Rabbi Gissinger addressed Bruce. “Bruce, perhaps you want to play a game of ping pong with me downstairs in the basement?”
Rosh Hashanah afternoon found the illustrious Rav Shlomo Gissinger playing a mean game of ping pong with Bruce before walking over to Kimball Medical Center to blow shofar for anyone who might need to hear it.
It was one game of ping pong, but Rav Gissinger captured Bruce’s heart. Slowly, their relationship developed, with Bruce seeing time and time again just how much the Rav understood him.
When Bruce married, the Rav was his mesader kiddushin, guiding him through the entire process. Bruce currently lives in Ramat Eshkol* in Yerushalayim, and all of his children attend yeshivos…thanks to a rav who understood that sometimes, the avodah of Rosh Hashanah afternoon is to play ping pong.
— excerpted from the upcoming ArtScroll/Mesorah biography

“He Was My Rabbi”

Reb Binyomin Rotbart manages a wedding hall. Alfredo*, originally from Columbia, was one of the waiters in the hall. Reb Binyomin often keeps in touch with his staff via WhatsApp, and after the Rav’s petirah, he saw that Alfredo had posted a picture of the Rav, surrounded by sad-faced emojis shedding tears!
A bit later, Reb Binyomin bumped into Alfredo and asked him, “Hey, Alfredo, teary eyed emojis? What did you have to do with my rabbi?”
“Your rabbi?” Alfredo blustered, “He was my rabbi! Whenever I was a waiter at an event in his synagogue he would come into the kitchen and try to help me. He was always so nice and helpful. We became friends. There were times when he would hire me to be a waiter at parties held in his own house. He always thanked me from the bottom of his heart. He was the nicest rabbi I knew. He was my rabbi!”
— excerpted from the upcoming ArtScroll/Mesorah biography

No Names

Construction of a new shul inevitably comes with a hefty price tag that generally requires fundraising.
Construction of the Rav’s new shul was underway, and Rav Gissinger knew they would need to raise money. The Rav approached Rav Yosef Abecasis. “Reb Yosef,” he asked, “perhaps you could recommend the names of some philanthropists who could help us?”
“Rebbi,” Reb Yosef replied, “we will easily be able to cover the cost of the entire shul in minutes if you just give me a list of all the people you have helped with advice, medical matters, fertility, kids at risk…. People owe their lives to you! They will certainly be more than glad to help complete your kehillah’s shul!”
The Rav’s answer shocked Reb Yosef.
“Reb Yosef,” he said with complete innocence, “I have no idea who I helped. I never take their names. I never write them down. Yes, many people who baruch Hashem have been blessed with children invite me to the bris or kiddush… and there are thousands, but I have no idea who they are. I don’t keep records. I don’t keep lists.”
— excerpted from the upcoming ArtScroll/Mesorah biography