Rabbi Ephraim Eisenberg zt”l: The Master Pipeline

Rabbi Yosef Gavriel Bechhofer


(Author’s note: The indented and italicized sections interspersed are quoted from letters received by the Eisenberg family during and after Shiva. I very slightly modified these letters, just enough to make heartfelt and hastily transcribed thoughts more suitable for publication.)

 

Shortly after Mattan Torah, we lost one of those who imparted Torah to us in an uncommon way: Moreinu v’Rabbeinu Rabbi Ephraim Eisenberg zt”l.


Indeed, in a unique way. Reb Ephraim was a “specialist.” When we entered Reb Ephraim’s chabura (later it was a shiur, but the principle was the same) some twenty years ago, it was our first year beyond the framework of our long stints in yeshivos until then. Through yeshiva ketana, mesivta and Beis Medrash, we had been under the tutelage of one rebbe after another, imbibing their Torah, guided by their approaches and absorbing their perspectives. In a sense, those were years in which we still had training wheels on our Talmudic bicycles.


Now, we had advanced to the level often called “lehrnen fahr zich” - learning on one’s own. To use more traditional, metaphor, we were cast adrift upon the Sea of The Talmud. This was “sink or swim.” To “swim” would be to develop several capacities simultaneously: to maintain hasmodo in a more unstructured setting (after all, the focus was no longer on the shiur); to hone skills and techniques for intellectual independence: Mastering the abilities to analyze a Rishon, to abstract the concept from an Acharon, to compare inferences and contrast rationales.

 

He would listen to his talmidim and they would feel he really wanted to hear what they said. Rebbe zt”l always wanted to know how we learned the Gemara, how we responded to his comment. He wanted us to learn how to learn a Gemara and not just to hear his own chiddushim . . .


When I was in Rebbe’s Shiur, I had a [health] problem . . . Rebbe constantly asked me how I was feeling and gave me names of doctors to see. When I went home for two months, Rebbe spoke on the phone with me around three times a week for fifteen to twenty minutes. When I spoke to Rebbe on the phone, he would tell me how he learned the Gemara in shiur. He then would ask how I learned the Gemara and what my insights were. The chizuk I got from these phone calls was tremendous. This also strengthened my learning, because I knew I had to know the Gemara very well to speak to Rebbe. Whenever I tell anyone about those two months, it amazes them that a rebbe could feel such responsibility to a talmid to give up so much of his precious time . . .


But, above all else, the imperative that encompassed and transcended all specific areas of development was the drive for chiddush. In yeshivos, everything lead s to this ultimate goal: That a talmid make the transition from a kli kibbul, a receptacle, to a ma’ayan ha’misgaber, to a fountain.

I am not sure Reb Ephraim zt”l ever [directly] demanded anything from anyone, certainly not the bochurim. But his being, his devotion and his total connection to Torah, these made the demand on us! I knew when he saw me he would ask “Nu! Where are you holding?” For me, as a Ba’al ha’Bayis, this was not an easy question to answer. I could not just say “I am learning this,” for the “Nu,” demanded - a question, an answer, something more! It was mussar, where am I holding? If I am not ready for Reb Ephraim, how will I be ready for the next world? This is not just me talking. I spoke to a friend, a rebbe, who said the same thing: “I always had to be ready!” And this person had nothing to worry about!


What kind of rebbe could shape many talmidim, whose diverse backgrounds and varied personalities - “just as their faces differ so too do their traits” Footnote - mandate a special approach for each individual? The answer lies in an insight of Reb Tzadok Ha’Kohen of Lublin zt”l Footnote that I heard Reb Ephraim interpret. Rabbi Chanina states: “Much I learned from my teachers, more from my peers, but from my students more than from the rest.” Footnote Reb Ephraim explained: Each talmid has his own unique pipeline (“tzinor”) of divine influence that he must build and develop into his portion in Torah. That pipeline, perforce, flows through the rebbe to the talmidim. From one’s own rebbe, one gains one’s own pipeline, modified by its passage through the rebbe’s pipeline. Through contact with one’s peers one is influenced by multiple pipelines, but laterally. When, however, a rebbe has talmidim, multiple different and unique pipelines must flow through that rebbe for him to convey to each respective talmid. He becomes the “master pipeline,” flowing into the proper channel for each talmid.


But experience demonstrates that not every rebbe is alert to and aware of the subtle differences between those pipelines. Not every rebbe is attuned to the careful calibration and application of the right influences to the right person. Many rabbeim impose one uniform mold. One size fits all.


We were accustomed to a shiur served on a platter - the rebbe came with a few questions and presented an approach. While that’s okay, my friends and I much preferred Reb Ephraim’s method. He came in, to be sure, with something to say. But when we raised a question, he did not brush it off and continue with the shiur. He would give it thought and “due diligence” - thinking and going through all the implications: “If you say that idea here, then you have to say this there. And if you say that there, it’s going to be shverr from . . . ” It was open-mindedness that only someone totally comfortable with changing his mind and totally dedicated to Truth (as opposed to the potential theatrics of delivering a shiur) - a truly humble person - can do. He was subservient to Truth, and “truth will sprout from the land,” Footnote it may come through the question of the bochur who was not from the top half of the shiur.


I remember the bochurim going over to him at the beginning of the year, explaining that they would prefer a shiur based on the intricacies of the text and the basic commentaries itself rather than upon the theories of the extrinsic commentaries (“Reid”) . . . For some reason, that’s what the bochurim preferred. So what did Reb Ephraim do? He changed his style! It was amazing! - I don’t think I ever had a rebbe that would or could do that - but he did. He still managed to say the same profound shiurim, but from the perspective of the text and the basic commentaries, showing how the big implications fit into inferences from the words in the Gemara and Rashi . . . We all loved the shiur.


Several of his Maspidim noted that Reb Ephraim was not brilliant. Rather, from his teens he constantly immersed himself in Torah. His hasmodo - under the most difficult circumstances - is legendary. Through that hasmodo he grew to immense proportions. (Perhaps. As a talmid, I must note, however, that by the time we met him, he seemed, to us, quite brilliant.) Many Maspidim stressed that in his absence it was imperative on the rest of us to fortify our devotion to learning, day and night, emulating him. His capacity for chiddush was amazing - “noch a kashya,” “noch a teirutz,” “noch a he’oro,” “noch a daherr” - another question, another answer, another comment, another insight. As several Maspidim mentioned, he was “holding all over” - he mastered the breadth of the Yam ha’Talmud, and was a brimming reservoir of cross-references and insights on even the most obscure topics.


Yet we, the talmidim, had our own reasons for maintaining a devoted connection to Reb Ephraim over the years. We cherish our recollections of Reb Ephraim because of the extraordinary array of faculties he brought to bear as our rebbe: His keen insight into a talmid’s intellectual needs, his capacity to provoke each individual’s own development, his extreme patience and tolerance of every talmid’s idiosyncracies and petulance, his masterful orchestration of the seder and the shiur.


Before I was even officially part of the yeshiva . . . Rebbe drew me close and encouraged me . . . I never before, or since, had a rebbe who would go over to his talmidim to initiate a talk in learning . . . It was during those first months in Ner Yisroel that Rebbe’s enthusiasm, motivation and, of course, Rebbe’s smile made me feel right at home.


I remember (how could I possibly forget!) how much of an interest Rebbe took in my plans and how my parents would feel about them. I do not know that anyone else in my life took such initiative to help me . . .


We were learning Makkos and several times a week Rebbe would speak to me privately, sometimes for almost two hours, about the sugya. Until then I never knew what it feels like to share Torah thoughts with an outstanding Talmid Chochom of Rebbe’s caliber. How can I find words to describe the debt I owe Rebbe!


Reb Ephraim was not an orator. He did not wax eloquent. He had the broadest repertoire of inflections and nuances of “takkeh” that I have ever heard, using it - and “yeah” as well - to connote a remarkable array of ideas, messages and reactions. But through his endless capacity for chiddush, he expanded the frontiers of our minds, and presented before us broad, new and fertile tracts for us to work and cultivate, developing our own skills and techniques.


I’m writing to you, but it’s really for me too. The first picture of Rebbe zt”l that comes to mind is of him bent over a Gemara . . . no difference where, when - singing, humming a tune (or not), but just totally engrossed, with nothing else in the world, simply a picture of pure Ahavas Torah, no distractions. Then we would come over and wait for him to look up and say “yeah” (the same yeah that ended almost every shiur, started almost every conversation in learning or advice. And “yeah . . . gut” ended them . . . ) Rebbe zt”l was the one we went to, because he was so available - too available. Never would you ask about something and leave without at least one extra gem: an idea, a resolution, or clarity in an issue or topic.


Rebbe zt”l always had the patience to explain or repeat the point to you again or to another bochur or pair of chevrusos. I know, because I sat only a couple of rows in front of him for a period. I would go and talk to him about something from shiur and then I would hear him tell it over and over again to others, every time with the same excitement and emphasis, yet with a different nuance for each one.


This critical period in our lives, however, was not just one of transition in learning, but in life. We were beginning to develop into autonomous individuals capable of dealing with the broader world. This “broader world” lay not necessarily beyond the walls of the yeshiva, but beyond the external and extrinsic structure and regimen it imposed upon us. The time when we had to begin considering marriage and building a home drew nearer as well.


In these areas Reb Ephraim also helped us along our path towards full maturity - as did, tlctv”a, the Rebbitzen she’tichye, who passes along her own particular heritage from her father, Rabbi Mordechai Gifter zt”l. The Eisenberg home had an open door policy - talmidim could and would come any time to discuss issues concerning themselves and their friends, their struggles and difficulties, to receive counsel and derive guidance. Several friends reminded me of a Motzo’ei Shabbos shortly after a new pizza store opened in Baltimore when we went out and bought pizza and came back to the Eisenberg home for Melaveh Malkah. We knew Reb Ephraim would eat no pizza - he barely ever ate anything - but the family “indulged” with us and made us feel like this was our surrogate home.


Friday night Oneg Shabbos was a high point of the week - the Divrei Torah and the aura of Kedushas Shabbos were very special - but the high point of the year was the Purim Se’udah. Reb Ephraim did not imbibe, of course, but the talmidim - both those who did and those who did not fully partake of the spirit of “ad d’lo yoda” - would spend inordinate amounts of time with Reb Ephraim. His special capacity to “treat each person according to his own spirit” Footnote made each talmid feel that this rebbe could facilitate his accomplishing his particular form of Purim elevation and inspiration. (Much credit is due to the Rebbitzen and the family for their tolerance of all that the intense Avodah of a yeshiva Purim entails!)


This, then, is the aspect that we, the talmidim, sensed. The Maspidim at the levayah - Reb Ephraim’s great peers and close relatives - could not necessarily capture the rebbe-talmid relationship. It was not the nature of their respective experiences. But we loved Reb Ephraim because, without fanfare or presumption, he nurtured us and cared for us through the critical years that brought us from dependence to autonomy, and because we sensed his, and his family’s, warmth and concern for us in their orchestration of that process. The letters from talmidim that the Rebbitzen provided to me in order to prepare this essay testify that many of us thought that we were the additional children in the Eisenberg family, and we will cherish Reb Ephraim’s influence upon us.


I once saw a Maharal Footnote that says: “The ideal love is when one loves Hashem Yisborach for Him Himself, when one recognizes his greatness and loftiness, that He is Truth and that His mitzvos are Truth.


When I first saw this remark, I had a hard time relating to this profound concept. What does it mean to love Him by recognizing his greatness? As far as I’ve ever known, the love and care that my relatives or friends had for me generated the love that I had felt in any relationship with them. Even with my rabbeim, I only seemed to feel a love for them because of the care and concern they had for me. It didn’t seem possible that love should be generated by anything other than someone else doing good for me.


But then, I’ll never forget, it hit me so, so hard. There was one individual in my life that I loved so much, but I could never explain it in words. Yet finally now, with this Maharal, I can convey the very real and deep love that I felt and feel for my beloved rebbe . . . Reb Ephraim ben Reb Chaim Ha’Levi zt”l.


When I first entered his shiur he was not [yet] involved in my personal, mundane struggles . . . yet I immediately loved my rebbe. Because his greatness and loftiness were so obvious to me, they resulted in an automatic love, so similar to the love that I must have for Hashem.

The saying “to know him is to love him” is so true. How can I explain what it means for a bochur in our generation to be in involved with a rebbe who was, so visibly, always thinking in learning - even when not sitting in front of a sefer . . . I would approach him to talk in learning. He would be squinting, gazing forward, totally in his mind with Torah, oblivious to the fact that I was standing right in front of him! It was so real, so genuine. To know him is to love the Torah!


How privileged we were to have a rebbe that wouldn’t just say a shiur for an hour and then disconnect from the bochurim. He would come to us during Seder and immerse himself in learning with us . . .


. . . Ultimately, I also loved him for the same reason I do love some of my closest friends. Although he was so great, he still connected with me on a mundane level. He was always concerned with my happiness - both material and spiritual. When it came time for shidduchim he cared for me like a father would . . .


We will attempt to emulate him, and fortify our own diligence, quest for chiddush, simcha in Torah, perhaps even his abstinence. Above all, however, we must fully devote ourselves to helping others in their growth in Torah and Avodas Hashem. This is the nefesh, the monument, the soul-force, that we set as our commemoration of our Rebbe.


Whenever I told Rebbe: “I’m an ‘All-American’ boy, what do I have to do with a life in the yeshiva world?!” He would always retort: “I was also an All-American, and so was my shverr. If we did it, so can you!”

 

 

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