By Rabbi Nachman Seltzer
It was 8:30 in the morning on a hot summer’s day when I met my friend, R’ Asher for the ride we were taking to meet a very special and holy tzadik.
R’ Asher, has been a talmid of R’ Shlomo Yehudah Be’eri – known around the world as “the Yanuka,” for years. He has spent much time in his presence and when he graciously offered to introduce me to his rebbi, I was excited for the opportunity to meet the tzaddik I had heard so much about for so long.
The Yanuka is known for his connection to the Olam Haneginah and he chose to have our meeting in his music room which boasts an impressive looking keyboard in addition to the numerous bookcases filled with seforim. The main lights were off and the beautiful room was softly illuminated. Upon entering, I had the feeling that this space was very conducive to Avodas Hashem.
The Yanuka was sitting behind a majestic wooden desk, clad in Tallis and Tefillin. It didn’t take me long to see that he was a tremendous talmid chochum, since even his simple conversation is filled with references and quotes from all over Shas, Shulchan Aruch, Midrashim and Tanach. To meet a Torah scholar of such caliber is an amazing thing, but maybe even more amazing, was his incredible humility and the way that he speaks with every person he meets - as if they are his equal.
Though a few minutes of conversation with the Yanuka was sufficient for me to see what kind of a talmid chochum he was, R’ Asher backed up my initial impression with a story of his own.
“On the day that I met the Yanuka for the first time, my chaburah in the Mir got stuck on a very challenging question in Yevamos. When we were sitting together, I happened to mention the question to the Yanuka - almost in passing. Without hesitation, he cited the exact R’ Akiva Eiger that resolved the question completely.”
I asked the rav how he would sum up his derech in life.
“My derech is to put my focus towards Hashem and not on the differences between us. As members of Klal Yisroel, we have so much in common and that’s where we should be focused. Not on the outward differences, but on what binds us together on the inside.”
It was obvious that he meant every word he was saying.
I also asked the Yanuka if he could describe his seder limud to me, which had to be extensive, considering what a gaon he is.
“I start my day with a seder in Yerushalmi.”
“How many daf?”
“Anywhere between three and seven, though there are days when I do more. After that I learn Bavli. Usually between five to eight daf, though there are days when I do more. Then Tanach. Then Shulchan Aruch. Midrashim are kept for the end of the week and Kabbala is reserved for Friday and Shabbos.”
Okay, the picture was starting to come together. Though very young, the Yanuka had already gone through the entire Torah many times. His tremendous hasmada, along with an incredible memory, had created a person who was holding everywhere and had the ability to answer any question and discuss any topic.
Seven Minutes with the Yanuka
As I sat with this young Tzadik, I couldn’t help but look at his gadlus through the prism of some of the stories I had been told on the way to his shul. Having never met the Yanuka before that day, I wanted to get a picture of the man I was on my way to meet and I asked R’ Asher to tell me some stories about him.
“The first thing you have to understand,” he told me, “is that the Yanuka isn’t the kind of Tzadik who usually makes specific promises to people. In most cases he tells them to daven, to believe in Hashem and to be happy.”
“I understand.”
My friend then shared some personal stories and interactions with me.
“After I got married, I was learning in the Mir in Yerushalayim. After we had been married for a while, and were still waiting to be blessed with children, I began to visit various gedolim and mekubalim.
One day someone showed me a video of the Yanuka. He was giving over his unique blend of Torah, mussar and chizuk. I was very impressed by his demeanor and felt that I needed to meet him. I had a friend in the Mir who had a lot of connections with people who knew gedolim and he was able to help set up a meeting for me.
I remember, it was in the middle of the winter and I drove down to Rishon L’Tzion. During our meeting, he was completely focused on me – and it seemed to me as if he knew exactly why I came even before I said a word. But even though the entire conversation lasted for only seven minutes, it felt as if we were speaking for an hour.
An Eis Ratzon
Having been very moved by our initial meeting, I started attending his shiurim and going to daven at his minyan, both when he would come to Yerushalayim and at his Beis Medresh in Rishon L’Tzion. The more time I spent in his presence, the closer I felt towards him. Sometimes I asked him for a bracha, other times I went so far as to request a havtacha/promise.
“Don’t worry, be b’simcha,” he’d respond. “Be calm, everything is going to work out in the best possible way.”
By now, I knew that this was his classic style.
However, since my wife and I were feeling more and more desperate, I continued asking him to bless me for a yeshuah, and he would reply, “don’t worry, you are going to have children. Just be b’simcha.”
In 2024, when the Yanuka was visiting Yerushalayim, I joined him for Shacharis. At one point, we stepped outside and looked out over the Jerusalem skyline. Standing beneath the Jerusalem sky, he said to me in his humble and unassuming manner, ‘Asher, I feel that this is an eis ratzon. I want you to let me know the good news in two weeks’ time.
Two weeks later to the day, my wife and I found out that we were going to become parents.”
We decided to travel back to the States to have the baby, and I went to spend some time with the rav on the night before we left. He was staying in Yemin Moshe at the time and the two of us went for a walk together at two in the morning.
“Tomorrow I’m going to the sandek at a bris for someone with whom I’m very close,” he said to me.
He didn’t say any more about it, but I heard the whole story the next day, when I discovered that the father of the baby was sixty five years old and had been waiting to have a child for forty years. The doctor told him that it would be easier for him to grow hair on the palm of his hand then to have a baby. Basically, they told him to give up hope. Instead of giving up, he went to see the Yanuka for a bracha.
“Who are the doctors to tell you to give up hope,” the rav said. “Be’ezras Hashem, you are going to have a child very soon.”
Ten months later he made a bris and the Yanuka was the sandek.
It’s Only Water…
Since I spent so much time in his presence, I merited to witness many unusual things. One day a father came to the Yanuka with his son. The boy had a growth on his neck. The doctors were cautiously optimistic and the father brought him to the Yanuka for a bracha that the surgery should be successful.
The Yanuka gave the boy a bracha, and added, “I don’t think the growth on his neck is very serious. I think it’s just water.”
He then blessed him again.
The next morning the boy woke up and there was water all over his bed and the growth was gone. The father returned to Rishon L’Tzion to tell the story and thank the Yanuka for the bracha that he gave. Since I had been there when the father first came with his son, one of the gabboim was gracious enough to call me and let me know what happened.
While he does his best to help people, I have seen that the Yanuka forms his closest connections with people who want to grow in Avodas Hashem. One thing that became very clear to me from spending time around the Yanuka is that he is not in this for himself. His focus is on helping the people who come to him, without looking for anything in return.
In fact, I have seen sick visitors leave behind significant sums of money, only for him to return it and tell them to use it for their medical expenses.
Simchas Torah Morning
The Yanuka is a phenomenal talmid chochum. Many gedolim used to come to speak with him in learning when he was fifteen and sixteen years old. Eventually he went into seclusion for many years, keeping a very low profile and drawing very little attention to himself. After years of keeping to himself, he began seeing people again and today, many people come to him for eitza and brachos, and he has put out many seforim.
One of the most incredible things I saw, happened on October 7th.
I davened at his neitz minyan that Simchas Torah.
Normally when the Yanuka walks into the minyan, he nods at the various people who have come to daven with him. On that day there was no sign of his signature calm. Instead, he was clearly very disturbed about something when he finally showed up – three minutes before Yishtabach.
It was five in the morning, nothing had happened yet, but he looked completely shaken and broken.
Turning to the chazan he said, “Daven very quickly today. Do not sing anything!”
We finished Shacharis and Hallel in record time and before we started Hakafos, the rav said, “We are going to do the Hakafos as fast as we possibly can. Of course we obeyed, though nobody understood why he was acting this way. But then the sirens went off when we were in the middle of the aliyos and we started to understand that as usual he was way ahead of everyone else.
“Hashem is with us and we’re going to be okay,” he said, “but right now people need to finish davening and then go home and take care of your wives and children. Basically he knew something was happening before anything happened.”
A Rush of Love for Hashem
The ride to Rishon L’Tzion passed very quickly. I found the conversation fascinating. Listen, as many tzadikim as we have in Klal Yisroel, it’s always amazing to hear about someone who accomplished so much, at such a young age.
When parked outside the Yanuka’s shul – a simple Beis Medresh surrounded by very tall apartment buildings. The hundreds of people who had come to daven neitz with the rav had already left, and the room was almost empty. I was introduced to one of the gabboim and we struck up a conversation. I asked him if he could share a few stories with me.
“You’re looking for mofsim?”
He was smiling at me, but it was clear that he was making a point.
“Look, the rav is a big Tzadik. And yes, there have been many miracles over the years. But that is the biggest thing about him. Not by a long shot. With the Yanuka, it’s not about miracles, but about Torah and hasmada and his love for every Yid. It’s about his sweetness and his humility. That’s the real story.
I’ll give you an example of what I mean.
“One of the rav’s talmidim bought him a very expensive shirt for Rosh Hashana. But when he came to shul on Rosh Hashana, the talmid saw that he was wearing an old shirt.
“How come the rav isn’t wearing the new shirt I bought him?”
“I chose to wear this shirt,” the Yanuka explained, “because this is the shirt that I wear on the days when I have kabolas kahal and people come to see me. This shirt is soaked with the tears of Klal Yisroel - and this is the shirt that I need to wear when I’m standing before Hashem on Yom Hadin, because it will plead our case to the Master of the World. This shirt can testify to all the tzaros people are suffering and it will stand before Hashem as a defense attorney for the Jewish people.”
“Is the Yanuka your rebbi,” I asked his gabbai, who was clearly a choshuve talmid chochum in his own right.
“Yes?”
“How did you become close to him?”
“I was a Rosh Kollel here in Rishon L’Tzion for many years. I didn’t know about him for a long time, because he went out of his way to keep a low profile. One day we happened to meet and shared a conversation.
After the conversation, I suddenly felt an intense yearning to become closer with Hashem. I am a person who learned in Litvishe Yeshivos – the kinds of places where all the focus is on learning, but suddenly I began experiencing a tremendous love for Hashem. It was something that I never felt before, and I had no idea how to deal with it.
I tried to understand what was happening to me – and eventually I realized that the feelings started after I met the Yanuka. Once I figured that out, I made it my business to develop a relationship with him and to learn from his incredible wellsprings of Torah. Today the two of us are extremely close.”
The gabbai shared another heartwarming story with me.
“One Pesach we were expecting a lot of people at a shiur the Yanuka was giving outdoors in Yemin Moshe. For some reason, it ended up being a very cold night and many of the crowd hadn’t come prepared for the weather and were shivering. I called the rav and told him that he needed to wear a coat.
I said it’s very cold outside and everyone is suffering. Make sure to wear a warm coat.”
I was waiting for him outside his house, and when he emerged, I saw that he was wearing a thin garment.
“Rebbi, I told you that it’s freezing outside!”
“I don’t understand you. You want me to be warm, when everyone around me is freezing?!”
He looked at me, wanting to make sure I understood.
And I did.
It wasn’t about the miracles. It was about feeling the love for every single Yid.
The Shul near His House
A short while into our meeting, I turned the conversation to his childhood.
“I was raised in a simple Israeli home in the city of Holon,” the rav began, “but I also spent a lot of time in Spain, where my father lived in a town not far from Barcelona. My father was a special man, but also somewhat trusting, and he agreed to sign as a guarantor for a very large amount of money. It wasn’t long before he found himself on the line for a large amount of money which he was unable to pay back and was forced to go to Spain. There we had family, who could help him try and pull his life back together.
Every so often my mother would fly to Spain to visit my father. We would fly with her. This meant that ended up spending a lot of time in Spain. Sometimes my mother flew alone, and then I stayed with my Savta Naomi – who was a big tzadeikes and one of the major influences on my life.
Living such a life was filled with challenges for a young boy. I was neither here nor there – with a foot in two worlds. But this was the life that Hashem chose for me – a life where I was on my own, a life were I was forced to look after myself.”
“The rav didn’t have who to rely on – and had to raise himself?”
“Exactly.”
“Many things were hard for especially the loneliness that was very much a part of my existence.”
“I assume there was a shul near your house?”
“Yes. And people who treated me with warmth. I used to spend a lot of time in the shul – learning for hours and hours – and there were other people there as well, some of whom were tremendous talmidei chachomim. There is no question that Hashem sent me the people that I needed to meet, the people who were going to be mashpia on me. One of my rebbeim was Rav Shmuel Amrani – a Yemenite Mori – and a genuine Torah scholar. He was very wise and helped prepare me for my Bar Mitzva, teaching me the leining and whatever else I needed to know. It was R’ Shmuel who taught me Rambam, Gemara and Halacha.
Then there was Rav Chaim Tzubari – another Yemenite Mori – and the man who taught me Chumash, Tanach and hashkafa. He was a holy Tzadik and people used to refer to him as a malach. He was such a special man, that he turned part of his apartment into a neighborhood shul, opening up his home to anyone who wanted to come daven and learn.
I’ll tell you something about Mori Chaim. One day I saw that he had a cast on his feet. I asked him what happened. He told me that he fell and broke his foot. The next day, when I saw him in shul, the cast was gone.
“What happened to the cast?”
“Last night I was in my room when an old man suddenly appeared. He touched my foot and disappeared. When I got up in the morning, my foot had been healed.”
In essence, the shul was my yeshiva and Mori Shmuel and Mori Chaim, were my Roshei Yeshiva. It was the place I went to every day after school, the place I spent every free minute that I had. I would sit and learn next to them. I could ask them any question I had and they always knew the answer.
“Did the rav speak to them about inyanei Kabala?”
“Not with them.”
The Rav’s New Sefer – Derech Eitz Hachaim
“In life, many times we think that we understand what path is best for us,” the Yanuka said. “But then Hashem takes us down a completely different path – one which we would never have imagined – and that becomes the path of our life. It is very possible that had I gone through the regular yeshiva system, I might have never become the person I am today. But Hashem sent me down a different path, with different experiences, and that helped me develop into the person I became.
“How would the rav describe his teaching approach?”
“I try to give my talmidim tangible lessons from all over Torah – lessons, which they can then apply to their own lives. Another thing that is very important to me, is to show Klal Yisroel that every part of Torah is literally relatable to us today – and that’s the case, even though it was given to us thousands of years ago.”
“The rav has already published ten seforim, and now he has just released his sefer Derech Eitz Chaim in English.”
“Correct.”
“What’s the theme of this sefer?”
“To take Torah inyanim which are relatively complicated, and to explain them using commentators like the Rambam, the Meiri, the Seforno and the Ibn Ezra. I do not explain anything with my intellect alone. My explanations are always based on the words of someone great from the past. In a sense, I am explaining the Torah while standing on the shoulders of giants. It is their words and ideas - as seen through my eyes.
When a person learns this sefer, he will understand how he can connect with Hashem from the place where he is currently at in life. He will also comprehend Torah concepts which people generally do not grasp. Most important, he will understand what Hashem wants from us and what is the tachlis of life. It is very important to me that the Torah doesn’t remain up in the air – but rather that it is down to the ground so that every Jew can gain genuine clarity in concepts which they once imagined were out of their league. This allows them to taste the incredible sweetness that’s inherent in Torah, but which can only be experienced when a person truly understands what he’s learning.
Every one of us possess tremendous kochos within ourselves. At the same time, there is always risk of using our kochos in the wrong way. Yaakov and Esav both came out of Rivka. Rabeinu Manoach writes that in every Jew, there’s the ability to become a Mordechai or l’havdil, a Haman. It is our job to find the Yaakov and the Mordechai within ourselves — and one of the goals of the Torah that I teach, is to give people the tools to choose the right path — no simple matter in a time like ours — and to connect to Hashem and the Torah from a place of love and clarity.
Daas Torah
“The rav mentions the idea of Daas Torah a lot. What does he mean by that?”
“Daas Torah means that whatever advice a rav or gadol gives a person coming to them, should be based on a Torah source, and not just based on their feelings. A gadol can base their Daas Torah on a piece of Gemara, a Medresh or on a story from Chazal, but there should always be a source. If you open my seforim, you won’t find anything written that isn’t based on a solid Torah source, be it Yerushalmi, Zohar or Shulchan Aruch.”
A Walk Through the Dunes
“How does the rav harness the power of music in his Avodas Hashem?”
“Music is an amazing thing, because it allows a person to disengage from the noise of the world. The world is full of so much noise, and arguments and hate and bad midos. When I compose nigunim, my goal is to help the listener to disengage from all the noise around him and to reconnect with himself and with Hashem. Everyone has so much inside themselves, but sometimes we need something to help us rediscover how much we have to offer.”
“When the rav discover that he possessed musical talent?”
“I began playing music after my Bar Mitzvah, when my father bought me a keyboard. Later on I bought a real piano, and I spent a lot of time creating original music.”
“The rav had a hard life, a solitary life. It sounds to me like playing music was a way for the rav to deal with all the loneliness.”
“One hundred percent. Music was a lifesaver for me.”
“Does the rav remember when he composed his first song?”
“Yes. It was called ‘Lev Tahor.’”
“What was the inspiration for the song?”
“I was fifteen years old, it was after Chanuka, and I wanted to go to the mikveh. It was a twenty five minute walk from my shul to the mikveh — through the sand dunes of a nearby nature reserve. When I got to the mikveh, it was locked. I comforted myself with the thought that when a person tries to do a mitzvah, they receive reward as if they did it. And then a new version of ‘Lev Tahor’ suddenly came into my mind and I sang the song over and over and over, as I walked back through the dunes to my shul.”
“Is ‘Lev Tahor’ the rav’s favorite song?”
“Today I have songs that I like more. For example, I composed a musical piece which I called ‘Li’vad Baderech’ - alone on the way, dealing with the feeling people sometimes get that they are alone in the world, without anyone to rely on other than Hashem.
You have to understand — for much of my early life I felt like I was alone in the world. The fact that people know about me today is only because Hashem made it happen. I had no connections or way to get my name out in the world.”
They Called Him the Yanuka
“So how did it happen?”
“There was a Jew named Yehuda who davened in my shul in Holon and he took the time to get to know me. It was Yehuda who grasped that I have a certain abilities and wasn’t just a regular fifteen year old kid. He told people that they should ask me for advice when they had questions. Of course, in the beginning people thought this was strange, because I was so young. But one day a couple came to the shul in Holon. They wanted a bracha for children from a rav who used to spend time in the shul.
“Go ask that bochur for a bracha,” he told them, directing them to me.
“It must have been very strange for them when he told them to get a bracha from a fifteen year old.”
“Probably.”
“So they came to you?”
“Yes, I even remember what I was learning at the time. When I was speaking with them, I suddenly got this feeling that the husband was sick with the machala. I told him to go for tests, which he did, and he found out that he was sick. Boruch Hashem, the husband got better and they ended up having a child.
People weren’t sure how to deal with this.
I understand them.
I mean, I was just a young teenager - there’s no question that the whole situation was very unusual.
But a few more people came to me, and then a few more, and somehow, I understood their essence and was able to tell them things about themselves - and they felt that I “got” them and was able to help them.”
“And talmidei chachomim also came to speak with to the rav in learning?”
“Yes.”
“And they were impressed?”
“That’s what they say.”
“And then they started calling you the Yanuka?”
“Yes, the name came from the people in my shul.”
“You must have found it very interesting and inspiring, that you, the lonely child making his way through the sand dunes to the mikveh, was now being sought after for advice and brachos.”
“You want to know how I felt? I felt guilty.”
“What do you mean?”
“Every time another person came to me with a problem, I felt like it was a personal message from Hashem, telling me that if I davened and learned better, then these things wouldn’t be happening. I felt as if Hashem was telling me that He expected me to work on my Avodas Hashem.”
“That’s an unusual reaction. Most people would have felt proud that Hashem had chosen them to help Klal Yisroel, but you felt guilty instead.”
“That’s how I felt. And not only was I worried about my responsibility for the people coming to me, but for a while, I couldn’t stop thinking about death and how nobody knows much time they have in this world.”
“Why was a teenager focused on death?”
“Because of my father’s mother, the tzadeikis, Savta Naomi.”
Savta Naomi
“My grandmother was a very holy woman. I was called after her husband, Shlomo, and even though I have two names, Shlomo Yehuda, she would only use the first. She loved me very much and showed it in numerous ways. She would buy me aliyos and other kibudim in shul on a regular basis and our connection was very deep. When she passed away, I felt a tremendous emptiness inside me, as if a very important part of me had gone missing. I used to eat meals at her home, and spend a lot of time talking to her. Suddenly she was gone and the sense of loneliness I had been dealing with my whole life intensified overnight.
She was such a tzadeikis that nobody ever saw even one strand of her hair.
When I came to the hospital to saw goodbye to her at the end of her, I found her sitting up in bed.
“Why don’t you help her lie down,” I asked the medical staff.
“She refuses to lie down. She said that if she lies down, some of her hair may come out from under her tichel and she doesn’t want to take that risk.”
My grandmother suffered a lot. At least five of her children passed away in her life and I remember watching her at the cemetery when one of my aunts passed away.
Savta Naomi stood beside the kever of her daughter.
She didn’t cry.
Instead, my grandmother began praising the Ribono Shel Oilam with every fiber of her being.
There was no questioning Hashem. Ever.
“All His ways are just,” she cried out. “May His name be blessed forever and ever!”
While she was doing this, the entire crowd fell silent, and I heard the person beside me whisper, “I never saw a person with more Yiras Shomayim in my life!!!”
When she finished, she told the Chevra Kadisha to place her daughter’s body into the grave.
It was after my aunt’s burial that I began experiencing thoughts of death on a regular basis. I wondered who was going to die next and I was very scared that my parents were going to pass away. I began going to daven at the grave of my grandfather. When my grandmother passed away two years later, I began visiting her grave as well. I even laid down on the stone slab where the Chevra Kadisha places the body during the levaya. I lied on the slab, closed my eyes, and tried to picture what it felt like to die.
I suffered from the trauma of close people passing away—and for a while, I wasn’t sure if the thoughts and fears were ever going to go away. But then, one day, I visited the kever of Shmuel Hanavi and I utilized that opportunity to daven to Hashem and to beg Him to please heal my fears.
“People are coming to me for eitza and bracha,” I said to Hashem. “They tell me their problems and their tzaros. They beg me to come to the hospital and daven next to their sick relatives. How can I help them if I am constantly filled with fears every-time I hear that someone passed away or if someone is sick? I need You to heal me!!”
Hashem did as I asked. After that day at Shmuel Hanavi my fears disappeared and I stopped obsessing over what had been a terrible fear of death. Instead, I was able to use the idea that every person on earth has a limited amount, to remind myself to fulfill my potential and to remain loyal to Hashem, because the day will come when I will be summoned to His side.
But now I wasn’t afraid. It was just a reminder to get things right.
Another Challenge
And then something else happened.
My father began suffering all sorts of health emergencies. Time after time we thought that he was not going to recover, and time after time, there was a miracle.
Throughout my life, I never had enough time with my father. Most of the time he was working in Spain, while I was living in Holon. And even when I went to visit him in Spain, he was usually too busy to spend a lot of time with me.
One of the highlights of my life, was when he came to Eretz Yisroel for my Bar Mitzva and the two of us spent an entire day together, traveling around the north and visiting various Kivrei Tzadikim. We went to Rabi Shimon Bar Yochai in Meron and to the kever of Rabi Meir Baal Haness in Teveria and even to the Ari Hakadosh in Tzfas. My father bought me pizza and ice cream and we ate together – and because that was the only time we went on such a trip, it became one of my fondest memories of all time.
Since we barely had the opportunity to spend time together, when my father was killed in a car accident, my grief was so intense, because his passing meant that we would never have the chance to spend more time together.
I’ll never forget the call telling me that he had been killed.
And how I thought to myself, “I didn’t even have the chance to tell him goodbye. Or to say “Abba, I love you.”
The funeral took place on an Erev Shabbos. It was very quick.
I stood beside his grave and I said, “Yehi sheim Hashem mivorach...”
I praised Hashem, just like my Savta Naomi did before they buried my aunt. I cried during kaddish, but later I took solace in the idea that Hashem is “Avi Yesomim,” the father of orphans – which meant that while I had lost my physical father, I had been blessed with the greatest father in the world! Ironically, my father’s passing, made me feel Hashem’s presence in my life to a much greater degree.
My friends, my father was taken from me eleven years ago and I think that part of me is still in shock from the tragedy. Sometimes, it seems to me, that I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that my father is no longer here.
I still think about him a lot. I think about how much he loved me and how much I loved him. I think about how much he wanted to spend time with me and how it didn’t work out. What can I say? That chapter of my life didn’t have a happy ending.”
Itcha Ani - I Am with You
“If the rav was able to meet any Tzadik from the past, who would he choose to spend that time with?”
“That’s a great question. Everyone!”
“But if you had to choose one person, who would it be?”
“Are you including tzadikim from the days of the neviim?”
“Yes.”
“I would want to meet with Shaul Hamelech and Dovid Hamelech and Shimshon Hagibur and Shmuel Hanavi. But I would probably have to go with Shaul Hamelech.”
“Why him?”
“Shaul was our first king. He was a very great man. But at the end of his life, Shmuel Hanavi came to him and informed him that he and his sons were going to be killed the next day during battle. Virtually every person in the world, upon learning that they were going to be killed the next day, would take their kids, take some food, get on their horse, and go as far away as possible. Not only that, Hashem told Shaul that his kingdom was going to be given to Dovid — the person he thought was his worst enemy! Not only was his getting killed, but Hashem was giving his melucha to Dovid! Yet he didn’t complain and he didn’t doubt Hashem. Instead, he went to war and got killed, just like Shmuel Hanavi said he would.”
If you think about it, it’s almost as if Shaul is saying to Hashem, “I see that right now, You, Hashem, are choosing someone else, that You are not with me. But despite all this, I am with You. I am with You, no matter what!!!”
I am so moved by Shaul Hamelech and what he did, that I even composed a piece of music about this, which I called, “Ani Itcha,” — I am with You.”
For that reason, if I had to choose one Tzadik from the past, it would be Shaul Hamelech.”
Letters Under the Aron Kodesh
“In addition to all the visitors who come to daven with the rav and to ask him for eitza and bracha, I understand that many people send the rav letters too.”
“That’s correct. People send letters from all over the world.”
“What does the rav do with them?”
“I keep every single one.”
“Where?”
“Beneath the Aron Kodesh here in the shul.”
“Why there?”
“To arouse Hashem’s rachamim to all those in need of help and assistance. And on Rosh Hashana, I daven with the plastic table that I use when people come here for kabolas kahal. This is the table that hears the problems of all the people who come to me — and this is the table I use on Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur and Hoshana Raba. The table that hears everything. That’s the table that I use to daven to Hashem on the holiest days of the year.”
The Yanuka’s Dream
“What’s the rav’s dream?”
“That the geulah will come.”
“And how is that going to happen? Everyone wants to know.”
“We’re in golus because we’re not united. The moment we look at ourselves as one entity, everything will change.”
“That’s very nice, but our biggest problem is the fact that there is so much fighting within our camp.”
“The gemara tells us that sinas chinam caused the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash — which means, that we were the ones who caused the destruction — not our enemies. And this still exists now.”
“So what do we do about it?”
“Sinah stems from the fact that every person tends to think of themselves as the keepers of the truth — and that the other people don’t know what they are talking about. But who says the truth is by us? Maybe the other person is more correct then we are! It is very hard for us to know if the truth is by us. And if a person reaches the states where they know that they possess the truth — it is better that they should be quiet about it and keep that knowledge to themselves. So the solution to the fighting between ourselves, is for us to keep quiet and to try and find the maalos in everyone we meet.”
Bring His Torah into Your Home
The amazing world which has been described in this piece, is available to every reader who chooses to tap into the Yanuka’s words. It’s all there in his newest sefer — the hasmada, the endless breath and depth, the ability to take apart a sugya with a single source, the Daas Torah rooted in rishonim rather than feelings.
The best part, is that the new sefer, Derech Eitz Chaim, is now available in English, which makes it even easier to appreciate the Yenuka’s clear approach and tremendous bekious, and to start incorporating it into your own learning. So pick up a copy at your local Judaica store or order one directly at www.hayanuka.org.