Shedding a tear following the passing of the genius chassid, Rabbi Yitzchak Rosmarin z”l
By: Rabbi Zvi Skulsky, CEO Ganzach Kiddush Hashem
Many times, I have tried to trace the secret of the magic of the wonderful chassid, Rabbi Itche (Yitzchak) Rosmarin z”l. From the dawn of my childhood, when we lived next door to him, I would observe the man and his actions and would say to myself: Here is the rare “strain” that the Nazi tyrants tried to exterminate but failed.
Rabbi Itche was a remnant of the old generation, of the kind that filled the towns of Poland before the destruction, and the feeling in my heart was always that Rabbi Itche and his friends, survivors of the destruction in whose presence you rejoiced, were left over for us by G-d so that we might know what a chassid could look like.
Day and night we would hear the sound of the Torah emanating from his house. The Torah was his pastime, and whenever I entered his house he was sitting over a large Gemara, pouring over the Torah and delighting in it.
Later, when Rabbi Itche agreed to tell Ganzach Kiddush Hashem’s testimony project some of what he experienced, we stood there in awe at all the hardship that befell this happy and cheerful man, a bitter and prolonged hardship that not only did not damage his faith, not even a single iota, but rather strengthened it and added layers of realizations, exaltation, and transcendence.
When Rabbi Itche recounted his experiences, you could imagine that he was talking about another person; some figure from the depths of distant history. He would not sigh nor frown. He would recount his memories with a smile and spice up his words with positive sayings and the deeds of the righteous.
Rabbi Itche never complained. A pure and virtuous faith pulsed in him, which he passed on to his many disciples who followed him and thirstily drank in his words.
Pure of Heart
His conversation with us, a group of twenty people, two years ago, flashed before my eyes and amazes me again, for the umpteenth time. He didn’t talk much about the suffering he experienced, but after I begged him, and explained to him that we were thirsty to hear and that there was something here to pass on to future generations, so that they would know. He agreed to come to a “Zitz” (gathering) with the avrechim (adult yeshiva students) from a Beit Midrash (study hall) in Jerusalem, during Bein HaMetzarim (the 3 weeks between the fast days of the Shiva Asar B’Tammuz and Tisha B’Av), at the home of the rabbi, Rabbi Yisrael Berliner.
His words shook us. He described concepts of hunger and grief that were unimaginable. He told how they would fall on their beds from hunger, powerless, and about his dear grandmother who died next to him in her bed, from hunger, in those days of evil, and he himself was a tender boy, not knowing what the day would bring…
We then reflected on how this pure man gathered strength to recover from this difficult period, and to begin a new life full of splendour, a life full of Torah, chassidism, joy, kindness, and giving.
I will never forget when my father, Rabbi Noteh Noach z”l, was sick and bedridden. For many years, Rabbi Itche would come to visit him whenever he could, certainly on Shabbat and holidays, and on days when there were no yeshiva studies. After my father’s passing, he would come to comfort the widow and shower her home with joy and comfort. On every holiday and occasion, he would come in, express interest and participated, gave strength and encouragement…
Rabbi Itche was a true chassid, pure of heart and pure as snow. A year ago, I suggested to him that he meet with a respected, stately figure. That man personally requested to initiate the meeting, which entailed much honour and respect. He wanted to meet the Holocaust survivor, the son-in-law of the renowned genius Rabbi Yaakov Chanoch Senkevitch z”l, who had grown up and become a revered rabbi in the Sfat Emet yeshiva. When Rabbi Itche heard the idea, he firmly refused, saying:
“Didn’t you know that I am the shofar blower of the Gerrer Rebbe…” (meaning, “how can I meet a ‘stately’ personality of this kind…”)
This is the Will of G-d!
Intense longings are already hitting us for this illuminating figure; blessed is the eye that saw him sitting in the Beit Midrash in his old age, absorbed in Torah, and delighting in the words of Torah and chassidism. The grandchildren of the Rebbe (of Gur) z”l would study books of chassidism with him as partners on Shabbat, during breaks, with warmth, and with the enthusiasm of a holy fire.
I remember, when I was young, I asked him about an incident that amazed us, and I asked him, as a veteran chassid, to explain it. It was when the late Rebbe, the Lev Simcha, visited a dentist on the eve of Passover, and after he left on his way to Rabbi Nachum Elbaum’s car, the Rebbe smiled broadly at the doctor (Dr. Rosenberg of Bar Giora Street). I asked Rabbi Itche what the doctor said that earned him such a smile, and he replied: The Rebbe asked the doctor, who was already old, how he managed to keep himself healthy and fit, to the point where he could still serve his patients even at such an advanced age, and the doctor replied that he made sure to walk in the morning and eat certain foods, etc. To which the Rebbe replied: “Un der Aibishter get tzu yoren” (and the Almighty, for his part, gives years…). I remember the uplifting conversation we had because of that story, and from the mouth of Rabbi Itche:
Everything is in G-d’s hands! I remember from the days of the war, I did not know where I would go and what I would do, but I knew there was a G-d!
And these were his words when I came to comfort him, in Ashdod, as he sat in the Valley of Tears over the passing of his only son: “This is the will of G-d!” He frequently accepted the will of G-d with faith and joy, and this he radiated to those around him at every opportunity.
Bar Mitzvah during the War
After his passing, we, the staff of the Ganzach Kiddush Hashem, sat down and listened to his conversation with us several years ago.
This was a thrilling conversation, one of several that we have in the archive, which he conveyed with sweetness and with gentle humility, that in real time not everyone understood what amazing messages were embedded in his pure words. Thank G-d, his words were recorded and documented, and now we can observe them and shape our lives around them.
Here are some of his words to Ganzach Kiddush Hashem:
At the end of the war, I reached the age of thirteen, the age of obligation for the mitzvot (commandments). I wanted to say “Leshem Yichud” before putting on tefillin (phylacteries), but I didn’t have a prayerbook. I knew the prayers by heart since my grandmother z”l, my father z”l’s mother, would bring me a few gruszen so that I could memorize (parts of the prayer). But I didn’t know “Leshem Yichud”.
One woman was there, and she had a Korban Mincha prayerbook.
I wanted her to lend me the prayerbook, but she refused. The prayerbook was her companion and had all her documents attached to it. After much pleading, she agreed to give me the prayerbook for two days.
And in those two days I memorized the “Leshem Yechud” by heart.
My bar mitzvah was on Sunday. Who was at my bar mitzvah? There were no people at my bar mitzvah, which I had never celebrated before… But tens of thousands of guests participated in my happy day. Tens of thousands of ministering angels who hovered above me and looked at me with love.
That Sunday I went to the market, to help someone with the packages and earned a few pennies from it. With that money I bought bread.
That day I also worked for the army, cutting apples. They would dry the fruit in the sun and send it to Russia.
That morning, Sunday, when I entered the yoke of Torah and mitzvot, I got up early, put on tefillin, said “Leshem Yichud”!
I wish I had put on tefillin today like I did then, that day, at the end of the war, when I put on my father’s tefillin for the first time in my life.
I knew nothing. I knew nothing except what my uncle Rabbi Yechezkel (Chazkel) taught me. He taught me the parsha (Torah portion) of the Exodus. And I repeated that hundreds of times, and I knew that parsha by heart. He also taught me the parsha of receiving the Torah, and the journey from Refidim, etc.
I quietly put on the tefillin. No one was allowed to see my actions.
I didn’t know what tefillin were, I only knew that G-d had commanded me to put on this cube!
I knew that there is a G-d, imagine how I joyfully put on my tefillin!
(And I am sure that) hundreds of thousands of ministering angels were my guests on the day of my joy, and rejoiced with me. They looked on in amazement, how a child, in Russia, had no tefillin (of his own), had nothing, and with what joy he put on tefillin…
We will always miss Rabbi Itche and what his personality expressed; we will forever remember his shining figure, his kind eyes, and his pure and innocent heart, which overflowed with joy and kindness.
Rabbi Itche conversing with the staff of Ganzach Kiddush Hashem
