One of the great men of Israel has passed away. The recent death of Rabbi Berel Wein, who stood out in this generation, in several generations, and perhaps for all generations, has left a void that may never be filled.
Rabbi Wein was the most driven, productive, and prolific person I have ever known. A master of media, he reached for and raised up millions of people throughout his 91 years via his books, videos, movies, speeches, and sermons. His was an indefatigable and persistent personality, producing profound words of wisdom almost until the moment he died. He did not give up until his very last breath.
I heard Rabbi Wein give his last Shavuot class just a few weeks ago. Unable to read from any notes, since he had lost his eyesight, he spoke from memory for over an hour and thrilled the audience.
Rabbi Wein utilized every means at society’s disposal to spread a message of Torah, morality, justice, and peace. He was perhaps best known for his unparalleled command of Jewish history.
The Jewish historian
In 1986, he embarked on a mission “to resurrect the dying narrative” of Jewish history, and he succeeded, perhaps beyond his own dreams.
His tapes on every facet of our history were required listening in almost every Jewish home. In his easy to understand, characteristically droll Midwest drawl (my wife, Susie, could imitate him perfectly, and he laughed whenever she did), the rabbi helped us understand where we came from; how we got to where we are now; and where we should be going in the future.
His 1,000-plus tapes have sold more than a million copies.
“History is our rearview mirror,” Rabbi Wein wrote. “Pull out without looking, and you’re blindsided, especially by the car you didn’t see.
“The Jewish story is over 3,700 years old, and each of us is a part of it. We aren’t facing a single problem today that we haven’t faced before. And if we study the past and learn its lessons, we’ll be in a much better position to pull out toward our shared future.”
Touro University’s Henry Abramson, one of the Jewish world’s leading historians, considered Wein his role model and was mesmerized by the rabbi’s oratorical skill. “He could be dramatic, funny, and poignant, all at the very same time,” eulogized Abramson.
Rabbi Wein was a filmmaker. His movies and videos centered on great Jewish personalities, such as Rashi and Abarbanel. He made rabbinic giants and hassidic rebbes jump off the page as he brought towering spiritual figures to life. He was a prolific author; his many books – including Faith and Fate, The Story of the Jewish People, and Triumph of Survival: the Story of the Jews in the Modern Era – are bestsellers that educated a nation.
Rabbi Wein's journey
He grew up in Chicago and received rabbinical ordination from Skokie’s Hebrew Theological College. He also attained a law degree and practiced law in Chicago for several years before going full tilt into the rabbinate. Wein served as spiritual leader of congregations in Miami Beach and Suffern (Monsey), New York, and was rosh yeshiva of Shaarei Torah in Rockland.
He moved to Israel in 1997 and, as I was a fellow Chicagoan and musmach of the same yeshiva, he took me under his wing. He was my go-to rabbi for difficult halachic questions, and I brought him to speak in Ra’anana numerous times. The highlight of those evenings was when Susie and I would go out to dinner afterward with the rabbi and his wife, Jackie. We would discuss life in Israel, and he would always leave us with an inspirational, optimistic message.
Shortly after our son Ari fell in battle, I was privileged to be the guest speaker at the end-of-year closing banquet of Rabbi Wein’s Destiny Foundation. I spoke about the difference between fate and destiny.
Fate is where God chooses to place each one of us; we have no control over who our parents are, what generation we are born into, or whether we are rich or poor, healthy or sick. Destiny, however, is what we choose to do with that fate, what we make of our lives with the tools we are given. Rabbi Wein epitomized the ability to fully actualize one’s potential.
The crossover rabbi
What I found most striking and groundbreaking about Rabbi Wein was his ability to be what is known musically as a “crossover.” He lived in two worlds simultaneously. He was deeply steeped in all fields of rabbinic knowledge, with an impeccable pedigree – his grandfather Chaim Zvi Rubenstein was a rosh yeshiva at the Hebrew Theological College – but he also lived within modern society and chose to embrace it rather than escape from it.
He loved music, art, and sports. When our beloved Chicago Cubs finally broke a drought of 108 years and won the 2016 World Series, Wein famously proclaimed, “Could there be any clearer sign that Moshiach is at our doorstep!?”
He was an unabashed Zionist who loved the State of Israel and believed it was the fulfillment of prophetic promises, the greatest opportunity we will ever have to bring the final Redemption. He could comment on political topics as well as the toughest Tosfot. In short, he sought knowledge and embraced it wherever he found it.
This unique duality of Rabbi Wein allowed him to live in two realities, and he was invited to speak both at the most haredi (ultra-Orthodox) of convocations and at the most liberal assemblies.
This rare, all-embracing quality of his is exactly what our people sorely lack and need today. We are so insanely polarized that we are immediately judged – and either accepted or rejected – by the headgear we wear, the community in which we live, the politicians for whom we vote, and even the music to which we listen.
There is no common language (literally), no unprejudiced love, no bridge that automatically connects us to one another.
Rabbi Wein was that unique bridge, and his absence is palpable.
A storyteller
He was a great storyteller, and he always ended his lectures with a story.
One of his favorites began with him sitting on a plane as he traveled to give a speech. The organization responsible for inviting him had purchased the rabbi a first-class seat, and he found himself sitting next to a businessman whose company had bought him a seat in the same section. At some point, Rabbi Wein took out a Gemara and began to study. His neighbor looked at him and asked, “What kind of book is that?” When Rabbi Wein explained that it was a book of timeless Jewish law, the man shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t believe in religion; it’s out of place in the modern world.”
Rabbi Wein did not reply.
Some time later, the steward brought Rabbi Wein his kosher meal, and the man looked askance at it. “What’s the difference what you eat, as long as it’s tasty?” he asked, slightly scornfully. “Does your book also determine your diet?” And then he added, “I find the way you people dress and the foreign expressions you use a bit off-putting. The bottom line is, you and I have nothing at all in common.”
Rabbi Wein looked at the man and said, “That’s not true. There is something we have in common.”
“And what is that?” asked his neighbor.
Replied Rabbi Wein, “Neither one of us paid for this seat.”
Wein set the bar high. His multi-dimensional life challenges us to indeed strive to have something in common with the values of this most uncommon rabbi, who studied, taught, lived, and breathed knowledge, Jewish and secular; who lived each and every day to its fullest.
To “sit in his seat” would indeed be a very worthy achievement. May his soul be bound in eternal life.