By Mimi Rohr
The community of Baltimore shared our family’s shock at the sudden passing of our father, Reb Yaakov Shlomo Weinberg, z”l, on the 19th of Av, 5773. Many people contacted us in the weeks after the petira to let us know how inspired and uplifted they felt during the shiva, where they heard of our father’s allencompassing ahavas haTorah (love of Torah), his intense yiras Shamayim (fear of Heaven), and his deep love for other Yidden. We, his family, knew all of this to be true, yet it was camouflaged by his laid-back, friendly nature, his jokes and stories that put people at ease, and his comfortable personality.
Born in Cologne, Germany, in 1935, Abba and his parents, Reb Efraim and Raizel Weinberg, were zocheh to a miraculous escape five years later. With the Atlantic Ocean closed to civilian ships during the war, they traveled east, through Russia and Siberia to Japan. They then crossed the Pacific to America’s West Coast, arriving in Seattle in 1940. There, our grandparents showed tremendous mesiras nefesh (sacrifice) for Shabbos and for limud haTorah. They sent their two sons cross-country to learn in Ner Yisroel of Baltimore, from where they were only able to return home once a year. At yeshiva, Abba developed a strong bond with the mashgiach, Horav Dovid Kronglas, zt”l.
In 1963, Reb Yankel, as he was known to his friends, married Yona Zeitchik, later known throughout the world as Yona Weinberg, author of the Dov Dov series. At a time when Jewish children were being raised on Goldilocks and the Three Bears, our father encouraged our mother to use her talents for klal Yisrael; he felt that there was a big need for Jewish literature and music and that she should not be afraid to be a pioneer in this field. He himself took on the technical aspects of this enterprise, learning full time, and stepping in the role of Dov Dov Publications’ manager when necessary.
Abba was known for his deep ahavas haTorah. He wrote a sefer of two volumes on inyonei machshava, called Bais Efraim. In the years after the publication of his sefer, Abba wrote “The Torah Connection,” deep machshavos (thoughts) on the parsha, which was printed weekly. He was not afraid to address sensitive topics that others would steer clear of if he felt a proper hashkafic (religious) outlook would benefit the klal (community). These weekly divrei Torah were distributed widely via email, and in addition, he would personally stop at 14 shuls on Friday after davening, leaving 340 copies from which people could learn. We used to wonder why it took several hours for Abba to make his rounds of the shuls. It was only during shiva that we heard from several people that he would stop each week to talk in learning, discussing various points from the previous week’s issue.
A close friend once asked Abba why he didn’t write light stories that people would enjoy reading. He answered that he wanted to write Torah that was based upon machshava that all groups of people could enjoy, including those well advanced in learning.
How can one tell what makes up a person’s essence? Ish k’fi mahallulloh –
according to how others praise him. Rabbeinu Yonah suggests a different pshat (interpretation): that it is according to what the person himself praises, what makes him light up and get excited, that you can tell who a person really is. It is obvious to anyone who knew Abba that money and gashmiyus (material things) meant very little to him – except inasmuch as it could help other Yidden or contribute to avodas Hashem. He delivered a powerful lesson in chinuch (education) when his fourteen-year-old son was slacking off in his learning. Abba asked him, “How much money do you want for four blatt of Gemara – to know it well and be able to say over shakla v’tarya: one hundred dollars? Two hundred?” We children knew that there was money for what was important. And obviously, limud Torah was important.
Abba was once on a flight to Eretz Yisrael when he realized he was missing a paper upon which he had transcribed many of his divrei Torah. He was very upset and would not leave the empty plane without it. Eventually, the male steward got down on his hands and knees to search. When the steward found the missing paper, Abba kissed the non-religious Jew and said, “Do you know how important this is? This is Torah and you now have a portion in the reward of this Torah!” The steward was grinning from ear to ear.
Abba was well-known in Baltimore for the importance he placed on davening. For over 40 years, he traveled every morning to daven with a yeshiva minyan at Ner Yisroel. He was not deterred by the weather, and during blizzards, kolel avreichim would often wait at various corners along Park Heights Avenue, knowing that Rabbi Weinberg would be passing as usual and would offer them rides.
One time, on his way to the Yeshiva for Shacharis, another car banged into Abba’s. Baruch Hashem, Abba was not hurt, however his car sustained damage. Abba hopped out of his car, but instead of berating the other driver, he quickly handed the offender his contact information and informed him, “I have an important meeting to attend so I can’t wait; you can be in touch with me.” Then, without waiting for a response, he rushed back in his car to make it to minyan on time. Needless to say, the other driver never called to take responsibility for the damage he caused, but Abba’s only concern was that he had gotten to minyan on time – everything else was secondary.
Abba once planned to visit his children in Eretz Yisrael for Sukkos. The only way to come that year would be to travel before Yom Kippur. Three months before the trip, he was on the phone with his son-in-law, expressing concern over finding a minyan for selichos when he landed.
When Abba wrapped himself in his tallis to daven, the outside world did not exist for him. Those who watched him could not help but be inspired as he stood and poured out his heart to
his Father. It was just him and the Ribono shel Olam. He had his makom kavua (permanent place) facing a wall, where he could block out distractions. And when he visited his married children, he would make himself a private makom kavua there as well.
A number of years ago, one of the mispallelim in the Agudah, where Abba davened on Shabbos, changed his seat in shul as he was in aveilus, and moved near Abba. When his year of aveilus was over, he approached the Rav, Rabbi Heinemann, and asked if it would be permissible for him to remain in his new place, as he preferred continuing to daven next to Abba.
When someone approached Abba with a name of a choleh or someone who needed a yeshuah, he would write down the name and include it in his daily tefillos – but he did not stop there. He would make a note of who gave him the name and would follow up – a few weeks later, a few months later. This “name” became part of his personal life, and he made sure to remain updated.
Recently, one of his children approached him and asked him to add another name to his list, filling him in on the situation. Abba thought for a moment and then replied, “I don’t know if I should take on another name right now; each person I daven for takes so much out of me. But give me the name and I’ll daven for him right now.” He accepted the name, waited until he was alone in the room, and then spent the next quarter of an hour davening intently.
In the weeks since Abba’s petira, we have heard amazing stories and received numerous fascinating emails, which seemed to be proclaiming the fact that we had been living with a gadol (great man). Yet this was not the face that he showed to the world. Abba was an unusual blend of character. When it was not a question of right or wrong, Abba had a relaxed and easygoing personality. He was known for his
sense of humor; his jokes and stories put people at ease. Whereas many told us of their inspiration watching Abba daven, others told us how they always approached him when davening was over for a joke, a friendly word, and a smile. He was gentle and affectionate, and had a strong love for his family and for all Yidden. He was fun-loving with his children and their friends, quick with his witty lines, and he was a wonderful audience, regardless of whether he heard a joke for the first time or the tenth. People were attracted to him because he made them feel so good. And once the relationship developed, he had so much more to offer.
And yet, Abba was a kana’i. If he believed something was ratzon Hashem (the will of G-d), he would work to achieve that goal, and no obstacle could deter him. If he did not succeed, he said, that’s not up to me, that’s not my cheshbon, but I have to try to my utmost.
Abba’s love and caring for other Yidden was unusual. Often, upon hearing of someone who needed a yeshuah, such as someone searching for a shidduch, he would break down and cry for them. Whenever he heard a story of someone suffering, it affected him deeply, and he would get involved and try to help, often thinking out of the box if the typical solutions were unsuccessful.
There was an older single girl in the community for whom Abba davened for a shidduch every day for a number of years. His simcha at her chasuna was tangible. At the shiva, her husband informed us that a week before his wedding, Abba called him and said that since the final week before a wedding is often a nerve-wracking time, he would be happy to speak with him on the phone every night until the wedding. They did speak several times during that week, and the offer was greatly appreciated. Just another story no one knew about.
Every Sukkos, Abba would visit non-religious close neighbors and bring them his lulav and esrog so that they could perform this mitzva. He did this every day of Sukkos for many years.
Abba’s love for Yidden combined with his love for Torah during the time he was mashgiach in Providence, Rhode Island. He flew in every week from Baltimore and returned home for Shabbos. At the shiva, we learned how much he believed in his boys and wouldn’t give up on them. He recognized their potential, and kept up the relationship once they left yeshiva.
He pushed you to the limit – reach for the stars – but for your stars. Don’t compare yourself with anyone else. Hashem gave you kochos – and they’re yours. At the shiva, we heard again and again, “He believed in me.” “I called him Rebbe.” “He was the grandfather I didn’t have.”
Abba was a Yom Tov Yid. He anticipated Yom Tov for months beforehand, and on Yom Tov itself, he had a special
glow. He remained in the Sukkah throughout most of Sukkos and embraced every Yom Tov mitzva and minhag with excitement. As each Yom Tov drew to a close, Abba would enter his private room and close the door. And then, with his eyes closed, through singing and dancing and hisbodedus (solitude), Abba would say his own good-bye to the Yom Tov. On Purim, Abba spent hours in his room singing, dancing, and getting in touch with his pnimiyus (inner self). It was obvious that there was a strong deveikus (connection) between him and the Ribono shel Olam.
Although his passing was sudden, Abba was zocheh to have his wife and all his children around him at the time of his petira. We spoke to him, asked mechila, and sang his beloved nigunim. Our mother stood near his bed and said, “Ein od milvado. Everything Hashem does is right and for the best and in the right time. This is what Abba
would say if he could speak now.” She then bentched him with the words, “Have a lichtige (luminous) Gan Eden.”
Shema and parts of Ne’ilah were said. “Hashem Hu Ho’Elokim.” One son began Aleinu, to the Yom Kippur niggun. Abba was niftar by the words, “Va’anachnu kor’im....” Another son, realizing he would soon be an onein and not be allowed to daven Ma’ariv, began Kri’as Shema. Immediately following the words, Hashem Elokeichem Emes, Abba’s neshama returned to its Creator.
Rabbi Weinberg, z”l, is survived by his wife, Mrs. Yona Weinberg, his children, Mrs. Mimi Rohr, Rabbi Akiva Weinberg, Rabbi Boruch Weinberg, Mrs. Faigy Peritzman, Rabbi Dovid Weinberg, Mrs. Leeba Kugielsky, Rabbi Efraim Weinberg, and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, ka”h. Yehi zichro baruch.â—† This article was originally printed in the Yated Neeman newspaper.
