Remembering Rav Aharon Walkin zt”l (Hour 1): Tributes to His Torah, Chesed, and Ahavas Yisrael

Transcript

This Torah class is brought to you by TorahAnytime.com. It is my privilege to have been asked to say a few words about Rav Aaron Walkin zatzal. My wife and I spent our time between homes in Houston and Lakewood. Rav Walkin was not only the rav of our Lakewood shul, Beis Aaron, but he was also our dear friend. I first met the rav when he opened his shul over ten years ago. I was impressed with his enthusiasm, excitement, love of his fellow Yid, and hope for the future of his vibrant kehillah. The rav reiterated to me on several occasions that the life goals of a Yid are kavod haTorah. And kavod Shem Shamayim. Everything the Rav did was with these goals in mind, and to create a Kiddush Hashem. The Rav always stressed that a Yid has to live b'simcha. It isn't always easy, but the Rav stressed that we all have to make every effort to do so. His ever-present smile reflected the neshama committed to doing everything b'simcha. The Rav would cry as he davened for Yidden that were ill. On one occasion on Shabbos, when he was saying the Mi Sheberach for Cholim, I went over to him as he was davening, tears streaming down his cheeks, and I asked him if he was okay. He answered me that all the cholim were like his family, and how can he not cry? He felt the responsibility to do as much as he could to daven for those suffering. The pasuk in Parshas Vayeira describes Avraham Avinu and Sarah Imenu as זקנים באים בימים. They were elderly when they were informed that they would have a child. So זקנים we understand, but why add באים בימים? The Zohar explains that each day of a person's life carries its own challenges and goals. What you are supposed to accomplish today, you shouldn't postpone until tomorrow, because tomorrow has its own agenda and tasks. People go through their lives with much time wasted, but great people such as Avraham and Sarah used their time effectively and properly. Rav Aharon Walkin, like Avraham and Sarah, was בא בימים. He never wasted his time. His children tell me that he never seemed to sleep at night. The Rav would be awake many hours every night learning and writing and davening for those who needed yeshuas and rachmei shamayim. He worked tirelessly and continuously for his kehilla, his yeshiva, and Klal Yisrael. About ten years ago, our family completed a Sefer Torah and had a hachnasas Sefer Torah to Beis Aaron. The Rav asked that there be many flags for the children. He was adamant about this. He came to the hachnasas Torah with a small Torah that had survived the furbin of Europe and was in the possession of his zeide, Rav Shmuel David Wolkins, zatzal. The Rav wrote in a letter to me, he said, I believe that he, referring to his zeide, carried this Sefer Torah with him everywhere with pride, as a statement, a declaration that we survived the Holocaust. Klal Yisrael will survive. Ich bin a Yid. The Rav told me that having flags at a hachnasas Sefer Torah was a well-known custom. He told me that in Sefer Matamim, quoted in Netaig Avriel, that flags are waved after combat as a sign of victory. A victory over who? the Rav answered.

And I quote, And so we proclaim victory at our Hachnasas Sefer Torah by surrounding the new Torah with flags of victory, victory over the oppression and persecution of the nations whose goal is to annihilate us and our Torah. The Rav was passionate about what he believed in. Rav Wolkin was a bridge between the Gedolim of Europe before the war and those of America and Israel after the Churban. He was proud of his ancestors and often quoted them in his drashos. He perpetuated their ideals and mesorah. I would often visit the Rav in his home. We discussed various subjects, including building a community and trying to unify diverse elements in a kehillah. We talked about the need for a comprehensive halachic approach to medical ethics based on a knowledge of the underlying science. The Rav had a keen interest in this and was looking forward to learning more and getting more involved with this aspect of halacha. Whenever I would return to Lakewood after a hiatus of several weeks, the Rav would greet me with, Shalom Aleichem, we missed you. I thought I was unique until I realized he treated everyone in a similar, sincere, personal, and heartfelt manner. When the mageifah was ravaging through Lakewood in the spring, the Rav would call almost nightly to see how we were. He did so to many others in the community as well. His family members became ill, and the Rav didn't call me for several days. I was concerned, so I called him. The Rav answered the phone and said that he wasn't well and was on his way to the hospital. He told me that he couldn't talk right now, but we'll talk later. And he repeated, We'll talk later. Unfortunately, he was nifter several minutes after that phone call. The Rav has taught many talmidim and influenced countless others who now remember him with respect and admiration. The greatest legacy that a person leaves over in this world is one's family. The Rebbetzin played a major role in the Rav's success. His learning was paramount for her, and she took great pride in the Rav being such a great talmid chacham. The Rav's accomplishments are due in large part to the Rebbetzin. The Rav was very proud of his children. They follow in their father's footsteps in Ahavas Yisrael and kibud haTorah. Be'ezras Hashem, they will perpetuate the Rav's ideals for many future generations. Rav Wolkin has left a tremendous void in our community. His presence permeates every corner of the shul and beis medrash. It's an eerie feeling to realize that he is no longer with us, but you can still feel his presence. I still see him davening for the oilam with an intensity and fervor rarely seen. I remember him crying with joy while holding his lulav and esrog, and his excitement during many other Yom Tovs in the shul. The Rav is greatly missed. Yehi zichro baruch. We're here just to share some feelings about Rav Wolkin, zatzal, that I was privileged to become very close to. Only actually before years that we had our, you know, friendship, moved into the neighborhood, but actually got pretty close to Reb Wolken. I think the one thing to say is that there were so many things. It's so unusual for an individual to be so all-encompassing. He exceeded, and he exceeded in all of them, whether it was Torah in general, in halacha, his shimush. He had so many years of experience in shimush halacha with many big people, with my Rebbe, Reb Dovid, zatzal, with Reb Elsky, zatzal. Reb Moshe also had his shaychus to Reb Buvein. So, so many people, so much shimush and so much details, and so broad in so many facets of halacha. It's amazing. And that's only one aspect. We all know his ahavas Yisrael was beyond. It was something extraordinary. And not always do these, all these components mix together, but by him it did. He had an unusual combination of so many mailos, of such a kolboi. I was thinking, gavra rabba.

So what that means, maybe Rabbein, so many different areas. Interesting interpretation of Gaverabba. We all know his kiruv, to be able to be mekarev all ages, all levels, have to get close to those people in all ages and all levels, and from all factions of the klal. Amazing, really amazing. And, on a simple but a giant sense, he was an unbelievably good friend. I hope it humbles me to say that, to be able to be his good friend, because he was such a Gaverabba. But we did, we became very good close friends. He was able—whoever was close to him, and that was many, many, all felt that he was their closest friend. That in itself is a tremendous feat. We all know his yiras Shamayim was tremendous, but on the other— but he was very normal. He could relate to anyone, and you wouldn't, you know, think his yiras Shamayim was making you feel self-conscious. He was a real yiras Shamayim, but he was very, very normal. Maybe that goes together with another quality he had: simchas hachayim. His tremendous simchas hachayim. We in the shul, of course, we saw it every day, whether it was on a Shabbos, on a weekday, on a Yom Tov, on a Simchas Torah, on a Purim, even sort of on a Tisha B'Av, when he would show his, you know, his breakdance and explaining and understanding what it meant, the churban, and what it meant to feel for under Yid. And, of course, maybe that's one of the biggest, his lev tov. To say he had a heart of gold is a tremendous understatement. He mamash, for everyone, he would literally cry for people, for cholim, for people who had a tzarah. He would literally cry for them, mamash, whether you could saw the sincerity. His choleh book, which we still have, is full of stories and of names written. He was just, it was unbelievable. I think that's the amazing thing about Rabbi Walkin, is that so many things. He was so many things, all in one gavra, one person. All these tremendous, beautiful qualities of a real, real ben Torah in the true sense of the word, all-encompassing, in his action, in his learning, in his heart, every single one. And we all felt that whoever was close to him knew that. And the truth is, I remember the night that he was niftar, I had spoken to him a few hours before, and the night that he was niftar, I remember saying, first of all, nishta believe, mamash, not to be believed. And then I was thinking, that's it? Is that what you had in mind for us, just these four years to be close? Because it was, it was, I felt, you know, it was such a relationship that he was a tremendous yid, how should I say, in so many, really, in so many chashuv ways. And he should be a melitz yosher for, of course, for his whole family, for his rebbetzin and the whole family, and for the kehillah and for everyone, for the klal, because he cared about the klal. I'm sure whatever we understand how that works, but he's busy up there working for the klal now. I wanted to share some thoughts and my feelings of being in mispallel in Rabbi Walkin, zichrono tzaddik livracha's shul. I had the privilege of davening in the shul for some time, and specifically, I used to come here for many Shabbosim, many yomim tovim, when we weren't living in the neighborhood yet. One of my first recollections, the first time I walked into the shul, I didn't know Rabbi Walkin from before. I had seen him a couple of times on Torah Anytime, different shiurim. I enjoyed very much his shiurim, but I hadn't met him. I came into shul, I got this welcome, this very big shalom aleichem, and it was something that I thought, you know, sure, the first time you walk into shul, you get that big shalom aleichem. And I have to admit that every time I walked into shul and I saw the Rav, each time he greeted me with the same warmth, the same shalom aleichem, and we actually developed a certain greeting between us. He would ask me how I am, and I would say, Hodu laShem ki tov, ki l'olam chasdo.

And we'd answer it in unison. The Rav taught me that above everything else, his message to me was always, It's all good. It wasn't just to me, but that was his message to everybody. We all go through different situations, and I wanted to speak a little bit about my actual feelings of what it was being in the shul. First, I want to say from my experience that the Rav was a tremendous, tremendous talmid chacham. We saw in learning, and he brought down to us, but we saw that the various mespallim that we had in the shul when the Rav, zichrono tzaddik livracha, was here, would discuss in learning with the Rav. Specifically, I remember one specific occasion. We have a family of Satmar Chassidim who have a home in the area, and they come in for Shabbosim and sometimes Yom Tovim. And this young man, the father of these children, comes in, and after davening, as everybody is greeting the Rav to have a gut Shabbos, the Rav and this young man have a discussion, and the Rav starts speaking about divrei Torah from the Satmar Rebbe's sefarim. This young man was floored. He didn't understand how this Rav, who can speak so beautiful about all sefarim, knew so intricately the sefarim of the Satmar Rebbe. But of course, the Rav knew about many, many sefarim, all the sefarim. Afterwards, I started listening to more shiurim Torah anytime, and the depth and the knowledge that the Rav had in kol haTorah kula was amazing. The Rav had a special knack for building a relationship with everybody, young and old. We would come in, say good Shabbos, and upon leaving, before leaving, after the davening, everybody would come around the Rav. It was a beautiful sight to see, young and old. The Rav would speak to each one of the children. The Rav would speak to each one of the adults, giving us a small dvar Torah and divrei chizuk, and welcoming us to the shul, and making us so proud that we were davening together with the Rav, made us feel that we were at home. We were at a makom kadosh, we were a makom Torah and tefillah beyond what anybody could imagine. I had this specific gift that I was given a seat right behind the bimah, and I have to reflect about my feelings and my observations from having that vantage point. The Rav would have an aliyah on Shabbos, and the Rav would make the Mi Sheberach for cholim. I've been to all the shuls, I've seen other gabaim, rabbanim making a Mi Sheberach for cholim, and the Rav would come up, and I would sit right behind the bimah, and I would watch the Rav closely and carefully. The Rav had notes, papers, cards with the cholim. Not only did he make a Mi Sheberach for the cholim, but you see that the Rav has tears running down, running down his face, and that when he was making a Mi Sheberach, he had that choleh in mind, that that minute that choleh should have a refuah. The Rav was talking directly to the Ribono Shel Olam, saying that this person and each and every one of these people on his list, the people that he was davening for, he was davening with all his koiches, all his heart. All his tefillahs should be mekuyam for that particular choleh, that second sight to see. I mean, you got emotional just by watching and just listening to the way he was saying the names. We were over here, we spent with the Rav Simchas Torah. Simchas Torah wasn't just a Simchas Torah; Simchas Torah was tremendous simcha. The Rav, for each one, each one of us, first the children, each one of the children was held in very, very high esteem. Everybody came to the Rav. The Rav showed us what it means, v'ahavta l'reacha kamocha. The Rav loved every one of us, younger old. I have to disclose that my father-in-law passed away, but he came with us. He felt so comfortable coming to this shul. He wanted to spend many of Yom Tov here with us. It was comfortable in our home and very comfortable, I'm sure. One specific Simchas Torah, I'd like to relate to everybody, to share with you what I noticed from the Rav, zichrono tzaddik livracha. My shver was elderly; he was already wheelchair-bound, and in conversation he had mentioned to the Rav that as a bochur, when he came to the United States, he lived in Williamsburg and he used to go into Satmar Rebbe. The Satmar Rebbe had hakafos, everybody knows the Satmar Rebbe had very famous hakafos, goes for hours and hours, specifically this—

Satmar Rebbe, the sixth Lubavitcher was a special Lubavitcher, and there was a special song that the Rebbe would sing, and he mentioned it someplace along the line to Rabbi Walkin, zatzal. So we're having over here Simchas Torah. We're all celebrating, beautiful, beautiful Simchas Torah. The walls were shaking with joy, with singing, and the children and the adults, and all of a sudden comes the sixth Lubavitcher, and the Rav starts this niggun. It's a Satmar niggun. And I look at my father-in-law and his eyes light up. The Rav walks over to my shver, and he picks him up out of the wheelchair, and he starts dancing with my shver, something that I have never seen. And both of them are dancing together. Both of them are happy, and both of them are crying. There's tears in both of their eyes, because the ahavah that the Rav showed for my shver on that dance is something that you don't see and you don't feel. The Rav had that feeling and giving over that joy to everybody. When the pandemic began, unfortunately, the shul had to close. The Rav would call many of the mispallelim, or all of the mispallelim. I was zoche that the Rav called me before each Shabbos, and he didn't let on that he wasn't well. I didn't know the truth is, I didn't know that he wasn't well. He would call, he would find out, he would ask, How are you? What's doing? The shul was closed, but every Erev Shabbos, Thursday, he would call. I remember the last phone call that the Rav called. He wasn't well, and I didn't know how well he wasn't, but it seems that this COVID took its effect. Unfortunately, we lost the Rav at a very early age, and in a very special, very special moment for me in particular, but for all the mishpacha. The Rav showed us something that v'ahavta l'reacha kamocha. He exemplified it in anything and everything that he did. He taught us again and again, and we repeat it again and again: It's all good. It's all good. It's all from the Ribono Shel Olam, and it's all good. Baruch Hashem, Baruch Hashem, the family is continuing, running the shul, operating the shul, with a tremendous zechus for Rabbi Wolkin, zichrono tzaddik livracha. The entire family is continuing in the Rav's footsteps. The shul is continuing, l'sheim u'lisifares. The boys, the sons, each one, each one of them exemplifies what it is that the father, the Rav, zichrono tzaddik livracha, wanted. Each one is doing their mission and their goal, and they're welcoming everybody to the shul. And they want everybody to know that this is the shul that Rav Wolkin built, and we have the zechus to have davened here. We have the zechus to be davening here, and im yirtzeh Hashem, the Ribono Shel Olam should help that we will continue davening here. The shul will continue, which is a tremendous zechus to the family. It's a tremendous zechus for our Rav, zichrono tzaddik livracha, and we ask, we ask that— We should always remember all the things that the Rav was teaching us. Always, if you listen to his talks and his conversations, his divrei Torah, on Torah Anytime, you see that all he wanted from us was to love each other, love the Ribono Shel Olam, and it was a tremendous zechus to have met the Rav. It was a tremendous zechus to be davening in the shul, and it's a tremendous zechus to continue, and may the Ribono Shel Olam give strength to the family we should continue, and the Rav should be a meilitz yosher for us, for the kehillah, for the family, of course, and for Klal Yisrael. Thank you. I'm here to speak this evening about my dear and wonderful friend, Rav Aaron Walkin, zichrono tzaddik livrachah. And Rav Walkin's relationship with his community, what he felt about them and what they felt about him. I guess the best way of starting off to speak about Rav Walkin in this way is to start off with a dvar Torah that Rav Walkin had said to me. It was a question about Yonatan, the son of Shaul HaMelech, the—

We learn so much about the relationship that he had with David, and Chazal tell us that Yonatan was actually the gadol hador in his time. But the Navi says virtually nothing about it. And this question comes up in the Malbim: how is it possible? He's the gadol hador, but nothing is said about it. Nothing comes up, nothing in the Navi. So the Malbim gives a wonderful, wonderful answer, and it's a simple but incredibly profound answer, that the Navi speaks so much about the friendship that David and Yonatan had because the greatest gadlus that somebody could have is to be somebody's friend. And in that regard, he was the gadol hador of being a friend. And that's how Rav Wolkin looked at everything. Rav Wolkin and I were each other's closest friends, I believe, in the neighborhood. We just, we connected on a very, very deep level, and he always knew that he could confide in me and I could confide in him. And even from the first day that we met, I had not been to shul for some time because of an illness that I had, and Rav Wolkin had opened up the shul over here. And finally, after a couple of years, it was planned that I would have my first day in shul. I had never met Rav Wolkin, but I knew of him because of, through his uncle, Rabbi Yehuda Kellmer from West Hempstead. But we had never met. But I walked through the door. I came extra early on a Shabbos morning, and I walked through the door, and I saw there was Rav Wolkin sitting in his seat. And he looked up when he heard the door open, and his eyes lit up, and he jumped out of his seat, and he came running over to me and gave me a big hug. And he said, You must be Jack Muchnik. I've been so looking forward to meeting you. And it was—he embraced me so warmly, and it was like we had been friends our entire life. And that was the essence of Rav Wolkin. This is how he treated people. This is how he wanted people to feel. And he really meant it with every fiber, with all his neshama. And the Rabbi's ahavas Yisroel was just off the charts. When people would have tzares, when there would be some problem that was brought to him that was causing somebody pain, there were so many times that Rav Wolkin would call me and ask me to come over, and he would never tell me the names of anyone who was having various issues, but he would tell me of the situation, and then he would start crying. And the pain that they felt was the pain that he felt. He internalized it. It meant so much to him that somebody else was suffering, and he needed to be able to do something about it. And he would ask me to sit down and say a couple of kapitlach Tehillim with him. And we would talk about it, and we would try to come up with solutions, or at least just be able to air the feelings. And on the other side of the coin, when somebody would have a simcha and some wonderful thing happened for somebody, Rav Wolkin would call me up to come running over, and he and I would sit in his office and we would sing, and he would take my hand, and we would kind of be dancing our hands in the air, celebrating somebody else's good fortune, because that was Rav Wolkin. That's what he felt about people, about other Jews, about his obvious role. And the rabbi would also, especially when somebody would have an illness of some sort, there were so many times that he would call me up, because I have a medical background, he would call me up and ask me to, if I could explain to him or research the details or the intricacies of a particular illness that somebody had and how this worked and what was going on in the person's body and the type of treatment. And the reason that he did this was because he felt the more he knew about the details.

The more strongly he could daven to Hashem for the specifics of the refuah that was necessary. He didn't want to leave a single stone unturned in trying to help somebody through tefillah, through doing mitzvahs, through chesed, and to just give all his kochos to it. A little down the road, back in 2013, one of my sons was unfortunately stricken with cancer. Baruch Hashem, he's in remission. And at the time, not too long after his diagnosis, one of Rav Wolkin's sons, Baruch ber, was also stricken with cancer. Baruch Hashem, he is also in remission. But when all this was taking place, Rav Wolkin would be such an incredible source of chizuk to me, and I would try to be to him, and he and I would just be able to share so openly the things that were going on in our minds. And Rav Wolkin used to say to me that we're going to get Hashem's rachamim. One way or another, we're going to knock on His door, we're going to bang on His door, and eventually Hashem is going to open the door for His rachamim. And if for some strange reason the door doesn't open up at first, we're going to go around the back and we're going to break open a window and go in and get His rachamim that way. But we're getting Hashem's rachamim. We won't take no for an answer. And the truth of the matter was— We both did get Hashem's rachamim, and our walk-in was such an incredible source of strength to us and to the entire community. And I remember, as I'm a kohen, so Yontif time would be such a special, special time in the shul here, because especially when we were going through the nisyonos in our family, when I would get up to do Birchas Kohanim, from the moment I would start the bracha, I just couldn't help myself. I would begin to cry, and I would be crying and krechtzing out every single word of the bracha and each word of the actual Birchas Kohanim. And as I would be crying, I would hear in the background Rav Walkin would be under his tallis, and he would be sobbing away as well. And I could feel him sharing the Birchas Kohanim and what it meant to both of us, that there are people to be mevarech the kahal. And it was just an amazing experience every single Yontif. And he and I would both, we would be so overcome with emotion by the end of Birchas Kohanim, when we would finish, Rav Walkin would always come over to me, and we would just give each other a big hug, and we would be crying our eyes out, because that's how important the kehillah was to Rav Walkin. That's how important the whole, the idea of bringing bracha to people was to him. Another amazing thing with Rav Wolkin, there was, I had told Rav Wolkin the story of my father, olam hashalom, who was, my father was a Nazi hunter in the Second World War, and he was in U.S. intelligence. And I won't go into all the details, but amongst the things that my father had done was he saw to it for the, to have the rededication of the first functioning shul in post-Nazi Germany. And he did it by forcing the Nazis themselves to rebuild the shul and rededicate it. And it was an incredible event that all thousands of U.S. soldiers were invited to come to, and General Eisenhower and various other U.S. dignitaries came to, and my father was the chazzan for that davening. And I had told, and I had pictures of all of this, and Rav Wolkin's eyes just opened real wide, and he asked to see the pictures, and I showed him, and he was again so overcome with emotion that—

What was being done to try to alleviate the suffering of other Jews. And he asked me if I could make him a copy of that picture, and I did. And he took that picture and he put it under the picture of my father leading the davening as the shliach tzibbur for the Yom Noraim in that shul, the Great Synagogue of Frankfurt. And he took that picture and he put it under the mapah of the bimah, and he said to me, From now on, any person that gets up to daven for the Yomim in this shul, your father is going to be davening with him. And that's just the type of person that Rav Wolkin was and is, and the effect that he had on people and how much it meant to him to have such incredibly powerful ahavas Yisrael. And it never stopped for a minute. Day in and day out, it never, never stopped. He was always looking to see what he can do for people. How can he help? Who can he make better? Who needed a smile? Who needed a laugh? Just something to make their life better at that particular moment. And this was 24 hours a day. It never ended. Anyone knew that they could get in touch with Rav Wolkin and they would feel better after speaking with him. So if ahavas Yisrael is a measure of one's godliness. I can tell you without a doubt, Rav Aaron Walkin, zecher tzaddik v'kadosh livrachah, was the gadol hador. Thank you. Good evening. We are gathering tonight here to discuss the Rav, Rabbi Walkin, olov hashalom, someone that has been, reminds me of this Gemara in Bava Metzia of two people that were in the desert, and one of them had a bottle of water that would only suffice for one person, not for two. So first the Gemara says that, the first mand'amar says that he should split it, and nobody should see the death of his friend; in other words, they're both going to die. Now then Rabbi Akiva comes and says, No, chayecha kodmin, that's your life, that only one drinks it and he survives and the other one passes, or whatever happens, happens. And so I was thinking, like, where do you have that concept of someone that would go and give up that both of them should die, and it doesn't even make sense, like where would you get that from? But knowing the Rav, Rabbi Walkin, I understand what the Gemara is talking about over here, what type of person we're talking about. I think this is really how you recap him, of someone that just lived for someone else, and this Gemara was literally applicable to him. This is what we just learned now here. And, you know, I started off with him from the organization, I remember there was a mispallel in the shul, I think, and we're trying to figure out together how to help this family. And we were going back and forth, and the Rebbe was really brainstorming how we could do it in the best way possible, darkoved, and how it should be in the nicest way and everything. And I remember that conversation, he told me, you know, please let Rav Meir Fried know, the singer, that there's a rav that he never met yet that davens for him every single day because he's so taken aback by his ahavas Yisroel and how he gives himself over to others. So I remember relaying that message and getting a phone call right afterwards from the rav telling me that one of his family members unfortunately was diagnosed with something. And so I should let Rav Meir Fried also know about it, and maybe he could daven for him or something. And I remember then they started their actual relationship from there, going forward from there. I think they used to visit each other all the time. I think at that point afterwards, going forward. Another thing that strikes me was I remember when the rav came to our place for the first time, our family, we have a beautiful family center with all types of arcades and games and everything else, where families with a child or a different situation will come and just relax or play, whatever else it is. We had a bar mitzvah there for a special needs child, and the rav came. I think the rav had checked us to the family, like he did with many such families that needed help. He was always there to help those people. And he came in and he starts looking. We got like a whole line of arcades and different games, and he starts saying that each one...

All of these is like another masechta Shas, I remember saying that. Like, he was so, like, how he utilized everything in order to help people. He was like, everything that he saw was, he saw it in that context of, okay, this is how we can help people this way, this is how we can help people that way. And at another opportunity, I remember he came to our cruise. We have summer cruise for hundreds of children and families going through illnesses and other stuff. And he came, and he was walking around, like, he didn't look like a rebbe. He was walking around being mechazek everyone, talking to everyone, and just photo ops, talking, and how can we... He didn't—he was part of the crowd over there, and people came there, felt like so good afterwards that it was worth it for them to come just to meet the rebbe. Like, that's what—we got quite a few such people's responses afterwards from the cruise. And I remember at the Thursday nights that we used to have, he used to come speak to the volunteers. He would share to the volunteers Thursday nights, which would be after a full week, a tough week of—I think the rebbe was in Queens most of the week—and he would come back, and Mr. Snefesh means it wouldn't be easy. And many times he just came, didn't even go home, not being home the entire week, he would come, and he would speak. And not only, first of all, he would greet everyone, and besides the shiur he gave, the greeting and talking to everyone, whatever it should be, he did it like with a full—like it looked like he just got up now from sleeping eight or nine hours, the way he did it, like with full, you know, he was zonked and everything, but he gave it his full whatever he got. That was somehow how I would recap him with, you know, being involved with everyone and trying to help everyone. And he would do it in such a way where you wouldn't even feel that he's trying to help you. It's just, it's like natural or something. That's how he was. That's what—I mean, that's besides all his godless b'teva that we saw. I mean, he used to come down there and speak, and we saw that, but that was besides all the other things everyone knows about him. But I really think that this is why that Gemara came to mind, because the Rav was someone that always lived for someone else, and he would do anything and everything possible. I think that it's something which is something we can all emulate and learn from this particular aspect here. Thank you very much. It's hard to believe that it's almost a year that our dear Rav is not with us anymore. We look and we hope to see him back again. But while he was here with us, he did teach us, and he did bring us close to Hashem, and he taught us a lot. And now it's time to take with us whatever he taught us and what we can learn from his life. This week's parasha, I saw a beautiful Sfas Emes that I think applies very, very well to the life of our dear Rav and what he did for us. The Sfas Emes asks us a question. It says, Vayechi Yaakov. Yaakov lived b'eretz Mitzrayim shva esrei shanah. He lived in Mitzrayim for 17 years. Now when the Torah says Vayechi, that he lived somewhere, it doesn't mean that he simply lived in the place. He didn't just live. The Torah is not telling us he just lived in Mitzrayim; he breathed in Mitzrayim. It's not what the Torah is talking about. The Torah is talking about that he lived a full potential of life. Everything that was expected from him and everything that he was capable of doing in Mitzrayim, he lived in Mitzrayim. He lived his life in Mitzrayim. That's what the Torah is talking about when the Torah says, Vayechi. The Torah is talking about what he accomplished in Mitzrayim. So the Sfas Emes says that we know that Mitzrayim was full of immorality, full of avodah zarah. It was the lowest place in the entire world. So how is it possible to say about Yaakov Avinu that he actually lived a full life of potential, full of accomplishments in Mitzrayim for 17 years? So the Sfas Emes says that—

It means that we know that all the Yavos excelled in a certain midah. Avraham Avinu excelled in the midah of chesed, Yitzchak excelled in the midah of avodah, and Yaakov Avinu excelled in the midah of emes. Now, what does it mean that he excelled in the midah of emes? It doesn't mean that he spoke emes. What it means to say that he lived a life of emes was, to better understand it, I'll say a mashal. Let's say a person sees two pieces of wood. One's a plain piece of wood, and one's a walnut. And the person that looks at the two pieces, apparently they look the same. But someone that understands to see the truth, he'll be able to see way past the shell of the walnut. He'll be able to see what's inside that walnut, what's inside past the piece of wood. And that was the midah of Yaakov Avinu. Yaakov Avinu understood when he saw something, he didn't see the outer layer of the thing. He saw what was deep inside, past the shell. He was able to see that inside the shell there was something that was there to be able to sustain a person, to give life to a person. And that's the midas ha'emes that Yaakov Avinu saw in Mitzrayim. What he saw was, you're right, he taka saw there's the immorality, there's the avodah zarah, there's everything around Mitzrayim. But what Yaakov Avinu saw was in Mitzrayim was that this place is a place where the Eibishter created, and meloi chol ha'aretz kevodo, the Eibishter is everywhere in the entire world. And if this place is a place that Hashem put me here, this is a place of where we can grow, and we have opportunity, and we can see the truth, the emes that's in this place to serve Hashem properly. That was what Yaakov Avinu saw in Mitzrayim. Yaakov Avinu didn't see the immorality. He didn't see the avodah zarah. He saw the avodas Hashem that he can accomplish in the place in Mitzrayim. That's what he saw. He saw past the shell. He saw past the outer, what everyone else sees when they look at, when they see Mitzrayim, they see what's in Mitzrayim. But Yaakov Avinu saw the potential and the opportunity that you can actually serve Hashem in Mitzrayim. And that's the midas ha'emes that Yaakov Avinu lived. He lived a life of seeing the emes. He saw way, way past everything that was covered up. He didn't see the cover. He saw past the cover. The same thing can be said about our dear Rav, Zecher tzaddik v'kadosh livrachah. He built a shul. He didn't build the shul of four walls, a place where people think you can just come daven, and it's a place where we make a minyan and we get together and we daven. That wasn't what Rabbi Walkin saw in a shul. He built the shul with a midas ha'emes, the opportunity of being mekadesh Hashem Shamayim to the fullest potential. He saw way, way past any capability. He saw doros. He saw the future in a shul. He didn't see the present in a shul. He always said, This is going to be a great place. This is going to be the biggest makom Torah in the world. That's the way he saw a shul. But when the shul was a place to be marbitz Torah, that people should grow and come close to Hashem, he always expected from us way, way more than we believed in ourselves. He saw past us. He saw past what we saw ourselves. He saw the truth in us. He saw the future of us, and that's what he expected from us.

From us. He would always look for the opportunity that we should always be mesayem Masechtas. When can we finish Shas? When can we finish Mishnayos? He expected from the children to grow and to continue learning and being mesayem, and getting together, making programs. It was Pesach when we had Chol Hamoed Pesach, or it was before Pesach, while everyone's busy cleaning and getting ready for Pesach, the Rav was looking for ways to get the children together and make a pirche, make a group of learning, and set up a program that everyone should be able to get together. That's what he looked in a beis medrash to see: how can we be marbitz Torah, and how can we get everyone together to grow and be better. That's what he saw in us. Whenever he gave me a bracha to be marbitz Torah as a rebbe, he didn't just give me a bracha, Oh, you should be marbitz Torah. He would say, You should be marbitz Torah l'alfei revavos, thousands. That's the way he viewed me. He viewed me way, way, way further than what you see in a person teaching a classroom of 26 children. He saw thousands of people in me, being the way I was mechanech someone. He saw thousands of people being mechanech. He saw past the outside. When someone came into shul a Friday night, it was a grandfather of one of the mispallelim. It wasn't just a gitshabes, a welcome, and a shalom aleichem, and a simple bracha. It was a bracha with all the wishes that the grandfather can possibly think of that he would want his children and grandchildren to continue on in avodas Hashem. That's the way he viewed that bracha. He didn't just give the simple bracha that you should see nachas. He saw bonim uvnei bonim oskim baTorah, and he saw that till further on, generation, generations, because he understood that that's what this grandfather's existence is for the future of his family, the future of Klal Yisrael. That's the way he gave the bracha, with his full heart. Friday night, when we would all come to shul, and then we would sit together after davening, and we were mostly wiped out from the entire week of working, and the Rav was worked out from the entire week of teaching, and we would sit down together and speak about the parsha. We can sit and talk for almost an hour about the parsha and the way he put in his entire heart and entire life into the parsha. But it wasn't just stam divrei Torah. It was the divrei Torah that he always prepared to make sure that every single person that's sitting at the table... He heard a Torah that was what he knew that this person would appreciate this shtikel Torah, whether it was a Meshech Chochma, whether it was a Belzer Rav, whether it was a Divrei Yoel, it didn't matter. He didn't see any—there was no limitation to Torah. It was the emes of Torah. It was about seeing past, past any, any the outer parts of what we view, how we view Torah, whether it was a Chassidish vort or a Litvish vort. It was about Torah, and that's what he gave over, and that's what he wanted us to understand, that it's about avodas Hashem and becoming close to Hashem. Then came Shabbos morning, and we would sit in Shabbos morning before davening and talk Divrei Torah, and then when it came time to davening, he would tell me, Moshe, tzemarb it. His avodas Hashem in tefillah was tzemarb it. You got to get to work. Let's get to work. And we would sing. His davening would be so sweet, and we would sing the davening together. It was like—

Like a choir, we just sang together. We sang the pesukim de-zimra. It was the sweetest thing to hear in Miss Maryland. There was a Yid that used to come all the way from Williamsburg, a Satmar Yid. He would walk 25 minutes to come to shul with his little children. They waited every week to go, When are we going to the Rebbe? When are we going to the Rebbe? When are we going to Rebbe Walk-in? They were excited to come to shul. It didn't matter what culture the Yid came from. It didn't matter what he wore. It didn't matter what he looked like. When he saw a person, he saw a neshama. He saw the potential of a person. He saw the emes, like the Sfas Emes says about Yaakov Avinu in Mitzrayim. He saw the inside, inside, deep, deep past, way past anything. He saw the emes about the person, and that's how he was able to connect to any type and stripe that walked into the room, any kind of person. He understood the person way past his appearance. He never ever judged the person the way he saw him. And that's how he was able to connect with any type of culture person, especially when we saw that this Chassidishe Yid that used to come especially to hear the divrei Torah that the Rav said and the davening, that we davened together. After davening, these little boys would have to say a divrei Yoel, and they would have to say a Mishnah בעל פה, and they were so excited to be able to say it over, and he would make sure to speak to them in their language that they understood. If they spoke Yiddish, he spoke a Chassidishe Yiddish. He didn't just speak his Litvish Yiddish. He made sure to speak a Chassidishe Yiddish to make the person feel comfortable, to be part of it. Then we had Shaal Shudis. Shaal Shudis, it wasn't just a regular Shaal Shudis that when the rav gets up and we sing and everyone, we just say a dvar Torah. It was every single child, every single person sitting around the table was mechuved to say a dvar Torah. Every single person, every week, it was every child got a chance to say a dvar Torah. It wasn't about himself. It wasn't about being the rav. It was being the emes. He was always looking for the emes of Hashem and making sure that these children are feeling the capability of growing and being able to say a dvar Torah to adults at a Shaal Shudis. That's the way he viewed all of us. When he saw someone, he never judged the person of what the person's action. He always judged and said, We never know, we can't know what this person is going through, what's happening in his life. He always saw people and he said, We don't understand, we don't know. They're coming, they're going, but we can understand anything that's happening, what's going on in their lives. He always thought about other people, what's happening in their lives. He always looked past the person. He didn't look at the person. He saw way, way past. If he heard a tzara, he couldn't sleep at night, not because the fear of the tzara. That's not why he couldn't sleep. It's not the regular thing that we can't, when we hear a tzara, we can't sleep. That's not what he felt. He was thinking about what's with the father of the child, what's with the mother of the child, what's with the cousins, what's with the brother, what's all around the problem, what's around the tzara, what are these people suffering from, what's going to be with these people, how are they going to feel. That's the way he lived. He didn't just live. And he didn't look at the thing. He saw past the shell. He saw inside the, the, the, the what's going on in this person. That's the way he lived, and that's the way he was able to feel with other people and care for other people, because he didn't just live the appearance. He saw the deep, deep, deep inside what's happening inside the person. When I made a simcha once, and he had to come to the bris at my yeshiva, he came into the building and he started to cry. He said he saw the yeshiva with 350 little kinderlach coming to learn Torah.

When you see a yeshiva, you see 350 children coming to learn Torah. It's a beautiful thing. It's a kiddush Hashem. But he saw way past that. He saw what Klal Yisrael went through in the past, and he was able to see what Klal Yisrael was able to rebuild after the war and be able to continue on with Torah. That's what he saw. He didn't just see little children running into cheder. He saw the nekamah of Hitler, yimach shemo. He saw that's the greatest nekamah for Klal Yisrael. When he saw something, he wasn't seeing it the way we look at things. He saw the emes of the thing. He saw the depth of the thing, and that's what the Torah is telling us again with Vayechi Yaakov b'eretz Mitzrayim. He saw the emes. He lived with emes, Yaakov. He saw the truth. And that's what we can take out from our dear Rav, of seeing the emes and living with the emes, and not just seeing the present. We don't just see what's in front of us. We see what's past us, what's going on in the future, what can happen, what can come out from the future. We know that it says, Yaakov Avinu lo meis. He didn't die. Yaakov Avinu is not it. The answer is, I think the Sfas Emes, I think, touches on this in this vort. He says, Yaakov Avinu lo meis, because if emes continues on forever and ever. Emes never stops. Something that's true is endless. Something that you see the future and the opportunity and the capability of the future, that's lo meis. That continues on forever and ever. That's what it means, Yaakov Avinu lo meis, because it's about what's past the person's being of life, just plain life. It's the future. It's the opportunity, the capability of going on and being able to continue to be marbitz Torah and be mekadesh Hashem Shamayim in the world and see the truth of real life. And that's, even though the rebbe is not here, but we could take along with us this midah emes and see how we can grow and how we can continue on in avodas Hashem, and we should be zocheh, b'ezras Hashem, to techiyas hameisim, and we should be zocheh that he should be a melitz yosher for all of us, and we should be zocheh to being baishlishi b'karov. What is the greatest rule of the Torah, the number one rule in the Torah is, V'ahavta l'reacha kamocha. Zeh klal gadol means there's got to be a klal katan. And what is the klal katan? Kedoyshim tihyu.

What made the Rosh Yeshiva zatzal so unique was the fact that he was not only a tremendous, tremendous talmid chacham and a person with a heart that truly cared for every single person that he came across. Rabbi was a real talmid chacham, a real gaon, a real Yid, always looking to help people, always with a smile, always positive. But his smile, his love for every single Jew is something that I have never seen before in my life. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. Rabbi cared about every single Yid as if they were his own child. My Rebbe, Rabbi Aaron Walkin zatzal, had such a mastery over so much of the Torah. Our Rebbe's yediot baTorah was so vast. There was no topic in kol haTorah kula that was too big or too small. He knew everything. What a great talmid chacham. Our Rebbe was a tremendous charif, and his charifut would be appreciated in the greatest of yeshivot. My Rebbe, Rav Aaron Walkin zatzal, was not a kohen, but he was definitely an Aharon. He resembled the quality of Aharon HaKohen, who was ohev shalom v'rodef shalom. There's no soldier like the Jewish soldier. I may yet, because there's no heart like the Jewish heart. There's nothing like Yisrael, mi k'amcha Yisrael, goy echad b'aretz. He was always, always positive and happy to teach us. Anything he taught, Chumash, Gemara, Halachot, I just want to hear more of it and more of it and more of it. To stay the whole week in Queens while his family was in Lakewood showed us what real, real mesirus nefesh was. He taught me how to learn, and most importantly, to love learning. Torah transforms a person to be an adam hashalem, an adam, a mensch. He wouldn't stop. He would continue, and he would tell us, You got to continue. You have to be marbitzei Torah. My Rebbe, he had real ahavat Yisrael. In front of the Torah, he used to cry. He used to cry on behalf of Klal Yisrael. He felt for others deeply, so much so that he would literally cry with you. He needs to not only think of himself, but he needs to think of the klal, and even the rest of the world, goyim as well. That's what made Rebbe so unique and so different than the rest. How much we all changed ever since we met the Rav, and that's all thanks to Rabbi Walkin. Thank you, Rebbe. The way he taught me to look at the good of every single person will stay with me forever. And I can say he changed my life for the good. And this is the kind of person that we had the zechus to have in our lives, somebody that just kept on giving to us and giving to us and giving to us. Sad that he left us too soon. I will definitely miss him. We should keep on carrying his name on and making him proud. He is one that will forever be with me. I love you, Rebbe. We miss you.

He will always be in our hearts and our memories. ... And we long to see you, bezrat Hashem, soon when Mashiach comes. You've just experienced another Torah class brought to you by TorahAnytime.com.