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Tribute
For Maimonides graduates and anyone else who's interested: Elly Krimsky's lovely tribute to Rabbi Wohlgemuth. (Shared with permission)
SPRING!
Parshas Bo, 5768
Rabbi Elly Krimsky, 2008
L'zecher rebbe umori, Harav Yishaya Wohlgemuth zt"l.
All alumni of Boston's Maimonides School received the depressing but not unexpected word this past Monday of the passing of a true legend, Rabbi Isaiah Wohlgemuth zt"l. Any Maimonides alumnus from the 1940s through the nineties was his student and loved him, both as a rebbe and as a person. Whenever I meet a fellow alumnus, Rabbi Wohlgemuth is always the common denominator in the conversation. His name evokes smiles from anyone who knew him. There are many Maimonides alumni reading this - from multiple generations - and I would venture to say that we are Rav Wohlgemuth alumni too. He is certainly responsible for my spiritual guidance in High School. It was his Gemara shiurim on Shabbos afternoons during grades 7-9 which taught me the virtue of Torah LiShma (learning for Torah's sake), and our mandatory but beloved BH (Biur Hatefillah - Understanding Prayer) in which Rav Soloveitchik zt"l insisted every graduate of his high school demonstrate proficiency before receiving a diploma.
When I received word all I could do was think, reflect, and cry a bit over my late Rebbe, and friend. I could not stop thinking of how he put a smile on all of our faces while teaching us life's most important lessons, of how we loved being his students and how much of a gentleman he was, always smiling, always youthful. I recalled how he - at least well into his 60s - rode his bike around town, as if he were decades younger and as if he never experienced firsthand the horrors of seeing the shul where he served as Rabbi in Kitzingin Bavaria destroyed on Kristallnacht and the unspeakable Nazi atrocities of Dachau.
Have you ever wondered why the most intense festival of the year is called Pesach or Passover? There are several names for the holiday, but Pesach is the one that generally sticks. No one talks of "Chag Hamatzos cleaning" and the OU does not issue certification entitled Kosher for Zman Cheiruseinu (the Time of our Freedom).
After describing the sacrifice of the evening of liberation, the Torah relates:
You shall eat it in haste, it is a Pesach to HASHEM (Shmos 12:11).
Rashi explains: The sacrifice was called "Pesach" commemorating the skipping and jumping - that the Holy One Blessed is He skipped over the Israelite homes from between the Egyptian homes and jumped from Egyptian to Egyptian, while the Israelite in the middle was spared. Perform all of the aspects of the offerings service for the sake of Heaven, in a manner of skipping and jumping (i.e. quickly), in remembrance of its name, as it is called pesach, or skipping.
Two verses later, the word appears again.
The blood shall be for you a symbol on the homes where you are, and I shall see the blood and skip over you and you shall not have death as a destruction when I smite the land of Egypt (Ibid verse 13).
Rashi cites the Aramaic translation/commentary of Unkelus who renders "skip over" as v'chamalti, I shall have compassion (see Isaiah 31:5, Kings I 18:21).
Pesach, according to the above, can mean the verb skipping/leaping; it can denote the adverbs hastily or compassionately. Furthermore, the Zohar states that the name of the festival is made up of two words: peh sach, a mouth speaks.
So why is the festival of freedom's most common name "Pesach"? I found a few answers, the common denominator amongst them being that God's passing over our houses demonstrated His Divine Providence, the hashgacha pratis, which we celebrate on Pesach. We rejoice in the relationship. Recall that Chazal teach us (and we recite this in the Hagaddah) that it was God, not an angel or any other agent, who delivered us. He Himself performed the exodus.
Rav Yerucham Levovitz zt"l, the legendary Mirrer Mashgiach, pointed out that the main miracle of the exodus was the fact that God was able to differentiate between firstborn and non-firstborn and between Jew and Egyptian. Similarly, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch of Frankfurt wrote so beautifully in his Biblical commentary that, The Pesach sacrifice represents the call of Providence to men in the dark hours of the night. God's eye watches over every house and door - in the very hour of midnight. The lintel and door posts of every house where man draws his breath are holy unto Him. The pulse of the inhabitants is revealed to Him at the threshold, and He examines whether the very heart's blood of the members of the household has been offered and dedicated to Him. The Pesach offering is even more than this. The paschal lamb represents the call of the Shepherd to His flock and the response of the flock to its Shepherd.
The Yeshiva University Hagaddah offers an insight attributed to Shlomo Kahn which helps us understand both the name Pesach and that of Chag Hamatzos, the festival of Matzah. On Pesach, the festival of Shir Hashirim - of unbridled love - we experience the celebrated verse ani l'dodi v'dodi li, I am to my beloved and my beloved is to me. HASHEM sings the praises of His beloved nation who followed Him into the desert and ate matzah, hence the name Chag Hamatzos. The Jewish people sing praises to the Almighty who spared Jewish first-borns from death and we know the festival as Pesach. From His perspective the festival is about matzah; from ours, we commemorate His passing over our homes.
It was HASHEM's skipping over our homes, with the haste of a youngster running to a favorite person or pastime, that ultimately showed us his love and empathy, teaching us the message of hashgacha pratis, of how God Himself - without an angel - fulfilled His promise to our forefathers and delivered us from bondage.
These sentiments remind me so much of my beloved Rebbe. His very essence taught us not only that we have to love Hakadosh Baruch Hu, but more importantly, that the Ribbono shel Olam loves us. Rabbi Dr. Jeffrey Woolf, a professor at Bar Ilan University and a former student of Rabbi Wolgemuth's in Boston, wrote in his blog of our Rebbe's "gentle warm nobility and caring that shone forth from his smile." I will always remember him walking into class with his glass of tea, his briefcase and his smile. We all adored his class and looked forward to it. He would entertain us with his spoonerisms (chotato pips, the rell did not bing) and I still remember the stories of Rabbeinu Gershom, Ma'or HaGolah that he would tell us when we finished our lessons. Several generations of Bostonians now understand how to daven - how to build our relationship with HASHEM - because Rabbi Wohlgemuth developed a curriculum for teaching prayer, which is now the basis of the book, A Guide to Jewish Prayer.
There is another name for Pesach that has not been mentioned, that of chag ha'aviv, the festival of spring. We Jews intercalate our calendar (as opposed to the Moslems who also utilize a lunar calendar) to assure that Pesach will fall out in the right season. Pesach is about rebirth and beginnings, of hope, not gloom, of Shir HaShirim (the Song of Songs), not Koheles (Ecclesiastes), of love, not fear. God's haste in skipping and "passing over" also alludes to spring. We like the term "the spring in one's step." One could almost argue that Pesach really means Chag Ha'aviv, the festival of the spring. To skip over and jump also means to spring.
I will forever envision Rav Wohlgemuth as the spring, as the youngster who in his 60s rode his bicycle to work, who was able to be revered Rebbe and beloved friend at the same time. He and his late Rebbitzen - the perennial Maimonides kindergarten Morah - would honor my family and come once a year for seudah shlishit to our house; it was always in the spring or summer. It was Rav Wohlgemuth who worked with me on my bar mitzvah speech, which also occurred in the spring. I could only reflect that it was truly hashgacha pratis that his burial in Israel took place on the first day of Shvat, the month (and according to Beis Shammai the day) of the first flowerings of the almond tree, of the new year for trees, of the message that spring is almost upon us.
So many of us today have a relationship with the Almighty because Rabbi Wohlgemuth taught us how to pray and relate to a Youthful and Loving God. He successfully transmitted the values he learned from his beloved Hildessheimer Seminary in Germany and from his friend, colleague and Rebbe, the Rav zt"l, to literally thousands of Maimonides alumni who mourn this loss.
Just as we are obligated to retell the story of Pesach every year, all of us who were blessed to know this special man and pedagogue will forever tell the stories of our late Rebbe.
Rabbi Wohlgemuth, you have fulfilled your holy mission. You are now misdissed!
SPRING!
Parshas Bo, 5768
Rabbi Elly Krimsky, 2008
L'zecher rebbe umori, Harav Yishaya Wohlgemuth zt"l.
All alumni of Boston's Maimonides School received the depressing but not unexpected word this past Monday of the passing of a true legend, Rabbi Isaiah Wohlgemuth zt"l. Any Maimonides alumnus from the 1940s through the nineties was his student and loved him, both as a rebbe and as a person. Whenever I meet a fellow alumnus, Rabbi Wohlgemuth is always the common denominator in the conversation. His name evokes smiles from anyone who knew him. There are many Maimonides alumni reading this - from multiple generations - and I would venture to say that we are Rav Wohlgemuth alumni too. He is certainly responsible for my spiritual guidance in High School. It was his Gemara shiurim on Shabbos afternoons during grades 7-9 which taught me the virtue of Torah LiShma (learning for Torah's sake), and our mandatory but beloved BH (Biur Hatefillah - Understanding Prayer) in which Rav Soloveitchik zt"l insisted every graduate of his high school demonstrate proficiency before receiving a diploma.
When I received word all I could do was think, reflect, and cry a bit over my late Rebbe, and friend. I could not stop thinking of how he put a smile on all of our faces while teaching us life's most important lessons, of how we loved being his students and how much of a gentleman he was, always smiling, always youthful. I recalled how he - at least well into his 60s - rode his bike around town, as if he were decades younger and as if he never experienced firsthand the horrors of seeing the shul where he served as Rabbi in Kitzingin Bavaria destroyed on Kristallnacht and the unspeakable Nazi atrocities of Dachau.
Have you ever wondered why the most intense festival of the year is called Pesach or Passover? There are several names for the holiday, but Pesach is the one that generally sticks. No one talks of "Chag Hamatzos cleaning" and the OU does not issue certification entitled Kosher for Zman Cheiruseinu (the Time of our Freedom).
After describing the sacrifice of the evening of liberation, the Torah relates:
You shall eat it in haste, it is a Pesach to HASHEM (Shmos 12:11).
Rashi explains: The sacrifice was called "Pesach" commemorating the skipping and jumping - that the Holy One Blessed is He skipped over the Israelite homes from between the Egyptian homes and jumped from Egyptian to Egyptian, while the Israelite in the middle was spared. Perform all of the aspects of the offerings service for the sake of Heaven, in a manner of skipping and jumping (i.e. quickly), in remembrance of its name, as it is called pesach, or skipping.
Two verses later, the word appears again.
The blood shall be for you a symbol on the homes where you are, and I shall see the blood and skip over you and you shall not have death as a destruction when I smite the land of Egypt (Ibid verse 13).
Rashi cites the Aramaic translation/commentary of Unkelus who renders "skip over" as v'chamalti, I shall have compassion (see Isaiah 31:5, Kings I 18:21).
Pesach, according to the above, can mean the verb skipping/leaping; it can denote the adverbs hastily or compassionately. Furthermore, the Zohar states that the name of the festival is made up of two words: peh sach, a mouth speaks.
So why is the festival of freedom's most common name "Pesach"? I found a few answers, the common denominator amongst them being that God's passing over our houses demonstrated His Divine Providence, the hashgacha pratis, which we celebrate on Pesach. We rejoice in the relationship. Recall that Chazal teach us (and we recite this in the Hagaddah) that it was God, not an angel or any other agent, who delivered us. He Himself performed the exodus.
Rav Yerucham Levovitz zt"l, the legendary Mirrer Mashgiach, pointed out that the main miracle of the exodus was the fact that God was able to differentiate between firstborn and non-firstborn and between Jew and Egyptian. Similarly, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch of Frankfurt wrote so beautifully in his Biblical commentary that, The Pesach sacrifice represents the call of Providence to men in the dark hours of the night. God's eye watches over every house and door - in the very hour of midnight. The lintel and door posts of every house where man draws his breath are holy unto Him. The pulse of the inhabitants is revealed to Him at the threshold, and He examines whether the very heart's blood of the members of the household has been offered and dedicated to Him. The Pesach offering is even more than this. The paschal lamb represents the call of the Shepherd to His flock and the response of the flock to its Shepherd.
The Yeshiva University Hagaddah offers an insight attributed to Shlomo Kahn which helps us understand both the name Pesach and that of Chag Hamatzos, the festival of Matzah. On Pesach, the festival of Shir Hashirim - of unbridled love - we experience the celebrated verse ani l'dodi v'dodi li, I am to my beloved and my beloved is to me. HASHEM sings the praises of His beloved nation who followed Him into the desert and ate matzah, hence the name Chag Hamatzos. The Jewish people sing praises to the Almighty who spared Jewish first-borns from death and we know the festival as Pesach. From His perspective the festival is about matzah; from ours, we commemorate His passing over our homes.
It was HASHEM's skipping over our homes, with the haste of a youngster running to a favorite person or pastime, that ultimately showed us his love and empathy, teaching us the message of hashgacha pratis, of how God Himself - without an angel - fulfilled His promise to our forefathers and delivered us from bondage.
These sentiments remind me so much of my beloved Rebbe. His very essence taught us not only that we have to love Hakadosh Baruch Hu, but more importantly, that the Ribbono shel Olam loves us. Rabbi Dr. Jeffrey Woolf, a professor at Bar Ilan University and a former student of Rabbi Wolgemuth's in Boston, wrote in his blog of our Rebbe's "gentle warm nobility and caring that shone forth from his smile." I will always remember him walking into class with his glass of tea, his briefcase and his smile. We all adored his class and looked forward to it. He would entertain us with his spoonerisms (chotato pips, the rell did not bing) and I still remember the stories of Rabbeinu Gershom, Ma'or HaGolah that he would tell us when we finished our lessons. Several generations of Bostonians now understand how to daven - how to build our relationship with HASHEM - because Rabbi Wohlgemuth developed a curriculum for teaching prayer, which is now the basis of the book, A Guide to Jewish Prayer.
There is another name for Pesach that has not been mentioned, that of chag ha'aviv, the festival of spring. We Jews intercalate our calendar (as opposed to the Moslems who also utilize a lunar calendar) to assure that Pesach will fall out in the right season. Pesach is about rebirth and beginnings, of hope, not gloom, of Shir HaShirim (the Song of Songs), not Koheles (Ecclesiastes), of love, not fear. God's haste in skipping and "passing over" also alludes to spring. We like the term "the spring in one's step." One could almost argue that Pesach really means Chag Ha'aviv, the festival of the spring. To skip over and jump also means to spring.
I will forever envision Rav Wohlgemuth as the spring, as the youngster who in his 60s rode his bicycle to work, who was able to be revered Rebbe and beloved friend at the same time. He and his late Rebbitzen - the perennial Maimonides kindergarten Morah - would honor my family and come once a year for seudah shlishit to our house; it was always in the spring or summer. It was Rav Wohlgemuth who worked with me on my bar mitzvah speech, which also occurred in the spring. I could only reflect that it was truly hashgacha pratis that his burial in Israel took place on the first day of Shvat, the month (and according to Beis Shammai the day) of the first flowerings of the almond tree, of the new year for trees, of the message that spring is almost upon us.
So many of us today have a relationship with the Almighty because Rabbi Wohlgemuth taught us how to pray and relate to a Youthful and Loving God. He successfully transmitted the values he learned from his beloved Hildessheimer Seminary in Germany and from his friend, colleague and Rebbe, the Rav zt"l, to literally thousands of Maimonides alumni who mourn this loss.
Just as we are obligated to retell the story of Pesach every year, all of us who were blessed to know this special man and pedagogue will forever tell the stories of our late Rebbe.
Rabbi Wohlgemuth, you have fulfilled your holy mission. You are now misdissed!