On a number of occasions, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (“the
Rav”), z”l, described his experience as a conveyor of the Jewish Tradition and
a link in the sacred chain of Sinai (see Halakhic Man, pp. 101). To
paraphrase, “I stand in front of the room and begin to lecture. After a few
moments, there is a knock at the door. It is my grandfather, Rabbi Chaim
Soloveitchik of Brisk. A short while later, there is another knock. It is Rabbi
Akiva Eiger. Before long, someone else knocks. It is Nachmanides, and behind
him, Maimonides.” The collective learning experience unfolding before the Rav
represented a melding of generations and a transcendence of time. The
participants in the discussion before him were not only the fresh youth of 20th
century America, but also the great masters of the Jewish faith from time
immemorial.
How painful, and how ironic, then, will be the scene before
us at the funeral of Rabbi Moshe Twersky, z”l, הי"ד, the oldest of Rabbi Soloveitchik’s
grandchildren. It will take only a cursory glance to discover Rabbi Twersky’s surviving
relations, ייבדלו לחיים,
his wife and children; his mother, Mrs. Atarah Twersky; and some of the great
luminaries in the wider family, including Professor Haym Soloveitchik; his
uncle Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein; his cousin and colleague Rabbi Moshe
Meiselman; his brother Rabbi Mayer Twersky; and others.
But look a little more closely and you will discern
countless others, joining in the throngs of the shocked, crying, and
inconsolable. You will see Rabbi Twersky’s late father, Rabbi Isadore Twersky
of Talne, z”l. You will see the Rav, standing aside Rabbi Meshulam Zushe
Twersky of Boston, z”l. Look further, and you will pick out of the crowd Rabbi
Chaim Soloveitchik of Brisk and his forebears. And behind him, you will find
the same aforementioned Rabbi Akiva Eiger, Nahmanides, and Maimonides. They,
too, will be there, to mourn their beloved and trusted disciple, who spent his
life in the indefatigable study of their works.
Of course, another group will also be there. They will be
huddled together in the back, and they might be the most expressive and the
most moved of everyone in attendance. It’s not a small group. Some of the faces
may be discernable- Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman, Rabbi Akiva. Aside them will be
others- Kobi Mandell. Nachshon Wachsman. Naftali Frenkel. And beyond them,
there will be millions more, men, women, and children. You won’t know their
names, but you’ll know who they are immediately. This group, of course, is the
sacred society of those who lived Jewish lives and, when they had no more
choices and chances, died Jewish deaths. This society will also be there, and
they will wonder why they are being called upon to receive yet another member
into their society, pained and sorrowed, in disbelief.
