RABBI YAACOV FRIED ZT''L
Rabbi Yaacov Fried zt'l was a maggid shuir and posek in Orchos Chaim for many years. He was an inspiration to many of us. Below is an excerpt from an article published about him.
RABBI YAACOV FRIED
By JONATHAN ROSENBLUM - http://www.jewishmediaresources.com/1484/arichas-yomim
Shortly after the end of World War II, a modern-looking young man, sporting a large chup, was brought to the Klausenberger Rebbe zt”l, in one of the displaced persons camps. “I heard that before the war you were the top bochur in the Munkacs Yeshiva,” the Rebbe said to him. “What happened to you?” “I saw that the best were burned, and only the p’soles (chaff) remained,” the former yeshiva bochur replied.
“You are so right,” the Rebbe answered him. “The best were burned and only the p’soles remained.” Then the Rebbe, who had himself lost his wife and eleven children during the war, burst out crying. The two remained there a half an hour or more sobbing together.
Later, the young man returned to full religious observance. Of his return, he said, “Had the Rebbe given me one word of tochachah (reproof), I would have walked out and never returned. But he just cried with me.”
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about that phrase – “the best were burned and only the p’soles remained.” As a statement of fact, there are, of course, thousands of counterexamples – great tzaddikim, like the Klausenberger Rebbe himself, who survived all seven levels of gehennom.
Yet, something of that feeling strikes all of us when we hear of the petirah at a young age of a great tzaddik, especially if he is younger than we are, and has passed through some of the same institutions and accomplished more in his life than most of us can even contemplate.
Rabbi Yaakov Fried zt”l, who was killed in a car crash on 22 Av, was one such tzaddik. Rabbi Dovid Speyer zt”l, who succumbed on Erev Rosh Chodesh Elul, after a three-and-half year battle with leukemia, was another. Of both, the Gemara‘s description of the petirah of Rabi Yochanan – “the sun set at midday” – applies: Rabbi Fried was in his sixtieth year and Rabbi Speyer in his fiftieth. Both accomplished much in those years, despite having begun their formal Torah studies only in their very late teens. They serve as poignant reminders that our lives are measured not by the length of our years, but rather in the way we fill each day.
I DID NOT KNOW RABBI FRIED PERSONALLY, but he was a mechutan of two sets of close friends. And he was a legend at Yeshiva Ohr Somayach, where I had the privilege of learning many decades ago. A large Shas in the bais medrashbears the inscription of a gift from “one of the talmidim” upon the completion of Shas with properchazaros (review). Another Shas, bearing the same inscription, is in the bais medrash of Aish HaTorah (whose founder, Rabbi Noach Weinberg zt”l, also founded Ohr Somayach).
From the beginning of his journey, Rabbi Fried seemed to have few of the normal baal teshuvah struggles, say those who knew him in his early days at Ohr Somayach. Despite having little Jewish education, from an early age he had an awareness of the Creator, gained through the contemplation of the magnificent natural settings of his native New Canaan, Connecticut, and his parents’ summer home in Maine.
Within ten years of arriving at Ohr Somayach, after dropping out of Harvard College, and not even knowing Alef-Bais, he had made his first Siyum Hashas. It would be the first of many.
Despite his late start, he burned with a desire to know literally “kol haTorah kulah” — a desire that is virtually unknown today. On 3 Elul 5754, less than 22 years from his walking into Ohr Somayach, he made another siyumin his home for his family and talmidim on Talmud Bavli, Talmud Yerushalmi, Shishah Sidrei Mishnah, Mechiltah,Sifra, Sifri, Sifri Zuta, all the various baraisos, Torah, Neviim and Kesuvim. Again, the letter of hoda’ah (gratitude) to the founders of the institution where he first learned Torah identified him only as “one of the talmidim.” As soon as he turned forty, he began learning Kabbolahwith Rav Yaakov Hillel. One of his last siyumim was on Tikkunei Zohar.
Reflecting on Rabbi Fried’s loss, one friend comments that it would take at least five others to replace him. “I can’t think of another person with whom I could speak in so many areas of Torah and know that I would always go away with some new understanding or insight,” he tells me.
He would stand for long hours straight at his shtender in Yeshiva Torah Ore. Apart from Shabbos, Yom Tov, andRosh Chodesh seudos, or what was a required for a mitzvah, he ate only the minimum necessary to sustain his body to learn Torah, and slept only a few hours at night.
His emunah in every word of Chazal was absolute. Whatever Chazal said was a literal description of reality. And his bitachon was “off the charts,” in the words of one friend. Though he struggled with debts, his menuchas hanefesh was complete and nothing ever interfered with his concentration in learning. He refused to take money for learning Torah with chavrusos, even though there were many who would have been eager to pay for the privilege.
When I asked his wife how they had managed to support a large family, she answered simply, “He believed insiyata diShmaya, and we were repeatedly zocheh to such siyata diShmaya.”
Rabbi Yitzchak Schwartz, a close friend for more than three decades, attests that he was oblivious to his own spiritual level. Once, Rabbi Schwartz asked Rabbi Fried for a bracha that he should find beautiful hadasim forSukkos. Rabbi Fried blessed him that he should do so, and without great expenditure of time or money. Shortly thereafter, a hadasim merchant appeared at Rabbi Schwartz’s door holding three hadasim Rabbi Schwartz had previously put down as way beyond his budget. Now the merchant wanted to give them to him as a present.
Even Rabbi Fried’s role as the longtime baal tokeiah at Torah Ore had of it something of the miraculous. His preferred shofar was of a type that required an immense amount of air – more than he would have seemed capable of generating from his rail thin frame. Yet, the shofar blasts came out like a cannon, throughout Rosh Hashanah, as he would blow for many different groups who had not been able to make it to shul and according to all the various shitos. His final journey was to bring one of his shofros to an expert in Beitar for fine-tuning prior to Rosh Chodesh Elul.
His precision in every aspect of halacha and constant search for new hiddurimin mitzvos were phenomenal. For twenty-five years, and long after he was appointed by the rosh yeshiva of Torah Ore, Rav Chaim Pinchos Scheinberg, as the yeshiva‘s posek in all matters connected to hilchos stam, Rabbi Fried maintained achavrusashaft with Rabbi Pinchos Amitai in hilchos stam. Yet there was nothing tense about him – only constant freshness and simcha in the performance of mitzvos. A neighbor told me that her son gained an entirely new appreciation of tefillin from the one-hour talk Rabbi Fried gave him on the importance of the mitzvah just prior to his bar mitzvah.
His he’aros ponim was legendary, and he genuinely enjoyed people. “He knew how to relate to people at every level,” one Mattesdorf neighbor told me. “He was the posek for many families in the neighborhood, because of his ability to relate the halacha to the needs and capabilities of each individual, and they are wandering around lost without him.” Rabbi Fried had the power of hachra’ah(decisiveness) even with respect to difficult and criticalshailos, and a collection of his teshuvos will likely be printed.
Rabbi Fried was known as an ish chessed. The Frieds hosted numerous shevah berachos in their small living room, and their large family was joined by frequent guests – including older singles and ba’alei teshuva – for Shabbos and Yom Tov meals. Fittingly, two friends who were involved in a bitter machlokes were reconciled with one another, as they stood by Rabbi Fried’s bedside at the hospital, as his life ebbed away.
At the time of his passing, Rabbi Fried was giving a shiur to older students who had never had a chance to learn Gemara in their youth. He often spoke to his wife with great excitement about how interesting and accomplished his students were. It never occurred to him that it might be beneath the dignity of a talmid chochom of his stature to teach beginners.
When his friend, Rabbi Schwartz, opened Yeshiva Orchos Chaim for baalei teshuvah, he hesitated about whether to take Rabbi Fried as a maggid shiur. He worried that exposure to such a high level tzaddik might fill the freshbaalei teshuvah with unhealthy desires to attain a spiritual level far beyond them at that stage in their development. In the end, however, he reasoned that the benefits far outweighed the dangers. He did not realize how right he had been until news of Rabbi Fried’s fatal car crash began to spread among former talmidim of theyeshiva, and he received an outpouring of calls from around the world from broken talmidim wondering how such a fate could have befallen a “perfect tzaddik.” One even came to Eretz Yisrael just to be menachem avel.
The whole world was a bais medrash for him, and his power of amazement was virtually unlimited. At fifty-nine, everything he did was still done with enthusiasm and excitement. He had a wide knowledge of science, which he used to advise many on nutritional and health issues. Due to his knowledge of both astronomy and halacha, he succeeded in convincing the members of the haneitz minyan, where he always davened, including the renownedtalmid chochom Rav Mechel Zilber, that the calculations they had previously used to determine haneitz were slightly off.
As much as he pushed himself in every aspect of avodas Hashem and accepted upon himself various chumros, because he knew he was capable of them, he made no such demands on others. Every Shabbos,Yom Tov, orRosh Chodesh seudah was filled with special treats for each child. Their memories include waterskiing during the summer, snow skiing on the Hermon in the winter, and Chol Hamoed outings on a rented bus with a few other neighborhood families.The bein hazemanim afternoon of his fatal crash was spent at the park with his grandchildren.
Shortly after the end of World War II, a modern-looking young man, sporting a large chup, was brought to the Klausenberger Rebbe zt”l, in one of the displaced persons camps. “I heard that before the war you were the top bochur in the Munkacs Yeshiva,” the Rebbe said to him. “What happened to you?” “I saw that the best were burned, and only the p’soles (chaff) remained,” the former yeshiva bochur replied.
“You are so right,” the Rebbe answered him. “The best were burned and only the p’soles remained.” Then the Rebbe, who had himself lost his wife and eleven children during the war, burst out crying. The two remained there a half an hour or more sobbing together.
Later, the young man returned to full religious observance. Of his return, he said, “Had the Rebbe given me one word of tochachah (reproof), I would have walked out and never returned. But he just cried with me.”
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about that phrase – “the best were burned and only the p’soles remained.” As a statement of fact, there are, of course, thousands of counterexamples – great tzaddikim, like the Klausenberger Rebbe himself, who survived all seven levels of gehennom.
Yet, something of that feeling strikes all of us when we hear of the petirah at a young age of a great tzaddik, especially if he is younger than we are, and has passed through some of the same institutions and accomplished more in his life than most of us can even contemplate.
Rabbi Yaakov Fried zt”l, who was killed in a car crash on 22 Av, was one such tzaddik. Rabbi Dovid Speyer zt”l, who succumbed on Erev Rosh Chodesh Elul, after a three-and-half year battle with leukemia, was another. Of both, the Gemara‘s description of the petirah of Rabi Yochanan – “the sun set at midday” – applies: Rabbi Fried was in his sixtieth year and Rabbi Speyer in his fiftieth. Both accomplished much in those years, despite having begun their formal Torah studies only in their very late teens. They serve as poignant reminders that our lives are measured not by the length of our years, but rather in the way we fill each day.
I DID NOT KNOW RABBI FRIED PERSONALLY, but he was a mechutan of two sets of close friends. And he was a legend at Yeshiva Ohr Somayach, where I had the privilege of learning many decades ago. A large Shas in the bais medrashbears the inscription of a gift from “one of the talmidim” upon the completion of Shas with properchazaros (review). Another Shas, bearing the same inscription, is in the bais medrash of Aish HaTorah (whose founder, Rabbi Noach Weinberg zt”l, also founded Ohr Somayach).
From the beginning of his journey, Rabbi Fried seemed to have few of the normal baal teshuvah struggles, say those who knew him in his early days at Ohr Somayach. Despite having little Jewish education, from an early age he had an awareness of the Creator, gained through the contemplation of the magnificent natural settings of his native New Canaan, Connecticut, and his parents’ summer home in Maine.
Within ten years of arriving at Ohr Somayach, after dropping out of Harvard College, and not even knowing Alef-Bais, he had made his first Siyum Hashas. It would be the first of many.
Despite his late start, he burned with a desire to know literally “kol haTorah kulah” — a desire that is virtually unknown today. On 3 Elul 5754, less than 22 years from his walking into Ohr Somayach, he made another siyumin his home for his family and talmidim on Talmud Bavli, Talmud Yerushalmi, Shishah Sidrei Mishnah, Mechiltah,Sifra, Sifri, Sifri Zuta, all the various baraisos, Torah, Neviim and Kesuvim. Again, the letter of hoda’ah (gratitude) to the founders of the institution where he first learned Torah identified him only as “one of the talmidim.” As soon as he turned forty, he began learning Kabbolahwith Rav Yaakov Hillel. One of his last siyumim was on Tikkunei Zohar.
Reflecting on Rabbi Fried’s loss, one friend comments that it would take at least five others to replace him. “I can’t think of another person with whom I could speak in so many areas of Torah and know that I would always go away with some new understanding or insight,” he tells me.
He would stand for long hours straight at his shtender in Yeshiva Torah Ore. Apart from Shabbos, Yom Tov, andRosh Chodesh seudos, or what was a required for a mitzvah, he ate only the minimum necessary to sustain his body to learn Torah, and slept only a few hours at night.
His emunah in every word of Chazal was absolute. Whatever Chazal said was a literal description of reality. And his bitachon was “off the charts,” in the words of one friend. Though he struggled with debts, his menuchas hanefesh was complete and nothing ever interfered with his concentration in learning. He refused to take money for learning Torah with chavrusos, even though there were many who would have been eager to pay for the privilege.
When I asked his wife how they had managed to support a large family, she answered simply, “He believed insiyata diShmaya, and we were repeatedly zocheh to such siyata diShmaya.”
Rabbi Yitzchak Schwartz, a close friend for more than three decades, attests that he was oblivious to his own spiritual level. Once, Rabbi Schwartz asked Rabbi Fried for a bracha that he should find beautiful hadasim forSukkos. Rabbi Fried blessed him that he should do so, and without great expenditure of time or money. Shortly thereafter, a hadasim merchant appeared at Rabbi Schwartz’s door holding three hadasim Rabbi Schwartz had previously put down as way beyond his budget. Now the merchant wanted to give them to him as a present.
Even Rabbi Fried’s role as the longtime baal tokeiah at Torah Ore had of it something of the miraculous. His preferred shofar was of a type that required an immense amount of air – more than he would have seemed capable of generating from his rail thin frame. Yet, the shofar blasts came out like a cannon, throughout Rosh Hashanah, as he would blow for many different groups who had not been able to make it to shul and according to all the various shitos. His final journey was to bring one of his shofros to an expert in Beitar for fine-tuning prior to Rosh Chodesh Elul.
His precision in every aspect of halacha and constant search for new hiddurimin mitzvos were phenomenal. For twenty-five years, and long after he was appointed by the rosh yeshiva of Torah Ore, Rav Chaim Pinchos Scheinberg, as the yeshiva‘s posek in all matters connected to hilchos stam, Rabbi Fried maintained achavrusashaft with Rabbi Pinchos Amitai in hilchos stam. Yet there was nothing tense about him – only constant freshness and simcha in the performance of mitzvos. A neighbor told me that her son gained an entirely new appreciation of tefillin from the one-hour talk Rabbi Fried gave him on the importance of the mitzvah just prior to his bar mitzvah.
His he’aros ponim was legendary, and he genuinely enjoyed people. “He knew how to relate to people at every level,” one Mattesdorf neighbor told me. “He was the posek for many families in the neighborhood, because of his ability to relate the halacha to the needs and capabilities of each individual, and they are wandering around lost without him.” Rabbi Fried had the power of hachra’ah(decisiveness) even with respect to difficult and criticalshailos, and a collection of his teshuvos will likely be printed.
Rabbi Fried was known as an ish chessed. The Frieds hosted numerous shevah berachos in their small living room, and their large family was joined by frequent guests – including older singles and ba’alei teshuva – for Shabbos and Yom Tov meals. Fittingly, two friends who were involved in a bitter machlokes were reconciled with one another, as they stood by Rabbi Fried’s bedside at the hospital, as his life ebbed away.
At the time of his passing, Rabbi Fried was giving a shiur to older students who had never had a chance to learn Gemara in their youth. He often spoke to his wife with great excitement about how interesting and accomplished his students were. It never occurred to him that it might be beneath the dignity of a talmid chochom of his stature to teach beginners.
When his friend, Rabbi Schwartz, opened Yeshiva Orchos Chaim for baalei teshuvah, he hesitated about whether to take Rabbi Fried as a maggid shiur. He worried that exposure to such a high level tzaddik might fill the freshbaalei teshuvah with unhealthy desires to attain a spiritual level far beyond them at that stage in their development. In the end, however, he reasoned that the benefits far outweighed the dangers. He did not realize how right he had been until news of Rabbi Fried’s fatal car crash began to spread among former talmidim of theyeshiva, and he received an outpouring of calls from around the world from broken talmidim wondering how such a fate could have befallen a “perfect tzaddik.” One even came to Eretz Yisrael just to be menachem avel.
The whole world was a bais medrash for him, and his power of amazement was virtually unlimited. At fifty-nine, everything he did was still done with enthusiasm and excitement. He had a wide knowledge of science, which he used to advise many on nutritional and health issues. Due to his knowledge of both astronomy and halacha, he succeeded in convincing the members of the haneitz minyan, where he always davened, including the renownedtalmid chochom Rav Mechel Zilber, that the calculations they had previously used to determine haneitz were slightly off.
As much as he pushed himself in every aspect of avodas Hashem and accepted upon himself various chumros, because he knew he was capable of them, he made no such demands on others. Every Shabbos,Yom Tov, orRosh Chodesh seudah was filled with special treats for each child. Their memories include waterskiing during the summer, snow skiing on the Hermon in the winter, and Chol Hamoed outings on a rented bus with a few other neighborhood families.The bein hazemanim afternoon of his fatal crash was spent at the park with his grandchildren.