Learning from the Lions

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IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF OUR FATHERS – Avos 5:23

Learning from the Lions

Harav Y. Reuven Rubin Shlita

These are testing times. On the positive side, we find ourselves in the midst of tremendous growth, both physically and spiritually. Yet sadly, we are all tortured by the pain of those in Eretz Yisroel. This terrible war has spilled over into the rest of the world, with ever-growing acts of antisemitism in our streets.

When I was a child, the world was small, compact, and easy to understand. Shuls were modest, communities intimate; we all knew what was what, and who was who. Our rebbes had a close connection with us, and individuality was seen as something positive. The Torah community was dynamic, allowing, in fact, actively seeking, room for everyone. It seemed unlikely that we would grow into anything more than a small, perhaps even shy remnant of what once was. Nobly, we would try to carry on our proud heritage, but many were uncertain how the future would unfold.

Slowly, the first steps were made. Leaders arose, gifted with insight and courage, and it was their bravery that guided the fledgling community toward the Kiddush Hashem we cherish today. How did this come about?

The Mishnah teaches:

Yehudah ben Teima says: Be bold as a leopard, light as an eagle, swift as a deer, and strong as a lion, to carry out the will of your Father in Heaven.

The Sfas Emes explains that each of these animals possesses a unique characteristic not shared by the others. Moreover, these traits often seem to contradict one another. It is almost impossible to be both swift as a deer and strong as a lion. Yet the true servant of Hashem,  one whose sole concern is to serve Hashem, learns to integrate all these attributes into a single personality.

Simply put, a Yid must strive to go beyond what seem to be his limitations, and somehow make it work. In those early postwar days, our leaders taught us that nothing was impossible in building a Torah world. Our only true obstacle was our own hesitation. The positive vision of my rebbes transformed what seemed beyond reach into reality, and they did so with grace and genuine warmth.

We were somewhat ramshackle in those days—old buildings converted into shuls, unpainted homes, simple clothing—yet there was a fire burning. The She’aris Hapleitah lived with their nightmares, wept silently for their lost ones, yet pressed forward against all odds. Bold as a leopard, not known for brute strength, but for courage and daring.

Being American-born, I was often called upon to serve as a translator—and at times even a representative—to an outside world that did not understand where we were heading. As time went on, I was entrusted with increasing responsibility. When I was chosen as a founding vice president of the Council of Jewish Organizations in Boro Park, Brooklyn, I witnessed firsthand the holy audacity of our Torah leaders. Our role was to represent the heimishe mosdos to the outside world, and nothing was done without consulting our Gedolim.

I was continually struck by their courage and stamina. Nothing lay beyond the realm of possibility. They acted with a single goal: to help Yidden flourish in their new environment and rebuild a Torah world that had been so ruthlessly destroyed.

Sitting at the feet of these lions of spirit, one quickly learned what true fearlessness looks like. Many times I found myself awestruck, witnessing their resolve despite the obstacles placed before them.

Today, those formative moments are etched into history. I sometimes read accounts of events I personally experienced and humbly acknowledge that, yes, greatness was woven into their everyday leadership.

So what about our current situation?

Our times are far more complex. In the seventy years since then, the world has changed beyond recognition. Entire aspects of life that we take for granted today barely existed, or did not exist at all. Today, our world is saturated with technology that seems to manage everything—until, as we occasionally see, it suddenly fails and everything grinds to a halt.

Into this “brave new world,” the Torah Yid enters, wondering how to navigate it, and from where we will draw the strength we so desperately need.

Each of us must internalize the strengths described in the Mishnah. Our children must be given the mesorah that has brought us to where we proudly stand. They must understand that being a Yid means having the strength to overcome life’s challenges.

They need tools to grow in a deeply materialistic world, and it is our responsibility to provide them. Many of our young are sensitive and require far more than a crowded classroom. To escape the pull of the material world, they must be swift like the deer—able to run toward the safety of Torah. But this does not happen on its own.

We learned this from our rebbes. As parents, we must pass it on. A child will not grow into a lion that roars if Tatty does not attend Shacharis on time. If we talk through davening, how can we expect our children to turn to a siddur when they feel lost?

The builders of Klal Yisroel created what we see today through adversity and sheer strength of will. As their students, we are obligated to carry forward their example.

Yet too often, some of us drift through life, hoping things will simply work out, lost in the haze of a chaotic world. We blame others for our struggles, while remaining passive, waiting for someone else to do what is ours to do.

Our tzaddikim left us with a clear vision. Let us not allow it to be obscured by the glow of our screens or dulled by spiritual complacency