SMALL HOUSES WITH GREAT HEARTS

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SMALL HOUSES WITH GREAT HEARTS

Harav Y. Reuven Rubin Shlita

We have been blessed in recent years with dynamic growth. After the churban, many thought Hiemisha Yiddishkeit would become a remnant of the past. Despite the many doom and gloom predictions, Hiemisha communities have cropped up in places hitherto unknown to the fruma world.

One of the most dynamic causes of this wondrous growth is what I have labeled the “House Shtieble Phenomenon”. These are smallish places of worship often built in refurbished residential properties, or even disused shop fronts. The usual path for the founding of such sanctuaries is either a few Yidden getting together in search of a place to daven in which they will find a simple space that is unpretentious, or a Hiemisha Rav or Rebbe seeking out a fertile place that is suitable for Torah growth. These holy places often carry the label “Shtieble” which generally means room, or house. The name shares a sense of warmth, of comradeship and safety, bringing with it a sense of bonding together. If one of the shtieble family has a challenging situation, the whole chevra will become concerned, shtieble connotes brotherhood, compassion, togetherness.

I have been blessed in working with large congregations and with small Shtieblech, and for me I find the vibrancy of the small chevra extremely exhilarating. A newcomer finds a place for themselves and he knows he counts for something, you’re not just a number, your contribution means a lot. I don’t mean to run down the brilliance of our large centralised communities, I just feel that the shtieble is one of our most unsung heroes in the story of today’s golus. There is a sense of organic togetherness, from whence I got the title House Shtieble.

The reader may will think that of course I would be prone to favour the concept of the smaller, less organised, base for Torah growth, after all, I have been blessed in leading one here in Manchester for about fifteen years. However, this is not just an exercise of blowing one’s own trumpet, it’s much more than that.

As a youth I found the local shtieble in my area a wondrous place of living torah life. The Rav was always there for you, as were almost all the members. These were mostly survivors of the camps; they cherished the ability to be together in this small group and naturally took care of one another. I think the operative phrase that depicts the growth of these wonderful places must be: “Heartfelt”

In parshas Terumah we read:

“Tell the Bnei Yesroel to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart is so moved.”  The Sochashover Rebbe Ztl asks why in this momentous building project, the Mishkan, did Hashem tell Moshe to ask for voluntary contributions rather than a tax which would equally be shared by all. The Rebbe explains that for the Mishkan, the building had to be built with heartfelt donations. The purpose of this edifice was to bring the Schinah into our lives and as such its funding had to be given with a full heart. Our places of davening are today’s place where we can bring the Eibishter into our lives. Those who build our Shtieblech do so with heart felt love. The day-to-day activities are filled with the tonic of holy care, and it is this that sparks the warm success we see all around. Our yeshivahs blossom on the fruits of youngsters raised in the vibrancy of these small yet thriving Torah centres.

My mind is filled with all the memories of time spent in my local shtieble. It was here that one could find meaning in the Torah Yied’s every day. Gemorah’s strewn about the table, the left-over cake from someone’s l’chaim, offered in memory of a departed loved one, and the stories, those sweet tales of yesteryear in the shtettle. These were the ingredients that when mixed together gave young minds a vision of what our holy ancestors strove for. Personally, my mind drifts back to the smells of Hiemisha herring, spilled whisky, and kokosh cake. This was the breakfast served up with a hearty l’chaim. Of course, we youngsters never touched the hard stuff, but the aroma was toxic in itself. In my shtieble, (notice it’s still mine, although almost sixty-five years have passed since then) there was a mikvah in the basement. The aroma of the hot fluoridated water struck you when you arrived on those frosty winter mornings, you soon warmed up with a hot coffee from the ancient urn, and you knew for certain that Hashem lived in this place.

So let’s share a heartfelt l’chaim with all those shtieble Yiedelech,  who thrive  warm heartedly so the next  steps  of our golus should be nourished with these wonderful moments.