They met at the main hadlakah on Lag Ba’Omer in Kiryas Yoel in New York. The bonfire burned l’ilui nishmas Rabi Shimon, and the whole crowd sang “...He revealed a hidden midrash....” At that time, there were two respected Yidden who encountered both the hidden and revealed at once, and they were completely blown away by the impact of what they heard.
The Rav Av Beis Din Selish from Yerushalayim, Hagaon Hatzaddik Rav Shalom Klein shlit”a, spoke with Reb Yechezkel and told him something painful:
I always knew that my father had an uncle named Reb Ozer ben Reb Shalom Klein a”h. He had a wife and children before the war. He lost his entire family in the Holocaust and was left alone, a poor, unfortunate, suffering man. He passed away in 5741 leaving behind no children, and my father z”l took it upon himself to say Yizkor for him at all the proper times, on Yamim Tovim, and to give tzedakah l’ilui nishmaso.
When my father z”l passed away, in 5752, I inherited this Yizkor from him. Every time I said Yizkor, I mentioned the names of my parents and the name of Uncle Ozer.
On Shevi’i shel Pesach I was in a state of pikuach nefesh, and on the night of Yom Tov I was taken in for surgery at Hadassah Ein Kerem hospital. Despite the difficulty and the pain, I was zocheh to daven the Yom Tov tefillos in the hospital. It wasn’t simple. I was post-surgery, and so you can understand how it happened that when I said Yizkor I mentioned only the names of my parents and promised to donate money to tzedakah l’ilui nishmasam, but I completely forgot to say the name of my uncle, Reb Ozer Klein.
Only on the day after Yom Tov did it hit me: I hadn’t said Yizkor for Uncle Ozer! I knew I was the only person in the world who remembered him for this tefillah, and it hurt me that I’d forgotten, but what could I do? B’ezras Hashem, on the Yom Tov of Shavuos that was coming up, I would mention him and donate money l’ilui nishmaso, as is customary.
“Really?” Reb Yechezkel was amazed by the story and had turned completely pale. “So that’s is the story,” he said at last. “Now I understand why it happened davka on the last day of Pesach.”
Reb Ozer had spent most of his years in Eretz Yisrael, in a small room that had been allocated to him in Yeshivas Hanegev Beis Hillel in Beer Sheva. This was not a free gift to him; it was something that he had fully earned and that was rightfully his. It was at a time when the Negev was not very well developed. There were two chareidi schools in Beer Sheva, but there did not yet exist a yeshivah that would learn in Yiddish, al taharas hakodesh. The grandfather of the Ga’avad Selish shlit”a, Hagaon Hatzaddik Reb Elazar Klein zt”l, who was the Rav of Beer Sheva at that time, was asked to establish this type of yeshivah, but he had a serious financial problem. Where would he get hold of a building for the yeshivah?
While searching for a building, or a sponsor for one, word of the matter reached Reb Aaron Sokovolsky z”l. He had a beautiful, spacious home of several stories, with a large courtyard. He spoke to the Rav of Beer Sheva and said, “I am willing to donate my house to the yeshivah without your having to pay anything. I am only asking that you arrange a small apartment for me to live in, and also promise me that this building will continue to serve this purpose and that the sound of Torah will always be heard in it.”
It was easy to acquiesce to the second condition. The location of the building was excellent, and indeed, from then on the Beis Hillel yeshivah has been housed there. But the first condition created a severe financial issue. A small apartment would have to be purchased somehow, and they did not have the funds for that.
That is when Reb Ozer, the Rav’s relative, entered the picture. “I am willing to donate my apartment for Reb Aharon to live in. It is enough for me to have a small room, a bed, a table, and a lamp.”
And that is what happened. Reb Ozer donated his apartment, and he was given a small room in the yeshivah, where he lived for the rest of his days.
He was part of the scenery in the yeshivah, and everyone knew this lonely, unfortunate Yid. He davened for long hours at a time. By the time he’d complete Shacharis it was time for Minchah, and he would get up to daven yet again. Often he would forget to eat because he was so preoccupied with his davening.
It was no secret that he’d been through the horrors of the Holocaust. The Nazis left him with a deep scar: his feet were charred. That is how Reb Yechezkel’s friend, Reb Dovid, knew him. Reb Dovid’s father was a friend of the Rav of Beer Sheva, and so he sent his son to learn in Yeshivas Beis Hillel.
It was the only year that Reb Dovid learned in that yeshivah. He was young and, sadly, he did not know to appreciate Reb Ozer’s greatness as a Holocaust survivor who had donated all his possessions to uphold Torah, and so it happened that he caused Reb Ozer pain.
“Today,” Reb Yechezkel said, “Sixty-seven years after Reb Dovid learned in the yeshivah, he is a knowledgeable talmid chacham, and he moved to Kiryas Yoel. He called me after Pesach and told me he’d had a frightening dream. At 3 a.m. on the last night of Pesach, just after the Rav Av Beis Din Selish, in Eretz Yisrael, did not mention Reb Ozer in Yizkor, he appeared to Reb Dovid in a dream, looking exactly as he had when he was alive, down to his charred feet.
“You hurt me, and I didn’t forgive you,” he said. “If you mention me in Yizkor and give tzedakah l’ilui nishmasi, that will be a tikkun for you.”
Reb Dovid told me that never in his life had he said such a Yizkor. He wept with great hisorerus, and his friends wondered: What happened? Your parents didn’t pass away just yesterday.... He mentioned Reb Ozer and also asked for his forgiveness. May the publication of this story also be l’ilui nishmaso, to know and to let it be known how great is a Yid’s neshamah, and how great is the value of our actions in this world.
