Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum began his rabbinic career in Krooly, a small town in Hungary. In 1929, the Rav of the Orthodox community in Satmar, a larger and more prestigious community, passed away, and Rabbi Teitelbaum was invited for a Shabbos “tryout.” The Rav displayed exceptional knowledge of Talmud, far above the prevailing image of a Chassidic rabbi, who was expected to be more of an expert in Kabbalah and prayer. He was retained by the community, which prospered under his leadership, and began attracting students to its yeshiva from all over Hungary.
As the War approached, the Satmarer Rav was smuggled out of harm’s way, first into Switzerland, where he remained throughout the War, and afterwards in 1946, into Israel. On a fund-raising mission to the United States, he met many people from his former community who urged him to stay in America and help them recover from the trauma of the War. Rabbi Teitelbaum’s decision to stay in America was historic, in that it set in place the foundation for the growth of the Satmar community. After only a short time, the transplanted “Yetiv Lev” Congregation emerged upon American soil, with Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum at the helm.
In 1948, he drew worldwide attention when he became the only Jewish leader to denounce the newly founded Jewish state. He based his Anti-Zionist position on a gemara in Ketubot 111a, that derives from the triple mention in Shir HaShirim of the verse, “I have bound you in oath, O daughters of Jerusalem,” that Hashem bound the Jewish People and the nations of the world with three oaths:
- “shelo yaalu bachoma” – that the Jews should not forcibly “breach the wall,” and enter Eretz Yisrael
- that the Jews should not rebel against the nations of the world
- that the nations of the world should not oppress the Jewish People excessively during the Exile
The gemara concludes with the threat that if the Jews would violate these oaths, Hashem would bring upon them great harm and physical destruction. Rabbi Teitelbaum claimed that the Zionist movement had brought the Holocaust upon the Jewish People by violating the oaths incumbent upon them.
(Two of the arguments raised against the above are that by the Balfour Declaration the nations of the world gave permission to the Jews to return to Israel. Another is that the oaths would apply to the Jewish People only if the nations of the world did not excessively mistreat them during the Galut. Centuries of massacre and pogrom certainly testify otherwise as to the behavior of the nations of the world. If the nations have violated their oath, the oaths upon the Jewish People are null and void.)
In the 1950’s, the Satmar community continued to blossom. Williamsburg became the scene of many inspiring Chassidic gatherings and public tefilos, such as would occur annually on Hoshanah Rabbah, when the Satmar synagogue was a sea of lulavim and esrogim.
By the 1960’s, the Satmar community in Brooklyn had grown rapidly and the rebbe had gained many new adherents from immigration to the United States, and his opinions and blessings were sought by thousands.
In the 1970’s, the rebbe bought land in Monroe, NY, and founded Kiryas Yoel, where a large branch of the Satmar community now lives.
Tens of thousands of his Hasidim attended his funeral in Kiryat Yoel. None of his children survived him, as all three of his daughters passed away during his lifetime. The Satmar community grieved at the tremendous loss of their rebbe, who had led his followers according to uncompromising principles, in which he deeply believed.
Remembrances of a talmid, as told to Rabbi Nisson Wolpin
The Satmar Rav, a direct descendant of both the famed Yismach Moshe and the Chavas Daas, was recognized as a young man for his unusual lomdus, hasmadah and tzidkus – Torah scholarship, diligence and piety – assuming his first rabbinical position as Rav of Muzheyer at the age of seventeen. By the outbreak of World War 2, he was Rav of the thriving community of Satmar and had emerged as one of the leading figures in Hungarian Jewry. He distinguished himself with his heroic adherence to Torah under the most brutal conditions of the Nazi concentration camps. After a brief stay in Eretz Yisrael, the Rebbe came to America in 1946 and settled in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn.
It was in Williamsburg that the Rebbe painstakingly helped thousands of fellow survivors reconstruct their lives, at the same time reconstructing a thriving Chassidic community – taking advantage of all technological advances of contemporary America, while shunning its values and the more apparent aspects of its life-style. As a result, at the time of his passing, the Rebbe presided over a tight-knit, highly disciplined community numbering in the thousands, with major settlements in Williamsburg and elsewhere, including their flourishing Kiryas Yoel in New York’s Monroe Township, Monsey, Montreal, and of course, Jerusalem, where he was Rav of the Eida Hachreidis.
Indeed, the Satmar communities are all distinguished by a kehillah system that include complete control of shul, kashrus, education, and in many cases, social welfare. Thus, the Brooklyn kehillah embraces an educational system of 5,000 students embodying a complete girl’s school and yeshivos spanning nursery through Kolel, as well as an extremely effective tzeddakah-medical-welfare system and wide-reaching Bikur Cholim network, directed by the Satmar Rebbetzin. This, in a smaller format, is duplicated in the rolling expanses of Kiryas Yoel – the Satmar sponsored suburban settlement.
The Rebbe was renowned for his extremely strong stand against Zionism, even refusing to accept the existence of the State of Israel – differing markedly with Torah authorities of Agudas Yisroel in this. For that matter, he opposed the very concept of an organized coalition-structured Orthodoxy as personified by Agudas Yisroel. Nonetheless, he was respected – even revered – in other circles for his vast scholarship, tzidkus, personal humility, astute wisdom, and unwavering tenacity.
The 100,000 people that crowded the streets of Monroe to bid farewell to the Satmar Rav included followers and admirers, Chassidim and Misnagdim, Europeans and Americans, paying homage to one of the greatest of contemporary Jewish leaders, who had taught and led his people as a Rav for seventy-five years ... He will be missed – not only by those who followed his particular ideology, but by Orthodox Jews of contrasting viewpoint as well who saw in him a tower of principled leadership.
The Purity of Another Era
They had heard of the Sigheter Rav’s “wonder sons” who were only little children, ninety long years ago. It was said that “Yoilish,” the younger child, refrained from unnecessarily touching covered parts of his body, so he could always be prepared to study Torah. A visiting Rabbi asked the Sigheter Rav if it were so. “Come,” said the Rav, leading the visitor to the bedroom where his three-year-old Yoel was fast asleep. He lifted his tzitzis-fringes over the child’s head and tickled his ear. The sleeping boy slipped his sleeve over his fingers and raised his covered hand to scratch his itchy head.
From the time of his Bar Mitzvah until the outbreak of World War 2 – a period of forty years – Reb Yoel never slept on a bed, except for Shabbosos – studying Torah, on his feet, by day and by night ... In the internment camp in Bergen-Belsen, not only did he eat nothing that might have been un-kosher, subsisting mostly on potatoes, but he fasted as often as four times a week.
He continued this procedure until his last days; and even when he did eat, his first meal usually was a cup of coffee at 3 or 4 in the afternoon ... “Do I want to eat now? A Jew doesn’t eat because he wants to. He eats because he must.”
While he encouraged his followers to work and earn well, spend on themselves as necessary and give charity lavishly, he avoided spending on himself. Any time he was presented with a new garment, his first reaction was: “Who needs it?”
The Rebbe was fastidious about his personal cleanliness, and would not tolerate a hint of uncleanliness. In part, this was to be fit for prayer and Torah study. In fact, he thought nothing of changing clothes several times during the day if he found them unclean. Even in Bergen-Belsen, he had bartered food for tissues ...
Unknown to many, he was also meticulous about precision in time and manner of performance of mitzvos. Only his Shacharis was invariably late because of his personal preparations ... On occasion, he could not begin his Pesach Seder until after 11 o’clock because of ill health. This did not deter him from eating the afikomen before midnight, as is required by halachah, according to many ... He also consulted an authority present at his Pesach Seder regarding the precise size of his matzos and marror, as is required by halacha for the mitzvos ...
He took pains to shield his knowledge of Kabbalah from the curious. The Rebbe was always surrounded by people – indeed, he enjoyed company; but he was sensitive to prying eyes. He made light of references to mofsim (miracles) or kabbalistic involvement in our times. Yet his conduct at meals – the ways he picked at his food, and his deep concentration in tefillah, bespoke hidden motives, meaning-laden cryptic gestures.
While he made himself available to people without hesitation, and seemed to enjoy conversing with all his visitors, the Rebbe had a distinctly regal bearing. When walking down Bedford Avenue from his home to the bais hamidrash, the sidewalk would clear well in advance of his coming. Not that there was anything forbidding about his appearance. But, until his very last years, a vitality seemed to shine through his smooth, translucent face that bespoke a purity that defied the passage of time, and inspired others to move back in awe.
The Vast Sea of His Knowledge
It seemed as though he never had to prepare for a lecture, drashah, or shiur. In Europe the custom had been for someone to open a Midrash Rabba at Shalosh Seudos, and read three passages at random – giving the Rebbe material for his dissertation. He would then expound at length, quoting passages from the Midrash verbatim ... In America, he would enter the yeshiva’s bais hamidrash, ask where the bachurim were up to in their studies, open the Gemara and begin a long, involved lecture without further notice.
Rabbi Yaakov Breish of Zurich had spent years on the section of his sefer Chelkas Yaakov that deals with the complicated laws of ribbis (usury). When visiting the United States, he visited the Satmar Rav and spent several hours discussing in detail several difficult topics in his sefer. He later expressed wonder at how thorough the Rebbe’s mastery of this topic had been, even though his visit had been unannounced, giving the Rebbe no time for preparation.
The Rebbe would write his Torah commentaries at two or three o’clock in the morning, relishing every minute. He once remarked, “I could see myself doing this the rest of my life, but I have a directive from my father that one must be prepared to give away his own Torah, if necessary, to help a fellow Jew.”
Notwithstanding his round-the-clock involvement in chessed, his treasure house of Torah knowledge was vast. Perhaps Klal Yisrael was deprived of the greater riches that would have been theirs had he been allowed the luxury of extending the full measure of the hasmadah of his youth into his later years, and not suffered the distraction of being father to his community. But then, Klal Yisroel would not have had a Satmar Rav, and we would have been infinitely poorer for that loss.
Father to His Community
A large number of those at his funeral had come as children mourning a very personal loss, many of them ripping their garments in kriyah for the loss of a father who had cared for their every need, both spiritual and material. It is extremely difficult to comprehend how so many thousands could experience such an intense relationship with one man. And yet, how else can one explain the phenomenal growth of the Satmar community from several scores of families in the late 40’s to so many thousands of followers today – especially when the external trappings of the group’s lifestyle is in direct conflict with modern Western culture? To be sure, the explanation for this growth lies in part in the large families generally prevalent in the Torah community. But it also must be attributed to the exceedingly low defection rate among Satmar Chassidim – a phenomenon in which the Rebbe played a pivotal role.
Shortly after he had arrived in America, a young Chassid was discussing the naming of his newly born son with the Satmar Rav, in the presence of another rabbi. “My grandfather was a very good Jew,” he said.
“His name would be a fine choice for your son,” commented the Rebbe.
“But several of my nephews and cousins already carry his name. On the other hand, my father-in-law has no one named after him.”
“That should certainly be taken into consideration.”
“However ...”
And so it continued. After the young father left, the other visitor asked the Rebbe why he permitted himself to become so involved with trivia.
“In the old country, I was a father at home, and could be a Rebbe in the city. But here,” the Rebbe sighed, “this is simply not suitable. I have to be a father to my community, and a Rebbe at home.”
As visitors streamed into his room, the Rebbe asked questions and listened carefully, seemed to bend his shoulder to carry the load of others, and was mispallel (prayed) for their needs.
