(By his daughter, originally published in Hamodia)
On the words in Avos (4:13), “V’kesser shem tov oleh al gabeihen”, Rabbeinu Yonah writes that the purpose of coming to this world is to acquire a shem tov, and when someone leaves this world with a shem tov, “yismechu alav krovav vohavav,” his relatives and friends will rejoice with him.
My father, Reb Shimon Betzalel Edelstein, zt”l, has a glorious reputation as a gaon batorah, mushlam in middos, and baal chessed mufla. His shem tov is recognized by all who knew him, whether from yeshiva, shul, neighborhood, or the business world.
It is difficult to try and find a frame of reference for my father. He was much greater than the sum of his parts. His accomplishments were so extraordinary that he almost cannot be described; he had to be experienced.
My father was a brilliant lawyer and executive vice president of a major corporation for many years, and though he enjoyed his work, we never heard much about it from him.
His gadlus baTorah was legendary, and nothing was more important to him than his Sunday morning shiur in Aruch Hashulchan at Khal Kol Torah (Rabbi Geldwerth). When he first started, I used to type up his notes so he could send mareh mekomos (sources) to the people who attended the shiur. I was young back then and it used to take me all Sunday to type in Hebrew. I wanted to stop. My father told me it would get easier, and it did, and I learned a new skill. It was his way of showing me that I can accomplish if I just put in the effort.
He scheduled his life around the shiur, prioritizing it over other so-called important events. He had a room in my brother’s yeshiva so he could give his shiur virtually and still be on time for Sunday morning avos ubanim programs. When my uncle made a bris in Lakewood, he arrived early so he could give his shiur from the car and still run in to participate in the simcha. He delivered the shiur virtually from his hospital bed up until a few weeks ago. It was that level of mesiras nefesh that orchestrated our getting up from shivah at 9:15 on Sunday morning, in time for my father’s neshamah to deliver the Sunday morning Aruch Hashulchan shiur in yeshiva shel ma’alah.
My father lived every shiur that he gave. When the inyan was shemitah, he printed jumbo maps of Eretz Yisrael to discuss the halachos with his family on Shabbos. When the inyan was mezuzah, he took the family on neighborhood walks pointing out differences and halachic ramifications of different doorposts. And of course he ended with hilchos refuah b’Shabbos, so he can live and implement his shiur until his last day. There were no gaps between his limud and his ma’aseh.
Likewise, there were no gaps between his inspiration and his actions. If my father thought he should learn something, he just learned it, even if it was a topic that few learned or an esoteric sefer. If he thought someone needed chizzuk, he picked up the phone and gave it. If a mossad or organization needed help, he took a personal achrayus to rebuild it with expert legal advice, financial backing, and encouragement. He was unexplainable in the amount he accomplished in the time he was given.
My father was an ish emes to the fullest extent. He insisted on paying sales tax for every purchase and service, and always told us that a person does not get rich or successful by taking shortcuts. He waited for months and paid top dollar for permits before starting construction. Storeowners, vendors, and business associates who were at first confused by this attitude came around to be utterly awed at his commitment to integrity. Everyone who passed through his life came to the shiva and remarked how much he inspired them, from the pediatrician to the builder to the plumber to the fish store owner.
My father always had time for us, his family, and made us feel like the most important people in the world. He took us on amazing trips and taught us to appreciate the niflaos haBorei and make a kiddush Hashem wherever we go. He always had time to practice piano with us and choose books for us to read that would take our level up a notch. He hardly ever allowed us to read abridged versions. He involved himself in our talents, playing musical duets with us on the piano and advising my sisters on how to incorporate sophisticated detail to their paintings. He took tremendous pride in all of our accomplishments.
Of course, my brothers learning was his top priority, and he constantly learned with them. From the time my brothers were young, my father encouraged them to prepare their own divrei torah for Shabbos from a sefer and not repeat what they heard in yeshiva or shul. He also made sure to learn things with them that were outside of the Yeshiva curriculum, so they would be excited about numerous topics. For every seudah, he prepared brilliant divrei Torah, which took the place of parashah questions. On Yomim Tovim my father would regale us with fascinating, masterfully delivered gedolim stories related to that chag. It was extremely important to my father that we be familiar with the histories, families, and communities of the Gedolim of previous generations.
This past Erev Succos, my father’s Rosh Yeshiva, Harav Shlomo Feivel Schustal, shlit’’a, told my father that his children are chashuve bachurim and yungeleit, and he should say a shiur by every seudah. Although my father was in terrible pain at the time, he delivered an intricate, brilliant pilpul at every seudah, He transformed our Succah to a beis medrash.
My father’s brilliance didn’t deter him from doing anything possible to benefit his community[a]. Recently, when he heard a shul was lacking a baal tokeiah, he taught himself to blow shofar, practicing for many hours to make sure all the tekios would be mehudar. He also taught Nach to the children of Khal Kol Torah through his stor at Avos u’Banim.
Last year, I was upset about something, and my father told me that everything in life is just a tekufah, and for better or for worse, everything eventually gets resolved. When it does, which it will, a person should look back at that tekufah and be proud of the way he acted during that time. It was that lesson that motivated us to remain strong in the face of my father’s illness and difficult prognosis.
My father was the kindest man who treated everybody with tremendous respect and uniquely thoughtful consideration. He believed thanking nurses with chocolates or token gifts could come across as demeaning, and instead showed appreciation through genuine interest in their families and lives. When he left the hospital, he wrote cards, by hand, to express his gratitude to the nurses.
My father was once seen by a doctor, and a few minutes after she left, my father asked my sister to call the doctor back to the room. Thinking he was in pain, the doctor hurried back and as soon as my father saw her, he said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t ask how you are today He made such an impression that when he was transferred to different wards of the hospital, his old nurses would always come to visit him.
My father was a true eved Hashem, who internalized kol mah d’avid Rachmana l’tav avid. He treated his illness as an opportunity to teach his children to be mekadesh shem Shamayim under any circumstances, and for himself to be makedesh shem Shamayim b’galuy.
When my father was on a daily chemo pill, he would recite “l’kayeim mitzvas vchay bahem ushmartem meod l’nafshoseichem” out loud before taking each dose. Last spring, my father was on a brutal regiment which required him to undergo harsh treatments twice a day for a few weeks. My father told me he feels he is mechuyav to do it this way because it seems to get the best results. So, as not to waste a minute, he timed the sessions with Shir Hamaalos, so he can thank Hashem for all the brachos in his life during the treatments.
My father fought like a lion, but also accepted the gezeirah with love. He told me a few weeks ago that his matzav is not a tragedy, he felt it was a zechus to live for almost 52 years, as long as Shmuel Hanavi. He was proud of what he accomplished and so grateful to Hakadosh Baruch Hu for all the brachos in his life. This winter, my father underwent a difficult surgery that he knew had little chance of helping him. But like everything else, he saw this surgery as an opportunity to serve Hakadosh Baruch Hu “b’chol nafshicha” , and sang hallel out loud as he was wheeled into surgery.
My father knew that his hadrachah meant everything to us, and he wanted to prepare us for the next stage. He urged us to have the conversations he knew we needed to have with him and with our family. Months ago, he learned Hilchos Aveilus with my youngest brother, and instructed us on how to conduct ourselves with dignity and class during the shivah.
He left this world with a sterling reputation, and so, like the Rabbeinu Yonah says, “yismechu alav krovav vohavav.”
By the shivah, Rabbi Yosef Bronner, a maggid shiur at Khal Kol Torah, told me that he had a unique relationship with my father, because he only spoke to him in learning. The first time he asked him a question, my father responded brilliantly, leading Rabbi Bronner to assume that he had just chosen an area that my father punkt knew. As this continued across different areas of Torah, my father’s gadlus became increasingly evident to him, so much so that he invented a game where he would think up obscure questions in little known areas to ask my father, and my father always had an answer.
When Rabbi Bronner heard about the petirah, he related that it was said at the levayah of a brilliant young talmid chacham, Harav Joffen, zt’’l, that when this talmid chacham came up to yeshiva shel maalah, his grandfathers and Roshei Yeshiva greeted him by saying “kumt arein a heimesher,” one of us is coming. Rabbi Bronner said that when my father’s pure neshamah went up to Shamayim, we can assume he received the same greeting from the Gedolim of previous generations, and from his dear Roshei Yeshiva, Harav Reuven Fain, zt’’l, Harav Simcha Scheps, zt’’l, and Harav Avraham Pam, zt’’l.
When we discussed this concept further with our Rav, Rabbi Geldwerth, he said that my father was so makpid to always know the personal lives and backgrounds of the mechabrei seforim that he learned, and to learn less well-known seforim to keep the memories and torah of their mechabrim alive. Whenever he quoted a sefer, he made sure to share the background of where the mechaber lived, his kehillah, his family, and his contemporaries. During the past few weeks, the Sefer Olam haTorah, describing the lives of Gedolim, and the Chida’s sefer, Shem Hagedolim, were at his bedside in the hospital. And so, many Gedolim of previous generations, many who wrote seforim that are seldom learned are coming to thank him for learning their Torah, and for being heimesh with them.
My family was zocheh to have had my father for almost 52 years, and we feel incredibly proud and blessed to carry on his legacy and emulate his ways.
Yehi zichro baruch.
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One Response
Such a beautiful touching hesped.Ckearly the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.Not only moving but written in such a fine “adele” way.
He will have bezras Hashem a lechdiger Gan Eden while shepping yidishe nachas from his amazing chuldren