The Funeral of the Seridei Eish

In 5726 (1966) the news of the petirah of the gaon of Montreux, Rav Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, author of the responsa Seridei Eish, reached Eretz Yisroel from Switzerland. He was one of the special poskim of the time and, like Rav Yechezkel, a Slobodka talmid. They had studied together under the Alter, who had left a deep imprint on both of their personalities. The students of Rav Yechezkel still remember their rav's resoluteness at that levaya.

Admirers of the niftar in Europe had made efforts to bring his remains to Eretz HaKodesh, and his friend, the Rosh Yeshiva, planned to attend the levaya. But just as the aron was on its way to Lod, Reb Yechezkel fell ill and, on the doctor's orders, had to stay in bed, suffering deeply over his forced absence. It was very hard for him to accept that he could not take part in the levaya of a friend so esteemed and counted among the gedolei hador.

He told the students who came to visit him that they were obligated to close their seforim and pay their respects to the Sefer Torah that had been consumed. The niftar, he explained, “was a man of great stature in his wisdom, his yirah, his middos and his zikui horabim.” He went on, “You should know that a great prince of Israel has fallen today. But I want to make one request.” From his voice it was clear that something weighed heavily on his heart. “I know that the Mizrachi circles will try to link his name to their approach. They will try to bury him alongside those who identify with their method. You must try to prevent this. All his life he was an ish Torah veyirah, who was raised and grew in the beis medrash. He is one of us. And if there are problems, tell me immediately.”

There were indeed problems. When the bier reached a crossroad, the Knesset members from the Mizrachi movement ordered the procession to continue to Sanhedria, to the plots where the leaders of their movement were buried. The students of the Chevron yeshiva tried to carry out their rosh yeshiva's instructions and met firm opposition.

Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, the tip of a walking cane ended the argument. It was the cane of Reb Yechezkel, who, despite his pain, had made the effort to come. Those present tried to approach him and ask how he felt, and others who knew his exact condition tried to support him with their hands. But the Rosh Yeshiva paid no attention to them. In a storm he made his way toward the bier, leaning on his cane and panting heavily from the effort, until he reached the aron at the center of the struggle, at the crossroads between Sanhedria and Har HaMenuchos.

There he acted with full authority. “The niftar will be buried there,” he said, pointing toward Har HaMenuchos. To those who still doubted who had the last word, his next remark ended their hesitation: “The niftar will be buried in the place prepared for me, beside Rav Eliezer Yehuda Finkel, the rosh yeshiva of Mir.”

“Our generation needs someone like Reb Yechezkel for many more years,” said Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz, the Mirrer rosh yeshiva, who was present.

This was in 1966, a year before the dramatic events of the Six Day War. The Kosel, the Old City and Har HaZeisim were still under Jordanian rule, and for eighteen years the tombstones on Har HaZeisim had been trampled by Arab legionnaires. No one thought of being buried on Har HaZeisim, the mountain facing Har HaBayis. No one knew that exactly a year later Jews would again be able to pour out their prayers at the place the Shechina never left.

Three years after the petirah of his friend, Reb Yechezkel was called up to the mesivta shel maalah. “Bury me on Har HaZeisim,” was the request of the man who had given up his own grave to protect his friend's honor. He was buried beside his father-in-law, Rav Moshe Mordechai Epstein.