The Short Vort by Rabbi Eisenman

The excitement in the room was palpable.

 It was an event marking the beginning of the learning of Mishnayos for the third-grade boys at Yeshiva Darchei Torah.

Parents and grandparents were all in attendance celebrating their son’s or grandson’s first immersion into Torah Shebe’al Peh.

Mothers were bursting with pride as they watched their sons standing on stage about to receive their first Mishnayos.

Fathers became teary-eyed as they observed their sons following the path of the Torah and recalled the special day when they, too, received their first Mishnayos.

The grandparents were also schepping nachas of their grandchildren’s achievements.

Rav Yaakov Bender, the Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshiva Darchei Torah, presided over the momentous occasion.

The plan undoubtedly was for Rav Bender to thank Hashem and commend the boys on their accomplishments.

He would then present a Mishnayos to each student, providing a special photo-op for every family.

The event would conclude with refreshments and the wishes of mazel tov.

Yet, Rav Bender veered from the well-choreographed and anticipated proceedings.

Why did Rav Bender not follow the scripted procedure?

For those who know Rav Yaakov Bender, the question does not begin.

Rav Bender is not an individual who acts robotically and mechanically.

Rather, he is a man with a heart as big as the world and whose

compassionate eyes are constantly seeking out more and more

opportunities for Chessed.

Rav Bender’s insightful eye had noticed an older woman among the assembled.

Rav Bender’s correctly immediately realized this woman was not a woman who grew up in the heart of Flatbush enjoying all of the comforts of an American upbringing.  

To the surprise of all assembled, perhaps most to the woman herself, Rav Bender suddenly called out to the great-grandmother and asked her to join him center stage.

Recognizing that this woman was also not a native of the Five Towns, Rav Bender asked where she was from.

The woman related how she was born in Poland and spent the war in Siberia.

Rav Bender’s eagle eye was still working overtime, and he spotted another great-grandmother.

She, too, was called up to take her place among those most honored.

She was a survivor of Auschwitz.

This particular Bubby was privileged to have three great-grandsons participating in the Simcha of Haschalas Mishnayos.

When asked if, after Auschwitz, she could ever have thought she would be present to witness her grandchildren receiving Mishnayos, she began to tear up.

“I could never have dreamt of being present at such a celebration,” she said through tears of joy.

Yet these two great-grandmothers were here, witnessing their great-grandsons in America learning Mishnayos. They were continuing the Mesorah in the same manner as their own fathers had done in Poland one hundred years ago.

Rav Bender stressed how miraculous this event was.

Who could have imagined Torah flourishing in America after the Holocaust?

Who else but the Jewish People could rise again to such spiritual heights after Auschwitz?

The celebration proved Klal Yisrael’s resiliency and the Torah’s immortality.

Yet by calling up these venerable great-grandmothers, Rav Bender accomplished much more than proving the Jewish People’s invincibility and the Torah’s potency.

Rav Bender correctly and properly realigned everyone’s perspective on the day’s event.

Of course, our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren must be honored and recognized for each rung they climb on the spiritual ladder of the Torah.

We celebrate our children’s accomplishments as our children represent our greatest dreams and hope for a better tomorrow.

However, as the Shibolei Haleket (13th century) writes in his introduction to his classic work on Halachah, “We are as midgets who stand on the shoulders of the giants who came before us. All of our wisdom and Torah achievements are only because of them.”

When Rav Bender called up these venerated, beloved matriarchs, he was doing much more than giving these heroines their well-deserved nachas. He reminded us that these sometimes feeble and often petite bubbies are the true giants and the genuine guests of honor of the day.

We survived, thrived, and arrived at where we are today by standing atop their seemingly delicate yet surprisingly stable and strong shoulders.

To the untrained eye, these esteemed great-grandmothers were invited guests and observers, yet to the Torah-trained mind of Rav Bender, they were the Main Event.