NCSY Alumni: Leaders Then and Now

JEWISH ACTION Spring 5762/2002

LEADERSTHEN AND NOW:

Profiles of

ALUMNINCSYNCSY

Captions for these photos appear on last page of this section .

he heart and soul of NCSY has always been the NCSYersthemselves, the brave and idealistic young boys and girls from places like Vancouver, British Columbia, orCharleston, West Virginia, who embrace Torah and mitzvot despite the prevailing climate of indifference, apathyand even antagonism. In the pages ahead, we present portraits of some of the NCSY alumni who have made thearduous journey to Torah observance. We trace these individuals’ lives—over 20 and 30 years—demonstrating howNCSY changed not only their future, but oftentimes, the future of families, synagogues and even entire commu-nities. But what marks these individuals as special is not only their genuine commitment to living a Torah lifestyle,rather it is their unfailing devotion to the Jewish people and Jewish communal service. Leaders back in their NCSYdays, these individuals were imbued with a love of Torah at NCSY but also with a profound sense of responsibili-ty and purpose. Thus, today these alumni—whether they are rabbis or Jewish educators, high-powered investors ordentists—are motivated by a singular ambition: to serve Klal Yisrael. We salute these outstanding individuals forthe extraordinary contributions they have made and are continuing to make to Jewish life.

T

Jeanne Abrams

Nechama Carmel is the editor of JewishAction.

More than 30 years later,most members of the Upstate New York(Har Sinai) Region still remember the1966 regional convention that wassnowed in. Fifty-four inches of snowblanketed upper New York, causing theNew York Thruway to shut down. “Itwas actually a wonderful experience,”recalls Jeanne Abrams (née Lichtman).“Our bus was stranded on the Thruwayfor nearly 10 hours…. There was a greatdeal of ruach. We spent the time singingand eating the food the Albany contin-gent packed for us.” True, Abrams wassick with bronchitis for two weeks after-wards and one convention delegate need-ed 10 full days to get home, but thatAlbany Shabbaton remains permanentlyetched in Har Sinai history.

In fact, among Har Sinai mem-bers, Utica became known for twothings: One, for hosting the strandedconvention delegates for three days(Utica was as far west as the buses couldgo) and two, Jeanne Abrams.

The president of the Utica Chapterof NCSY who later became president ofthe entire region, Abrams was an onlychild of Holocaust survivors who hadmoved to Upstate New York to find abetter life. Like so many Jewish immi-grants who came to the United States inthe early and mid-twentieth century,Abrams’ parents gave up being observantamidst the overwhelming pressures toAmericanize. And yet, despite the pullsto assimilate, they insisted on beingmembers of an Orthodox shul. “Althoughmy very Americanized and very success-ful relatives belonged to the Conservativetemple in the area, my parents weremembers of Congregation House ofJacob, where Rabbi Louis Ginsburg wasthe rabbi,” recalls Abrams who attendedthe rabbi’s Talmud Torah classes for sev-eral years, and absorbed many of hisideals. “Rabbi Ginsburg had a profoundeffect on me,” remembers Abrams.Indeed, he did. At the age of 12, Abramsbecame shomer Shabbat.

Who was this man who so effec-tively conveyed the meaning and beautyof Shabbat to a young girl, and in doingso, ultimately turned her entire familyaround? A beloved figure in the commu-nity, Rabbi Ginsburg spent 18 yearsstruggling to uphold Jewish life in Uticaamidst a frightening trend of assimila-tion. His congregation was mostly com-prised of Eastern European immigrantswho were largely consumed with accli-mating to a new culture and attainingsome level of financial success. Amongthe shul constituency, however, there was

one group that was particularly receptiveto his message: the children.

During the time Rabbi Ginsburgserved as rabbi of Congregation House ofJacob, he was also the chaplain to the cityand state police departments as well asthe city fire department. Additionally, heserved as president of the American chap-ter of the Religious Zionists of Americaand was an officer of the local region ofthe Rabbinical Council of America. Butby far, his most outstanding accomplish-ment was bringing NCSY to Utica andfostering the fledgling movement’s phe-nomenal growth.

Officially founded in Schenectadyin 1960, the Har Sinai Region reallytook off when Rabbi Ginsburg becamethe volunteer regional director in 1963,leading his region to excel in virtuallyevery area and to claim award after awardat every national convention. Since thecommunities in Upstate New York weretoo small to support a regional director,finding Rabbi Ginsburg was, in thewords of former NCSY National Direc-tor Rabbi Pinchas Stolper, “an extraordi-nary piece of mazzal.” Enthusiastic,warm and extremely gifted in youthwork, Rabbi Ginsburg, known as “thefather of the Har Sinai Region,” waseventually recruited to join the NCSYnational staff. Yet, even while serving asdirector of national projects for the OUand NCSY, he maintained his responsi-bilities as regional director, refusing toabandon his first love: the Har SinaiRegion.

When Abrams was growing up inthe ’60s, Utica had about 3,000 Jews butonly a handful was shomer Shabbat. Thosewho kept Shabbat clung to each other forsupport. “I had these four or fivefriends—including the rabbi’s children—who were shomer Shabbat and we used to


Jeanne Abrams UTICA CHAPTER, UPSTATE NY REGION1963-1968By Nechama Carmel

“We used to live from convention to convention.”

walk to the shul for oneg Shabbat,” saysAbrams. Indeed, there was one hard andfast rule that the Utica Chapter adheredto: only those within walking distancecould participate in the oneg Shabbat.These Shabbat gatherings were notinsignificant; in fact, they constituted amajor part of the teenagers’ social lives. Inthe days before the emergence of the dayschool movement, NCSY was a sociallifeline for many. “There was very littlesocializing among Orthodox synagoguesbefore NCSY,” explained a former mem-ber of the Har Sinai Region. “We kidswere very lonely.” Most of the teenagerslike Abrams who became observant whileattending public high schools limitedtheir social lives to attending NCSYevents, regional Shabbatonim (which costabout $11 in those days) and of course,the annual NCSY National Convention.“If you didn’t have a supportive peergroup in high school, you couldn’t makeit through,” recalls Raina Berger, who wasa member of the Schenectady Chapter.“We used to live from convention to con-vention.”

Thoughtful, mature and exception-ally refined, Abrams was just one of thereasons that the Har Sinai Region consis-tently shined. “We had an extraordinarycollection of young people back then,”says Larry Ziffer, who was a member ofthe Schenectady Chapter and is today thevice president for community develop-ment in the Baltimore Jewish Federation.

In 1968, NCSY reported to theOU’s Youth Commission that the HarSinai Region—which encompassed 14chapters from Albany to Buffalo and fromSaratoga Springs to the CatskillMountains—boasted an extraordinaryrecord of accomplishment: while less than10 percent of that region’s members camefrom observant homes, some 60 percent hadbegun keeping Shabbat. Furthermore, outof the 45 members who served on theregional board between 1963 and 1968,82 percent continued their Jewish educa-

tion at yeshivot or other Torah institu-tions. So many students, in fact, went onto attend Stern (as did Abrams) or YeshivaUniversity (as did her husband) that often,after winter break, as the Amtrak to NewYork City would snake across the region,stopping at Buffalo, Syracuse and thenAlbany, more and more NCSY alumniwould board. A veritable NCSY reunionwould take place on the train.

What made Har Sinai sowildly successful? Simply put, it was theGinsburg philosophy of self-leadership.One of the fundamental tenets of NCSYis to empower youth and give themmeaningful roles, and the Har SinaiRegion excelled at this under RabbiGinsburg’s leadership. “The kids literallyran the region,” recalled a former NCSYprofessional. “They felt a real sense ofownership.” Since the chapter advisors inthose days were mostly parents whose pri-mary role was to chauffeur their chargesto and from events, the kids would decideby themselves what to do. “It was kid-driven and kid-organized,” recalls FloZiffer (née Simon), a former member ofthe Utica Chapter (who is married toLarry Ziffer and yes, they met in NCSY).Having real authority and responsibilitygave kids like Abrams the skills to becomefuture leaders.

Har Sinai’s success triggered arange of responses among many of theparents. “Some parents were terriblyintimidated by the notion of their kidsbecoming Orthodox, even though theywere affiliated with the Orthodox shul,”recalls Larry Ziffer. When a parent wouldexpress alarm that his child was becoming“too frum,” a mischievous smile spreadacross Rabbi Ginsburg’s face as he wouldquote the well-known Yiddish expression:“A chisaron az di kallah iz tzu sheyn? Is it a

problem that the bride is too pretty?”In 1967, Abrams became regional

president, taking over the position fromher future husband, Lewis. As president,Abrams organized events andShabbatonim, all the while honing herinnate organizational and administrativeskills that are fundamental to the work shedoes today. “Jeanne was the quiet, solidtype,” recalls Larry Ziffer. “She engen-dered enormous respect. She broughtalmost a regal kind of demeanor to thepresidency; she was not a cheerleader typebut elegant and intellectual always.”

Dignified, brainy, with her headalways in a book, Abrams didn’t surprisetoo many of her old friends when shewent on to get a Ph.D. in AmericanHistory. Nor did it surprise them whenshe became an associate professor at theUniversity of Denver or took on theprestigious positions of director of the IraM. Beck Memorial Archive and theRocky Mountain Jewish HistoricalSociety at the University of Denver, dedi-cating herself to preserving the history ofJewish life in Denver. They know of hercompetence, her intellect, her impatiencewith mediocrity, and above all, her pas-sion for Jewish life. So Abrams’ decisionto devote her life to serving the Jewishcommunity was almost inevitable. True,as one of Abrams’ colleagues noted, mostJewish cities the size of Denver don’t havea historical society—nor do they havesuch an extensive archive with more than5,000 photos—but since her NCSY daysAbrams has never been content just tohave fun. She wanted to accomplish.

These days, the Abrams live inDenver, where they are widely respectedin the community. Lewis is a highlyregarded educator (in 29 years, he hasnever taught the same lesson twice) whoteaches at Denver’s Hillel Academy. Andaside from her professional accomplish-ments, Jeanne supports the local mikvahand sits on numerous boards. Together,they have raised four children, all ofwhom have beautiful families of theirown that are steeped in Torah andYiddishkeit. Of course, all of this is due,in no small part, to a determined 12-year-old girl from Utica who begankeeping Shabbat. JA


Marc Belzberg

Mrs. Greenwald is a journalist, photog-rapher, educator and the editor-in-chiefof WholeFamily.com, an award-win-ning web site that provides informationon improving family relationships. Sheand her husband live in Efrat with theirsix children.

He definitely gets around a lot. You can find investor/entrepre-

neur Marc Belzberg, in his large kippahand sandy-colored beard, hosting 300people at a Haifa hotel. They are allmen, women and children whose fami-lies have been struck by terror, andBelzberg and his Belgian-born wife,Chantal, are there as the founders ofthe One Family Fund, a fund that pro-vides help to these suffering families.

On another day you’ll find him

working behind the scenes with majorIsraeli politicians or with the moversand shakers behind them. Or you’llfind him with a couple of brilliantyoung post-army guys, as he advises anIsraeli start-up.

None of this has caused Belzbergto forget his family priorities. Thisinterview was squeezed in between eat-ing Friday morning breakfast with hiswife and picking up one of his six kidsfrom a Jerusalem pre-school. Could anyof this have been predicted by thosewho tried to tame a wild Canadianteenager 30 years ago?

Born in 1954 in Edmonton,Alberta, home at that time to a Jewishcommunity of only 5,000, Belzberg wasone of four children whose stronglyZionist, well-to-do parents belonged tothe Conservative and Orthodox syna-gogues. They actually attended syna-gogue only on Rosh Hashanah andYom Kippur, but, he says, “Theyworked on behalf of the UJA, theFederation and Israel. My grandparentscame over from Poland in the early1900s. My grandmother kept kosherbut my grandfather went to work onShabbat. My parents were raised withvery little Jewish education.”

Belzberg attended a secular Jewishday school—“very Israeli and non-reli-gious”—through the sixth grade andthen moved to another non-Orthodoxafternoon school for two evenings aweek “until I got kicked out for foolingaround,” he says. “I even got the strap acouple of times.”

His first move into Jewish“activism”—in a manner of speaking—came when the Belzbergs moved toVancouver as Marc was about to enterhigh school. He spent grade 9 as the

social director of USY, organizing par-ties. For grade 10, he says, “My parentsdecided to send me to Rocky MountainBoarding School, a rough and toughschool for boys in Alberta,” thinkingperhaps that would straighten him out.But he had other plans.

Belzberg had heard about a youthvillage in Israel called Hadassim. It wasfar away from the scrutiny of his parentsor Survivor-mentality educators. Togetherwith some friends from Edmonton andCalgary, he joined a group of 25 kidsacross Canada who were going there fortheir sophomore year.

The other students inHadassim were a far cry from theCanadian bunch. “They were mostlyRussians or kids from broken homes,”he recalls. “That was a crazy year. Theprincipal was an older man, Germanand not religious. They taught us noth-ing about Shabbat. We used to hitch-hike to the beach in Netanya onShabbat. We were a wild bunch. Onegirl got pregnant. One guy tried tocommit suicide. The principal sent allof us to group therapy once a week.

“By the end of the year they werehappy to see us go home. They thoughtwe [the Canadians] were ruining theIsraelis.” On Christmas Eve inHadassim, the Canadian teenagers gothomesick. “There were no songs, nosnow, no Macy’s windows. So we put aChristmas tree in my room and wewent out on the lawn and sangChristmas carols.”

While Belzberg and his friends


Marc BelzbergVANCOUVER CHAPTER, WEST COAST REGION1970-1972By Toby Klein Greenwald

“I came home that night and announced to my parents,

‘I’m becoming religious.’ ”

were wreaking havoc in Hadassim, ayoung rabbi had come to Vancouver.Rabbi Marvin Hier had broughtBaltimore-born Rabbi Pinchas (“Pinky”)Bak out West to be the principal of theday school. He succeeded in changingthe nature of the school and its curricu-la; perhaps even more important, hestarted a local NCSY chapter.

While Belzberg’s friendswent straight home after their year inIsrael, he spent a month in Europewith his parents. “I came back toVancouver in August. On Saturday, Icalled my old friends who had led acrazy life with me in Israel that yearbut their mothers—one after theother—answered the phone and saidmy friends wouldn’t talk on the phoneon ‘Shabbat.’ I didn’t know what washappening. I had never even heard ofsuch a thing!

“Then they told me about PinkyBak. I resisted for a couple of weeks.They said he was running a minyanevery morning for high school kidsnext to the public school. Finally Idecided to go along. One of my friendshad to come over the night before toteach me how to put on the tefillin Ireceived for my Bar Mitzvah but hadnever worn.

“The minyan was fantastic. Itwas lively, there was singing….I wentback on Wednesday, Thursday andFriday, and on Shabbat told my moth-er that I wanted to go to the Orthodoxshul. She drove me there. When theservices were over and I was about to

leave, one of my friends came to getme and said, ‘Come to Pinky Bak’shouse for Shabbat lunch.’ But I wasn’tready for that yet and started home.

“I was two long blocks awayalready when Pinky came running upto me, panting. ‘Come for lunch,’ hesaid, and he was a guy you couldn’t say‘No’ to. I ended up staying there thewhole day—lunch, back to shul forMinchah, back to his place for SeudahShelishit, back to shul for Ma’ariv, backto Pinky’s for Havdalah.

“I came home that night andannounced to my parents, ‘I’m becom-ing religious.’”

Belzberg became active in NCSY.“I became the ‘social director’ again,but unlike USY, this time it meantsocial action, and the parties weplanned looked different than they didbefore.” He eventually became chapterpresident and social action director ofthe entire region. At the end of the12th grade he was named NCSY “Kidof the Year”; under his term as presi-dent, their chapter was “Chapter of theYear.”

More and more teens in Vancouverwere becoming religious. Belzbergrelates, “Previously, the only religiousguy had been the son of the chazzan ofthe Conservative synagogue. He keptkosher and he was chapter president ofUSY. Once we got into religion, howev-er, he became the class ‘goy.’ Today he ismy attorney and lives in Israel.”

How did Belzberg’s parents react tohis becoming religious? “They went nuts.They said, ‘It’s a phase. It will pass.’

“The first thing my father saidwas, ‘Okay, then you can give me thekeys to the car. You won’t need it.People back in those days only used

camels.’ They also said no to the ideaof my keeping kosher, insisting, ‘Whenin our house, you’ll do as we do.’”

So he found himself, in a bizarrereversal of the norm, eating kosher out-side and treif at home.

“Then my father saw me eating acheeseburger at home one day and toldme, ‘You’re a hypocrite. Not keepingkosher at home doesn’t mean you haveto eat cheeseburgers.’” Belzberg stillhad a way to go.

At the end of 11th grade he wentto Israel with 50 other Vancouver kidson a Yeshiva University (YU)-organized trip with Rabbi Hier. “Onmy last day in Israel, I bought onemilchig bowl, one fleyshik bowl, and afork for each, and came home with theintention of really keeping kosher.” Hegot through 12th grade on cereal.

Then two of his sisters becamereligious. (His sister, Lisa, is today mar-ried to Matthew Bronfman, the son ofEdgar Bronfman.) It was now three kidsagainst the two parents, and the parentsfinally capitulated. “We had our ownfood at the table and our dishes in asection of the kitchen.”

Belzberg recalls one of hisfondest memories of NCSY. “We heardthat the Russian Premier Kosygin wascoming to town. One of the kids whoworked in a car wash borrowed 100chains and gave them out to us. Wewore them like belts and went down tothe beautiful hotel in Vancouver wherea state dinner was being held forKosygin on a Saturday night. We dis-persed ourselves throughout the lobbyand by the storefronts and nobodynoticed anything unusual.

“A few of us passed out menus tothe dinner guests, itemizing the dinnerof a Russian Jewish prisoner. All the‘tuxes’ who were walking back andforth saw it and you can imagine it wasquite different than the eight-coursemeal they were being served. Then, atexactly 9 PM, one kid blew a shofar and


we all formed a large circle in the mid-dle of the lobby and raised the chainsabove our heads. Pinky made Havdalahand we sang Am Yisrael Chai andchanted, ‘Let my people go!’ It wasgreat!!”

Rabbi Hier and the mothers ofthe newly religious teenagers were inter-viewed on a radio show about the turnto religion. But there were still prob-lems in town. By the time Belzbergreached 12th grade, lots of teens—including religious teens—were intodrugs. Belzberg describes the battle planthat had been cooked up by Rabbis Bakand Hier.

“They called an emergency meet-ing of all the kids in shul and onceeveryone was there, they played ataped phone call from RabbiJakobovits, the chief rabbi of England,and they read anti-drug responsa writ-ten by Rav Moshe Feinstein and RavJoseph B. Soloveitchik. Then theyasked all the kids to sign a documentstating that they would stop takingdrugs. The document was to be publi-cized as a full-page ad in the localJewish paper.”

Not everyone signed, and theirreasons illustrated the directness of theteen mentality. “One of them was thesweetest girl who didn’t touch drugs—she just didn’t believe people should dothings because of peer pressure,” saysBelzberg. “The other was a guy with longhair and thick glasses who was into harddrugs. He claimed that not everyone whowas signing really meant it and herefused to be a hypocrite. Today he’s aprominent physician.”

Belzberg and seven of his friendswere accepted to YU, their school ofchoice, under Rabbi Bak’s influence.Belzberg began to serve as an NCSYadvisor, speaking before groups andspending almost every Shabbat in a dif-ferent city during his years in college.Later, when Belzberg went into business,he became the lay president of NCSY.

During Belzberg’s second year inYU, there were seven Vancouver boyslearning in Rabbi Shlomo Riskin’sJames Striar School of Jewish Studiesclass, which was geared for promisingstudents with minimal Torah back-grounds. Rabbi Riskin asked how therehappened to be so many students fromVancouver. They told him about RabbiBak. “Rabbi Riskin flew out toVancouver and convinced Pinky tocome back to become the principal ofthe first Ohr Torah high school inNew York. I worked as a dorm coun-selor in the same school.”

The next part of his story doesn’tend happily. “Pinky took the 12thgrade students to Israel. He had eachof them placed at an appropriateschool and went to visit each one ofthem. On his return home, he told mehow he had looked out over Jerusalemfrom his room in the Plaza Hotel. ‘I’vefallen in love with Israel all overagain,’ he said. ‘I’ve worked in chinuchall my life. Now I want to return tolive in Israel.’

“He came home the day beforePurim. We planned on taking the highschool kids to dance and sing in theneighborhood. But Pinky wanted tovisit his parents the very day hereturned and asked me to drive him tothe train station. He came back thenext day and joined us all at LincolnSquare Synagogue for the Megillahreading and Purim seudah.

“I was standing next to himwhen, in the middle of the festivities,he dropped dead of a brain aneurysm.”

Hundreds of loving students andformer NCSYers turned up for thefuneral. At the time, Rabbi Bak’s wifewas pregnant with twins.

Years later, Belzberg’s parentshave a different take on their son’s turnto Orthodoxy. “Today they’re thrilled.They see the lives my sisters and I leadas a result. They also see friends we hadwhile growing up who today lead differ-

ent kinds of lives and they see there isno comparison.

“Had I not discovered NCSY andPinky Bak, I might be dead—from OD-ing, drunk driving, AIDS, who knows?Instead, my life has meaning. Every dayis significant; being Jewish is significant.I wake up in the morning and ask,‘What do the Jewish people need? Whatshould I do for the Jewish peopletoday?’

“Among the major moments inmy life were my involvement with socialaction and kiruv. I worked for SovietJewry and was active in demonstratingand teaching Judaism.

“We should constantly be askingourselves, ‘What can I contribute to thisworld that I am passing through?’”

Belzberg, who lives inJerusalem, is President of E-SimSoftware. He is also involved in theIsraeli political scene and in outreach.An executive of one of the hi-tech com-panies in which Belzberg invested says,“Marc’s attitude is supportive and caringwhen he asks what he can do to help.”Belzberg is actively involved with NCSYin Israel and sits on its board, thus hav-ing an influence on young people inIsrael today.

Upon reaching Bat Mitzvah age,the Belzbergs’ daughter, Michal, agreedwith her parents that instead of a largeparty, the money should be used tofound a fund that would help familieswho had been struck by terror. TheBelzbergs added to that amount andgave $100,000 to begin the project.That is how the One Family Fund wasborn. [See sidebar.]

The NCSY boy from Vancouverhas, indeed, passed on his sense oftzedakah and involvement in Israel andAm Yisrael to the next generation ofJewish teen activists, both within hisfamily and beyond it.

And these kids aren’t singingChristmas carols. JA


By Toby Klein Greenwald

A curly-haired toddler, barelymore than a year and a half old, push-es a sufganiah (jelly donut) into hertiny mouth. Her father takes her bythe hand and coaxes her over for aphotograph. She doesn’t understandthe eagerness of the hotel staff, theemotional welcome by the organizersor the tears in the reporter’s eyes. Andshe may no longer remember hermother, Nirit Sakuri, who was mur-dered in a terrorist attack somemonths ago, while driving her carhome to Kedumim in the Shomron.All Tehila knows is that she’s with herfather, Yossi, and her two siblings—five and three years old—in a warmbeautiful place and people are pam-pering her.

Across the lobby, MichalRosenberg Ziat of Givat Shmuel isrelaxing with her husband and fivechildren after a day of touring. Herson, 14-year-old Eliran, was killed lastMarch when a suicide bomber blewhimself up at a bus stop. Michal wasnotified of her son’s death five hoursafter the attack, “But I knew,” shesays, “when I called all of his friendswho were waiting with him to findout if they knew anything and noneof them called back.”

Yossi and Michal havejoined 300 other fathers, moth-ers and children for a two-dayevent planned and paid for bythe One Family Fund, foundedby the Belzbergs for the victimsof terror. Held this pastChanukah at the luxurious DanCarmel hotel in Haifa, theevent drew 170 children;Chantal Belzberg handpicked

individual gifts, based on age and gen-der, for every one of them. When shetold the management at Toys “R” Uswhat the gifts were for, they sold themto the One Family Fund at cost. Thegifts are only one small part of theperks and necessities that the fundprovides to help the victims of terror.

Later that night, Tehila receivesa large box containing a baby dollwith pink clothing and creamy skin.After dinner she sits on the carpet ofthe hotel dining room, shoves thebottle into the baby’s mouth and iscontent.

Other projects of the OneFamily Fund include providing fundsin hospitals for the immediate needsof wounded victims of terror and

their families; buying computers forthe wounded; aiding in the cost ofmemorial projects and tuition; provid-ing urgent needs for the home;arranging volunteer activities in hospi-tals; helping with housing and more.

The Belzbergs began the OneFamily Fund last August, after a sui-cide bombing in Jerusalem’s Sbarropizzeria killed 15 people and wound-ed many others. Their daughter,Michal, was scheduled to have a BatMitzvah one week later. Michal’s par-ents told her that it wasn’t appropriateto have the kind of party they hadplanned in light of the number ofpeople in mourning and the manywho were wounded over the last year,and suggested they put the money tobetter use. She agreed and the extend-ed Belzberg family donated $100,000to start the fund. Since then theyjoined forces with the Israel EmergencySolidarity Fund of New York andtogether have raised more than a mil-lion dollars that will be used to helpease both the pain and the financialdifficulties of victims of terror.

One Family Fund can not bringback Yossi’s wife or Michal’s son, butit can let them know that they arenot alone.

Two Days of Miracles for Terror VictimsTwo Days of Miracles for Terror Victims

Top: Chantal Belzberg givingChanukah gift to victim of terror.Bottom: Michal Rosenberg Ziat andfamily. Her 14-year-old son, Eliran,was killed by a suicide bomber.

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Nina S. ButlerNina S. ButlerSOUTHFIELD (KOCHAV AND LAPEED) CHAPTERS, CENTRAL EAST REGION 1970-1974By Reuvain Dor

Reuvain Dor is a writer living in Pittsburgh.

In the early seventies, SouthfieldMichigan’s now defunct B’nai DavidCongregation was an active congrega-tion poised precariously betweenOrthodoxy and the “TraditionalConservadoxy” that would spell itseventual oblivion.

The synagogue itself was builtwith a mechitzah in its main sanctuary,but the practice of the congregationwas not to use it. In those days the shulsupported two NCSY chapters on thehigh school level, divided by age. In1973, more then 100 NCSYers—pri-marily public school kids—consideredB’nai David their congregation. Mostof the local day school kids joined theNCSY chapter across town at theYoung Israel of Oakwoods.

There were three Novetsky siblingswho were part of B’nai David’s NCSY.The oldest, Jay, now an ophthalmologistin Detroit, was a regional vice president.The youngest, Terry, now an attorney inNew York, was national president ofNCSY. And there was Nina….

In February 1973, NCSY held amajor Shabbaton at B’nai David, withover 300 teenage participants. TheCentral East NCSY regional directorserving at that time remembers it well:

“The mechitzah that was part ofB’nai David’s structure had only beenused once since the building was dedi-cated in 1964—the week of the rabbi’sson’s Bar Mitzvah. When the shul ’sadministration agreed to host an NCSYShabbaton, part of the deal was that thecongregation would enforce the use ofthe mechitzah for that Shabbat. B’naiDavid also allowed NCSY—as was thepractice—to bring the food for theShabbaton from the region’s caterer inCleveland, despite the shul ’s exclusivecontract with its caterer.”

In 1970, a group of Soviet Jewishrefuseniks had been arrested forallegedly conspiring to hijack a plane toIsrael. Central East NCSY’s regionalboard chose one of them, SylvaZalmanson, as the subject of a prisonerof conscience bracelet campaign mod-eled after the Vietnam War POWbracelets then in vogue, and orderedthousands of bracelets that were to bedistributed to NCSYers at the B’naiDavid Shabbaton. There the cause ofRussian Jewry would be explored,accompanied by exhortations to sellbracelets for the NCSY Torah Fundtzedakah. The person chosen to spear-head the effort was Nina Novetsky. Shehad the enthusiasm. She had the orga-nizational ability. She had the socialstanding. She could make it happen.By Saturday night, when the chaptershad placed their orders and thebracelets were being counted out, itlooked like a success. But, on Sundaymorning, a horrible thing happened. Arumor began to spread…Sylva

Zalmanson had been freed! The regionhad just invested thousands of dollarsin a project intended to show solidaritywith a prisoner of conscience who wasno longer a prisoner! According to theregional director at the time, “Nobodywas more outraged than Nina. ‘It’s notfair!’ she said. ‘We should write letters!We should protest!’” Before it dawnedon the regional director that she wasn’tserious, he looked at this girl andthought, “My goodness, she is reallydangerous....”

Almost five years later that “dan-gerous” NCSYer and her regional direc-tor, Danny Butler (now Judge Butler),were married.

After the Shabbaton, the twoNCSY chapters at B’nai David—including the Novetsky kids—began toconduct Shabbat services in the shul ’syouth lounge with a mechitzah. Thesynagogue administration finally decid-ed that things had gotten out of hand,and one Shabbat the president of theshul broke up the teen minyan by drag-ging the mechitzah out into the parkinglot.

The NCSYers responded by hold-ing services in the parking lot, whichlasted only until the weather changed.In what is still a heavily Jewish neigh-borhood, that beautiful synagoguebuilding is now an art center. Butmany mark the day that the mechitzahwas dragged out of the teen minyan asthe beginning of the end.

Neither the Sylva Zalmansonepisode nor the mechitzah controversydid anything to diminish Nina’sinvolvement or enthusiasm. In fact sheattended so many Shabbatonim andprograms in her senior year inSouthfield High School that she was indanger of not graduating because she


had not met the Friday afternoon gymrequirement. In order for her to beexempt from gym, her regional directorhad to write a letter attesting to herinvolvement in NCSY’s programsthroughout the region, which conflict-ed with school on so many early winterFridays.

Despite her NCSY advisors’ bestefforts, Nina chose not to attend SternCollege—in those pre-“Year in Israel”days—but opted instead for theUniversity of Michigan. It only took acouple of months for her to realize thatNCSY had affected her too deeply forher to be comfortable at U of M. So,she transferred to Stern College. With acouple of years at Stern under her belt,she began to attend NCSYShabbatonim as an advisor. There sheencountered her former regional direc-tor, still working for NCSY whileattending law school. Five weeks later,Nina Novetsky and Danny Butler wereengaged.

Now, after 24 years of marriage,Nina Butler’s array of academic, com-munal and educational accomplish-ments is stunning. Armed with aMaster’s in the Art of Teaching, shebegan her teaching career atPittsburgh’s two day schools, then did afour-year stint as the first Judaic pro-gram director at the local JCC.

As a kindergarten teacher—backat Pittsburgh’s Hillel Academy—Butlerfirst heard of the very competitiveWexner Graduate Fellowship Programover Shabbat lunch. Within days, justbeating the deadline, she had appliedfor the fellowship, taken the GRE andbeen accepted to graduate school. Afteran intensive screening and interviewprocess, Butler was among only 17worldwide awarded a Wexner GraduateFellowship. That made it possible forher to return to school and earn anM.A. in Special Education and a Ph.D.in Educational Administration andPolicy Studies, along with all the licenses and certifications which quali-

fied her to return to Hillel Academy asits principal.

But it is not her charmed careerpath which has made Butler the objectof respect and admiration in her com-munity and beyond. What has markedher as unique has been her unfailinglypositive approach to dealing with theadversity that she and her family haveencountered. Although the Butlers’ old-est son, Mikey, has cystic fibrosis,necessitating endlessly recurring hospi-talizations, and two of their sons havefragile X, which ordinarily presentsitself as autism, Butler is quick to rejectany inclination towards pity by othersor herself. “We have been incrediblyfortunate,” she says, “as beneficiaries ofa world of chesed and opportunitiesprovided by a range of organizations.Had we never needed them, it’s quitepossible that we might never have beenaware of the wide array of institutionsand organizations that help people inneed.” She readily singles out severalorganizations that have had a profoundeffect on her family:

Camp HASC (Hebrew Academyfor Special Children), where Butler has

served as the educational coordinator.According to Butler, the camp turnedher son, Uri, into the world’s happiest,most contented person, with an effec-tiveness that lasts year-round. Shepoints out that despite what HASCdoes for its special needs campers andtheir families, its most importantaccomplishment over the years may besensitizing the thousands of HASCcounselors to the plight of those lessfortunate.

Pittsburgh’s Jewish Federation,which is continually refining itsapproach to the special needs popula-tion, and has made a range of servicesavailable, from special Jewish educa-tional options to synagogue accessibili-ty.

Yeshiva University (YU), whichmade it possible for the Butlers’ son,Mikey, to graduate college, although itwas necessary for him to commutefrom YU to the hospital in Pittsburghon a regular basis. YU assured Mikeyfrom the beginning that appropriateaccommodations could be made, andthey were. This past December, RabbiNorman Lamm himself flew toPittsburgh to award Mikey his diplomain a surprise ceremony.

Yachad, an OU project whosesummer program at Camp Morashanot only transformed the summer forthe Butlers’ youngest son, JJ, and sever-al dozen of his friends, but injected anelement of chesed into Morasha’s pro-gramming that affected the summer ofthe 1,000 typical kids at camp as well.

And NCSY. Each child in theButler family has been affected by somefacet of NCSY. At one time, NCSY waspurely an outreach organization, butnow its constellation of services bene-fits Jewish kids from all backgrounds.So her son, Gavri, attended NCSYSummer Kollel—for three years run-ning—which supplemented his Torahskills and enabled him to make thegrade at Yeshivat Har Etzion, Israel’s“hesder Harvard.”

Her daughter, Shoshi, benefitedsimilarly from the NCSY SummerExperience for Girls’ (SEG)summertime educational program in

...one Shabbat, the president

of the shul broke up

the teen minyan by dragging

the mechitzah out into

the parking lot.


Dennis M. EisenbergDennis M. EisenbergDETROIT (YOUNG ISRAEL TEENS) CHAPTER,CENTRAL EAST REGION1968-1971By Diane Chabbott

NY’s Catskill Mountains as well asMichlelet NCSY in Israel. “Shoshi’sJewish high school class had only sixgirls. NCSY has expanded her peergroup to hundreds.”

Despite his health problems,Mikey has served as an advisor anddrummer in several NCSY regions.When he is in the hospital, theNCSYers use his hospital room as aShabbat meeting place.

Central East NCSY, which inte-grates Yachad into every Shabbaton,has comfortably assimilated Butler’sother two sons. Butler points out thatthe NCSY/Yachad partnership remainsthe only circumstance in all ofAmerican society where the elite, thecream of the crop among teenagers,regularly interact—as peers—withteenagers who are physically and men-tally challenged.

Notwithstanding the pressures ofher private and professional life, Butlerattributes her personal equilibrium toShabbat, the touchstone of Jewish exis-tence, which is also the basic element ofNCSY’s programming. The Butler fami-ly Shabbat is social and family andentertainment and chesed all rolled intoone. They begin preparations onWednesday, and are not done cleaningup until Monday. It is the focus of theirlives, and it provides a level of interac-tion with their children and their friendsthat they believe is the key to their fami-ly’s stability and overall happiness.

“I still remember the NCSYNational Convention at the PioneerCountry Club back in the early ’70swhere the Friday night meal wouldstart with Rabbi [Pinchas] Stolper gath-ering his children around him and giv-ing them each a berachah in turn. Thatremarkable image, which I saw for thefirst time in NCSY, gave me a thrillwhich I gratefully relive every Shabbatat our own table.”

The Butlers’ enthusiasm forNCSY expresses itself each summer attheir annual Garden Sizzler, afundraiser for NCSY that raises thou-sands of dollars. Judge Butlerdescribes the event, going on its 11thyear, as, “Pittsburgh’s hottest summer-

time kosher ticket.” It’s an all-you-can-eat barbeque that sells out almostimmediately after its date isannounced.

And their enthusiasm forNCSY has not been diminished by thepassage of time or the fact that two oftheir children have run unsuccessfullyfor national president. Butler adds,“Just as we did for his predecessorsome 15 years ago, we gave Rabbi TzaliFreedman a key to our house when hetook on the position of regional direc-tor. We are endlessly grateful to NCSY,which is bigger than any single indi-vidual, for all that it has done for us,our children and the communitiesaround us. I still consider myself anNCSYer.”

Thus motivated, Butler has beenthe recipient of a great many commen-dations and awards for her personaland professional achievements. TheUnited Jewish Federation of Pittsburgh

has chosen her for their CommunityRelations Award and their SpecialNeeds Service Award, while SternCollege has honored her with theBelkin Memorial Award for JewishEducation. Butler’s involvements alsoextend to the local chevrah kadisha andthe hospitality services of Friends ofJewish Patients, a Pittsburgh organiza-tion assisting patients awaiting trans-plants, and their families. She serves onthe boards of the Jewish Family andChildren’s Services and the JewishFederation, and is on the editorialboard of a national magazine for Jewishkids, spearheaded by the Avi ChaiFoundation published in partnershipwith Jewish Family & Life, calledBabaganewz.

As a principal, educator andmother, Butler is mindful of herresponsibility to her students and toher own children. “These kids are sofar ahead of where I was at their age.My most important goal is to enablethem to appreciate the opportunitiesthey have and to take full enthusiasticadvantage of them.” JA

The Yeshivah of Flatbush inBrooklyn, New York, stands today as aproud and influential force in theModern Orthodox day school movementin America. The school has a studentbody exceeding 2,100 (nursery through12th grade) and an annual budget of $22million. Each year, it allocates $3.8 mil-lion in tuition assistance. Such animmense operation clearly requires sub-stantial and talented leadership to operateeffectively. Some 18 years ago, the


Eisenberg lived in a home where

community servicewas an obligation

and never just an option.

Yeshivah captured one of the Midwest’srising stars, Dennis Eisenberg, to serve asits executive director. Under his guid-ance, the Yeshivah has flourished.

One wonders from where didEisenberg get the acumen, the drive, theleadership abilities and the extraordinarydedication to Jewish life? Simply put,Eisenberg lived in a home where com-munity service was an obligation andnever just an option. His father, Meyer,z”l, was a founding member of theYoung Israel synagogue in Detroit aswell as a supporter of numerous institu-tions and organizations, including theJewish National Fund, Israel Bonds andShaare Zedek Hospital. A contractor byprofession, he often donated his servicesfor free to assist local organizations.Acting on his instincts for charity, forservice and for community, MeyerEisenberg paved a path which his sonwisely traveled.

In 1968, when Eisenberg was 15years old, his parents and synagoguerabbi encouraged him to attend aYeshiva University winter seminar inBrantford, Ontario. At the seminar,Eisenberg met NCSY kids and wasimpressed with the youth group. Hesubsequently returned to Detroit with amission: to bring NCSY to the YoungIsrael of Oakwoods, the shul that his

family attended. “I was 15 years old,telling the Young Israel rabbi and shulboard members that the youth programsthey had were not good enough,” recallsEisenberg. Ultimately, the NCSY chap-ter known as the Young Israel Teens—which is one of NCSY’s most dynamicchapters today—was born.

“Dennis was always a communityperson,” stated Terry, his wife, herself aformer NCSY junior leader and presidentin Detroit. The Detroit community wascertainly in need of an effective youthgroup. The day school movement wasquite new at that time, and many frumkids such as Eisenberg attended publicschools and were looking for more.“NCSY gave us Talmud Torah kids astrong Jewish identity and a sense ofbelonging,” recalls Eisenberg. Terry tells ofa night when a group of NCSY kids wentto the roller skating rink. “The ownerinsisted the boys take off their yarmulkesto skate. It was a rough night…but theyarmulkes stayed on and we skated.”Incidents such as these made the teens’Jewish identification even stronger.

NCSY also did a tremendousamount for the synagogue itself, andawakened many shul members to thejewels in their own congregations: theyouth. Ultimately, adults began to enjoythe NCSY programs. “In the beginningthe adults would just watch us teens, butby Seudah Shelishit they’d be in the circlesinging along,” recalls Eisenberg.

Along with his NCSY friends,Eisenberg attended Shabbatonim inCincinnati, Dayton, Louisville andKeyport. “It was a novelty to see teensfrom other places with whom I couldidentify,” remembers Eisenberg. He andhis friends would play guitar and singalong at every kumsitz. “The emotional-ism got to me—the davening, the discus-sions, the singing. Regional Shabbatonimwere experiences that reached deepinside,” says Eisenberg.

Eisenberg rose through theNCSY ranks to become a chapter presi-dent and eventually a regional andnational officer. The Central Eastregional director at the time, IvanLerner, guided and mentored Eisenbergthrough the years. “Ivan was non-stop

and mesmerizing,” remembers Eisenberg. After graduation from high school,

Eisenberg remained singularly devoted tothe Young Israel Movement and NCSY.Appointed youth director of a few of theYoung Israel shuls in the community, heguided and improved the youth pro-grams emphasizing Jewish identity, conti-nuity, outreach and community. In 1977,Eisenberg married Terry (néeLeiderman), and together they created aJewish home steeped in devotion toTorah and communal service.

At first, Eisenberg entered the fam-ily contracting business. But it didn’ttake him too long to realize that his truecalling was in chinuch and kiruv. In1979, Eisenberg accepted the post ofexecutive director of Akiva Hebrew DaySchool, the Modern Orthodox dayschool in Detroit, where he stabilized theschool’s fiscal program and relocated itto its own facility.

Clearly Eisenberg’s NCSY back-ground made him uniquely qualified toserve as a Jewish communal profession-al. Although he had many opportunitiesto go into business, he stayed focusedon what he felt was his purpose in life—“working for Jewish continuity with aspecial emphasis on Jewish education.”

During a transitional period at the

“I was 15 years old,telling the Young

Israel rabbi and shul board

members that theyouth programs

they had were notgood enough.”

Diane Chabbott is assistant editor of JewishAction. She thanks OU Vice PresidentGary Torgow for his help with this article.


Marla FrohlingerMarla FrohlingerSKOKIE CHAPTER, GREATER MIDWEST REGION 1969-1973By Erica M. Rauzin

Yeshivah of Flatbush, Eisenberg wasrecruited to assume the executive direc-torship of the institution. The first fewyears were difficult for him—transplant-ed to a new community and in charge ofa school with an exalted reputation. ButEisenberg did an outstanding job, asMatthew J. Maryles, honorary presidentand current member of the Yeshivah’sboard of trustees said, “When Denniscame to New York, he brought with himthe out-of-towner’s touch of hospitality,combined with great savvy. He under-stood what the Yeshivah was historically,and that it couldn’t rest on its laurels. Hedesigned and built for the future, recog-nizing the need for changes in areas run-ning the gamut—financial, educationaland organizational. His vision of theplace was both professional and passion-ate and somehow he succeeded withoutoffending anyone.” The skills Eisenberghoned while working with variousNCSY communities enabled him tounite the greater Yeshivah family aswell—students, parents, educators,alumni and the general public. “He

doesn’t only juggle distinct communities,he appreciates them for their distinct-ness,” says one of his colleagues.

Although Eisenberg is a con-summate financial manager and a talent-ed executive, his aspirations remain whatthey always were—to inspire Jewishyouth with the vibrancy of Torah. Thus,Eisenberg is a regular at the Yeshivahseminars—Shabbatonim where students,faculty and older student advisors get toknow each other as “people” whileenjoying the learning and incredibleruach. “It’s in his blood,” says RabbiNaftali Besser, dean of students at theYeshivah’s high school. “He can’t stayaway.”

For the last 18 years, Eisenberghas masterfully guided the Yeshivahthrough two major capital campaigns, areorganization of the school’s fiscalstructure and the development of a

strong and vibrant partnership betweenthe lay and professional leadership.

In September of 2000, theYeshivah took the unusual step of nam-ing an employee an officer of the school(a lay leadership position). In recogni-tion of his extraordinary accomplish-ments, Eisenberg was named executivevice president of the Yeshivah with theresponsibility for creating a long-termstrategic vision for the school.

Eisenberg and his wife, a firstgrade teacher at the Yeshivah, haveinstilled their values in their children,Renana, Aviva, Mayer and Daniel.

The Eisenbergs have continued tostay involved with NCSY, serving innumerous capacities on the nationalNCSY Youth Commission, and the boardof the Orthodox Union. Additionally,Eisenberg is a national vice chair of theNCSY Ben Zakkai Honor Society.

Dennis Eisenberg is truly one ofNCSY’s many success stories. He contin-ues to be a wonderful and worthy exampleof what NCSY has accomplished and con-tinues to accomplish in our generation. JA

NCSY made a big impact onMarla Frohlinger (née Corush), and itcontinues to affect her children and herstudents, from one generation to thenext. In high school, NCSY shaped herJewish awareness and taught her leader-ship skills. It led her to YeshivaUniversity’s Stern College, introducedher to her future husband and helpedher select education as a career. As shetraces her personal history, Frohlingerfinds NCSY at every turn in the road.“I came from a traditional background,”she says. “I went to my first NCSY

meeting when I was 14. I enjoyed theprogram and decided to continue. Overthe years, I became more involved. FirstI was chapter vice president, then I was

Ms. Rauzin’s self-syndicated Jewish fam-ily humor column runs in Jewish com-munity newspapers across the US, andappears weekly in The Miami Herald’sJewish Star Times section and inDenver’s Intermountain Jewish News.A former newspaper reporter and maga-zine editor, she is also a freelance bookand web editor ([email protected]).


a regional officer and then I became thefirst national vice president of educa-tion.

“NCSY helped me realize theimportance of Judaism and the impor-tance of education. I did not have astrong Jewish educational background,and every time I went to an NCSYevent I learned something new. NCSYgave me a sense of perspective…taughtme what was important.

“At 16, I decided to go with myregion [Greater Midwest] to thenational convention in New York. Iwas very touched by the spirit at theconvention and the camaraderie of allthe participants. That gave me theinspiration to learn and…to maintainan Orthodox lifestyle. It helped memake a decision as to which college Ishould attend. Before NCSY, I neverthought of going to a religious col-lege,” Frohlinger recalls, “but, in1973, I enrolled in Stern Collegebecause many of my advisors and rolemodels were alumna.

“As an educator today, I thinkmentoring people is very important. InNCSY, I met people who had the val-ues that I sought. They taught mesome of the skills a good leader needs.”

Being deeply aware of how vul-nerable young people are to peer influ-ence, she also notes, “NCSY was agood pathway. When I was growingup I saw people around me doingthings that did not appeal to me.NCSY was a wonderful way to chan-nel my energies.

“Instead of participating inprotests, which is what was going on inthe 1970s, NCSY gave me the oppor-tunity to do something more construc-tive,” Frohlinger says. “At that time,Russian Jewry was very much in thenews. NCSY taught me how to dealwith political issues and how to be aneffective advocate.”

She found something else veryimportant at NCSY: her husband,dentist Dr. Stan Frohlinger. “We metwhen I was still in high school becauseStan, who was then national president,chaired a board meeting in Chicago.”After dating in New York during their

college years, the couple married in1978. Today, they have four children:Aliza, 19, a Stern sophomore, who wasNCSY Southern Region’s vice presi-dent; Daniella, 18, a student atMichlelet Esther in Jerusalem, whowas the Miami Beach chapter presi-dent and Jordan, 17, a junior at TorasChaim Academy of Miami Beach,who was the chapter’s vice president ofcommunications. Raqi, 8, is too

young to join NCSY, but it doesn’ttake a crystal ball to predict member-ship in her future.

The Frohlingers both creditNCSY for adding to their skills as par-ents. Stan explains, “The most impor-tant thing that I walked away withand use now in my adult life is a bet-ter ability to look at things from achild’s or teenager’s perspective.”

Marla adds, “I translate theexperiences I had as a teenager intobeing a better listener as an adult. Iwant to listen to my children, and tomy students. I feel I am a better col-lege administrator for being able tounderstand their perspectives.”

As vice chancellor for studentservices and professional coordination

at Nova Southeastern University,Florida’s largest private university,Frohlinger calls upon her listeningskills every day. As the administration’sstudent advocate and the one in chargeof admissions and student services,Frohlinger develops educational affilia-tions with other institutions that con-tribute to student training.

“I meet with the leaders of stu-dent government twice a month,” sheexplains. “We discuss university issuesand other topics that are on theirminds. This keeps the lines of commu-nication wide open. In NCSY, that’swhat it’s all about. There were alwaysdiscussions back and forth; there wasalways somebody to talk to.”

As her career unfolded,Frohlinger’s NCSY-inspired ability tolisten to young people was a continu-ous theme. She began as an elementaryschool teacher at Ramaz in New Yorkand then became assistant director ofadmissions at Stern College, where sheworked with Dean Karen Bacon.

“I saw Dr. Bacon juggle beingthe dean, professor and mom. Shebecame a mentor and role model tome,” Frohlinger remembers. Whenthe family moved to Florida,Frohlinger became director of admis-sions at the Southeastern College ofOsteopathic Medicine. As the institu-tion added colleges of pharmacy,optometry, allied health, medical sci-ence and dental medicine, it becameSoutheastern University of the HealthSciences, and Frohlinger’s responsibil-ities grew.

Like her mentor, Dean Bacon,Frohlinger skillfully juggles mother-hood and her professional life with ahistory of community volunteerism.She has been active with the chevrahkadisha, with synagogues in variousneighborhoods where the family livedand with her children’s schools. “Wewanted our children to see how impor-tant it is to be involved in the commu-nity,” she says, “so we became active,and they learned from that.”

And that is how leadershipworks, l’dor v’dor, from generation togeneration, in the tradition of NCSY.

As she traces herpersonal history,Frohlinger finds

NCSY atevery turn

in the road.

JA


Lisa KermaierLisa KermaierINDIANAPOLIS CHAPTER, CENTRAL EAST REGION 1970-1976By Sara Bedein

Sara Bedein is a writer and translatorwhose articles have appeared in theJewish Spectator, IntermountainJewish News, The Canadian JewishNews as well as various other publica-tions. She lives with her husband andsix children in Efrat.

“The kids fromNCSY were like one

extended family,and many of usmaintain close

contact with one another to this day…”

When Rabbi Ronald Gray,the dynamic young rabbi of Bnai TorahCongregation in Indianapolis, broughtNCSY to town in 1970, many Jewishlives were affected—including Lisa (néeGoldstein) Kermaier’s.

“I was 11 years old when RabbiGray brought NCSY to our congrega-tion,” recalled Kermaier. “Though ourshul was called Orthodox, fewer than 20families from the shul were actually so.There were various degrees of kashrutobservance among the families, but thevast majority were not shomer Shabbat.”

Soon after Rabbi Gray started thelocal NCSY chapter, he helped establishIndianapolis’ first Jewish day school. Theday school also set up an afternoonlearning program for teenagers, many ofwhom were active in NCSY and attend-ed its activities, learning sessions andShabbatonim. As a result of the Jewishframework, many of the Jewish kids inIndianapolis went on to become shomerShabbat, and succeeded in influencingtheir families to become more religiousas well.

“I come from a warm, lovingclose-knit family,” said Kermaier. “Withmy becoming shomer Shabbat, the over-all level of observance increased in ourhome. This continues to be the case tothis day….Nowadays my father goes to a

daily minyan and both my parentsattend weekly shiurim.”

“When Lisa first became shomerShabbat,” recalled Kermaier’s mother,“she was hired as a babysitter for a cou-ple going on a luxury cruise. Lisa, whowas about 12 at the time, was so excitedby this golden opportunity that sheskipped around the house singing how‘all good things happen to LisaGoldstein.’ All of sudden, she realizedthat part of the cruise would be takingplace on Shabbat. Without hesitation,she called to cancel her services.”

Mona Blumberg, a childhoodfriend of Kermaier’s, now living inKiryat Arba, remembered: “A group ofabout 25 of us became shomer Shabbat

over a four year period. Shabbat morn-ings we would pick each other up on theway to shul. For some, like Lisa, it was avery long walk—four miles. The swelter-ing Indianapolis heat made walking longdistances in high heel shoes and dresssuits a difficult task. Since I lived onlyfour blocks from the shul, on Fridays,the boys would leave their suits and tiesand the girls would leave their Shabbatshoes at my house and change into themwhen they reached my house. Fromthere we would continue together toshul. Since some of the families of thenewly shomer Shabbat kids were givingthem a hard time about kashrut, wewould often hold communal lunchestogether with Rabbi Gray and his familyat the shul.”

Among those who were part ofthis close-knit group were Rabbi TzviBlaubstein, who is today the assistantdean at Nishmat—the Jerusalem Centerfor Advanced Jewish Study for Women,and Rabbi Yerachmiel Fried, currently arosh kollel in Houston, Texas.

NCSY became an integral part ofKermaier’s life. She became president ofher chapter and went on to becomepresident of the entire region. She struckup friendships with Jewish youththroughout the Midwest. “The kidsfrom NCSY were like one extended fam-ily, and many of us maintain close con-tact with one another to this day,” saidKermaier. “After college, many of uswent on to yeshivot and seminaries andhave become Jewish leaders in Israel andthe Diaspora.”

When Kermaier was 16, sheattended a six-week NCSY summer


Rabbi Zev LeffRabbi Zev LeffMIAMI CHAPTER, SOUTHERN REGION1961-1965 By Yaakov Kornreich

program in Israel along with two othermembers of the Indianapolis clan. Theprogram had long-lasting effects: today,all three of them reside with their fami-lies in Israel.

“The summer I was in Israel,Rabbi Pinchas Stolper [the director ofnational NCSY at the time] and his fam-ily joined the summer program,” saidKermaier. “Their daughter, Michal, wasthe same age as me, and though wecame from very different backgrounds—Michal was a Bais Yaakov girl while Iwent to public school—we became fastfriends. Through this friendship, a newworld opened up to me and I became abat bayit in the Stolpers’ home. TheStolpers became family to me and partic-ipated at my wedding, Sheva Berachot,first son’s brit and even at one of myson’s Bar Mitzvahs.”

Kermaier studied at Michlala inJerusalem for a year, after which shereturned to Touro College to completeher degree in English Literature. She mether husband, Ben Zion, while she was inNew York and the couple married in1980. Following the birth of theKermaiers’ first baby, the young familymoved to Jerusalem, where Lisa taughtat Michlelet Bruria, a school for womenwho are returning to Judaism, and BenZion learned at a kollel and did somefreelance computer work.

Today, at the age of 43, Kermaiercredits her involvement with NCSY forthe direction her life has taken.Currently, she and her husband are theproud parents of ten children ranging inages two months to 20 years. A highlysuccessful educator and role model, sheis the academic administrator at DarcheiBinah, a seminary for women. She alsoteaches a three-part lecture series onmarriage, where according to many ofher students, “it’s the most popular classat the seminary.” Additionally, Kermaieris the wife of a rosh kollel: seven yearsago, Rabbi Kermaier opened up BeitMidrash Neir Gedalya, a kollel for localmen from Neve Yaakov who have limit-ed backgrounds in learning Torah.

With both of the Kermaiers soheavily involved in education, they oftenwelcome their students into their home,

where many of them find not only agood home-cooked meal but also a readyear to listen. Indeed, the Kermaiers havebecome famous for their open home.

“Lisa’s house is always filled withguests, especially on Shabbat,” said oneof Kermaier’s relatives. “It is not uncom-mon for her to host up to 20 guests,making each of them feel welcome.”

Some years ago, LeahGarfinkel, one of Kermaier’s students atMichlelet Bruria, mentioned that hermother and brother, both of whom werenot religious, would be visiting Israel.

Despite the fact that the Kermaiershad only recently arrived in Israel them-selves and were living at the Beit CanadaAbsorption Center, that didn’t stop themfrom inviting the Garfinkels to their

home for Shabbat. “The Shabbat I spentwith the Kermaiers changed my life,”recalled Leah’s brother, Andy.

Andy, who was 16 years old andhad never had a Bar Mitzvah celebra-tion, really wanted to mark his passageinto adulthood in the Jewish way.Eager to help Andy fulfill his wish, BenZion taught him how to recite theberachot for his aliyah as well as somebasic halachot. The Kermaiers thenrounded up as many relatives andfriends as they could and held a BarMitzvah celebration for Andy at theKotel. Today Andy sports a kippah andtzitzit and lives with his family in BeitShemesh.

As the Kermaiers approach the20th anniversary of their move to Israel,they have much to be proud of. Theyhave built a beautiful home based onahavat Yisrael and chesed. The rippleeffect set into motion so many years agoin Indianapolis continues to spread. JA

In today’s highly politicizedworld, Rabbi Zev Leff ’s apoliticalapproach is rare. One of Israel’s mostpopular English-speaking Torah educa-tors, Rabbi Leff enjoys a unique accept-ance across a broad spectrum of audi-ences, from unaffiliated Israelis toZionist hesder yeshivah students to grad-uates of the Chareidi Mirrer Yeshivah.“I believe that as long as one is involvedin practicing genuine Yiddishkeit, theparticular flavor doesn’t really matter,”says Rabbi Leff.

A much sought-after speaker,Rabbi Leff is often called to England,South Africa, the United States and


other countries to inspire people withhis words of Torah. “His talmidim willtell you that he has the rare ability tobring across a subtle point of Torahlearning with wit and humor as well asanalytical brilliance,” remarked one ofhis longtime friends. Rabbi Leff attrib-utes much of his success in “inreach” aswell as outreach to the fundamental les-sons he learned at NCSY. “NCSY gaveme an opportunity to experience Jewsall along the ladder of spiritual growth,”says Rabbi Leff. “It enabled me to workwith people from different back-grounds, and prepared me for my roleas a rabbi in an out-of-town community.”

Born in the Bronx, New York,into a traditional but not very observantfamily, Rabbi Leff became interested inYiddishkeit while attending a localHebrew school. His family then movedto the Greater Miami Area, and placedhim in the Talmud Torah of a localConservative temple, where the teachersand lay leaders quickly recognized theyoung boy’s enormous potential.

It was not unusual in those daysfor Conservative temples to be led byrabbis who had been ordained atOrthodox yeshivot and who remainedpersonally Orthodox. This was the casein the temple that Rabbi Leff attended.As a child of 10, Rabbi Leff had alreadytold the rabbi and some of the moreprominent members of the temple thathe wanted to be a rabbi when he grewup; impressed with the youth, they weredetermined to provide him with thebest educational opportunities available.

With their help, and no littlefinancial sacrifice by Rabbi Leff ’s par-ents, Rabbi Leff entered the Hebrew

Academy of Greater Miami, led byRabbi Alexander S. Gross, zt”l. Whilehe should have been placed in the fifthgrade, he was placed in a third gradeclass in order to help him catch up. Intwo years’ time, Rabbi Leff had notonly caught up but was rapidly develop-ing into one of the school’s besttalmidim. During this time, Rabbi Leffalso made the decision to becomeshomer Shabbat.

Eventually, Rabbi Leff went on tothe Mesivta of Greater Miami where he

was regularly assigned to the mostadvanced shiurim in the yeshivah. Asparkplug of enthusiasm, he reveled inthe give and take of Talmudic discus-sions. It was not uncommon for him tocome up with she’eilot (questions) thathis rebbeim couldn’t answer, as well asteshuvot (answers) to questions they hadnever even thought of. “Everyone likesto stump the rebbe with a really goodquestion,” says one of his former class-mates, “but Zev used to do that on aregular basis.”

At the same time, Rabbi Leffbecame active in NCSY. With the per-mission of the rebbeim at the Mesivta,

Mr. Kornreich, a member of the BenZakkai Honor Society of NCSY, was theeditor of numerous NCSY publicationsin the early 1970s. He has served as theOrthodox Union’s director of publica-tions and public relations, managingeditor of Jewish Life and Jewish Actionand editor of Young Israel’s Viewpoint.Currently a freelance Jewish journalist,he is a regular contributor to theAmerican edition of Yated Ne’eman.

In two years’ time,Rabbi Leff

had not only caught up

but was rapidlydeveloping into

one of the school’sbest talmidim.

Rabbi Leff and his fellow students,including the renowned educator RabbiSholom Strajcher and Orthodox UnionVice President Dr. David Luchins, trav-eled to NCSY conventions throughoutthe South. With their strong Jewishbackgrounds, the Mesivta boys becamerole models for Jewish youth inSavannah, Memphis and Atlanta.

After serving as president of theMiami NCSY chapter, Rabbi Leff leftto study at the Telshe Yeshivah inCleveland, Ohio, where he became aclose talmid of Rav Mordechai Gifter,zt”l. Aware of Rabbi Leff ’s background,Rav Gifter encouraged him to maintaincontact with his NCSY friends. Often,when there was a yeshivah break, RabbiLeff would visit with his Mesivtafriends, many of whom were attendingschools in New York City and wouldspend their free time at the NCSYnational office. Therefore, Rabbi Leffdid not think it strange when, during avisit to New York in Sukkot of 1968,his Mesivta pal, David Luchins, wantedto meet at the NCSY national office.Luchins intended to introduce RabbiLeff to Rivkah Minkoff, an NCSYleader from Ellenville, New York, whowas then working at the NCSY office.Things moved quickly. By Chanukah,Rabbi Chaim Wasserman, the assistantnational director of NCSY, hosted avort (engagement party) for the youngcouple at his Brooklyn home, and oneof the couple’s Sheva Berachot was heldin the NCSY national office. The Leffssettled in Cleveland, where Rabbi Lefflearned in kollel and supervised theTelshe dormitory. The couple also gotinvolved in the NCSY Central EastRegion.

In 1974, while Rabbi Leff and hisfamily were spending Pesach in Miami,the Young Israel of Greater Miami inNorth Miami Beach was between rab-bis, and the rabbi whom they had hiredjust for Yom Tov backed out at the lastminute. The shul board pleaded withRabbi Leff—would he fill in? RabbiLeff reluctantly agreed to deliver thederashot for the first days of Yom Tov.His sermons were received so well, hewas asked to speak again during the last


CLEVELAND HEIGHTS (AISHEL) CHAPTER,CENTRAL EAST REGION1972-1974By Danny Butler

Louis J. MalcmacherLouis J. Malcmacher

two days; after Yom Tov, he was invitedto apply for the position of rabbi.

This was the last thing that RabbiLeff wanted to do, but he politelypromised to consider the invitation.After returning to Cleveland, he men-tioned the experience, in passing, toRav Gifter. To Rabbi Leff ’s surprise,Rav Gifter told him to apply, addingthat 20 years earlier, the roshei yeshivahin the United States had made a majormistake by failing to encourage theirbest talmidim to enter rabbanut. Weremore capable talmidim leadingAmerican synagogues, Rav Gifter said,America would look much different. Healso reminded Rabbi Leff that he had apersonal responsibility to serve the com-munity that had helped him developinto a ben Torah.

Rabbi Leff returned to Miami foran interview. The board offered him aone-year contract. He took it, but askedRav Gifter to hold his old job open incase things didn’t work out.

That turned out to be unneces-sary. Rabbi Leff served as the rav of theYoung Israel of Greater Miami for nine

years. The transition from dormitorycounselor at Telshe to rav of an out-of-town community was not terribly diffi-cult for the young rabbi: he had beenmoving in two worlds his entire life. Hehad gone from growing up in a non-observant home to becoming the besttalmid at the Mesivta. While he nevercompromised his religious principles, healways maintained ties with his formerworld. Indeed, his ability to incorporateall of his experiences so well enableshim to relate to a broad spectrum ofJews. It is what gives him a perspectiveand a depth of experience that fewother leaders in the Torah world have.

While Rabbi Leff served asa rabbi in Miami, he enjoyed workingwith the NCSY chapter based in hisshul, and even returned to teach at theMesivta where he had been a talmidmore than a decade earlier.

By 1983, the Leffs decided tomake aliyah. Upon moving to Israel,

Rabbi Leff became the rav of MoshavMatityahu, a community located justoutside Kiryat Sefer. “Rabbi Leff is atrue morah d’asra [leader of the commu-nity] and provides guidance and direc-tion in all areas in the moshav,” saysMeir Migdal, a longtime resident ofMoshav Matityahu.

Today, in addition to his commu-nal duties, Rabbi Leff is also rosh yeshiv-ah of Yeshiva Gedolah Matityahu,which is geared to students who don’tnecessarily fit the mold. Additionally, heteaches a group of unaffiliated Israeliswho live near Moshav Matityahu andlectures at several leading Israeli yeshiv-ot, seminaries and institutions, includ-ing the Orthodox Union’s Israel Center.He is a featured speaker at the conven-tions of the Orthodox Union, AgudathIsrael and Torah Umesorah.

“The lesson I learned more than30 years ago at NCSY conventions isthat Judaism is not monolithic andthat there are many legitimateapproaches to Yiddishkeit,” says RabbiLeff. “This has been the guiding phi-losophy of my life.”

It has always been something ofa puzzle by what measure NCSY canclaim success.

Thirty years ago, NCSY’s CentralEast Region extended from Beaver Falls,Pennsylvania to Mishawaka, Indiana,from Fort Knox, Kentucky to Sarnia,Ontario. It included Charleston, WestVirginia, known as the “Yerushalayim ofWest Virginia,” where for many yearsthe rabbi maintained an accurate censusof every birth, death and most impor-tantly, marriage, chronicling the inter-

marriage that dissipated the community’sJewish character.

How effective was NCSY? Onenight in 1974, NCSY held a function inCharleston that drew more than half ofthe Jewish teenagers in the community.The regional president at the time, LouisMalcmacher from Cleveland Heights,used to insist that the same thing couldbe done in Brooklyn if only they couldfind a shul big enough.

The Central East Regional Con-vention in 1974, which used nearby


One night in 1974,

NCSY held a function in

Charleston thatdrew more than

half of the Jewishteenagers in the

community.

He is a spokesmanfor Cleveland’s

Jewish communityand the

first head of community

relations for a bigcity federation

who is Sabbath observant.

Judge Butler is a former regional directorof NCSY. He is a judge on Pittsburgh’sMunicipal Court with jurisdiction overPittsburgh’s four police forces. He and hiswife Nina—whom he met in NCSY—live in the house his grandparents livedin when his grandfather was the firstmashgiach for the first OU product,Heinz ketchup. Judge Butler is still a fea-tured speaker at NCSY conventionsaround the country.

Capital University’s dormitories forhousing, attracted more than 500 teensto Congregation Beth Jacob inColumbus, Ohio. Perhaps less than 10percent of the kids who attended thatconvention were day school kids. Mostwere like the Regional President LouisMalcmacher from Cleveland HeightsHigh.

The goal of every Shabbaton heldthen or since is to communicate within avery limited time the magical quality ofour Torah heritage…to make it exciting,interesting, fun, meaningful and desir-able. The challenge of each Shabbatonwas—and still is—to make sure that

enough new kids come in order to main-tain the interest of the old kids. At thesame time, it’s important to ensure thatthe new kids attend the next Shabbaton,preferably with a friend. As the region’sexponential growth in the early yearsdemonstrates, the Shabbatonim were suc-cessful. And hundreds of kids whoseimmigrant parents had intended to leaveYiddishkeit behind, or whose third-generation American parents sawJudaism as a defunct vestige of a bygoneera, encountered the Shabbat experienceand were exposed to their heritage.Sometimes with amazing results….

In most cases, there could be littleexpectation that these public school kids,whose parents went to work on Shabbat,would change their lives forever as aresult of this minimal contact. The bestwe could realistically hope for was thatsomeday the parents who had beenNCSYers in the ‘60s and ‘70s wouldsummon up the happy, warm memoriesof an NCSY experience and wouldtherefore encourage their children toparticipate in NCSY—to experience itand to see for themselves.

In a geographical area where theintermarriage and assimilation was over-whelming, NCSY had its effect and anuntold number of Jewish marriagesresulted. And then, as now, the CentralEast Region had a greater hand in influ-encing high school graduates to pursuesome form of post-high school Toraheducation than all the day schools in theregion put together. Consequently, today,in every community in the Central East,NCSY alumni, sometimes unrecogniz-able under their black hats and sheitels,are at the forefront of just about everysubstantive Jewish organization/institu-tion in the region. Oh, and every oncein a while, there is a star like LouisMalcmacher.

When Malcmacher was the chap-ter president of Taylor RoadSynagogue’s Aishel Chapter inCleveland Heights, his parents did notshare his enthusiasm for NCSY and theTorah lifestyle it represented. Holocaustsurvivors, tortured by memories of pastlosses and ever fearful that the sanctu-ary of America might be temporary,

they nevertheless allowed their son topursue the lifestyle he discovered in NCSY.

For Malcmacher, the seeds of hislater professional accomplishments andcommunal involvement were plantedlong ago in a supportive home thatreflected those values. And, althoughMalcmacher claims otherwise, they can-not honestly be attributed to NCSY.But NCSY was responsible for theShabbat experience that first caughtMalcmacher’s attention all those yearsago and inspired him to embraceYiddishkeit; since then, Shabbat hasbecome a badge of honor that he wearsproudly everywhere. Malcmacher isknown not only as a lecturer on dentaleducation in demand around the world,but also as the only one on the dentaleducation circuit who is shomer Shabbat.He is a spokesman for Cleveland’sJewish community and the first head ofcommunity relations for a big city feder-ation who is Sabbath observant. Andthere is not a charity, or a cause, or aschool or a poor person who needs den-tal work who does not benefit from


MIAMI CHAPTER, SOUTHERN REGION1960-1964By Yaakov Kornreich

Rabbi Sholom StrajcherRabbi Sholom Strajcher

Mr. Kornreich, a member of the BenZakkai Honor Society of NCSY, was theeditor of numerous NCSY publicationsin the early 1970s. He has served as theOrthodox Union’s director of publica-tions and public relations, managingeditor of Jewish Life and Jewish Actionand editor of Young Israel’s Viewpoint.Currently a freelance Jewish journalist,he is a regular contributor to theAmerican edition of Yated Ne’eman.

Malcmacher’s enthusiasm, commitment,and menschlichkeit.

There is no real difference betweenthe NCSY regional president who moti-vated 40 kids to wear yarmulkes inHeights High School in 1974, and theworld-class dentist who chaired theNational Agudah Convention 25 yearslater. As he acknowledges a debt toNCSY for the leadership opportunitiesthat it gave him and for the world that itintroduced him to, Malcmacher contin-ues to have the same uninterrupted,close relationship that he had with hismentor at NCSY, Rabbi Baruch Taub,who was national director of NCSYthen, and later, the shadchan who con-nected him with Chanie Posner. Duringthe ‘70s, Chanie, in her position asRabbi Taub’s administrative assistant,was the one who made NCSY’s nationaloffice work.

Do you want to really know LouisMalcmacher?

You could talk to the thousands ofdentists to whom he has taughtadvanced techniques.

You could talk to the people at theJewish Federation of Cleveland whowould tell you of the wonders he hasdone to enhance Jewish unity in theircommunity.

You could talk to people atdozens of Torah institutions who havebenefited from his largesse, his enthusi-asm and his time.

You could talk to people in theCleveland area who can smile or chewafter world-class dental care that theycould not afford, but received at no costfrom a consummate professional who isa mensch.

You could talk to the friends andneighbors who witnessed the hands-oncare he gave his father-in-law in the finalyears of his life, with love and respectthat undoubtedly his own children willnever forget…especially after they sawhim do it again for his own father in hislast years.

You could talk to the friend whoinsists that he was rescued last summerfrom a near-fatal disease by the ever-present dentist who made him laugh.(“…Racked with pain, I said desperately,

‘Louie, I don’t want to die on TishaB’Av.’ He whipped out his Palm andsaid, ‘What about Monday?’”)

You could talk to the mother whocould not understand his enthusiasm forold-world Judaism, and has had hermind changed by the continuing respectof a doting son, and a third generationthat is satisfied and happy and secure.

You could talk to his daughter,Shaina, who would tell you she has “thebest father,” and that he is the father“everybody wants to be with.”

You could talk to his wife, Chanie,who will tell you—without a breath ofsarcasm—that after 25 years with Louie,“I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Like many NCSYers over theyears who “bought the whole package,”Malcmacher chose not to have his chil-dren participate in NCSY “because theydon’t need it.” But if you’re concernedthat they might have been too shel-tered, then you’ve never been to theMalcmacher Shabbat table, whichattracts a range of Jews from the entirecommunity and beyond, who discovereach week the warmth and the magicthat Louis J. Malcmacher first experi-enced when in NCSY, and which hehas never stopped sharing. So that now,his sons will tell you that their careergoal is kiruv—Jewish outreach— whichI guess is where it all started. JA

In the early ’60s, the GreaterMiami Jewish community, which wascentered in Miami Beach, had twoJewish schools: the Hebrew Academy ofGreater Miami, which was a day school,

and the Mesivta of Greater Miami, ayeshivah high school for boys. In thosedays, the notion of a high school levelyeshivah was not widely accepted in theMiami Jewish community and theMesivta was viewed as an educationalexperiment whose success was verymuch in doubt. Thus, in SholomStrajcher’s Mesivta class, there were onlyeight students, all of whom rightfullylooked upon themselves as pioneers.

Rabbi Strajcher became part of a


Despite their youth, the boysunderstood that they comprised

virtually the entire local

population ofshomer ShabbatJews their age…

close-knit group of students who shareda common vision of serving Torah andthe Jewish people. For three years, thisgroup, which included Zev Leff (thecurrent rabbi of Moshav Matityahu)and David Luchins (currently a senioradvisor to the NY state comptroller anda vice president of the OU), lived, stud-ied and played together as brothers, cre-ating strong bonds that would endurefor years to come.

Despite their youth, the boys under-stood that they comprised virtually theentire local population of shomerShabbat Jews their age, and that manyin the community judged Yiddishkeit, aswell as the school, by their actions. TheMesivta boys also belonged to theMiami chapter of NCSY. In fact, NCSYwas such a part of their lives that theSouthern Regional Convention (theregion had only one convention a yearback then) was the equivalent of anannual class trip.

Today, Rabbi Strajcher, whoas a congregational rabbi and Jewisheducator has helped transform Jewishcommunities in Savannah, Memphisand New Orleans among other cities,attributes his love of teaching Torah tohis formative experiences at NCSY. “Igained so much from Rabbi PinchasStolper, whose vision created NCSY, aswell as its other early leaders—RabbisChaim Wasserman, AlexanderRosenberg, Nachman Bulman andBaruch Taub. They taught me thatevery encounter is an opportunity tomake a difference in someone’s life. Iwatched them do it, and learned toemulate their approach. They imprintedupon me the idea that teaching Torahwith patience, honesty and love canovercome even the greatest obstacles,and that even though we may notalways see success, we often leave animpression that can make a crucial dif-ference in a Jew’s life years later.”

Indeed, NCSY offered the Mesivtaboys a chance to spread what they were

learning to their less-learned peersthroughout the South. In those years,most Jewish communities in the Southdid not have day schools, and theMesivta boys were usually among thefew present at conventions with strongJewish backgrounds. They were encour-aged by the convention staff to serve asunofficial advisors and to share theirTorah knowledge with their fellowNCSYers.

Opening a fellow Jew’s eyes to thewisdom and beauty of Torah was aheady experience for the young boys. “Ilearned back then that kiruv is nothingmore than bringing someone to anunderstanding of how Torah talks tothem in their lives,” says RabbiStrajcher.

Conventions were always experi-ences, but one convention stands out inRabbi Strajchter’s memory—the year itwas held in Memphis, a 36-hour bustrip each way from Miami. Since alleight of the students in the Mesivta classwere members of the Miami chapter,sending the entire chapter would haveentailed canceling classes for at leastthree days. Reluctantly, the students

decided that only three chapter mem-bers would go that year: Eddie Zemel,David Luchins and Sholom Strajcher.

Usually chapters would charter abus to go to a convention, but this timethe three boys simply bought bus tick-ets to Memphis. Rabbi Strajcher recallsspending the trip mystified by the glaresof white people seated in the front ofthe bus. “We were unaware of the sig-nificance—in the segregated deep Southof the early 1960s—of choosing seats inthe back of the bus.” Bone-tired anddisoriented, they arrived in MemphisFriday afternoon and were picked up atthe station by a teenager who was tobring them to the Baron HirschSynagogue. During the ride, the teenag-er boasted that he had been the valedic-torian of his afternoon Hebrew school,but that now he was attending a Jesuithigh school because his parents wantedhim to have a “broader” education.

Upon arriving at the shul, wherethey were to be assigned to the homeswithin walking distance of the shul, theboys were directed to a pretty Southernbelle. After checking her list, sheinformed them that their names werenot there, and they would have to waituntil she could find somewhere to putthem up. That was too much for theexhausted group. But in his characteris-tically soothing manner, RabbiStrajchter calmed the group and assuredthe young woman that whatever shefound would be fine.

Eventually, Rabbi Strajcher wasassigned to the home of the boy whohad picked him up at the station. “Thehouse was more than a mile from theshul,” he recalls. “And yes, it rained thatShabbat.”

Once at his host’s home, RabbiStrajcher learned that the boy’s motherwas deeply suspicious of Orthodox Jews.“She lifted up my yarmulke, expecting tofind horns underneath,” says RabbiStrajcher. “She was genuinely surprisedwhen she didn’t find any.”


Captions for photos on page 25: Clockwise starting from left-hand corner: .Rabbi Pinchas Stolper, former national director of NCSY, address-ing a group at a 1974 NCSY convention at the Pine View Hotel. .Rabbi Stolper, National President Joel Ziff, and Rabbi Chaim Wasserman,former associate national director of NCSY, present Sholom Strajcher with a token of recognition at a convention in the early 60s. Photo: courtesyof Sholom Strajcher .Sholom Strajcher delivering an address at Southern Regional Convention at the Bnai Brith Jacob synagogue in Savanah,Georgia in the early 60s. He eventually served as the rabbi of the synagogue. Photo: courtesy of Sholom Strajcher .Rabbi Stolper making Havdalahat a 1964 convention with David Hurwitz looking on. Photo: courtesy of Rabbi Stolper .Left to Right: David Hurwitz; Vivian Luchins; RabbiStolper; Lawrence Kobrin, former Youth Commission chairman; Rabbi Wasserman and Rabbi Louis Ginsberg, former NCSY director of nation-al projects, at a 1967 convention. Photo: courtesy of David Hurwitz .Left to Right: Sholom Strajcher; unknown; Harold Boxer, former chair-man of the Youth Commission; Rabbi Wasserman and Rabbi Stolper at a 1964 convention. Photo: Marc Stann, courtesy of Rabbi Stolper.

The story has a happy ending.Largely due to the influence of NCSY,the teenager left the Jesuit high school,went to a yeshivah and now has a fineOrthodox family of his own. His par-ents also became shomer Shabbat andare now major supporters of Torahinstitutions.

By the way, Elaine Goldstein, theyoung lady who found Rabbi Strajcherhome hospitality, later married him, andin the 30 years since has been happilyproviding Shabbat hospitality for count-less guests at the Strajcher family table.

Rabbi Strajcher served twoterms as national president of NCSY.Later, when he came to New York Cityto attend Chaim Berlin and become atalmid of Rav Yitzchak Hutner, zt”l, hisconnection with NCSY continued. Eventoday, the powerful bonds he formed inthe Mesivta and NCSY continue to sus-tain him as he moves from communityto community, from coast to coast.

Considered one of the best edu-cators in the country, Rabbi Strajcherhas been the recipient of numerousawards from Torah Umesorah andother national organizations. Dr. EdBeiser, an associate dean of humanitiesat Brown University’s medical school,recalls how Rabbi Strajcher got theposition of dean of the ProvidenceHebrew Day School/New EnglandAcademy of Torah. “Providence hadonly one Jewish day school, which wassupported by the entire community—Orthodox, Conservative and Reform. A

search committee—representing allthree streams—was set up to find anappropriate dean. The committee wasinitially reluctant to consider RabbiStrajcher’s application because he wasthe rabbi of the large Orthodox shul inSavannah. They were interested in aneducator. When they asked RabbiStrajcher why he wanted to leave hiscurrent position, he replied that he hadbeen spending too much of his timeconducting funerals for the members ofhis shul, and that he had no furtherinterest in a career in rabbanut if itmeant that he would wind up buryingKlal Yisrael.”

Rabbi Strajcher was offered the job. “The Strajcher family hit

Providence like a whirlwind,” says Dr.Beiser. “They charmed everyone withtheir warmth and hospitality…andRabbi Strajcher wound up influencingas many adults as he did children.”

During the nine years that hewas in Providence, Rabbi Strajcher, whois today known as a “principal’s princi-pal,” succeeded in building up theschool. “While he was dean, the schoolwas widely known to be one of the bestyeshivah high schools in the country,”says one of his former colleagues. Buthis influence was felt way beyond theschool. With his personal warmth andgenuine ahavat Yisrael, Rabbi Strajchermade friends with everyone, and evenrabbis from other denominations heldhim in great esteem. Because of his abil-ity to build bridges, he was able to con-

vince the local federation to helpfinance the Orthodox mikvah.

Rabbi Strajcher’s career led him toCleveland, where he served as the educa-tional director of the Hebrew Academyof Cleveland, and to Los Angeles, wherehe is today the educational director ofthe Yeshiva University High School ofLos Angeles/Girls’ Division.

In reflecting over the yearssince his days at Mesivta, RabbiStrajcher is struck about how much theOrthodox community has changed.

“When I went to yeshivah, wenever bothered to look at the color ofone’s kippah. However, today, with somany distinctive groups within ourcommunity, the intensity of our loveand concern for those outside our spe-cific group has somehow been weak-ened. We have to ensure that we areexhibiting love and sensitivity to theneeds of every individual.”

Indeed, ahavat Yisrael and kiruvare at the core of Rabbi Strajcher’s life.But it was those early kiruv experi-ences—in the days that predated theTeshuvah Movement—that inspiresRabbi Strajcher in his work today. “Istill get a thrill every once in a while,”he says, “as I’m waiting to changeplanes at some airport, or when I amwalking down the street in almost anyJewish community in America, andpeople I met in NCSY decades agocome over to thank me and give mean update on their level of Jewishcommitment.” JA


Documents

NCSY Alumni: Leaders Then and Now