Ilu Haya Li- My pilgrimage to see Rav Dov Zinger

אילו היה לי רבי כמו שלכם הייתי הולך אליו ברגל,

ובחזרה הייתי רץ לעבוד אותו יתברך עם מה שקבלתי מרבי

If I had a Rebbe like yours, I would travel to him on foot,

And on my way back, I would run, in order to serve The Blessed one, with what I received from my Rebbe

Rav Avraham of Tolchin

I’ve tried to write this several times over the past few weeks. I’ve written, deleted, written again, edited, and edited some more. This is unusual for me. Usually, I know what I want to say, and can find the words to do so. My struggles to express what I want to, speaks to how deeply meaningful this experience was for me. I almost wonder if my challenge in finding the right words should be taken as an indication that I shouldn’t write about it. Some things cannot be shared. Still, I try, with the hope that what I write may be of use to even one person.

There are many stories told him about a chassid leaving home for  an extended period of time to visit his rebbe in a far off location. These stories often end with the chassid returning home having learned something of great importance. What is often implicit in these stories is the fact that getting to the rebbe involves all sorts of challenges including financial loss and time away from the family and work, but that what he gains is worth far more than anything he loses.

I don’t know how common it is these days for chassidim to make a pilgrimage to their rebbe, but many people are familiar with the fact that each year, many Breslov chassidim, chassidim of various stripes, and non-chassidim travel to Rebbe Nachman’s kever in Uman for part or all of the Yamim Noraim. Among the criticisms levied at those who go (and for good and bad, there are many) is that they leave their wives and children home to spend the Rosh Hashana and/or Yom Kippur by themselves. If I’m to be honest, as much as I would like to go to Uman, this is the only reason which would prevent me from going for the Yamim Noraim. Still, I’d like to share as much as I can find the words to do so, about a recent pilgrimage of sorts that I made, as it leaves me believing that certain tradeoffs may be worthwhile.

Less than a year ago, I merited to meet and develop a connection with Rav Dov Zinger, the Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Mekor Chaim, and author of Tikon Tefilati, an incredible sefer on tefillah. In the brief time that we had together it was clear that I had not just met a teacher, or even just a rabbi. I had found a mentor, or to put it better, a rebbe. As you can imagine, I was very happy to spend more time with him in Israel this past summer, and thrilled that my son who joined me, was taken by him, and by his yeshiva as well. I left Israel wondering when I’d get to see Rav Dov again. I was deeply excited when I was invited by a friend to come to Cleveland for a weekend where Rav Dov would be speaking and teaching.

I won’t pretend that there were major obstacles standing in my way. My wife was fine with my being away for a few days, and I received permission to miss work, as I would be learning things which I could use in and out of the classroom. Still, after agreeing to go, I discovered that from a family perspective, that weekend was not an ideal one for me to be away. I even considered cancelling.

As I drove west on route 80, I imagined myself as the proverbial chassid leaving his little village to see his rebbe. The dark grey sky and stunning fall foliage further lifted my spirits, something that even a massive storm which accompanied me from one end of Pennsylvania to the other, could not ruin. As I drove, I listened to Yosef Karduner soulful singing on my phone (click here for his amazing rendition of the quote at the top of this post). I couldn’t help but feel that this was all part of the pilgrimage. As excited as I was, I was alsonervous. Was I getting my hopes up to high? Could this weekend be all that I hoped it would be?

What can I say? It was better than I could have possibly hoped. Not surprisingly, the Torah was great. Each shiur and schmooze touched me deeply. I took copious mental notes making sure that I could share his ideas with others. Still, none of that was a surprise. I’d heard enough of Rav Dov’s Torah to know what to expect.

What made this experience so deeply meaningful was everything else. The conversations, the hugs, the jokes, the non-verbal communication, the lesson in hisbodedus put into practice late on a freezing night, and a wonderful walk in the woods, and, and, and.

I can’t find the right words to describe it, and I’m not sure I should try. I can only say that I imagine that many rabbeim have concentric circles around them, with some chassidim all the way on the outside, while others get the opportunity to discover a closer more intimate side of their rebbe. I don’t think I can point to a specific moment, but at some point during our time together I realized that it wasn’t just that I viewed Rav Dov as a rebbe, but that he had allowed me access into a deeper more personal side of himself.

Of course, at the end, in two stages, in Cleveland and New York, I had to say goodbye again, for an undetermined amount of time. It was hard, and I was sad, but it had to happen. Not just in terms of Rav Dov having to go home, but in terms of the ratzo v’ashov, which doesn’t just describe the back and forth relationship we have with God. There is an intensity I experience being in Rav Dov’s presence. In those moments, I don’t quite feel like myself, as fear, excitement, happiness, and trepidation combine to take me away from myself. I don’t think I could handle like living like that all of the time, trying to daven in his presence while trying to watch and not watch his davening, as I hopelessly try to have kavana, or sitting at a meal hoping that my comments are worth sharing, and my jokes appropriate, funny, but not crossing a line.

Most of all, there’s a sense that when I’m with him, I’m not walking on my own, but rather being held up like a child learning to take his first steps. It is only by letting go, by letting there be some distance, that I get to be who I am, taking the so many things I learned from him, not all of it Torah in its most narrow sense, but all of it holy; and trying to implement it in my life.

While I don’t pretend that my travels were particularly long or difficult, or my time away a major sacrifice, I can still say that I strongly believe that whatever was lost in my being away from home, is more than made up by what I returned with as I came back home. I dare say that my time away has the chance to make me a better husband, father, teacher, and Jew.