In 1970, Rabbi Dr. Ivan Lerner was recruited to become the first director of NCSY’s Central East Region. The region’s borders stretched east to west, from western Pennsylvania to Indiana, and north to south, from southern Ontario to northern Kentucky. Rabbi Pinchos Stolper, a”h, the founding director of NCSY, insisted that the regional office needed to be in Cleveland.
Rabbi Lerner recalls that just prior to his relocation, Rabbi Stolper mentioned that as soon as he arrived in Cleveland, he should set up a meeting with the Telshe Rosh Hayeshivah, Reb Mordechai Gifter, zt”l, to introduce himself and try to attract Kollel talmidim to lend support to NCSY’s kiruv efforts, as well as deliver a personal letter from him. The envelope contained a haskamah (approbation) from Reb Yitzchok Hutner, zt”l, the Rosh Yeshivah of Chaim Berlin. Reb Hutner wrote about the work that NCSY was doing to “save neshamos,” and that his talmid muvhak, Rabbi Stolper, was being moser nefesh with tremendous self-sacrifice in his holy efforts to rescue Jewish teenagers from assimilation.
Rabbi Lerner tells the story of his meeting as follows: Upon my arrival in Cleveland, I immediately made an appointment to meet with Rav Gifter. Every Rosh Yeshivah I had ever met spoke Yiddish (and very limited English), and because my Yiddish was sub-par, I was somewhat apprehensive about having a one-on-one meeting with a big-time Rosh Yeshivah like Rav Gifter. Nevertheless, on a mild summer morning in August of 1970, I drove out to Wickliffe, Ohio, to meet Rav Gifter.
After knocking and waiting outside the Rosh Hayeshivah’s study for a few moments, I heard a strong voice from inside say: “Come in.” I entered. I was surprised, since I expected to hear in Yiddish: “Vas ist (what is it)?” The Rosh Hayeshivah (not yet looking up) quietly said: “Hmm... Lerner.” Then, looking directly at me, he said: “Lerner—from where?”
I was still trying to make sense of a Rosh Yeshivah who spoke perfect English. I replied: “Originally from Baltimore.” Again, he mused: “Hmm...” Then he said: “Are you related to Yossel Lerner?” I replied: “My dad’s Yiddish name is Yossel.”
Rav Gifter suddenly pushed his big black desk phone toward me and said: “Call your father.” I can still recall the cold sweat, the confusion, the surreal atmosphere. My dad was a proud Jew and a wonderful man, but his association with his shul’s religious practice was less than intimate. His attendance pretty much involved Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur and an occasional bar mitzvah or wedding. “My dad’s in Baltimore, and that’s an expensive call from here: I’d hate for the Yeshivah to have to spend all that money.” Rav Gifter, pushing the phone closer, said: “My phone, my bill—call your dad.”
I had a feeling of foreboding as I slowly dialed. The phone number connected, and my dad answered. I said: “Hi Dad, I’m calling from Cleveland...” Before I could continue, my dad cut me off: “Cleveland?! Do you know how expensive this call is?” I continued: “I’m calling from Rabbi Mordechai Gifter’s phone. Rabbi Gifter is the head of the Yeshivah in Cleveland.”
There was a pause. My dad then said: “Are you there with Muttie Gifter? I haven’t seen him in years!” At that moment, Rav Gifter reached out for me to hand him the phone. Immediately, the language of the call turned into Yiddish. For ten minutes, two boyhood friends were laughing, joking, and reminiscing in Yiddish. I thought I was in the Twilight Zone. It was surreal. Rav Gifter handed me back the phone and said: “Say goodbye to your dad.” I did and hung up.
Rav Gifter began to regale me with stories about my dad and my grandpa. “The Rosh Hayeshivah and my dad went to cheder together?” I asked. Rav Gifter said: “We were in the same class for five years. Your dad’s parents had a little grocery store a block away from my parents’ store. It was a mixed Italian and Polish neighborhood, and your father was one tough Jew. Even before our bar mitzvahs, when we would walk home from cheder and the neighborhood bullies would confront us, your dad would throw punches and send them running. My mother used to tell me to walk to and from school with your father.”
Listening to Rav Gifter, I was mesmerized. What I had expected to be a short, formal meeting turned out to be a relaxed and enjoyable chat that lasted well over an hour. For me, the major takeaway was my self-esteem boost. As a baal teshuvah myself, I often felt uncomfortable around rabbis. Rav Gifter understood the value and language of my soul—my very real, Jewish soul.
Rabbi Dovid Hoffman is the author of the popular “Torah Tavlin” book series, filled with stories, wit and hundreds of divrei Torah, including the brand new “Torah Tavlin Yamim Noraim” in stores everywhere. You’ll love this popular series. Also look for his book, “Heroes of Spirit,” containing one hundred fascinating stories on the Holocaust. They are fantastic gifts, available in all Judaica bookstores and online at http://israelbookshoppublications.com. To receive Rabbi Hoffman’s weekly “Torah Tavlin” sheet on the parsha, e-mail This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.