By  Y. Strauss

 

Thursday night, “leil shishi mishmar,” has a special place in the heart of every mesivta bachur. Add the words “off Shabbos,” and the feelings it evokes are even more powerful.

 

Most spend the time learning into the night. Sometimes they use the time to catch up with old chaveirim, discuss the different sugyos they are learning or the different yeshivos they attend, and debate inyanei hashkafah until the sun rises.

 

That Thursday night was no different. After spending many hours learning, a group of bachurim met at a local store for some refreshments. That’s when Chaim Zelig Berl turned to one of his many best friends, Eli Mizrahi.

 

“Nu, Eli, are you coming to daven vasikin in Deal?” the spunky redhead asked with his usual bren. “We’re going to learn until 4:00 a.m., and my father will drive us then.”

 

It was a standard practice for Chaim Zelig and his friends. Before an off Shabbos or during bein hazmanim, after spending the night in eisek haTorah, his father would drive a bunch of boys to Deal, where they would daven at the beach as the sun cast it majestic spell over the seashore.

 

“I can’t make it,” Eli replied. “My yeshivah doesn’t have an off Shabbos this week, and I need to sleep to function. Anyway, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow morning, so you won’t be able to see the sun rising.”

 

“Na, I’m really going just to help Steve put on tefillin.” Chaim Zelig grinned. “Another chance to help a Yid do a mitzvah!”

 

Steve Rosenberg was an irreligious gentleman who worked for the valet service at The Wave Hotel in Long Branch. On one of their visits, he had opened up to them, telling them how he felt bad he never had a yeshivah education. After speaking to him for a while, the boys asked him if he would consider putting on tefillin. He agreed and shed a few tears as he wrapped the retzuos over his arms for the first time in five decades.

 

Ever since then, Steve became part of the trip. The boys would daven with sunrise and stop off at The Wave to put tefillin on Mr. Rosenberg, who would excitedly await their visits.

 

That was the last conversation Chaim Zelig had with Eli.

 

When Eli heard about the crash the next morning, he knew what he had to do. He called Steve and slowly informed him about the tragedy that had shaken up the community. They were on their way to come put on tefillin with him, but Hashem had different plans.

 

“These boys won’t be able to put on tefillin anymore,” Eli said softly. “Steve, can you put on tefillin for their memory?”

 

At the shivah, Steve came in, breaking down in tears as he proclaimed that he started wearing tefillin daily ever since the accident.

 

He’s not the only one. Scores of boys, struggling to keep Shabbos or with other aspects of Yiddishkeit, have implemented serious changes in their lives l’zecher the bachurim who were tragically taken from us early that Friday morning. Hundreds of bachurim were mekabel to say Krias Shema b’zmano after the accident. A new fad started among boys who’d previously slacked off in their tefillin; affected by the niftarim, they post pictures of themselves wearing tefillin each morning l’zecher their friends.

 

It seems like almost every mesivta bachur in Lakewood knew one or more of these bachurim, and many initiatives have started l’zecher nishmasam. Eli Mizrahi, who was close to two of them, influenced approximately 100 talmidim of Yeshivas Nefesh Hachaim to learn the entire Maseches Sukkah l’ilui nishmas the bachurim who are now in Yeshivah Shel Ma’alah.

 

Who were these bachurim, and how did they touch thousands of lives in the short time they had in This World?

 

In honor of their shloshim, The Voice spoke to family and friends of two of the niftarim to discover the secret of their larger-than-life influence.

 

 

Chaim Zelig Berl a”h                 

 

 

Chaim Zelig was a model yeshivah bachur. He was a happy and healthy blossoming ben Torah. He was shteiging in learning, yiras Shamayim, and all areas of avodas Hashem. He had a heart of gold and was friends with, in his own words, “all of Klal Yisrael.”

 

He wasn’t always that way. His wasn’t a story of the natural-born angel who always toed the line. In his younger years, he was full of energy and zest, which made it difficult for him to sit and learn. He enjoyed a good meal. He loved to play and have fun. A lot of fun. He always had a good joke to make others laugh. He enjoyed the finer things in life—and appreciated brand name sneakers and pants. All this within the boundaries of an ehrliche, Yiddishe, heilige, and wholesome atmosphere.

 

But as he grew older, he matured and used his energy to remake himself into a bona fide ben Torah. With his parents’ constant encouragement, he worked hard and grew until he shed many of his other pursuits. He still loved fun and having a good time, but it never came on the cheshbon of his status as a ben Torah.

 

He invested a lot of time in learning, not just during seder but before davening and bein hasedarim as well. He often stayed up late at night to learn some more on his own free time.

 

All the energy that once kept him away from his desk was now channeled into his learning. His voice would be heard booming through the beis midrash as he argued over a svara his rebbi had said in shiur. He was living the Torah he was learning! And the Torah changed him into a ben Torah.

 

Two years ago, he was mekabel on himself not to walk into the pizza shop unless he was sure it wouldn’t affect his shemiras einayim. The boy who once loved pizza was shteiging and developing a real sense of right and wrong.

 

One thing that stood out from when he was a young boy was his tremendous heart and caring for others, no matter how they looked or whether a friendship with them would raise his status. He looked out for the unnoticed, quiet boys and would take them under his wing.

 

His mother recalls how, when he was five, she gave him a bag of pretzels for snack. “Ma, I need a bigger bag to share with my friends,” he exclaimed. And he meant it.

 

Chaim Zelig with ybl”ch the Novominsker Rebbe Rav Yehoshua

 

At his bar mitzvah

 

Once, before his bar mitzvah, he asked his father for some money. “I saw a boy biking without a kappel and tzitzis, and I want to buy them for him.” He returned from the store with a yarmulke and a few pairs of tzitzis, including a T-shirt tzitzis, explaining that he knew the boy would have an easier time wearing that than donning a regular pair of tzitzis.

 

When he went to camp, he asked his mother to send him meat, which never seemed to be enough.

 

“Chaim Zelig, how much meat do you need?” she asked, before she found out that when he barbequed, he cut the meat into enough pieces for every single bachur in camp to get some.

 

As a natural leader, he was often the center of attention and used his influence to positively impact the lives of those around him. Once, at a barbeque he hosted for the boys in his neighborhood, he noticed that one of the quiet boys on the block was missing.

 

“I’m not giving anyone meat until Shimmy* shows up,” Chaim Zelig announced, before sending a group of boys to go get him.

 

He made friends with bachurim from all across town. He was constantly networking and making new friends, who were drawn to his warmth and simchas hachaim. He was the life of the party but never at the expense of others’ feelings. He was extremely sensitive to others and made sure their needs were being taken care of. A neighbor on the block recalls him coming over to help her when he saw her taking the garbage out.

 

If he sensed a bachur was being bullied, he had no problem going over to the bullies and putting them in their place. “How could you do that?” he’d demand, until they realized that he was serious and had a point.

 

In recent months, his shteiging reached even higher levels. “Next Elul,” he recently confided to his father, “I’m going to drop all my kindereshkeiten and focus only on aliyah.”

 

With his powerful persona, incredible energy and drive, and focus on growing ever higher, Chaim Zelig was on the path to true gadlus and shleimus.

 

His uncle Hagaon Rav Elya Ber Wachtfogel exclaimed, “We lost a future gadol hador!” He had the power to influence hundreds who felt they could count on him to seek them out, understand them, elevate them, all while giving them a good time with warmth and a smile.

 

 

Dovid Yitzchok (Yitzy) Handler a”h

 

Mendy* was in a rut before this incident. He had been floating from yeshivah to yeshivah until the last time he closed the yeshivah doors behind him. Since then? He had been at home, on the streets, doing various odd jobs, and trying to stay out of trouble.

 

Not the ideal situation, but he dealt with it pretty fine.

 

But now, he was completely done. Something terrible had happened to him, and he wasn’t ready to go on. He sat at home moping, rarely leaving his bedroom.

 

Until his phone lit up, Yitzy Handler’s name flashing across the screen. He was tempted to ignore it, but Yitzy wasn’t someone you just ignored. There was just something about him. Reluctantly, Mendy answered the call.

 

“Hi Mendy!” Yitzy’s cheerful voice already made him feel a little better.

 

It was bein hazmanim, and while Yitzy had more than enough on his plate, his friend’s plight came first.

 

“We’re going out for supper. What time should I come over?”

 

“Yitzy, it’s fine, I’m not really interested.”

 

But it wasn’t a request. It was a statement, and there was no use in arguing.

 

Later that evening, the two bachurim went out to eat, during which Mendy poured his heart out as Yitzy listened intently.

 

It wasn’t long before Mendy was ready to face life again. All because one bachur with twinkling eyes and a huge heart cared to reach out to him.

 

How does a bachur, a top learner who loved to sit at his Gemara, relate to a boy whose Yiddishkeit was floundering? How did he do it?

 

Yitzy just had a knack for these things. He was a born leader: charismatic, funny, talented, and a great friend. He loved to learn, and he loved to make friends. He had a magnetic personality and was able to relate to people of every type. He was so real, so sincere.

 

Shteiging was part of his essence. He didn’t know what stagnation meant; by nature, he was a doer. He didn’t walk into a room; he bounced in. And the room would instantly light up.

 

Purim night, fixing his sister’s costume

 

 

He used that very same motivation and drive to form himself into a true ben Torah.

 

When a friend from yeshivah lost his father, some bachurim took upon themselves to learn a masechta l’ilui nishmaso. Yitzy took Bechoros, a difficult and unfamiliar masechta. And he didn’t suffice with that. The following year, he asked his rebbi if he could chazer it during bein hasedarim. Because whatever Yitzy did, he did it fully.

 

One day in 10th grade, the boys in his class were excited about something, and hardly anyone listened to shiur that day. After shiur, Yitzy gathered his classmates and, reading from his meticulous notes, proceeded to repeat the entire shiur.

 

At one point, he had an urge to start learning Oraysa, and after consulting with his rebbeim and receiving their approval, he began learning the daily amud… at five thirty each morning! After learning a sugya, he would write it down, producing masterful sikumim on each sugya.

 

His shteiging wasn’t only in learning. Every area of avodas Hashem was worked upon. By davening, he was always on time. He was careful not to walk out without a hat and jacket.

 

And yet. And yet he managed to be friends with hundreds of bachurim in town. Most, like him, were real bnei Torah who enjoyed an occasional outing, and they loved spending time with Yitzy. He was so full of life, so full of simchah. Others, like Mendy,* were boys struggling with Yiddishkeit, who found in Yitzy a true friend with a listening ear, who really, really understood them.

 

It didn’t take much to become his friend. He once came home after doing the shopping on Motza’ei Pesach, declaring that he found a new friend. They had been standing on line for an hour, and Yitzy used the time to expand his ever-growing network of friends.

 

He was as serious about his avodas Hashem as he was about the needs of others. He was considerate and deep and built real relationships with so many who considered him their best friend.

 

At the tender age of seventeen, Yitzy had already impacted so many, in so many different ways. He was destined to greatness, in Torah, avodah, and of course, gemilus chassadim, but perhaps more than all, he had a future in gadlus, in leadership. In taking achrayus for those who needed it most.

And they can never forget what he did for them.

 

 

*Names have been changed

 

Editor’s note: At this time, we were not able to include a tribute for Rafael Faham z”l. We hope to share more about his life and memory in the near future.