Rav Sholom Schwadron, known as the Maggid of Yerushalayim, lived in the Shaarei Chessed neighborhood of Yerushalayim. He traveled to America frequently to raise money for various institutions in Eretz Yisroel, during which time he established a close relationship with the Krohn family.
At the 2022 Agudah Convention, Rabbi Paysach Krohn shared personal vignettes about Rav Sholom. Please enjoy this adaptation of his remarks.
Torah
The first time Rav Sholom came to my parents’ home, he brought a huge Shulchan Aruch Yoreh Deah with him. In the margins of every page of this sefer were notes from his grandfather, the Maharsham. Rav Sholom would spend hours every day working to decipher the comments of the Maharsham, and he eventually wrote a sefer on his grandfather’s comments on the entire Shulchan Aruch, called Daas Torah. We know of Rav Sholom as a noted speaker and storyteller, but we have to remember that he was a tremendous talmid chacham and a baki in halachah.
Maasim Medukdakim
Rav Sholom learned 18 perakim of mishnayos every day, six perakim before each meal. Many times, before he would sit down to eat, Rav Sholom would ask me and my brothers to tell him, “Muttar lach.” My brother Kalman asked him what he was being matir, and Rav Sholom answered that he couldn’t finish six perakim before the meal, so he needed to be matir.
Rav Sholom would record himself reading mussar sefarim on reel tapes, and he would cry as he recorded them. Rav Yisroel Grossman traveled with Rav Sholom when he went to America for the first time, and he saw on the way there that Rav Sholom was crying. Rav Yisroel asked why he was crying, and Rav Sholom answered, “I’m afraid to go to America.” He was listening to his tear-filled recording of Mesilas Yesharim, fortifying himself against anything that could possibly happen in America.
Every Monday and Thursday, and for the entire month of Elul, Rav Sholom had a taanis dibbur. During the day, he would only speak divrei Torah and give drashos, and at night he would speak. Rav Sholom was the rosh hamedabrim, the head of all speakers – but he spoke for a purpose.
Emunas Chachamim
Rav Sholom never left Eretz Yisroel without asking daas Torah first – he would ask Rav Chatzkel Levenstein, and after Rav Chatzkel was niftar, he asked the Steipler. Before one trip, Rav Sholom sent his son Rav Ariel to get permission from the Steipler to go to America. The Steipler said to Rav Ariel, “There was never a speaker like Rav Sholom and there never will be a speaker like Rav Sholom – I give him permission to go so that he should be able to inspire people.”
When Israel became a state, buses were not allowed to run on Shabbos anywhere except in Chaifa. The rabbanim in Chaifa asked Rav Sholom to come speak to their city about shemiras Shabbos, and he went. He arrived in Chaifa on a Friday, which was also Yom Ha’atzmaut. Rav Sholom saw a parade, and he heard that in the parade, the female soldiers were up front in the car together with the mayor. Rav Sholom was incensed. Instead of speaking about Shabbos, every speech he gave during his visit to Chaifa was about the lack of tznius. On Sunday morning, back in Yerushalayim, Rav Sholom got a phone call that the municipality of Chaifa decided he was banned from speaking there ever again because he insulted so many people. Rav Sholom went to the Brisker Rav to ask if he did the right thing by speaking out against the lack of tznius. The Brisker Rav told him that he was wrong; he should have stuck to the topic of shemiras Shabbos – and Rav Sholom accepted this and even allowed the story to be published.
“… And the Orphan and the Widow…”
Rav Sholom’s father was niftar when he was just seven years old, and for the rest of his life, Rav Sholom always showed tremendous sensitivity to orphans.
When he was an older man, he gave a sefer to a nephew for his bar mitzvah. This nephew was also an orphan. Rav Sholom inscribed the sefer with “kamocha kamoni – just like you are an orphan, I am an orphan.” He never forgot the loneliness of an orphan.
The first time Rav Sholom came to America after my father was niftar, my brothers and I and my mother went to greet his ship. He saw us running towards him and stopped in his tracks for a moment, then started walking again, much slower. When Rav Sholom caught sight of my mother, the widow of his beloved friend, he shook his head, sat down on a bench, and wept. After a few moments, he looked up at us, as if to say something, but motioned helplessly that he could not talk. The man of a million words had none. The tears on his face spoke instead, and the silence touched us – we knew he knew our pain.
One Pesach when Rav Sholom was staying with us, the first night of Yom Tov was on a motzai Shabbos, so we couldn’t start preparing for the seder until very late. My brother-in-law was there with all his children, and they were very involved in the seder – everyone singing and saying all the divrei Torah they learned in school. I knew that Rav Sholom was very makpid to always eat the afikoman before chatzos. As I saw that it was getting later and later, I tried to rush my brother-in-law a little bit. Even though Rav Sholom didn’t understand what I was saying (he didn’t speak English), he understood what I was trying to do. And he poked me in the ribs! He said to me in Yiddish, “Don’t rush!” So I stopped, but when we started the seudah, I motioned to my mother to move quickly – without even saying anything – and Rav Sholom poked me again! Again he said, “I told you – don’t rush!” We ended up eating the afikoman after chatzos. After the seder, when Rav Sholom and I were saying Shir Hashirim together, I apologized that because of my family he ate the afikoman after chatzos for the first time. Rav Sholom responded something so unforgettable: “Your mother is a widow. The whole year, she waits for her children and grandchildren to come from out of town, she waits to hear them sing and give divrei Torah. Eating afikoman before chatzos is a d’rabbanan; causing pain to a widow is a d’oraisah. We have to know our priorities.” That’s what he said! He understood the deep pain of a widow.
Every single story I have ever told or written, I owe to Rav Sholom Schwadron. He was a maggid par extraordinaire. Whenever he gave a drashah, everyone knew that he really loved them. His goal was to elevate everything gashmiyus to a place of ruchniyus; he only told a story, a maaseh, in order to gain from it, l’maaseh. Hashem should help us all be able to accomplish just a piece of what Rav Sholom Schwadron did – take all the gashmiyus that we have and turn it into ruchniyus.