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Friends,

 

A number of people have asked for a copy of my eulogy for Rabbi Klein z"l and so I include it below.  Please remember that we are completing Shas MIshnayos in Rabbi Klein's memory in time for his sheloshim.  If you have not yet done so, please go to www.shloshim.org and search for "Yaakov Klein."

 

May we share only simchas.
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Rabbi Efrem Goldberg 

 

 

Hesped for Rabbi Gene Klein z'"l   

HaRav Yaakov Chaim ben Yosef

 

Delivered by Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

December 23, 2012/ 10 Teves 5773

 

It turns out that the Mayans' prediction was not entirely wrong. A piece of the world, a piece of our world, came to an end on Friday with the loss of an extraordinary man, a special friend, an incredible role model, and in many ways the beloved patriarch of our community - Rabbi Gene Klein, HaRav Yaakov Chaim ben Yosef.

 

Rabbi Klein had a tie pin that he regularly wore that was made of his initials - yud, ches, kuf. Every time that someone said to him, "Rabbi - ad me'ah v'esrim shana, until 120 years old," he would respond, "No, until 118, that is what it says on my tie pin." I heard it so often that over the last few years, I think I really believed that he would live to 118. We thought we would continue to enjoy his contagious smile, his positive countenance, his encouraging word, his warm embrace, his gentle rebuke, and his love and affection for many, many more years.

 

But abruptly and somewhat suddenly, our beloved Rabbi Klein is no longer with us. Hashem was kind to the rabbi by taking him in a way in which he did not suffer and his pain and discomfort were not prolonged.   To be clear, our tears today are not for Rabbi Klein, as he led a long life and, while filled with hardship, struggle and tragedy, he would nevertheless say, a good life. No, our tears today are for ourselves and for the void that will now be created in our hearts, in our lives, and in our community.

 

"Va'yeitzei Yaakov mi'Beer Sheva va'yeilech Charana, and Yaakov left B'er Sheva and he went to Charan." Asks Rashi, why not just say va'yeilech Yaakov l'charan, and Yaakov went to Charan? Why must it first tell us where he left-just tell us that he arrived in a new location and we will implicitly know that he left his old one?

 

Rashi answers -

 

When Yaakov Avinu left Be'er Sheva, the city was never the same again. His absence was palpably felt.   Vayeitzei Yaakov Chaim mi Boca Raton, our Yaakov, Rabbi Klein, has left his city, and his departure has created a roshem, a mark, a void, and a vacuum that will be felt by all who knew him for a very long time.

 

Every time we look at his seat and his shtender we will feel his absence. Every child who approaches for a Sunkist fruit gem candy and - more importantly - for the warm smile and gentle touch that accompanied it, will feel his absence. Every person who receives a kibud, an aliyah, pesicha, or davening for the amud and R. Klein won't be there to chase him down to give him a yasher ko'ach, will feel his absence. When it is time to blow shofar and he is not up there to call out the tekios, we will feel his absence. On the mornings of Shabbos Ha'Gadol and Shabbos Shuva when we anticipate his big announcement to encourage everyone to attend the derashos, we will feel his absence. On Yom Ha'Shoah when we call the survivors to come light the six large yahrzeit candles, we will feel his absence. When it is time to announce the molad and I need someone to translate the Yiddish in the luach, I will feel his absence. When I leave Shul on Friday night and come home to my Shabbos table without him, my family and I will acutely feel his absence.


Yes, a Yaakov, a tzadik has left our city, and it is already creating a roshem, an indelible impression and painful mark on our lives. When I had to fill out some paperwork after his passing, I easily filled in his name and information, my name and information, and then I came to a line that simply said:relationship to the deceased. I stood there for a moment somewhat confounded. I didn't know what to write. Was I his Rabbi? I guess technically in that he belonged to our Shul. But he was much more my Rabbi than I his. Was I his family member?   Technically no, but he sure felt like my grandfather, in some ways a father, or sometimes even a brother. Was I his friend? Can you call a 93-year-old man and a 38-year-old friends?

 

And then I remembered what he loved to say to every guest at our house. Some time shortly after I would introduce Rabbi Klein to a member of our community or a visiting scholar in residence, he would put his arm around me and say, "Can you believe that an active pulpit rabbi and a retired rabbi could be such close friends?" He would continue, "Most acting Rabbis have no use for retired rabbis and most retired rabbis have nothing but criticism for the active rabbi. But Rabbi Goldberg and I are the closest of friends." I would beam and smile from ear to ear each time he said it because it was the highest compliment he could pay me.


I thought of that as I filled in the blank line. Relationship to the deceased? Close personal friend. Permit me to speak to you this morning not just as the Rabbi of BRS, but also as a close personal friend of the extraordinary person to whom we have come to say goodbye.

 

Our friend Rabbi Klein was an incredible man. He was a walking contradiction that defied explanation. On the one hand he was a chasid raised in a Shtetl and taught in a chassidishe cheder. Yet he not only had a degree in Physical Therapy, but he also earned a PhD in Philosophy. He was the ultimate traditionalist who wore blacks suits, a black hat, and sported a long white beard. He sang the zemiros and ate the foods of the alter heim. Yet, he was a progressive, a modern thinker, and an advocate of women's rights in Judaism. He was a product of Satmar, and yet he was a staunch Zionist who loved Israel.   He was an elderly man in his nineties, and yet he was beloved to, and good friends with, children and adults of all ages. He lived a life filled with hardship, loss, tragedy, disappointment, and pain, and yet he was the happiest, most optimistic, positive spirit any of us has met.   Where did this unusual person come from?

 

Rabbi Klein was born on April 11, the 11th of Nissan, 1919, in Petrovoselo, Yugoslavia. He was raised in a chassidishe family, loyal followers of the Satmar Rebbe. In fact, he would often proudly tell the story of how his father came to be so close with the Satmar Rebbe. Rabbi Klein's grandfather died suddenly as a very young man. When the Satmar Rebbe, known as the Kedushas Yom Tov, came to pay a shiva call to the widow, he noticed their young son, Rabbi Klein's father, who now lacked a father. The Rebbe told the boy's mother, I am not leaving this house without this boy. I will raise him in my home as my own son and will supervise his entire upbringing. Thus, Rabbi Klein's father was raised by the Kedushas Yom Tov in the same home as Reb Yoel, the Satmar Rebbe. When Rabbi Klein would later attend Satmar tisches in America, the Rebbe would call for him to come sit next to him and pay him great honor and respect.

 

Rabbi Klein attended yeshiva in Romania and Yugoslavia.  As a young child, he was stricken with typhoid fever. This dangerous illness threatened his life and he was fortunate and blessed to recover. When he did, he had to eat very slowly and in small quantities, practices he would continue the rest of his life.

 

When he was 13 years old, Rabbi Klein's father took him by train to bring him to yeshiva in another city. On the way they would pass the city of Groysvedan, which was home to the Viznitzer Rebbe. Though his father was a Satmar, he believed in all Rebbes and suggested they get off the train to give shalom, to say hello to the Viznitzer Rebbe. When they did, the Rebbe said, "It is already Thursday, why don't you stay with us for Shabbos." They agreed, and were privileged to eat with the Rebbe on Friday night. Though he was only 13 years old at the time and he only attended the Rebbe's tisch once, for the rest of his life Rabbi Klein would use the Viznitzer niggunim, those particular tunes, for Friday night zemiros.

 

After finishing yeshiva, Rabbi Klein got married and had three children. He was a successful businessman and was on his way to a wonderful life with a beautiful family. But the horrors of the Holocaust came and Rabbi Klein was placed in a slave labor camp where he mined copper. In 1944, he was forced to march across Yugoslavia and Hungary to the Flossenberg Concentration Camp in Germany. His brother Moishe was with him and Moishe was a mechanic. Though he had no training, Rabbi Klein told the Nazis that he too was a mechanic so that he would be assigned a job. Indeed, he was very good with his hands and would build and fix things throughout his life.

 

While in the Concentration Camp, in a very short period of time everyone in his barracks died of typhoid fever but him. He didn't understand why he was spared until he found a doctor in the camp who explained that having typhoid as a child allowed him to build up immunity to the fever, an immunity that would ultimately save his life.

 

He was later assigned to Hersbruck Death Camp and from there to Dachau. Rabbi Klein was liberated on May 1st, 1945, but he would later learn that the rest of his family was not so lucky. His wife and three children, as well as many of his family members, were wiped out and murdered by the Nazis yemach shmam.

 

After his liberation, he was instrumental in organizing the remnants of the survivors and in establishing a small Jewish community in Mittenwald. In a story that could be a movie, he met his Rebbetzin, Elka, who had survived Auschwitz and together they had a son Yosef, Joey, named for Rabbi Klein's father. Rabbi Klein set up a very successful business in Mittenwald with a partner called Klein hence the name of his dry goods distribution - Klein and Klein. He soon realized that he could not raise a son in Germany and so he got visas to immigrate to Canada, leaving his successful business behind.

 

In Canada, Rebbetzin Klein got sick with tuberculosis and needed to recover in a sanatorium. There was no occupational therapist in the hospital and so Rabbi Klein decided to get a degree in occupational therapy and fill the need. Ultimately he would become the Director of Occupational Therapy at Mount Sinai Sanatorium in the Laurentian Mountains.

 

It is very hard for us to imagine, but Rabbi Klein had absolutely no intention in becoming a practicing rabbi. Yes, he had earned semicha in Europe before the war, but he never intended on using it. However, when living in Canada, a group of people began to daven with him and they asked him to give classes and teach them. He would often say, I didn't want to be a rabbi but they didn't give me a choice, they made me their rabbi and I couldn't say no.

 

He attended the Mercaz Ha'Torah Rabbinical Seminary in Montreal and received another semicah from its prominent Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Pinchas Hirschprung. Rabbi Klein then sought to broaden his secular knowledge and so while still working both as an occupational therapist and as a part time rabbi, in addition to studying for semicha, he also got a PhD from McGill University in philosophy. When I would introduce one of our guests as a doctor, Rabbi Klein would immediately and proudly respond, "I am also a doctor, a doctor of philosophy."

 

Rabbi Klein had a long and illustrious career in the rabbinate. He served first as rabbi of Beth Israel Congregation in Quebec, and from there was invited to a pulpit in Beth Isaiah Congregation in Guelph, Ontario. He then returned to Montreal in 1961 to work at Congregation Chevra Kadisha B'nai Jacob where he established a Hebrew school for 200 children. In 1963 he became the Rabbi of Ohev Shalom in Lewistown, Pennsylvania. In 1970, the Kleins moved to Syracuse, New York, to become the rabbi of the Young Israel of Syracuse, where he led the Kashrus Commission for the city, worked hard on behalf of Federation, and had a big impact on the youth of the community.

 

He was most proud of his final rabbinic position:as the rabbi of Congregation Sons of Israel in Englishtown, New Jersey for 14 years. It is important to note that Rabbi Klein was never voted out or asked to move from any of the positions that he held. He was beloved, appreciated, and adored. Each time he moved, it was because he was recruited or felt the new community better suited his family's needs.

 

Why did this successful businessman agree to go into the rabbinate and ultimately build a long career on this path? After the war, having lost so much that could never be replaced, Rabbi Klein struggled with his yiddishkeit. For an extremely brief time, he was plagued by doubt, questions, and uncertainty. However, as he continued learning Torah he not only worked out the issues that bothered him, he felt a tremendous pull to help inspire and motivate others to a life filled with faith, religion and Torah observance.

 

Indeed, long before kiruv or outreach were popular, Rabbi Klein was inspiring himself to inspire others. Together with the amazing Rebbetzin, they built mikvaos, they kashered countless kitchens, they studied with hundreds of children for their bar and bat mitzvahs, they patiently learned with adults of all backgrounds, and they brought thousands of people back to faith in Hashem, love of His Torah, and observance of His mitzvos. Rabbi Klein was incredibly proud of having brought NCSY to Southern New Jersey, and boasted a very active chapter in his shul. He won numerous awards for the amazing youth work he and his Rebbetzin did. Shimmie Kaminetsky and others remember vividly attending NCSY shabbatonim with Rabbi Klein at his shul in New Jersey.

 

In 1987, Rabbi and Rebbetzin Klein retired from the pulpit and settled in Boca Raton to enjoy a slower paced life together. However, it wasn't long until Rabbi Klein was brought out of retirement to serve his truly final pulpit. In the early 90's, before Rabbi Brander moved to Boca, BRS had a period with no Rabbi. Rabbi Klein agreed to ably fill in on a rotation with Rabbi Strassfeld.

 

Starting then, Rabbi Klein taught classes in the Adult Education program including in gemara, mishna, navi, and even a Hebrew reading crash course. In fact, when I was the Assistant Rabbi and we assembled the early Adult Education brochures, I remember being astounded at how many classes Rabbi Klein was teaching and how active he was despite supposedly being "retired."

 

The truth is that Rabbi Klein never really did retire from the rabbinate, even until the last days of his life. Being a rabbi was part of the fabric of his being, part of his essence and very identity. He wore a suit and tie every single day, including when he went to the doctor. He had an amazing pride in the Rabbanus and took great pleasure in his life's calling and vocation.

 

Rabbi Klein was a quintessential teacher, not only with his words and in a formal classroom, but much more significantly with his actions, his regal behavior, and his gentle reproach. He taught us what it means to be a Jew, what it means to be kind, caring, sensitive, optimistic, hopeful, to not only practice Judaism but to live it, to love it and to cherish it.

 

Often in Pirkei Avos, the lesson of one of our great sages is introduced with the words, Hu Haya Omeir, he used to say. Rabbi Klein had many sayings that he was fond of sharing. However, many interpret hu haya omeir as his being, his behavior itself used to say, it used to teach, it used to inspire. Rabbi Klein haya omeir, through watching him live life, we learned so much.

 

He taught us what it means to be a loving husband.  Rabbi and Rebbetzin Klein were true partners in life. Their marriage of 63 years is truly a model and example for all of devotion, dedication, affection, and partnership. It was amazing to see how in love they were and how they would speak of each other in terms and ways one would expect from a newlywed couple. The Rebbetzin was the Rabbi's biggest fan and loyal supporter. She was protective of him and worried about his well-being. The Rabbi reciprocated that love and cared for her during her illness with amazing strength and effort.

 

We have learned what it means to love children by watching Rabbi Klein. Early in his career, Rabbi Klein was the head of the Children Aid Society of his town. The society was in charge of adoption and one day they called him to say there was a Jewish girl who needed a home. Rabbi Klein didn't hesitate and went directly to his Rebbetzin. She agreed and they adopted their daughter Esther Rayzel, named for Rebbetzin Klein's mother. When their daughter passed away five years ago it was devastating to them.

 

In our Shul, Rabbi Klein paid special attention to our children. He wouldn't wait for a child to come up to him to ask for a candy, but he would go out of his way to get children's attention to call them over for a candy. He would often say that he wants children to associate coming to Shul with something sweet and delicious. He wants them to look forward to it and to love coming. He spoke to children on their level and he had a way of making them feel special and important. I know that hundreds of parents in BRS struggled on Friday to tell their young children that they would no longer be getting candy and a handshake from an incredible special man.


Rabbi Klein taught us how to take an interest in someone else's life and to show genuine care and concern. Linda, my most trusted and amazing assistant, told me the other day that when she had surgery for cancer a number of years ago, Rabbi and Rebbetzin Klein were the first ones she saw when she opened her eyes. When she asked what they were doing there, they said, we had to make sure with our own eyes that you were ok.

 

Rabbi Klein taught us how to daven for others. When the mi'shebeirach for cholim was said in Shul, the gabbaim would have to wait while he read a list of sick people that read like the phone book. I now have his siddur, and in the front cover is an organized list of yahrzeits, kaddishes for others, and a long list of people to daven for.

 

Rabbi Klein taught us to be traditional and embrace our mesorah, but not to be afraid to think outside the box and expand the opportunities in the community. Rabbi Klein supported greater opportunities for women within the Orthodox Community and was very welcoming to women in his gemara shiur, for example.

 

He taught us how to make others feel special. I don't think anyone has ever come down from the bima in front or in the center of the room and not had Rabbi Klein come shake his hand and wish him a yasher ko'ach. When he spoke to you, he had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world and his love and affection came across so genuinely. He took such an interest in everyone else's life, even during times when he had every right to think only of himself. Every day that I came to Mincha over the past year, Rabbi Klein was waiting. When I would walk in, he would put his arms out and give me a hug. Every single day he would ask me, how is Yocheved feeling, how is the baby, how are the girls?

 

Rabbi Klein taught us to observe Shabbos, not just to keep it. He taught us that Shabbos is not just a list of don'ts and can'ts, but it is a day to cherish, celebrate, and rejoice. Before each bite on Shabbos, Rabbi Klein could be heard saying "L'kavod Shabbos kodesh." He loved zemiros like no one I ever met. At some point during the meal, if you hadn't started zemiros he would simply look at you, point out his hand and say, "nu?" If you still talked about whatever nahrishkeit you were talking about, he would simply start singing zemiros himself and he would sing every single one, each and every week.

 

Rabbi Klein taught us that our job as Jews is to be honest, act with integrity, and to be authentic. Whenever someone would use the term "frum," he would cut them off and correct them. "A Galach, a Priest, is frum," he would say. "A yid, a Jew, is eherlich, honest, and genuine."

 

Rabbi Klein taught us that caring about our health is a Jewish value. He was ahead of his time in cutting meat out of his diet decades ago. He didn't eat dessert and avoided unhealthy foods. I remember back when I was in the Kollel, Rabbi Klein could be found in his suit walking on the treadmill at the JCC.

 

He loved to tell me the story of how his daughter came home from school one day when she was little and said, "Daddy, I don't want you to die." "I am not going to die," he said, "why would you say that?" She replied that she had learned in school that smoking cigarettes is bad for your health and can kill you. At the time, Rabbi Klein was smoking at least 3 packs a day. Right then and there, he reached into his pocket, took out a box of cigarettes, tore them up and never touched a cigarette again.

 

Rabbi Klein taught us what it means to love learning Torah. He studied it diligently and loved achieving accomplishments in learning. If you started a pasuk in the Torah, a statement of chazal, or even a line in Shulchan Aruch, there was an excellent chance that Rabbi Klein could finish it by heart. Often during a derasha or shiur, you could see Rabbi Klein's lips moving as he finished what I was saying, even before I said it. Despite knowing so much, he had great humility and attended classes of others.

 

Last year, for his 92nd birthday, he made a siyum on shas, an amazing accomplishment that he had been working towards for 20 years. I will never forget that morning in Shul and the incredible energy that filled our Sanctuary. Daf Yomi has become popular of late and people have gone through a number of cycles so at lunch that day I asked Rabbi Klein if it was his first time finishing shas. He looked taken aback and then quickly said to me, "And how many times have you finished it?" He was able to give gentle rebuke in a humorous way that didn't make you feel bad. We can honestly say about Rabbi Klein that not only did he go through Shas, but shas went through him.

 

Rabbi Klein had a great sense of humor. One of my pet peeves is sitting around a long time on Friday night or Shabbos day before starting the meal. Often, I would announce, Rabbi Klein is hungry, we need to start. Then, when the meal began to feel like it was dragging on, I would announce, ok, Rabbi Klein is exhausted and needs to take a nap, it is time to bench. Soon Rabbi Klein caught on, and recently, after each time I made those announcements, he would turn to me and say for all the guests to hear, I think the only reason you invite me is so that you have an excuse.

 

Rabbi Klein taught us what it means to have ahavas ha'chaim, a joy for life. I must take a moment to thank Warren, though he is not here because he went to Jamaica to care for his ailing father. Warren, his most incredible aide, told me recently that he asked Rabbi Klein how he was able to be so optimistic, positive, and happy despite the hardships he has gone through? Rabbi Klein responded, what is the alternative? Should I be bitter and let Hitler win? Absolutely not! I will be happy and positive and make the most of my life.

 

Rabbi Klein taught us what it means to be a survivor. The Holocaust was such a part of who he was and memorializing it was a huge part of his mission in life. When he was younger he went around to countless public schools to speak about his experiences and the atrocities that he witnessed. He served as founder and president of our KADDISH committee and, together with his close friend Martin Judovitz, put together programs and events to keep the memory of the Holocaust alive. The night of the dedication of the Memorial outside that Martin designed and that Rabbi Lau spoke at was one of the highest moments for him. He was so incredibly proud and grateful to our Shul for creating such an appropriate memorial.

 

Today is Asarah b'Teves, the 10th of Teves, and it is a fast day for the Jewish people.   It is the day that the Babylonian General laid siege to Jerusalem and began the process that would culminate in the destruction of the Beis Ha'Mikdash. A much less known reason for the fast appears in the selichos that we read this morning and is mentioned in the Kol Bo. Today we mark the yahrzeit of Ezra ha'Sofer. Ezra was famous for bringing the Jewish people back to Israel from Babylonia prior to the building of the second Temple. He was a man who helped inspire a generation after they had experienced exile, death, and destruction. He helped them transition to a brighter time in a new land and to renew their love of Torah and Judaism, despite all the hardship they had endured.

 

How appropriate that we say goodbye to our beloved Rabbi Klein, a man who devoted his life to the same mission as Ezra Ha'Sofer, on the day we commemorate Ezra's yahrzeit.

 

But there is another connection that is so poignant and appropriate. After the founding of the State of Israel, the Chief Rabbinate designated today, the tenth of Teves, as the Yom Klali L'Kaddish, the general Kaddish day for victims of the Holocaust whose yahrzeit we don't know. Today in Israel is a Holocaust memorial day, a time to think about the memories of those lost to the Holocaust and to say kaddish for their souls.


Rabbi Klein - today we say goodbye to you as you join the kedoshim, the 6 million who gave their lives. You are reunited with your family and with all that you knew before it was so harshly snatched away.

 

I have spoken a very long time and believe me when I say I have barely scratched the surface of what there is to say about our dear and beloved friend, Rabbi, mentor, and teacher.

 

This coming week we will read Va'yechi Yaakov. As we say goodbye to our Yaakov, Yaakov Chaim ben Yosef, we remember the life of Yaakov Avinu. Chazal tell us Yaakov Avinu lo meis, Yaakov our Patriarch never died. He lives on through us - his progeny, his legacy, and his offspring. The same can be said for our Yaakov, HaRav Yaakov Chaim ben Yosef lo meis, he will not die if we continue to draw from his memory, to emulate his ways, to be inspired by his life, and to imitate his virtues.

 

Rabbi - please be mocheil us if we did not treat you with the kavod, the honor and respect that you deserved.   Please be a meilitz yosher, a loyal advocate for us, your family, in shomayim. Be comforted to know that we, your children and grandchildren, will never ever forget you and that you will always live on through us.

 

From an active Rabbi to a retired one I say goodbye my dear and beloved friend, we can never replace you and we will miss you beyond what you could ever know.

 

T'hei nafsho tzerura b'tzror ha'chayim