Reb Baruch Mordche

One day, she remembers, she and her sisters were tidying the dining room, putting the sefarim back on the shelves. When the table was finally cleared off, she looked at the empty space with satisfaction perhaps a touch too much satisfaction. "Tova'le, sit," her father said, indicating the chair next to him. "Tell me. Do you really think a dining room without sefarim on the table is nicer than a dining room with sefarim on the table?"

What looks like suspicion can be unexpressed longing

R' Meir Chodosh felt that if a rebbi notices a talmid doing something wrong, the wisest course of action is for the rebi to...look away. Seeing is a form of confirming and creating a metzius, a reality. In light of this, by instead seeing a talmid in his moments of success, the rebbi will make success into a reality

"Beinoniut, mediocrity, is the enemy of growth," he said, "and the job of the mechanech is to look and find the area of greatness in every student, teaching the talmid to define himself that way."

"Yeridas hadoros, the decline of generations referred to by Chazal," the Rosh Yeshivah was fond of saying, "is not a gezeiras hakasuv.”

During the first Motza'ei Shabbos chaburah, the American yungeleit timidly took their places around the table, eager to listen. After a few minutes, the Rosh Yeshivah paused and looked around. "What's going on?" he thundered, "am I saying a chaburah in a beis hachaim, a cemetery? Let me hear you!"

The Rosh Yeshivah would tell of how his father-in-law, the mashgiach, met a member of Israel's Supreme Court, who asked him a question. He wanted to know what amount of money would be consid ered shochad, the bribery that the Torah forbids a judge from accepting from litigants. R' Meir told him that even a few pennies would be considered shochad, disqualifying a judge from hearing a case. The justice was disturbed by this answer. "Does the Torah have so little faith in man?" he asked. "Are the judges of the Torah so weak that a few shekels can cloud their judgment?" Rather than answer, R Meir asked a question of his own. "If I were standing before you in judgment, and just before the case, I handed you the gift of a Parker pen, would that affect your verdict?" The judge was offended by the suggestion. "Do you think that a pen that costs a hundred shekels could influence me?" he asked in disbelief. "Do you think we are such small people?" "And what if I handed you an envelope with ten thousand dollars inside it?" R' Meir asked. "That is a different story," the judge conceded, "and I could hear that it might impact the judge's conclusion." "So what you yourself are telling me," R Meir said, "is that the justice system in Israel is filled with judges who are so ungrateful that it would take ten thousand dollars to get them to feel some sort of appreciation toward another person, while the judges of the Torah feel beholden to those who benefit them in any amount. Tell me," the mashgiach concluded, "who is the small person?"

"In general," R' Yaakov recalls, "after leaving a donor, he would never rehash the visit or discuss what he might have said or done differently. He had done his part as Rosh Yeshivah; how the hatzlachah would come was up to the Ribbono shel Olam."

One summer, a website published some historic pictures, dating back to the early days of the Chevron Yeshivah. There was a picture of the Rosh Yeshivah as a teenager, and his hair was thick and well-groomed. A talmid showed the Rosh Yeshivah the picture, and asked, "Would the Rosh Yeshivah accept a bachur with hair like this?" In line with the approach of Slabodka, the Rosh Yeshivah ignored the audacity inherent in the question and addressed the challenge candidly. "Would a bachur with hair like that want to come learn in yeshivah today?" he asked. It isn't about the hair, but about the motivations of the bachur; at the time the picture was taken, a hairstyle indicated nothing about inner dreams, but today, the Rosh Yeshivah was saying, that is no longer the case. If, however, he saw ratzon in the eyes of a young man, he would not let external details dissuade him.

In a hesped for the rav of Yerushalayim, R' Betzalel Zolty, the Rosh Yeshivah spoke about the term "siyatta d'Shmaya," which is translated as Divine assistance. Doesn't assistance denote that it is merely a help, supporting another force? How can this be, when there is no factor in success other than Hashem's will, and He alone sustains every living thing and causes every action? "The answer," said the Rosh Yeshivah, "is that the prime force in a person's growth is ratzon, his own desire and ambition to grow. Everything beyond that the circumstances, surroundings, and abilities to grow fall into the category of siyatta d'Shmaya, but they follow the ratzon, the initial spark that allows all these gifts to be used properly."

"Someone showed the The Brisker Rav a printed shtickel Torah in which the author concludes with the words 'vehadvarim nifla'im, and the words above are wondrous.' The Brisker Rav said that it's mashma that the words are not wondrous, for had they indeed been extraordinary, the author would not have felt a need to proclaim it."

In 2022, he delivered a shiur at the Yerushalayim Yarchei Kallah. After, one of the participants greeted him, asking how he was feeling. "Heint, today?" the Rosh Yeshivah asked. "Today I am fine, baruch Hashem. Ubber morgen, but tomorrow? I will be nuch besser, even better!"

He joined the campers at a ropes course, taking his place among much younger boys in the test of strength and agility. At one point, R' Baruch Mordche was about to grab hold of a rope and descend, but felt very shaky. "The Rosh Yeshivah looks frightened," a talmid commented in surprise. R' Baruch Mordche said nothing, making his way down to the ground. Then he hurried over to the next rope, where that talmid was still climbing down. He began to shake the rope playfully from below, invoking laughter and protest from the bachur in mid-climb. "Avi," the Rosh Yeshivah said with a smile, "remember this. It's not a good idea to laugh at another person until you yourself are standing on firm ground."

The Rosh Yeshivah was in Bnei Brak to deliver a shiur, when the driver asked a personal favor. A family member of his was sitting shivah, and the driver wanted to know if the Rosh Yeshivah would pay a quick shivah call. Since they were in a part of Bnei Brak in which buildings did not have elevators, the Rosh Yeshivah, who was having difficulty walking, asked which floor the apartment was located on. The driver told him that it was two flights up, and the Rosh Yeshivah agreed. They arrived at the building, and the Rosh Yeshivah made his way up one flight, and then another, but the apartment was not on that floor. They walked up to the third flight, and then the fourth. The Rosh Yeshivah stopped walking to catch his breath and regain his strength, and then he cast a sidelong glance at the driver. "Tagid li, Tell me," he said, "when do we start counting the two floors?"