by: Rabbi Yisroel Spalter
On Tuesday, Nissan 24 (April 22), the soul of my dear father, 93 years of age, was reunited with G‑d almighty and left a tribe of close to 350 strong mourning and contemplating the giant of a father, grandfather and great-grand-father we all had. This past week, during the Shiva, hundreds of people have shared with us their impressions of my father and how he impacted them over the years. I want to share with you a little about my father through my own lenses having grown up in his home as his son and having known him my whole life.
Rabbi Avrohom Shmuel Spalter of blessed memory was a truly unique and humble Jew. Those who knew him even on the periphery knew that he was not your average person, but a giant of a man who had no idea at all that he was anything special. My father’s humility is worthy of a book (that is not going to happen, as that would be an oxymoron) and an incredible life lesson to anyone who values meaning and holiness.
He was born in Lancut, in southern Poland in 1931 to his parents Moshe and Lieba. He had a very rich childhood as his mother’s parents and her seven sisters and their families all lived in Lancut. But that all came to an abrupt end in September 1939 when the war broke out. The Nazi’s took over Lancut within a few weeks of the war and the Jews were given 3 hours to leave the town. My grandfather escaped with his two sons to Russia and when they refused to become Russian citizens, they were sent to the Siberian gulags where they suffered for 18 months. His mother never made it out of Lancut and was sent to the gas chambers in Belzec in 1942. When they were released from the gulag in late 1941, they lived in Tomsk, Siberia where my grandfather fell ill. When he could no longer care for his two sons due to TB, the Russians placed the boys in an orphanage and they were then torn away from any Jewish life whatsoever. Toward the end of the war my grandfather died and my father and his brother were now left with no one. Meanwhile my father’s younger brother Pinchas, all of 11 years of age, escaped the orphanage one night without telling my father. He knew if he did, my father would never allow it. (Pinchas' journey to freedom is a story onto its own for a different time.) My father was now all alone in the world in a forsaken Russian orphanage away from any semblance of Jewish people or Jewish life. In late 1945 the Russians took all the Polish boys and sent them to Poland where they continued to live in the orphanage there. By the kindness of Hashem, my father was discovered by the Jewish agency and was taken to be with other Jewish children. It was there that an older cousin found him and brought him to Breslau where he met some relatives including his great uncle who ‘adopted’ him and made him part of his family. They found their way to the DP camps and in 1948 a Lubavitch Yeshivah opened outside of Paris where my father was sent there to learn. In 1950 at nineteen years of age, he came to the United States to begin a new and very rich chapter of his life. He was enrolled in the Lubavitch Yeshivah at Lubavitch World headquarters and he became a devoted Chassid of the Lubavitcher Rebbe who had just assumed leadership of Chabad a few months earlier in January 1950.
In 1956 he married my mother, Mirel Lipszyc in a wedding that was officiated by the Rebbe himself (a rare merit) and they settled in Crown Heights enjoying the spiritual bliss and life around the Rebbe. They went on to have 9 children and raised them with incredible dedication and devotion. My father took on Diamond cutting as his source of income and provided for his family with dignity. In the year 2000 after his children moved to different parts of the world to serve as emissaries of the Rebbe, my parents moved to North Miami Beach, Florida to be near my brother Yitzie and myself. I always felt so fortunate to raise my own children just 30 minutes from my parents, giving them the joy of getting to know their zaidy and bubby from up close, something they’ve cherished and gained from so much. Having them so close, and having them over so often for Shabbos and holidays, gave our Weston community as well, the privilege of getting to know my father and mother so well.
My father lived an incredibly meaningful and rich life, enjoying and meriting to see his family grow to close to 350 strong. As someone said at the shiva this week: ‘I have many friends who are leaving behind so much riches on paper and yet, so little else. Your father is truly the rich man in Nachas and legacy. He is the true oligarch’. I couldn’t agree more.
He and my mother spent this last Pesach in New Orleans with my sister and her family. On his way to the doctor last Tuesday morning, as he was leaving the house to the car, he felt weak. As he stepped outside, he sat down, then laid down and peacefully reunited with his maker without any pain or suffering.
As I reflect back on his life and thank Hashem for being his son, I am so filled with memories and incredible lessons that we all learned from him. I will try to share some of my father with all of you with the hope that his inspiration and devotion to G‑d and his outstanding commitment to everything Jewish and decency will elevate all of us to live a little better and holier.
Ours was the ultimate home to grow up in. My father and mother were parents par excellence. They were totally dedicated to us and that’s all that mattered. Their dedication to their family was to our spiritual as well as to our physical wellbeing. I remember, it was in 1971 that CBS news interviewed my parents, who were raising a very large family and who had all their children enrolled in private Jewish schools. The interviewer asked my father how they were physically and mathematically able to do it? We lived very simple lives and it was obvious to him that there was no luxury in our home and lifestyle. My father answered that Jewish education was non-negotiable and it came before everything. He then asked my father if that meant even before feeding us bread? My father answered: if it came down to a choice between bread and Jewish education it would have to be bread, but if it was between butter and Jewish education it would be Jewish education. And that was no exaggeration. This balance between the material and spiritual, with a sizable tilt towards the spiritual was manifest and very present in our home and upbringing. It turns out that he gave us a-lot more than Jewish education in school and a lot more than bread and butter. We were missing nothing. We had all we needed and more. He gave us so much more than just a Jewish education in school. When my father came home from work every evening, that’s right; EVERY evening, he would learn with me and my siblings Talmud and Torah to make sure we were well versed in our studies in school. This he did after a long day (10 hours) at work.
My father could never quench his thirst for learning Torah. He was up every morning at 5:00 am to join Torah study sessions. This went on for close to 7 decades. He never missed a morning. At night as well, he was always looking for opportunities to join classes of Torah, and he always found them. He was a legend when it came to his steadfast consistent devotion to daily learning before and after work. If I have a desire and commitment to daily learning (I’m working on it) its only due to his living example.
Another amazing value we grew up with was my parents' open home to guests. Ours was a home where all kinds of people were invited to stay for a night, a week, a month and, in one case, even for 4 years. For the month of the high holidays, we could have sometimes 10 to 15 guests staying at our home. These were guests who came to Crown Heights to be with the Rebbe for a Shabbos, a holiday or for the entire month of the High Holidays. The Spalter children were spread out on the floors while the guests filled our beds. This happened so often. Sometimes for weeks in a row. My father and mother did not know how to say no and I do not think they ever wanted to say no. They loved helping people. They were not rich by any standard but they gave everything they had for others. Before our family grew, it could happen that my father and mother would move into my grandparents’ home and they would give their own home to guests to stay until those guests would find other arrangements. It was incredible. I can go on and on. Not always were all their guests, shall I say, your average people. Our list of guests was very colorful. College students of the 60’s and 70’s etc. You get the picture.
My father’s humility and unassuming nature was another one of his legendary qualities. Nothing was below his dignity. At 93 years old, and a very respected elder of the NMB community, you can see him bagging groceries at his son’s supermarket and helping people shlep their bags to their cars. When the customers protested and refused him carrying their groceries, he could not understand why. He also could not understand why his guests for Shabbos did not let him polish their shoes for them in honor of Shabbos. He would say to them: I am already polishing my shoes and are in the ‘polishing shoes zone’, let me just do yours as well. When the diamond industry took a dive in 1980 and he was out of work, he took a job at a warehouse stocking shelves for $6 an hour. He did not think it was below his dignity to do that. And the list goes on and on and on. It is no wonder that the Crown Heights and NMB communities, where we lived, grew to respect him greatly.
My father never wasted time. Never. He was always doing something constructive. Learning, davening, helping my mother with household chores (including mopping, grating potatoes for the Shabbos kugel and so many other ‘jobs’ in the house), learning with his children, working, spending time with family, helping others etc. When I think of him, I put down my phone and get busy with something meaningful. Even in his 90’s when his memory and learning abilities became a bit limited, he turned to reciting the entire book of psalms, sometimes twice, every day. He was a truly righteous Jew with an unrelenting desire to do what G‑d wanted of him.
Another incredible feature of my father was his being beloved by all who knew him especially for his kindness. Everyone loved him for his truthfulness, humility and kindness. My father never had a savings account. If he had extra money, he would deposit it with the local free loan society organizations so that they can lend it to whoever needed money interest free. When he needed it, they would return the money to him and then he would once again refill the account as soon as he was able to. This went on for decades. My father never earned a nickel in interest. His attitude was ‘let someone in need enjoy the money if he was not using it’. It is this type of piety and goodness that everyone who knew him grew to respect. My father and mother may have never earned any interest on their material money, but boy did they earn a ton of interest in Nachat from their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, all of whom are continuing to live as he taught them to. This result did not come easy. They ‘invested’ their entire beings in order to ‘earn that interest’.
There is so much more to write about my father. He lived a full life and filled his days with absolute goodness and piety. I thank G‑d for the blessings he bestowed upon my father and for the wonderful 93+ years He gave him free of illness and full of meaning and joy.
May his memory be a blessing for all of his family and all of Klal Yisrael.
My father as a student in Brunoy, France in 1949
At his wedding
This tree was made 9 years ago. The tree has grown since then
