By Rabbi Chanoch Bistritzky, Menahel Yeshivas Beis Dovid Shlomo in New Haven, writes about his last interaction with the Rosh Yeshiva Rabbi Yosef Yitzchok Kalmenson ZT”L. By Rabbi Chanoch Bistritzky, Menahel of Yeshivas Beis Dovid Shlomo, New Haven It will be a long time before I forget the last time I saw Rabbi Yosef Yitzchok Kalmenson, of blessed memory, on his very last evening on earth. And in a sense, our last moments together are emblematic of the way he lived: sweet, soft-spoken, and utterly focused on others. It was after davening on the first night of Rosh Hashanah, and he was walking home from shul along with a guest. As he passed by my house we extended to each other the customary wishes for the new year. And then he stopped, turned to face me with his full attention, and emotionally let forth a stream of blessings. He was so soft-spoken that I could barely hear what he was saying, but I felt the warmth and saw the care in his eyes. The next morning, we learned the bitter news. The man with a shy smile, an iron head, and a heart of gold was no longer among us. But that image of him standing there, holding his hands together, swaying and sharing brochos for the new year will be mine to treasure. Rabbi Kalmenson was a man of superlatives. By all standards, he was a Gaon. His seforim are classics, used by Roshei Yeshiva around the world–both within Chabad and in the broader community–as they prepare their shiurim. Yet, he was so humble. Everything about how he lived attested to this. He would stand in line behind the Bochurim, waiting his turn to take some food for himself. Not because he wanted to broadcast his humility but because he simply did not see any reason to be elevated above his students, who were young enough to be his grandchildren and adored him beyond words. A bochur once saw the rosh yeshivah standing behind him, and told him, “Please, go ahead of me.” Rabbi Kalmenson shrugged it off, “No, No.” The bochur insisted, “Rabbi Kalmenson, you’re making me uncomfortable.” And the rabbi responded, “No, you’re making me uncomfortable.” And it was true, he truly was not comfortable being celebrated or even noticed. There’s no doubt that he was naturally shy and unassuming. Yet, he left yeshiva on a regular basis to do mivtzoyim. He had a long route that he would go on every day, sometimes a few times per day. And throughout the year, his mekuravim would come to zal to put on tefillin or just to sit and speak with him. To the rest of the world, he was a rosh yeshiva of the highest caliber, but to them, he was the kind rabbi who never tired of helping them put on tefillin and answer their questions. He was a humble soldier in the Rebbe’s army, and no task was beneath him and no duty ever grew old for him. In the nearly 50 years that he served in New Haven, there were many ups and downs. There were years when he was surrounded by eager students, and there were years when he had a less receptive group. But it made no difference. He loved learning, he […]  | Read More The Yeshiva World