Over three decades ago I was in a Bnei Brak-bound taxi-shuttle that was filling up with passengers. Thank G-d I opted to sit in the back row that would soon be graced by none other than Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach and Rav Yosef Shalom Elayshiv who arrived nearly simultaneously from different directions, completing the cab’s capacity. (So much for the rumor that Rav Elyashiv never left Jerusalem since the time he went to investigate Reb Chaim Kanievsky… Also so much for the notion that gedolim do not travel by themselves and on public transportation.) Serendipity struck again!
In no time the two were involved in a discussion (that I had personally instigated) when and if tefillas haderech need be said. For the duration of the ride, which spanned Tur and Shulchan Aruch, poskim and teshuvos, the argument did not abate. To my embarrassment, I remember not a word; although the passion and the erudition of the debate I shall never forget. (As a matter of fact, I never relate this story for fear someone will ask me what was the opinion of the respective poskim.)
Ninety minutes later I was privileged to be in the very same cab that brought them both back to Jerusalem and the discussion picked up just where it had left off. It was as if they had never stepped out of the shuttle.
Rav Elyashiv’s grandson brought me footage of the gaon learning in the hope that I could write a screenplay about what had been captured on film. I have written two screenplays in my career, but even if I would have written two hundred, this seemed like a hopeless assignment. What could be more action-less than diligent, unwavering Rav Elyashiv learning?
And yet, and yet… the footage was riveting. It was shot at 3:30 in the morning and it showed a 100-year-old man squinting and struggling to comprehend the commentators in the back of the Gemara, printed in small point. His frustration was keen, but he did not waste time and returned to the Gemara text and plowed forward. He soon thumbed to the back of the Gemara and encountered the same roadblock. He simply could not make out the words. He glanced quickly at his watch confirming that it was too early to acquire the assistance of others, and then resumed learning with the bren of a 21-year-old preparing for his entrance bechinah to Lakewood.
True, this does not have the makings of a Hollywood drama (and I am sure no one is disappointed) but it was reality Rav Elyashiv. The Gemara was where he was all the time. It may sound strange to apply a geographic metaphor to a state of mind, but not regarding this gaon.
It was not possible to catch him on a Tosafos, rishon or Yersuhalmi pertinent to the Gemara that he was learning. He had mastered every relevant source. Thus, participating in his shiur (which I was privileged to do for nine years) was an experience that was intense – yet predictable.
There were numerous high-caliber talmidei chachamim that took part in the shiur that were not intimidated to lock horns with the gaon. They would ask the hardest questions, raise glaring contradictions and highlight inconsistencies; difficulties formidable enough to rattle any first-class rosh yeshiva. Rav Elyashiv would sit through the question without concern and total insouciance.
I’m talking really, really difficult questions that ramped up the excitement in a shul that usually had all the excitement of a mausoleum on a slow day. So you had these mega-talmidei chachamim pummeling the gaon with a barrage of top-tier questions and he would maintain a look that could induce stupor in the most hardened insomniac.
