By Rabbi Ephraim Polakoff
He was introduced to me as “Fetter Chaim.” Rabbi Dr. Chaim Wakslak, zt’l, the late rabbi of the Young Israel of Long Beach and clinical director of the HASC Center, was my wife’s uncle (fetter, in Yiddish), the only sibling of my mother-in-law, Lori Frank.
Many knew him as the beloved and selfless rabbi of the Young Israel of Long Beach, where he and his rebbetzin, Rivka, ybl’c, served with devotion for almost 35 years. He was an energetic and passionate person, and brought those qualities to everything that he did in life. To see his dedication to the mikveh, eruv, and va’ad ha’kashrus that he built in Long Beach was inspiring. To see him daven for the amud was to see someone who truly felt that he was the emissary of the tzibbur bringing their tefillos up to the kisei ha’kavod. I can still hear the echo of his voice as he ushered in Yom Kippur with his powerful Kol Nidrei. His derashos and shiurim were always well-prepared and full of divrei Torah, inspiration, and his trademark gematrias. One could easily detect the joy on his face as he shared his beloved and original Torah insights. For decades, he gave the daily daf yomi shiur in the YILB to a group of ba’alei batim that included rabbis and educated laypeople. His joy at the simchas of others and his love and concern for those that were ill or had just lost loved ones were legendary.
But to me and my family, Fetter Chaim meant so much more. The oldest child of two survivors, Fetter Chaim was born in Sweden after the war. When he was three years old, his parents decided to immigrate to America because there were few chinuch options in Sweden. He attended Yeshiva Torah Vodaas, where he received semichah from Rav Gedalya Schorr, zt’l, in 1970. To our family, he represented the transition between the Old World and the New World. His father, Yisrael Meir Wakslak, for whom my oldest son is named, was an Old World Jew. A survivor from Poland, he clutched onto his minhagim and way of life as best he could in the new world. His son Chaim learned those minhagim and way of life from his father, and transplanted them onto American soil. The nusach ha’tefillah and minhagim would live on in Newark and later in Long Beach.
When I first met him, my wife and her family always referred to him with admiration and awe. He was not just my wife’s uncle but a link in the chain of the family’s mesorah. When he asked if I would be interested in applying for the position of assistant rabbi at the YILB I was incredibly honored, and I jumped at the opportunity to get to know him and learn from him. I always felt that he was elated to have family in Long Beach, but in reality it was we who were truly lucky.
We learned from his energy, passion, and commitment to his shul and its members. We learned from his infectious ahavas Yisrael, truly loving every Jew he encountered and doing whatever he could to make their life a little easier. He was a true talmid chacham, comfortable in any area of Shas and poskim, and we learned what it means to be dedicated to the study and teaching of Torah. Perhaps most importantly, we learned what it means to bridge two worlds. To be a musmach of Torah Vodaas and hold a Ph.D. in clinical psychology. To be the rav of the YILB and the clinical director of the HASC Center. To be excited to share divrei Torah and to be on the forefront of current psychological research. To bring the passion for Torah, tefillah, Shabbos, yom tov, and minhagim from the glowing embers of Auschwitz to the sunny shores of Long Beach. Fetter Chaim brought the world that was and incorporated it into the world that is. That is why he was a larger-than-life figure for our family.
His rosh yeshiva, Rav Gedalya Schorr, zt’l, explains the phrase that we say in krias Shema every day. ״ואהבת את ה׳ אלקיך בכל לבבך ובכל נפשך ובכל מאודך״ — “And you should love Hashem, your G-d, with all your heart, and all your soul, and all your possessions.” When we fill our hearts and souls with ahavas Hashem, the love of G-d, to the point that we become holy and sanctified people, that holiness trickles down to our possessions as well.
Something strange happened during Superstorm Sandy. Long Beach was completely flooded and everyone had a significant amount of water in their homes. With one exception: the YILB. Not a drop. Maybe it is because of how the water flowed past the shul that night. I think it was because of Rabbi Wakslak. He was so full of ahavas Hashem that it trickled down to his shul, which was needed to help so many people. Leading a community reeling from the destruction left in a hurricane’s wake is no easy task. Rabbi Wakslak did it with his trademark energy, immediately converting the YILB into a makeshift emergency response headquarters.
He was a holy man and everything and everyone he touched became sanctified. Many will miss Rabbi Wakslak and some will miss Dr. Wakslak, but my family and I will miss Fetter Chaim. May Hashem bring a nechamah to his devoted rebbetzin and to his mourning children Menachem, Mordechai, and Yael Rosenberg and grandchildren. May his neshamah be reunited with his late daughter, Avigail Rechnitz, a’h. May we all continue to be inspired by his legacy of Torah, tefillah, communal leadership, and true fidelity to our mesorah in this ever-changing world. Yehi zichro baruch.
Rabbi Ephraim Polakoff is mara d’asra of Congregation Bais Tefillah in Woodmere.
