On my grandfather, Rabbi Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz
I was blessed to have had the opportunity to experience a private layer of a public man – a little place that was reserved just for me.
By LEAH EVEN-ISRAEL‘THE TALMUD,’ once said Rabbi Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz, ‘is difficult to enter because it’s as if someone wrote math in the form of poetry; that is why I aim at a broad readership.’(photo credit: THE STEINSALTZ CENTER)
It has taken me time to find the words I wanted to say. How do I summarize a person who lived the most fulfilled life while acknowledging the complex and multi-layered person my grandfather was?And what does that mean for me?I was blessed to have had the opportunity to experience a private layer of a public man – a little place that was reserved just for me.I think there’s an expectation for me to talk about all the deep, profound and intellectual conversations we had, but the reality is that there was something incredibly light about our relationship and I would like to think that we were both grateful for that.Four years ago when he had a stroke, I went to visit him in the ICU. I was holding his bruised hand and just started laughing with tears streaming down my face and I just said, ״Saba, we’ve agreed you can’t really leave, I’m not married yet,” which is a joke that we always had. He always used to say, “Stop worrying, I’m gonna bless you, calm down.” And he would add something around the lines of “Stop crying, you’re like Leah Imenu [our matriarch],” which was another inside joke, since I’ve always questioned him about my name, especially because I was named after his late mother, and also because evidently I couldn’t stop crying.One summer I worked at the machon [Steinsaltz Center] for a month and I started every morning with making black coffee with agave syrup for Saba. That was my time just to ask him how his previous day was, who he met, which students came to visit (as if I was not the one scheduling every meeting). Those early mornings were scheduled just for me and him – a moment of time to touch base and just talk.I appreciated every second of being around him. The nights in the hospital, where it was just quiet – that’s when I understood that speech was irrelevant to both of us. It was enough to be present, just us two. In a way, the silence spoke volumes.The point I’m trying to make is that the layers that composed Harav Adin Even-Israel were far greater and much deeper than any person could ever imagine. I’m grateful I not only got to experience and love the teacher, rabbi and mentor he was to me and others, but also to experience my Saba Adin.I’ll forever miss his raspy voice and the smell of the pipe he smoked, his office chairs with that same scent, and the way he used to tickle my nose with the strands of his gartel or tzitzit (whichever was more accessible at the moment). His wit and sense of irony, his concern and love for everyone. The prayers on Rosh Hashanah, dancing on a table with all the kids after Yom Kippur. But most of all, I’ll forever miss the moments and milestones he won’t see.It’s overwhelming and hard to express how he had a place for every person. I’ve observed it all of my life. Sometimes I had to wait for him to be a grandfather to many others before he could possibly be one to me. Now, living in a world without his physical presence, I can see these people grieving like grandchildren. As I understood back then, he touched people and connected to all walks of life (including animals – he really loved animals).
Saba Adin lived the most fulfilling 83 years a person can live. He instilled in me a core value of truth-seeking. He is the one who is the inspiration behind my learning and believing, not simply “settling” for religion or really anything else. He taught me that nothing comes from ignorance; if I want to know I must learn and if I exist, I must strive to know.I’m blessed and proud to carry the legacy and empire that is my grandfather – his revolutionary Talmudic commentary and overall teachings to me, to our nation and the world, encouraging and enabling us to expand our horizons and gain knowledge and understanding just by opening a book.Saba, I hope you are blessing me from up there. You are and always will be my greatest inspiration.
