THE CHASSIDIC SMITH

You can find R’ Yerachmiel Schiff standing bent over the anvil in his old-world shop in the center of B’nei Brak, as he solders and gently fixes items of silver and gold. You probably wouldn’t guess that this man was born in Soviet Russia and grew up under mesirus nefesh conditions and was privileged to receive extraordinary kiruvim from the Rebbe.

Nowadays, people are not as willing to fix things that have broken; they prefer buying new. This has become true even of jewelry. “Exchange your old, unwanted jewelry for something new,” say the ads. Many opt to leave their old-style jewelry in the store and update their look. The same is true for glasses. The price of glasses has gone down and it’s easy to update them which makes fixing glasses uncommon.

All this has apparently skipped over the small workshop for fixing jewelry and glasses belonging to R’ Yerachmiel Schiff.

The work of gold and silver smiths has not disappeared yet, even in the technological age. According to R’ Yerachmiel, the number of customers hasn’t gone down.

We went into the small shop on Rechov Rabbi Tarfon 4 in B’nei Brak. A handwritten sign, like those of yesteryear, announces that we have arrived at the “Beit HaTzoref,” and another, larger sign informs people that he fixes eyeglasses, silver items, gold jewelry, and pearl settings.

Facing you as you walk in is a large glass front display that exhibits various items of jewelry. To the visitor, the store looks tiny. Behind the counter, made of a plank of wood—actually, behind a table in an inner room—sits R’ Yerachmiel Schiff with his manifestly Chassidic appearance.

“I ALSO HAVE NEW CUSTOMERS”

R’ Yerachmiel Schiff invites me to look around. On the worktable in front of him sits a silver menorah. On the table many tools are scattered: files, screwdrivers, polishing tools, plating of gold and of silver, an assortment of pliers, saws, cutting discs, materials that are used to clean silver. “The main device is the burner with which I do the soldering,” explained R’ Yerachmiel and as he spoke, he took the soldering tool from which shot forth a large, blue flame.

“I’m soldering parts of the menorah. The stem broke. I soldered it and now that spot is burned. I need to coat it with acid, and afterward cover it with silver, polish the menorah and it will look like new.” That was a lesson in the silversmith trade on one foot.

He opened the store in 5751. In his youth, he studied smithing in Ramat Gan with various teachers. Over the years, he learned and developed expertise on the job.

“There are things that you can’t learn in any course,” he says. “In general, the field is always advancing; new methods are always coming out and you need to constantly learn.”

GENTLE TOUCH

“It’s like the game of pick-up sticks. The one who has more sensitive hands can remove more sticks without moving the others. If you’re less talented, you’ll be out of the game more quickly. The more expert a smith you are, the nicer and better the work you do.”

As for the demand, he says, “It remains the same. Jewelry, things made of silver, straightening bechers, fixing eyeglass frames, it’s all the same thing as before. There are even new customers. As far as eyeglasses, you may be right that there are fewer repairs because people will more readily buy a new pair. Nowadays, it is cheaper to buy new glasses than to have them repaired.”

CHILDHOOD OF MESIRUS NEFESH

R’ Yerachmiel puts out two steaming cups of tea and I see it as an invitation to sit down for a more relaxed conversation. This conversation was a revelation as it added a whole new dimension to this person in front of me.

R’ Yerachmiel was born in Russia. His parents were R’ Gershon Dovber (Berke), the founder of Yeshivas HaBucharim, and Mrs. Basya Schiff. Back in Russia, his parents were active in spreading Judaism and Chassidus with mesirus nefesh.

R’ Yerachmiel remembers that life of mesirus nefesh, even though he was a little boy. His family lived in Samarkand in a one-story house with a high stone wall surrounding a large yard so that people on the street wouldn’t hear and see what went on inside. The house and yard were dedicated to Jewish matters. Many guests of Anash sought refuge in this house as a place to learn and daven. Children of Anash from Tashkent who went to learn in Samarkand, lived in this house.

“We had a long storage room with a small window, a small lamp, and an iron stove with a long table alongside it where the Bucharian boys would sit and learn Torah. They would come early in the morning and even I, a member of the family, did not see them when they arrived. My parents were particular about their not being seen and about our knowing as little as possible.”

In the afternoon, Mrs. Schiff would prepare a hot lunch and send it to the students. Older talmidim sat and learned in the living room of the house.

The Schiff house even had a secret mikva (“They told me it was a swimming pool”).

R’ Yerachmiel remembers other childhood snapshots:

“At the end of the yard was a high fence and next to it, another large yard where there was a huge chicken coop. At a certain point, my father removed the coop and built a spacious villa there where they learned shechita.

“One day, an inspector from the government came to check that the new villa was built according to regulations. The entrance to the second yard was through our house so there wouldn’t be any surprises, but the inspector somehow managed to enter the yard without our knowing about it ahead of time.

“When they entered the new building, they discovered the shechita knives on the table. They wanted to know why there were so many sharp knives there. My uncle, R’ Betzalel, thought quickly and said we were about to open a knife factory and we were teaching the workers how to sharpen them.”

Things did not always go smoothly. R’ Yerachmiel remembers one of those occasions. The noise on the B’nei Brak street outside the store seemed to have stilled as we flew off to distant Samarkand.

“Every year during cotton picking time, the government would enlist citizens to do the picking. Cotton was a precious resource and the government devoted great efforts to maximize the profits. This is why students alongside factory workers were enlisted and sent to kolkhozes near and far to help pick cotton.

“My father had a factory that employed a number of Anash. Working in this factory enabled them to take off on Shabbos, of course.

“The season for cotton picking was usually Tishrei time. One year, the Tishrei holidays coincided with the cotton-picking season. What could be done? My father got some gentile youth and paid them to say they worked in his factory and he sent them to the kolkhozes; this way, his factory satisfied its civil duty.

“One day, those gentiles drank alcohol until they were drunk and they ran away from the kolkhoz. When they were caught, they revealed that they weren’t really employees in Schiff’s factory and they were just paid off to replace his employees.

“My father’s factory was actually a branch of an even bigger factory. Word of what happened reached the manager of the central factory who appeared one day at our home accompanied by three or four burly men.

“I was standing outside the house and I recognized the manager. They asked me where my father was and I innocently said he was at home. My father was in the yard and my mother was the one who opened the door for them. She spoke to them for a few minutes while I went to the other part of the yard, where he was supposed to be, but I did not see him. I decided to look for him and then I noticed him quickly climbing on the roof. When he saw that I noticed him, he motioned to me to be quiet.

“Just then, they came out to the yard. My mother stood there looking pale. They asked me where my father was and fortunately I had the brains to say that I did not see him.

“They spoke with my mother for a few more minutes and told her, ‘We know what’s going on in your factory and we will be back tomorrow to put things right.’ That was the last thing that we needed then, with the house full of talleisim, siddurim and boys learning Torah.

“In the end, my father paid a bribe and quieted whoever had to be quiet and life went on.”

SAYING THE “FOUR QUESTIONS” FOR THE REBBE

The Schiff family moved to Eretz Yisroel in 5732/1972 and arrived at the hostel for immigrants in Kfar Chabad. Yerachmiel was seven years old.

A short while later, the family was invited to the Rebbe for Pesach, with the Rebbe himself paying for their tickets.

“Erev Pesach, the Rebbe gave out matzos. One of the first on line was my cousin Yossi. As he passed by the Rebbe, the Rebbe asked him whether he knows the Four Questions. After receiving matzos, he rushed over to me, as I stood at the end of the line, and told me what the Rebbe asked and said I should prepare it too. I got all nervous and took a small siddur that I had with me and began learning the Four Questions by heart.

“When I passed by the Rebbe, he asked me in Yiddish whether I know the Four Questions and I said I did.”

Mrs. Basya Schiff added the following:

“That Pesach, we were guests at a family in the neighborhood and we ate the first day yom tov meal with them. At a certain point, someone came and said there would soon be an out of the ordinary farbrengen, in honor of the new immigrants from Russia. After the meal, the men went to 770. My husband put Yerachmiel in for a nap so he would be able to stay up the second night. I also prepared to go to the farbrengen.

“Suddenly, the thought occurred to me – how could my son sleep during a farbrengen? I woke him up, dressed him and took him with me to 770. I went up to the women’s section and told Yerachmiel to go inside and look for his father. He was afraid to go in after his father had put him in for a nap and remained in the yard and played with his cousin Yossi.

“Inside, the Rebbe farbrenged and then he announced that there were children there from Russia and they should come up and say the Four Questions.

“There were no Russian children inside the beis midrash and the secretary, R’ Leibel Groner, ran outside to look; maybe there were children there. He found Yerachmiel and his cousin.”

R’ Yerachmiel: “I remember it well. Just the two of us were outside and suddenly, R’ Groner came out and asked whether we were from Russia. When we said yes, he rushed us inside. Until today, I don’t know how he knew to look for us outside, since my father was sure I was home asleep. To my father’s astonishment, he suddenly saw me being passed over the tables and over people’s heads until we reached a place near the Rebbe. Someone brought us Hagados. I remember that I became very excited when I repeated all four questions in Yiddish by heart.

“After I finished the Four Questions, the Rebbe began vigorously encouraging the singing with his hand. At a later point, Rabbi Ashkenazi, who had been sitting nearby, told me that the Rebbe cried when he heard us, children who had just left Russia, fluently saying the Four Questions, and in Yiddish, no less.

“Many years later, when I made my son’s bar mitzva in 770, after the davening we had a kiddush and my son sat opposite the Rebbe’s farbrengen table. When he began saying the maamer, I felt I had to stand in the exact same place where I stood as a child and said the Four Questions, out loud, before the Rebbe and numerous Chassidim. It was a very moving moment for me.”

Mrs. Schiff: “It was a chesed from Hashem, that I felt I had to get Yerachmiel out of bed and bring him to 770.”

At the end of that visit, the Schiff family had yechidus and Yerachmiel received an inscribed and signed siddur from the Rebbe.

THE REBBE MOTIONED TO ME

Before we got back to the work of a smith, R’ Yerachmiel agreed to share more special experiences he had as a Chassid.

“Three years after that Pesach, we all went to the Rebbe again for Tishrei 5736. I was 11 and for some reason, I got an extraordinary kiruv from the Rebbe.

“At one farbrengen, I went under the Rebbe’s table with the other children and when the Rebbe came, he motioned to me to come out and stand next to him. The rest of the month, I stood not far from the Rebbe further along the table.

“On Simchas Torah, it was extremely crowded, and I stood hanging from one of the pillars near the Rebbe. The Rebbe motioned to me to come down. At that point, I saw someone I knew standing not far from the Rebbe. I pushed to stand next to him. Then something interesting happened. When we began saying Aleinu at the end of davening, I did not have a siddur and the Rebbe motioned to me to come over to say Aleinu in the siddur together with him!

“After the Rebbe left, everyone began dancing around the platform and I joined them in the dancing that lasted until four in the morning.

“Throughout the month, I received countless personal encouragements from the Rebbe to the point that every time he passed by the place where I stood, everyone waited to see what sign of encouragement the Rebbe would show me.

“When I had yechidus at the end of the month, together with my mother, she told the Rebbe that the siddur I had gotten from the Rebbe in the previous yechidus (in 5732) was gone. The truth is, she had given it to someone who wanted to put it under the head of a sick person and it was never returned. It was daring of my mother to say this to the Rebbe but the Rebbe smiled and took out another siddur and gave it to me.

“In that yechidus, the Rebbe asked me what Gemara I was learning lately (my mother had me attend a yeshiva in Crown Heights for the duration of our trip so I wouldn’t lose out on learning). I remembered what I had learned that week and the Rebbe appeared satisfied.

“During the yechidus, the Rebbe referred to my dancing on Simchas Torah and said, ‘He rejoiced with the Torah and he will be an erlicher Yid.’

“We did not understand why I merited such kiruvim but then, R’ Simcha Gorodetzky said to my father, ‘The Rebbe gave these kiruvim to your son to hint that he wants to see you.’ When my father heard this, he took the next opportunity and went to the Rebbe for Yud-Tes Kislev.

“When he had yechidus on that visit, the Rebbe asked him, ‘Did your son tell you about the kind of kiruv he got when he was here?’ This affirmed for my father that the Rebbe wanted him to come too.”

“LIKE RAW MATERIAL IN THE HAND OF THE CRAFTSMAN”

This was the point to return to the here and now, to the smithy and the gold and silver vessels spread out on the table. Near a silver becher awaiting straightening, I saw another tool whose shape appeared to be two cylinders pressed up against each other with a turning handle hanging down from the side.

“This tool is called a winch (a rolling mill in the jewelry trade). I put a piece of gold or silver into it and it flattens it out like a tray,” he explains patiently. “Here there are grooves which, if I place the silver on them, then it comes out square, and these other grooves make it thinner, the thinner the groove, the thinner the plate. Like this thing,” he says, picking up a short thin silvery rod, “this is silver. Originally it was thicker, but I put it through this machine and it became thinner.”

There are a number of rods on the table that now become props for an impromptu lesson. “This one is white gold, this one is silver. If I were to put it on this spot on the instrument it would become flat, sheet metal. This groove will extrude the rod in a circular shape, like the shape of a wedding ring.”

Do you produce rings?

“If somebody wants a wedding ring, I can make him a wedding ring. This is the same tool that is used by those who make rings.”

Our attentions turn to another large, heavy metal instrument, propped on the edge of the table.

“These are the clamps!” he exclaims as he picks them up in his grasp, and with his other hand he picks up what looks like a thick metal ruler with holes of different widths. “I use this tool to make strands. I put in a thick strand of gold or silver and it comes out thin. The more I feed the strand through ever thinner holes, the thinner it comes out, until it can become really thin.”

GOLD AND SILVER DUST

“Here is the polishing room,” he tells me pointing to a corner of the work area, as he took down a face mask from a high hook and placed it on his face due to the dust.

He chose from the pile of implements a wheel made of brush fibers and attached to the end of the motor. “This is where you put the brush, as it turns, it polishes the silver and cleans it. Here is the motor of a dust vacuum. For example, if I place a gold object against the machine and turn it on, the second that the brush starts to polish the item it will give off some dust, which the vacuum sucks in. The dust scatters and I gather it all together into the large container.”

(Pointing to dust on the walls): Is that what I think it is?

R’ Yerachmiel laughs, “Quite so. That is not ordinary dust. That is very expensive dust, of gold and silver.

“I take this chain for example,” he says as he turns on the machine noisily, “and I wait for it to gleam. Here, it is starting to gleam. The second it starts to shine, there are shavings that are coming off of it and they fall into this hole. These are shavings that are of gold or silver. Afterward, I take them all out to be refined.”

How do you refine dust?

“You take it to a plant that refines gold from dross. Whoever can, does it himself, and those who don’t know how bring it to the plant, where they put it all into an oven and burn out the dross. Some sell it to the owners of the plant who keep the refined gold/silver, and some get the gold/silver back and pay for the refinement work. There are a few such plants in Eretz Yisroel.”

How old is this machine?

“I’m sure it is a few decades old already. I bought it used, but the motor was bought new. It also has around fifteen years, but it is relatively new; I bought it when the old motor broke down.”

Next to the dust vacuum, there is also a fan that looks more like a vacuum cleaner, since the air blows out of a long flexible hose. “That is the compressor that blows hot air to dry the jewelry after the soldering. Additionally, the drying is done with the help of sawdust that is specially made for drying jewelry or silver.”

It was a fascinating hour in which I got a crash course in the rules of smith working.

I take one last look at the crowded walls, the dust on the walls of the polishing room, and at the large handwritten signs. A look into a little corner of old-world craftsmanship in the heart of the bustling modern city of B’nei Brak.

Soon R’ Yerachmiel will return to his home in Shikkun Chabad in Lud, and then hurry off to the main shul where he serves as the gabbai. Unsurprisingly, he feels like an inseparable part of the shul, since it was his father who planned the building and was involved for years in the actual construction.

That is the real-life work of a Chassidic smith.

THE LATE-NIGHT APPEARANCE OF THE MYSTERY MAN

R’ Yerachmiel has an amazing personal story to share that seems as if it came straight out of the stories of the Baal Shem Tov. Read it and judge for yourself:

When I first opened the store here in 5751, I only dealt with repairs of gold items and eyeglass frames. I did not yet know how to repair silver items. When people would bring me silver items for repair, I would pass them along to a friend who is a professional; he would fix it and then return it to me. That was a sort of deal that we had between the two of us.

One Thursday afternoon, a dignified woman entered the store holding a large candelabra with eight branches. She requested that it be repaired express so that it be ready for the upcoming Shabbos. I agreed, and she left the candelabra with me and went on her way.

I called my friend and said that I needed a repair done by the next day, but to my surprise he answered me that he did not have the time for it.

“What do you mean that you don’t have the time? I promised her.

“But I don’t have the time for it,” he insisted.

When I saw that there was no way out, I told myself that I would try to fix it myself. I have the tools, the worktable and the burner, why shouldn’t I try to do it myself?

When working with gold items you use a burner that gives off a thin flame, while for silver items you use a burner that has a large flame that is much stronger. This a special burner that is used for melting and pouring.

Since I had observed silver repairs many times in my life, I got up the courage and began to solder the large candle holder, but the solder did not hold. On the contrary, due to the high heat another branch fell off. I tried again with even more effort, but then a third branch fell off…

I really started to sweat from the pressure. I had no idea what to do next.

I reminded myself of a friend that has a large silver store in Tel Aviv, and I called to ask him for help. He said that he would send over his store manager. The fellow actually arrived and tried to do the repair, but was not successful. He apologized and said that the burner that I had was not powerful enough for this item, and he suggested that I come to his house where he has a stronger burner.

However, success eluded me even there. He again apologized and explained that he has more experience in making new silver items and less with repairing old ones.

Having no idea what to do, I decided that I would not go home that night until I succeeded in fixing the item.

As you can see now, the display window of my store is blocked off from outside view, except for a section on top through which it is possible to see inside.

It was about one or two in the morning; the store was locked with me inside. Suddenly, I noticed somebody standing there and peering at me through the aperture on top.

I went outside and saw standing before me a giant of a man, almost six-and-a-half feet tall. He did not look like he belonged in the area because of his non-religious appearance.

When I inquired of him as to his identity, he introduced himself with the name “Mischa.”

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“Here, right near you, on Rechov HaGra,” he said.

It turned out that he was a Russian immigrant, so obviously we began to speak in Russian.

“What work did you do in Russia?” I inquired.

“I did silver repairs,” he responded, “I had a store for that.”

My heart stopped for an instant. I brought him into the store and showed him the candelabra. With a combination of trepidation and anticipation, I asked him, “Can you fix this?”

“Certainly, it’s an easy one,” he answered.

He began to work on it, and in no time he had arranged and fixed the whole thing and reattached the branches. Afterward we plated it anew with silver, cleaned and polished it so that it looked as if new.

I shook his hand and said, “Mischa, I want you to teach me this craft. How much money do you want in order to teach me?”

He gave me a thoughtful look and said, “I don’t want money. The only thing that I want is that when you have any work doing silver repairs, that you call me and I will do the job.”

For the next two years, any time that I needed him I would call the number he had given me and he would come and do the repair, teaching me the entire trade from A to Z as he worked: how to solder, how to straighten, how to plate and clean silver utensils until they gleamed like brand new.

Two years went by and I had learned every aspect of the job.

One day I called him in connection with a new job, but he did not answer the phone. Since I really needed him, I went to look for him at his home. I did not know where his apartment was, I only knew that it was on Rechov HaGra, which is not a very large street. I went from building to building, inquiring after the man since, as mentioned, he was exceedingly tall and his appearance was anomalous to the area. However, nobody living on the street knew him, nor had they ever seen such a person…

Twenty-eight years have passed since then, and he has never appeared here again, and I have never seen him since.

Could he have been the one about whom it is written, “Fortunate is he who saw his face and said ‘shalom’ to him?”

R’ Yerachmiel (laughing): Anything is possible…