Rebetzin Mollie Isbee-Gurwicz: Chessed Unlimited in Yerushalayim (Part I)

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Rebetzin Mollie Isbee-Gurwicz: Chessed Unlimited in Yerushalayim (Part I)

(Part II)

This article originally appeared in Yated Neeman, Monsey NY. and is reprinted here with their permission

Meeting a disconsolate widow weeping in the hallway of her building, Mrs. Mollie Isbee-known affectionately as Tante Mollie-compassionately asked the woman why she was crying. She was told a heartrending tale of a son who was diagnosed with a rare heart-kidney condition. The only glimmer of hope lay in a trip to a famous surgeon in America. With no financial assistance and a barrier of foreign language, what could the widow do but weep?

Without a moment's hesitation, Mollie declared, "I'll accompany you on the trip and I will undertake to raise the necessary funds." Courageously and selflessly, Mollie began the daunting job of collecting such a huge sum. Taking a leave of absence from her work, Mollie flew with Aaron and his mother to the world renowned Houston heart surgeon, Dr. Michael Debakey.

Rarely leaving the patient's bedside, Mrs. Isbee faithfully served as an interpreter for all medical personnel.

One morning, after having waited a long time for Dr. Debakey 's appearance, she realized that if she didn't daven shacharis immediately, she would lose the opportunity. While she was standing in Shemone Esrei, Dr. Debakey arrived, followed by an entourage of doctors. Slighted by the fact that Mollie did not budge, Dr. Debakey left the room.

"He will never return to see the patient," whispered the nurses. But when Mollie completed her prayers, she sought out the doctor.

"Please understand, Dr. Debakey!" she appealed feelingly. "When you entered, I was in the midst of speaking with the Healer of all healers! I couldn't interrupt my prayers. Please return and examine Aaron."

Moved by Mollie's sincerity, the surgeon complied. B"H, the surgery was successful, and Aaron returned to Israel. He later married and had children.

With Mollie, one mitzva inevitably led to another. While in Houston, she noticed the environment in which the family who hosted her was living. She candidly advised the parents that they should send their children away to religious schools if they wanted them to remain religious. The parents took her words to heart, and sent their children to the Denver Bais Yaakov and to out of town yeshivos. One of the daughters who came to study in a seminary in Yeerushalayim, moved in with Mollie afterwards, and then met her husband through Mollie's efforts. This epitomized the life of Rebbetzin Mollie Isbee-Gurwicz, one whose life was total reliance on Hashem, and selfless devotion to helping others.

At her death on Dec. 29, 14 Teves, this extraordinary personality of indefatigable energy and goodness departed, mourned by the thousands whose lives she had deeply affected.

Tante Mollie was born Mollie Weinberg on the Lower East Side on June 3, 1917, the youngest of three sisters. She was a third generation American, whose grandparents had moved to the States in 1888. Untypical for the time, the generations of her family held strongly to Yiddishkeit, and she grew up a dedicated religious Jew. Her father ran his own grocery store despite the meager income it generated, because it was impossible to keep Shabbos unless you were self-employed. He was a learned man who woke early and studied Gemara while wearing his tefillin. Her mother was a woman of firm principles, who insisted on speaking Yiddish at home to maintain the right Jewish atmosphere.

Jewish learning was an important part of their home. The parents hired a special rebbe to teach the three daughters alef-beis and how to daven, which was a rarity in those days. She later said that her parents' dedication to Jewish education taught her that davening is an absolute necessity for a bas Yisrael. The importance her parents placed on davening was one of the reasons why her davening was such a special avodas Hashem throughout her life.

Her mother was proficient in the Tzena U'Rena, and frequently would tell her the midrashim she read. Mollie's knowledge of yiddishkeit and Jewish stories was far beyond what was common for religious girls in that period. She was also proficient in the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch in English. She knew it from cover to cover, and many times before Yom Tov, she would read it for inspiration and to ensure that she kept all the dinim properly.

Mollie was a vigorous activist for Young Israel, the organization that united and inspired religious youths in New York. When she reached her teen years, she served as a Young Israel leader, and many girls drew inspiration from her. She faithfully attended shiurim taught by Rav David Stern, the Rav of Young Israel and principal of Torah Vodaas. He later was to be the mesader kiddushin at his student's wedding.

Her firm commitment to yiddihskeit was seen when her Shabbos group was caught in a sudden downpour one Shabbos near the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and they sought shelter there until the rain stopped. The workers offered the stranded girls sandwiches-but Mollie firmly declined. The baffled workers offered to take the girls home by truck, but this offer Mollie also rejected firmly. She confidently explained that it was their Shabbos, and the girls could not travel and had to wait for nightfall.

"No, it's not dark enough," Mollie said cheerfully. Finally, when Shabbos was over, they accepted the ride home and in front of their worried families descended from a Navy Yard truck. Mollie was very stringent concerning all aspects of observing Shabbos.

Like all religious girls of that time, Mollie attended public school. Even before she had graduated high school, she was already working for her school's dean as a commercial secretary. It was just after the depression in the early 1930's, and it wasn't easy to find a job. The dean offered to retain her as secretary when she graduated, as long as she promised to come in and work 2 hours on Shabbos. The tempting offer wasn't even a trial for Mollie. She rejected his offer and spent 1 1/2 years at home looking for a job. Finally she and her sister found a job in a factory.

Mollie and her sister had to work close to the onset of Shabbos. When Shabbos started coming in early in the winter, she asked the supervisor to let them off early so they could get home for Shabbos.

"Why are you and Esther different from everyone else," the supervisor asked impatiently. "They're also Jewish!"

"We keep our Shabbos," answered Mollie firmly and confidently. The supervisor wouldn't agree to them leaving early. The factory had an assembly-line, and each worker had to do his part and then send it on to the next worker. If one worker would leave, it would break up production for everyone. During the spring and summer months, Mollie was able to make it home before Shabbos, but during the winter, Mollie and her sister had to work until the onset of Shabbos.

This meant they had to leave their purses behind at the factory because they couldn't carry. It also meant a 2-hour trek in the freezing cold, slush and snow, arriving home after licht bentschen. Their situation was even more difficult during the Yomim Tovim. The month of Tishrei drew caustic comments from the factory owners who kept a tight tally of all the days the religious girls missed.

Other girls waved their higher paychecks before the two religious girls whose pay was less because of the time they took off. But Mollie was unfazed.

"What did you get for your higher paychecks? Another shmatta in the closet?" she asked, unimpressed. "We got the joy of Shabbos and Yom Tov."

At a Young Israel convention Mollie was introduced to Mr. Jack Isbee and a short time later became engaged in June. After the wedding in October, 1939, the young couple moved to Detroit. It was a substantial sacrifice for Mollie to move out of town and away from her family, but the deep convictions of her husband convinced her that they would live a full Torah life wherever they lived.

Mollie's admiration for Jack continued throughout their married life. When Jack would drive up to the house, Mollie would just hear his car, and call their children, "Do you know who is coming? It's Daddy!" Although she had just come back from work herself, she made the kids feel that the king was coming home. She demonstrated tremendous respect for her husband and always made sure she looked good for him.

Once Jack invested money in a certain savings program which he hoped would enable him to marry off the children. One day he came home ashen-faced. He told Mollie, "The tip I was given about this savings program was false, and I lost all the money we saved up for the kids!"

She replied with her usual smile, "That's what you're worried about! It should be a sheina, reina kapora!"

Detroit had a small but vibrant religious community. In the 1940's, the Torah-observant community was just beginning to develop its religious institutions and community infrastructure. They were just waiting for a committed activist like Mollie to get involved.

She right away undertook a leadership role in the local Young Israel, becoming the president of the Women's organization and the president of the Yeshiva Beth Yehuda's PTA. Rav Leizer Levin, the distinguished Kelmer talmid who was the leading rabbi in town, called her up and asked her to lead youth groups in his shul on Potoskey street. She opened youth groups for children as young as 4. With time, she became the president of the Women's Orthodox League which ran the mikvah. In any matter that could further Judaism and observance, she was always ready to contribute. In her activism, she found a true mate in her husband Jack, who was one of the founders of the Detroit branch of Agudas Yisrael.

Her organizational abilities were just one of her qualities. Even more visible was her bright, cheerful personality and the joy and zest that permeated her attitude and talk. Whatever she did, she did with enthusiasm and joy. However, her greatest joy came from giving to others. One couldn't imagine her without a smile on her face, radiating love to whoever she was helping. Whenever she walked into a place, she lit up the atmosphere. People drew near to her because everyone felt she brought out the best in them.

Related to her zest for living was her boundless gratitude to Hashem for everything He gave to her. She felt she was inundated with untold blessings, and she constantly thanked Hashem for all that she had. A common saying of hers was "We have so much to be thankful for and so much to pray for."

The Isbees were a central address for visitors to the Detroit religious community in those early years. Their home was open to all, from great to small. Her style of hospitality was to provide simple food which was plentiful and delicious. She wasn't interested in impressing people, just making sure they felt at home and were satisfied.

Among the distinguished visitors that stayed with them was Mike Tress, the head of Agudas Yisrael, who came regularly to Detroit to collect money for his war rescue efforts. Tress, a virtual bulldozer throughout the war years, demanded from the families he came to visit, "" Sell your chandeliers and give the money to save Jews!"

Other guests were Rav Shlomo Lorincz, and Rav Itche Meyer Levine, a brother-in-law of the Gerrer Rebbe, two Agudas Yisrael activists who traveled the world on behalf of Aguda interests.

Mr. Isbee discovered a cousin of his father's who had survived the war. He brought the 16-year old girl to the U.S., and she lived with the family as if she was their daughter. She was treated better than a daughter, and was given a room to herself, while all their own kids slept crowded in one room. After several years, this cousin went to New York and married, but kept up contact with the family until today.

For a period of time, Mollie's own mother and sister were living with the family too.

Distinguished guests and family, though, were not the standard guests that visited the Isbees. Far more frequent were the plain, lonely and unbalanced individuals who no one else was interested in hosting.

She also opened her home to a lady from Toledo, Ohio, and helped her to find a job and settle down.

When Mr. T., a friend of Mr. Isbee, arrived with his kallah in Detroit on erev Shabbos following the chasuna, Mollie asked him where the Shabbos sheva brochos was going to be held. To his negative reply, Mollie enthusiastically responded, "We'll have it right here in our house." Mr. and Mrs. T. were like an uncle and aunt to the Isbee children. In Israel decades later, when Mr. T. was hospitalized, some of the Isbee children visited him regularly and saw to his needs.

One Friday night, Mr. Isbee brought home a person who he had just met in shul. The broken man had come to the States after suffering the horrors of World War II, and was totally alone. The man stayed with the family for 3 years. The Isbees helped him to get married and find a job. He asked Mr. Isbee to serve as the kohen when he made a pidyon haben for his son.

Chesed was another quality which Mollie practiced privately. Her activities for the public were unavoidably in open view of everyone, but she excelled in numerous acts of chessed which were done far from the spotlight and were unknown except to a few.

She collected money for many poor individuals in town. (In fact, old friends from Detroit who were used to giving her charity funds continued to send her money decades after she had left.)

She had a special arrangement with a kosher butcher. She would phone him to send food to poor families and tell him to bill her for the costs.

When she met wealthy friends, she didn't forget to tell them, "You're probably about to buy new clothes. Don't forget to let me have your old stuff." She gave these second-hand clothes which were in excellent condition to poor people. She felt satisfaction when the recipients showed up in shul dressed in their new beautiful clothes.

Mollie frequently utilized "teabag" showers when she wanted to help a kallah who was poor. She would send friends a note, "I know you're busy, and don't have time. So join us in a tea party in the comfort of your home. Just send the money."

An unfortunate lady had a husband who was institutionalized, and she wanted a divorce. The process was proceeding extremely slowly-until she called Mollie. Mollie devoted considerable energy and countless hours with rabbanim until the matter was settled.

One of the war survivors who ended up in Detroit was a deranged woman who would occasionally start screaming in shul, "The Germans are coming!"

Almost the only one who befriended her was Mollie. Even after the woman was placed in the state mental hospital in Ypsilanti, Mollie was one of the only ones who wrote to her, visited, and sent her pocket money for many decades. Until the end of this woman's life, Mollie was one of the few friends she had.

Much of her chessed only became known by accident. On the Shabbos of her daughter's sheva brochos, family members discovered that Mollie used to pick up a blind lady and take her to shul and back on Shabbos. There were several women in shul who couldn't read the tefillos themselves. They would listen to Mollie recite them and repeated her words.

One of the reasons Mollie was able to be so giving of herself to others was because she didn't feel a drop of jealousy for anyone. Women know how difficult it is to avoid feeling tense during the days leading up to Pesach, and how easy it is to envy others who have finished their Pesach preparations. But Mollie was brimming with joy when Pesach came around.

When a friend would call her to tell, "My knaidlach are already sitting in the freezer", she would respond with typical cheer, "Rose, that's great. You'll have it so easy."

In contrast to others, she was working at her job right up to erev Pesach, and frequently had to stay up late preparing food and doing last-minute cleaning. But it didn't generate frustration and anger in her because she always concentrated on the positive.

The Isbees were among the families who were the backbone of the yeshiva and Bais Yaakov. It was not a simple thing in those days to convince even religious householders to pay considerable sums of money to provide their children with a day school education. Although it is unimaginable to us today, religious parents also feared that if their children would attend a religious school, they would end up being backward and un-American. The conventional wisdom was that afternoon school was all that was needed. In all the religious families in Detroit, the parents had attended public school and still remained religious. Why couldn't their children do the same?

This illusion was proven false with time. Parents saw that their older children who had learned in public schools frequently became irreligious, while their younger children who had studied in the yeshiva remained religious. But how many people had the foresight to realize this before seeing the unfortunate outcome? Only a few like Mollie and Jack threw their heart and soul into building up the yeshiva and sending their children there. Most others had to be cajoled by the principal and offered a liberal scholarship, before they agreed to send their children.

Rabbi Avraham Abba Freedman was dispatched by Rav Shraga Feivel Mendelowitz, the legendary rosh yeshiva of Torah Vodaas and founder of Torah Umesorah, to help with the founding and to teach in the day school in Detroit. Rav Freedman was in Israel during the shiva for Mollie, and he told the family, "I came as a single bachur to help start Bais Yehuda. Your parents were the backbone of the community. If not for them, it would have been very difficult to accomplish what we did. Your parents tried to enroll more children, they worked hard to get funds, they were active in every aspect of setting up the new yeshiva. You can't even imagine what they did to foster the growth of the Detroit Torah community."

What were they going to do with their 12-year-old son after he graduated Bais Yehuda elementary school? Public school was out of the question, so at 12 years old, in 1953, they sent him to study in the Telz Yeshiva in Cleveland. It was unheard of to send sons out of town to receive a yeshiva education. The Isbees were the first baale batim in Detroit who did the unthinkable and sent their son out-of-town. In contrast, everyone else sent their children to public high schools, and only a rare few remained in a small class in the yeshiva. But the following year, other families followed the Isbees' example and sent their sons away to yeshiva.

Mollie wasn't content with just sending her son to the Telz yeshiva. She became an ardent supporter of the school, and arranged yearly "linen showers" to benefit it. Local Jews invited to attend the shower would bring linen and Mollie would send it to the yeshiva. The donations saved the yeshiva the costs of supplying the boys with linen.

When their oldest daughter graduated the yeshiva elementary school, the Isbees reluctantly sent her to study in a local public school. But they found this alternative so distressing, that they redoubled their efforts to establish a religious high school for the girls. When in the following year, 1955, the Detroit Bais Yaakov came into existence, their oldest daughter was pulled out of public school and sent there. After 4 years, her grade (a total of 4 girls) became the first graduating class of the Bais Yaakov in 1959. All of their other daughters also studied in the Bais Yaakov high school.

Rav Joseph Elias was principal of the Detroit yeshiva in its early years. He once commented, "Anything that involved growth in Yiddishkeit, the Isbees' reaction was always "Tell us more. We want to know more."

As the head of the PTA, Mollie listened to the rabbanim and did what they said. If an opinion was presented to her as "Da'as Torah", she immediately accepted it. There were times Rav Elias negated a step she wanted to take, and she accepted his opinion unquestioningly.

The religious community was undergoing a metamorphosis in the post-war years that required a complete change in goals and community institutions. Finding the changes intimidating and disquietingly different to all that was familiar to them, many baalei batim resisted. But wherever a new development was likely to foster a greater commitment to Torah and Yiddishkeit, the Isbees were the first to follow it.

One of the greatest trials of those early post-War years was the worship of college education and college degrees. What American Jew didn 't attend college after high school? After growing up with "greener" parents who had to suffer the hard labor and indignities of blue collar work, American Jews were flocking en masse to the colleges to become doctors, lawyers and accountants. Anyway, what else was one to do? True, rumors filtered in about a far-off kollel in Lakewood. But besides being about as close to Detroit as the moon, the idea of remaining in Talmudic study after high school seemed incomprehensible, farfetched and ludicrous. How would a person support his family without a college degree and a profession? Anyway, weren't Kollels only for people going into the rabbinate or ne'er-do-wells?

When the Isbees' oldest son graduated high school in Telz at the age of 16, Jack and Mollie were taken aback when he wrote them, "Anybody can be a doctor and a lawyer, but very few can be talmidei chachamim-and Klal Yisrael needs them." He told them he would like to remain in his Jewish studies so he could fulfill the need for Torah scholars in the Jewish people. It took great courage for a boy to make such a decision in the climate of those days-but once the Isbees received the letter, they never again mentioned attending college or the need to support a wife and make a living. They encouraged their son's ambitions in Torah study.

It didn't take any effort to encourage the Isbees to educate their daughters to be knowledgeable, devoted Torah Jews. The family had found out about the Bais Yaakov seminary in Williamsburg when their daughters attended the Bnos camp in the Catskills. The daughters had come home and reported to their parents that they had heard that the laws of tznius were stringently observed in this school. Then when the daughters visited New York for family celebrations, they visited the school and even sat in a class or two.

After seeing it for themselves, they realized that this was the natural continuation of the education which they had received in their home. When they graduated the Detroit Bais Yaakov, the two oldest girls went to study in the Williamsburg Seminary.

In 1964, the Isbees were the first parents from Detroit who sent their daughter to study in the Jerusalem Bais Yaakov Seminary upon the advice of the local principal Rav Sholom Goldstein. From that year on, parents began to send their daughters to Israeli seminaries, which radically affected their daughters' religious commitment and life goals.

By the time the Isbees' youngest daughter was of the age to attend seminary, the family was already living in Yerushalayim, and the Jewish climate was radically different from what her older sisters had grown up with. By then, religious girls were going en masse to Jewish seminaries not only in New York but even in Israel-and no one gave it a second thought.

In Detroit, Mollie's excellent secretarial skills landed her a job at the local Jewish Community Center as head of the youth department and office manager. Detroit in those days was a spiritual desert, and the number of observant Jews was minuscule. But Mollie wasn't shy to bring cake, a yarmulka, and a tzeddaka box to her office, to encourage the non-religious teenagers passing through to say a bracha, wear a yarmulka, or put money into the pushka.

At first she held her secretarial job part-time, and when her children grew up, she kept it full-time.

One of her co-workers, Helga L., was a poor divorcee. When her son reached the age of bar mitzvah, Mollie asked her, "What are you going to do for him?"

Mollie wouldn't accept that for an answer. She arranged for the youth to be called up for an aliya in shul, and she prepared a lavish kiddush in shul in his honor. She convinced friends to contribute the money to buy Tefillin and other needs for the affair. On the following Sunday, she had an open house in her own home for the non-religious friends and relatives.

In 1964, the Isbees went to Eretz Yisrael to attend the Knessia Gedola, particularly to see gedolei Torah and their daughter Devora Leah who was living there. Jack said, "This is where I want to live when I retire."

The Aguda took them on a tour of Komemiyus. The religious moshav consisted of huts without even attached bathrooms. The farmers slept on straw mattresses, but they were happy that they had a roof over their head and lived in their own religious community. Mollie saw the poverty, and her immediate reaction was, "How can I help you? You need many things."

When she was told that these pioneering families needed sheets to cover their straw mattresses, she answered immediately, "Don't worry, I'll send them to you."

Once back in the U.S., Mollie sent the Komemiyus farmers sheets, blankets, and money. The relationship between her and the farmers on the moshav continued for several years.

One of the residents wrote her a letter that their son wanted to be a shochet but didn't have the money to purchase the special sharp knives. What did Mollie know about chalafim knives? But it made no difference. That night, she was leaving a bridal shower and met a well-to-do man who had come to pick up his wife.

Out of the blue, Mollie asked him, "Do you know anyone who has chalafim knives?"

The man's mouth fell open. "This is unbelievable!" he exclaimed. "Just today, an old shochet who was retiring told me that he has excellent chalafim knives but only wants to give them to someone who will use them properly! I have them here in the trunk of my car!" The man opened the trunk, pulled out a case and handed them to Mollie. Without ado, she sent them off to Eretz Yisrael.

In 1967, after the Six Day War, Mollie proposed to Jack, who was ill at the time, "Didn't you say you wanted to live in Eretz Yisroel? Now is the time to do it."

It took the Isbees only two months to sell their home, pack up and move to Eretz Yisrael.

They arrived in November, 1967, and rented a ground floor apartment at 2 Panim Meirot. Afterwards, they bought an apartment in the same building.

(The views expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect the views of Tzemach Dovid)