Holocaust Survivor and Torah Giant Veitzener Rov: Rav Tzvi Hirsch Meisels, Remembered on Yahrzeit 25 Taives

By Rabbi Yair Hoffman

He witnessed the darkest depths of human cruelty. Yet he emerged to rebuild. He inspired. He taught. He wrote remarkable sefarim. He was one of those remarkable people who rebuilt a shattered world. As you read these words, there are boys learning up a storm in a remarkable cheder in Chicago that he had started. And because of him, there are thousands of mishpachos devoted to Torah and to rebuilding it on these shores. His name was Rav Tzvi Hirsch Meisels zt”l, the Veitzener Rov. And this is his story.

Born in 1902 in Ujhely, Hungary, Rav Tzvi Hirsch was the son of the gaon Rav Dovid Dov Meisels, the illustrious author of Binyan Dovid. From his earliest years, the young Tzvi Hirsch displayed extraordinary brilliance. He caught the attention of the gedolei hador. He received semicha from towering giants of the generation: the renowned Rav Meir Arik of Turna, author of Imrei Yosher.

His marriage to Henna Zisla Teitelbaum, daughter of the Limanover Rov (who was a brother-in-law of the Kedushas Zion of Bobov, Hy”d), further cemented his position within the royal families of Chassidus. Through this connection, the young Rav became exceedingly close to the Bobover Rebbe, traveling to him numerous times and forging a bond that would prove providential in later years.

In 1925, at the age of 23, the young Rav established his first yeshiva, “Eitz Chaim,” in Neimark, a town near the Hungarian-Galician border. His yeshiva quickly grew to become a beacon of Torah learning, attracting hundreds of talmidim who were drawn to his brilliant shiurim and his warm, fatherly guidance.

In 1932, upon the recommendation of the Minchas Elazar of Munkatch, Rav Tzvi Hirsch was appointed as the Dayan and Rosh Yeshiva in the prestigious kehilla of Vac (Veitzen), in the Pest region of Hungary. There, his yeshiva flourished and his reputation spread. He was a posek of extraordinary caliber, a maggid shiur with great clarity, and a leader of great vision.

Yet these years were tragically brief. Nazi beasts roamed Europe and European Jewry was no more.

Into the Valley of Death

In the summer of 1944, the Nazis deported Rav Meisels together with his entire kehilla to Auschwitz. The horrors he witnessed included the murder of his beloved Rebbetzin and six of his children hy”d.

In the first twenty pages of Volume One of his monumental work She’eilos U’Teshuvos Mekadshei Hashem, Rav Meisels recorded his testimony of those terrible days. These pages contain some of the most searing and inspiring words ever written about the Churban — a firsthand account from a gadol b’Yisrael who witnessed the destruction and lived to tell the story.

He opens with a declaration of sacred duty: “I said — for this is what I must tell: all that happened there, and all that I saw and heard. For this is the duty of one who was saved — to testify about the sanctification of the Name by those who perished.”

The Rov describes arriving at Auschwitz and finding Jews from across the world: “Among us when we entered the camp, we found there Jews from all corners of the world. Each one had his own story, each one had suffered on his way there. But despite all differences, we were all brothers in our suffering and in our faith.”

He wrestled with the impossibility of capturing such horror in words: “The destruction that occurred there — there are no words in any language that can describe it. I, who was there, who saw with my own eyes, I testify that what happened exceeds any description.” And yet he persevered: “I found in my memory that I must write, for regarding what happened there — it was never written, and perhaps never will be properly written. For how can one describe the indescribable?”

Despite this impossibility, he understood his obligation: “I write this for the future generations, that they should know what happened. For there is a commandment to remember: ‘Remember what Amalek did to you.’ And this generation of destroyers was worse than Amalek.”

The Daily Horror

In his testimony, Rav Meisels describes the relentless nature of the killing: “The ones who perished there — their number cannot be counted. Every day, every hour, souls ascended to Heaven. And we who remained watched helplessly as our brothers and sisters were taken from us.”

He paints an agonizing picture of life in the camp: “Suffering was our constant companion. Hunger, cold, disease, fear — these were with us every moment. And above all, the uncertainty: would we live to see another day?”

The guards themselves were instruments of cruelty. The Rov describes them: “The guards who stood there worked in the outer courtyard… Their functions and operations upon these youths — it was not like standing upon a cup of suffering, but a moan suffices from the souls departing to their death.”

Yet even amidst such darkness, the Rov observed the resilience of the human spirit: “But even in such circumstances, the human spirit is remarkable. People helped each other, shared their meager rations, gave each other encouragement. This too must be remembered.”

The Children and the Mothers

Perhaps no passages in Mekadshei Hashem are more heartbreaking than those describing the fate of the children. The Rov writes: “As for the youths — this was perhaps the most painful. To see young people in the flower of their lives being cut down. Many had not yet married, had not yet built families. Their potential was lost forever.”

He describes scenes that haunted him for the rest of his life: “It was among the difficult things to see the youths being taken, and their cries ascending to Heaven. And we could not do anything to help them, and this was the most difficult of all.”

The suffering of the mothers was unbearable to witness: “The mothers who lost their children — their grief cannot be described. I saw mothers going mad from grief, unable to continue living after their children were taken from them.”

The Rov records: “The mothers were separated from their children, and the fathers from their sons, and the sound of weeping filled that place. And I believe the angels in Heaven cried with them.”

And the children themselves: “The children — innocent souls who did not understand what was happening. Their questioning eyes haunt me to this day.”

He remembered one encounter that never left him: “I remember one child who asked me: ‘Rabbi, where are we going?’ And I did not know what to answer him. What can you say to an innocent child who is being led to death? The cry of those children ascends to Heaven to this day. And we who survived carry their memory with us.”

The Selections

The Rov describes the horrific selection process with stark clarity: “There was a selection — this was the most terrible thing. Standing in a row, and one officer pointing: this one to life, this one to death. And there was nothing to be done, only to stand and wait and pray.”

He continues: “Some tried to appear healthy and strong, hoping to be chosen for work. But often it made no difference — the decree had already been sealed in Heaven.”

The arbitrary cruelty defied comprehension: “The criteria were arbitrary and cruel. The elderly, the young children, the sick — these were almost always sent to death. But even the young and strong were not safe. Sometimes the murderers needed to fill a quota.”

The Rov himself stood in such selections: “I remember standing in such a selection. My heart pounding, trying not to show fear. When my turn came, the officer looked at me briefly and pointed to the right. I live, while so many others were sent to death.”

He describes the final moments: “Those who were sent to the left — I remember their faces, their eyes. Some went quietly, with acceptance. Others cried, begged. But all went, for there was no choice.”

The question of “why” tormented him: “Why me? I still do not know. I was not stronger than others, not more deserving. It was simply the will of Heaven.”

The Agonizing She’eilah

One story, preserved in his introduction to the two-volume She’eilos U’Teshuvos Mekadshei Hashem, reveals the impossible moral dilemmas he faced. A father approached him with an agonizing question: his son was among 1,400 boys condemned to the gas chambers, and he had the means to bribe a guard to save him — but doing so would mean another boy would die in his place. “Tell me what the halacha is,” the man pleaded. “I will do whatever you say.”

In his sefer, Rav Meisels captures this heart-wrenching encounter. He describes the father as “a Jew, simply, from Oberland, Hungary,” who approached him with desperate words: “Rabbi! The son is mine alone, he is the light of my eyes. He was found thus — in the midst of the youths among the destined ones for burning…”

The Rov reflects: “I was greatly moved by his plea. A father’s love for his son — there is nothing like it in the world. And he was asking me: is there any way to save him?”

Rav Meisels wept. “How can I render such a decision?” he replied. “In the times of the Beis HaMikdash, such questions were brought before the Sanhedrin. And I am here in Auschwitz, without a single sefer of halacha, without other rabbonim to consult, without peace of mind due to the countless disasters and troubles…”

He later wrote of the crushing weight of such questions: “And regarding what they said to me: ‘You are able to write’ — I said to them that it is impossible for me, for the matter weighs heavily upon me… What was upon this matter — there were not things that were lightened upon me, and I did not find any rest, for all the matter was difficult.”

The Rov added his own reflection on such impossible dilemmas: “In truth — in such circumstances, who can judge? The normal rules of halacha sometimes cannot apply in situations of such extremity. We can only stand in awe of those who made such decisions.”

Tekias Shofar in the Shadow of Death

That Rosh Hashanah of 1944, the Veitzener Rov performed an act of extraordinary mesirus nefesh. Having somehow smuggled a shofar into the camp, he learned that those 1,400 condemned boys were begging to hear its sounds one final time before their deaths. His own fifteen-year-old son pleaded with him not to go — the danger was too great. “Father, you are all I have left,” the boy cried.

But the Rov went. He was smuggled into the barracks, and before he could blow the shofar, the boys cried out: “Rebbe! Please, first give us words of chizuk!” These young men, standing at death’s door, wanted to hear divrei Torah before fulfilling this final mitzvah.

In Mekadshei Hashem, Rav Meisels records the profound meaning of that shofar: “The shofar was blown in secret, and those who heard it felt their souls uplifted to Heaven. It was a moment of pure holiness in the midst of darkness.”

He continues: “The sound of the shofar in that place was a cry to Heaven. It said: We are still here. We are still Jews. Our faith is not broken… The sound of the shofar reminded them that there is a God in Heaven who sees everything.”

He spoke to them. Then he blew all one hundred tekios. When he finished, one of the boys called out a blessing that he should merit long years, and all the condemned boys answered “Amen” through their tears. The next day, they all perished. But their final moments had been sanctified by Torah and tefillah.

Spiritual Heroism Amidst Destruction

Throughout his testimony in those first twenty pages, Rav Meisels emphasized that the story of the Churban was not only one of suffering, but of extraordinary spiritual courage. He wrote: “Also I want to record the heroism of spirit that I witnessed. For even in that place of death, there were Jews who sanctified the Name of Heaven with incredible courage. They went to their deaths with faith, with ‘Shema Yisrael’ on their lips.”

He adds: “And we who remained — we are obligated to remember them and to tell their story. This is the least we can do for those holy ones.”

He witnessed the death of great Torah scholars together with their students: “We saw how he sanctified the Name of Heaven, going together with his students to their death. And their voices were heard calling ‘Shema Yisrael’ until the final moment.” The Rov marveled at their devotion: “This was true heroism — spiritual heroism. To continue teaching Torah even as death approached. To maintain faith even when facing the gas chambers.”

He records their unwavering loyalty: “His students followed him with complete devotion. They could have tried to separate from him, to save themselves. But they chose to remain with their teacher, to die together with him in sanctification of the Name.”

The Meaning of Their Deaths

The Rov grappled with the theological meaning of such sacrifice: “It is seen as we said: the sanctification of the Name, this is the meaning of their deaths. They did not die as common deaths, but as martyrs, and their souls are bound in the bond of eternal life.”

He writes further: “Regarding the matter of how Jews died in that place: most went like sheep to the slaughter, it is true. But this is not because they lacked courage. Rather, they did not believe — could not believe — what awaited them. And even when they learned the truth, what could they do? They were starved, exhausted, surrounded by armed guards.”

But he insists on recording another form of heroism: “There were also those who resisted in their own way. They resisted by maintaining their faith. They resisted by not abandoning their humanity. They resisted by continuing to help each other, to comfort each other, to love each other even as they were being destroyed. This too is heroism — perhaps the greatest heroism of all.”

Mitzvos in Auschwitz

Even the observance of mitzvos continued in defiance of the murderers. Rav Meisels records the extraordinary devotion to the mitzvah of esrog on Sukkos: “When one person found an esrog, it was treasured like gold. It was passed from hand to hand, and each person who held it, who pronounced the blessing over it, felt connected to generations past and generations future.”

He describes the makeshift sukkah: “The sukkah — if it can be called that — was sometimes just a few branches propped together. But it was enough. The symbolism was there, the intention was there, the faith was there.”

The meaning of the arba minim took on special significance: “The four species — representing different types of Jews, united together — this symbolism was especially poignant in the camps. For there, all differences disappeared. Rich and poor, learned and simple, all were united in their suffering and in their faith.”

On Yom Kippur, the Rov witnessed remarkable devotion: “I remember on Yom Kippur, a group of men gathered to pray. They had no machzor, so they prayed from memory. They had not eaten — not from choice, for we were always hungry — but they fasted nevertheless. And their prayers ascended to Heaven.”

He concludes: “This is what I want to record: the spiritual heroism that existed even in that place of darkness. For this too is part of the story that must be told.”

What Sustained Them

The Rov reflected on the sources of strength that kept the prisoners alive — physically and spiritually: “What sustained us? Prayer. Torah study, when possible. The knowledge that we were part of an eternal people that had survived persecutions before. The hope — sometimes faint, sometimes strong — that there would be an end to this nightmare.”

He continues: “The thing that sustained many of us was our faith. In a place where God seemed absent, we held on to our belief in Him. Some questioned, some despaired, but many continued to pray, to observe what mitzvos they could.”

One elderly man’s words remained with the Rov throughout his life: “I remember an old man who said to me: ‘We have survived Pharaoh, we have survived Haman, we have survived the Crusaders and the Inquisition. We will survive this too.'” The Rov adds poignantly: “He did not survive himself — he was taken in a selection soon after. But his words stayed with me.”

The Rov records: “And so we continued — day after day, hour after hour — holding on to life, holding on to faith, waiting for the salvation that seemed so far away.”

The Behavior of Human Beings

The Rov observed the full spectrum of human behavior in the camps: “About the matter of how people behaved in such circumstances: there was the full range of human behavior. Some became like animals, thinking only of their own survival. But others — and this is what I want to emphasize — others maintained their humanity, their compassion, their faith.”

He witnessed extraordinary acts of chesed: “I saw people share their last piece of bread with another who was weaker. I saw people comfort the dying, recite prayers for those who could no longer pray for themselves. I saw spiritual giants who continued to teach Torah even as death surrounded them.”

He insists: “These are the stories that must be told. For they show that even in the depths of evil, goodness can exist.”

He also records: “In the camp — I was witness to many incidents of incredible faith and courage. People who had lost everything still held on to their traditions and their beliefs. One evening — a group of men gathered secretly to pray Ma’ariv. They knew if caught, they would be severely punished. But they said: We are Jews, and we will pray to our God.”

The Rov preserves the words of an elderly prisoner: “I remember the words of one elderly man who said: ‘They can take everything from us, but they cannot take our faith. As long as we believe, we are still human beings.’ These words have stayed with me all these years. They express the essence of what it means to be a Jew.”

He adds: “There was also the matter of Shabbos — those who tried to observe it even in the camps. It was almost impossible, but some tried nevertheless. And I saw a man who fasted on Yom Kippur despite already being starved. When asked why he was doing this, he said: ‘It is Yom Kippur. What else can I do?’ This is the heroism that must be recorded. Not the heroism of weapons, but the heroism of faith.”

Why Was I Saved?

Rav Meisels wrestled with the question that haunted every survivor: “I who survived — I often ask myself: Why was I saved and not another? There is no answer to this question. We must accept that there are things beyond our understanding.”

Yet he found purpose in his survival: “But one thing I know: I was saved for a purpose — to tell the story, to bear witness, to ensure that the world knows what happened. And this is what I am doing now.”

He understood the sacred obligation this placed upon him: “The testimony of what I saw must be recorded. For if we do not tell the story, who will? And if the story is not told, how will future generations know?”

He writes: “The memory of those days is engraved in my heart. The cries of the children, the weeping of the mothers, the silence of the fathers who could not save their families — these things I will never forget.”

And: “As for what they told me: ‘Write and record’ — I said that I will try, but words are insufficient. How can ink on paper convey the depth of such suffering? Nevertheless, I must try. For the sake of those who perished, I must try.”

Preserving the Ways of the Fathers

Despite the horror surrounding them, the Rov records how the prisoners maintained their identity: “The behavior was thus in that place as we acquired our lot: whatever we found there was the food and drink of the spirit of Hashem, what we preserved and what else we did — we did not abandon the ways of our fathers.”

He reflects on his sense of belonging to the community of sufferers: “I found myself there among these, and the Americans were there standing in the midst of the camp, and I was like one of them, as if I had been a long time in that place already.”

The Rov understood their shared destiny: “We knew that their suffering was great, but their faith was even greater. They died with ‘Shema Yisrael’ on their lips, and their souls departed in holiness and purity.”

The Miracle of the Talis Koton

Upon his arrival at Auschwitz, a Nazi officer brutally tore from Rav Meisels his most precious possession — a talis koton that had been an inheritance from the holy Yetev Lev of Sighet. The pain of this desecration cut the Rov to his core.

A short time later, during a transport, an American bomb fell near the train. A piece of shrapnel flew through the carriage, passing directly between the Rov and his son — and struck that very Nazi officer, severing both his hands. The wounded officer came to Rav Meisels, begging for forgiveness, and returned the precious tzitzis that his now-mangled hands had once torn away.

Rebuilding from the Ashes: Bergen-Belsen

After liberation, Rav Meisels found himself in Bergen-Belsen, where the British authorities appointed him as the Chief Rabbi of the British Occupation Zone. In that DP Camp — displaced persons camp — surrounded by tens of thousands of broken survivors, the Veitzener Rov dedicated himself to healing shattered souls.

The photographs from Bergen-Belsen tell the story: a man who had lost nearly everything, standing before the remnants of European Jewry, teaching them Torah, nurturing their emunah, and giving them the spiritual strength to rebuild their lives. It was there that he established the first incarnation of “Yeshiva She’eris Yisroel” — a name that captured the essence of those who had survived, the “remnant of Israel.”

He worked tirelessly to resolve tragic agunah cases that had resulted from the churban — women whose husbands had vanished into the crematoria, leaving no witnesses to their deaths. With his vast Torah knowledge and his intimate understanding of the survivors’ circumstances, he brought resolution to countless families who could finally begin to rebuild.

In his writings, Rav Meisels expressed what drove him forward. He understood the obligation of the survivors: “The service of the Lord requires that we remember these holy ones, those who died for the sanctification of the Name. And it is our duty to tell their story to our children and our children’s children.”

He continued: “It appears that we saw with our own eyes how they went to their deaths with faith and trust in the Creator. And we must learn from them and strengthen our own faith. And this is the memorial for them — that we continue to serve God and keep His Torah, and that we never forget what they gave for the sake of Heaven.”

He wrote: “We who remained — we carry their memory. We tell their story. We pass on their legacy to our children and grandchildren. For this is what they would have wanted: that we continue to live as Jews, to study Torah, to observe mitzvos, to raise Jewish families. This is the greatest memorial we can give them.”

Complete Trust

The Rov reflected on the faith that sustained the kedoshim: “Complete trust in God was their strength and their shield. And through this trust, they were able to face death with courage and faith.”

He adds: “And we who survived must carry their message forward, and tell their story to all who will listen. For their memory is a blessing, and their sacrifice must never be forgotten.”

He writes: “As we know that it is upon us — to fulfill for the sake of the Name, Blessed be He — that it should not be considered as nothing, but in every way we should remember them.”

And: “It is seen that from the suffering shall be erected something, for ‘one who trusts in Hashem, kindness surrounds him.’ And this was the trust of those holy ones, and through it they sanctified the Name.”

A New Beginning in Chicago

In 1947, upon the encouragement of his brother-in-law, the Bobover Rebbe Rav Shlomo Halberstam, Rav Meisels immigrated to America and settled in Chicago. There, he remarried to Breindel, the daughter of the Dezher Rebbe, and began yet another chapter of building and teaching.

The Midwest of the 1940s was not an obvious destination for a chassidishe Rov. Many doubted whether authentic Yiddishkeit could take root in such soil. But the Veitzener Rov, who had kindled flames of Torah in the darkness of Auschwitz, was undaunted. He soon established the Veitzener Cheder — Yeshiva She’eris Yisroel — bringing the warmth and depth of pre-war European chinuch to the American heartland.

The yeshiva he planted as a tiny seed has, with Hashem’s blessing, grown into a mighty tree. Today, under the leadership of his son-in-law and daughter, Rabbi and Rebbetzin Moshe Yosef Unger, the institution — now known as Yeshiva Ohr Boruch-The Veitzener Cheder — educates nearly 400 talmidim.

It remains faithful to the Rov’s vision: limudei kodesh taught in Yiddish, in the authentic style of the pre-war chassidishe chadorim, combined with excellence in general studies and individualized attention to every child’s needs.

A Treasury of Torah

The Veitzener Rov left behind a wealth of Torah writings that continue to illuminate the Jewish world. His She’eilos U’Teshuvos Mekadshei Hashem stands alongside Rabbi Ephraim Oshry’s Mimaamakim as one of the most significant collections of Holocaust responsa — halachic questions asked and answered in the very crucible of destruction.

These teshuvos preserve halachic guidance and describe the spiritual heroism of a generation that refused to abandon Hashem and their holy birthright — even as they walked through the valley of the shadow of death. As the Rov himself wrote: “This is what I want to record: not just the evil, but also the good. For both existed in that place.”

He explains his purpose: “In that place there was such difficulty that one cannot describe it in words. And I remember when I was there — I saw things that I will never forget as long as I live. The suffering was so great that even now, when I write these words, my heart trembles. But I must write, so that future generations will know.”

His sefer Binyan Tzvi contains hundreds of teshuvos to his talmidim and colleagues, many of them written before the war. Miraculously, these manuscripts survived the churban and were published in New York in 1956.

Beyond his scholarly writings, the Rov was known throughout America as a much sought-after mohel, traveling across the country to help families fulfill this precious mitzvah.

Words of Wisdom

The Veitzener Rov was known for speaking in the language of melitzos — eloquent, layered phrases that conveyed profound wisdom. Once, when discussing the nature of Jewish leadership, he offered the following insight:

“We find that Achashveirosh is called a foolish king. But this is puzzling — after all, he ruled over the entire world! How can such a ruler be called a fool?

The answer is that he wished to conduct his rule in a way that would find favor in the eyes of everyone — ‘to do according to the will of each and every man.’ But this is impossible for a king and a leader. From this we see that he was indeed a fool…”

In these few words, the Rov captured an essential truth of leadership: that a true manhig must sometimes make difficult decisions that will not please everyone, and that seeking universal approval is not wisdom but foolishness.

Final Years and Eternal Legacy

In 1970, the Veitzener Rov spent a brief period in Monsey, New York, serving as the Rov of Beth Israel of Monsey on 92 Main Street — one of Monsey’s oldest shuls. From there, he moved to Williamsburg, where he was niftar on the 25th of Teves, 5734 (1974).

He is buried in Washington Cemetery in New Jersey, near the ohel of Rav Yechezkel Mertz. His sons — Rav Yosef Moshe Meisels in Williamsburg and Rav Zalmen Leib Meisels, the Seagate Rov — along with his children from his second marriage to the Dezher Rebbe’s daughter, continue to carry forward his legacy.

In the final pages of his testimony, Rav Meisels offered a message that speaks across the generations: “In conclusion — I want to say that despite all the suffering, the spirit of the Jewish people was not broken. Even in the darkest times, there were those who maintained their faith and their humanity.”

He declared: “And this is the message for future generations: even in the face of the greatest evil, good can exist. Even when all seems lost, there is still hope. And the Jewish people will endure, as they have always endured.”

He concluded with a charge to all who would read his words: “May the memory of the holy martyrs be blessed, and may their sacrifice never be forgotten. And may we be worthy of their legacy.”

And his final prayer: “May their souls be bound in the bond of eternal life. And may their merit protect us and all of Israel. Amen.”

Yehi zichro baruch.

The author can be reached at [email protected]