I have always considered it the hardest part of the Levaya process.  Perhaps it is the finality of the moment, perhaps the stark contrast between the living and the dead, but the final moments of the Kevura, after Kaddish is said and everyone leaves the burial site has always been the most difficult for me.

And this particular Levaya needed no more tragedy, no more pain than was inherent within it.  What does one say when he hears the story of a father asking his two year old daughter to say goodbye to mommy, a request that is honored with the innocent, slow wave of a baby?  It is impossible to describe the intense agony of a community cognizant of the tragic loss of such a special person.  Words can not describe the feelings in either Milwaukee or New York that weekend.  One vignette, however, may capture an inkling of the sincere tragedy the loss of Rebbetzin Rennert represented; at the New York Levaya, from across the hall, I saw a young girl I did not recognize carrying an infant.  I was aghast, why would anyone bring an infant to a Levaya?  As the girl walked closer, I could see the baby.  Suddenly it hit me.  Chaval, that infant is the Rebbetzin’s son!  He is saying goodbye to his mother!

With thoughts like that predominant in my mind, I prepared myself for the moment that the family and the Kehilla would walk away from the fresh Kever.   I took a long last look, said a final goodbye to the Rebbetzin that had literally changed my life, and turned to go.  I took two slow steps toward the car when an old Chaver from my days in the Yeshiva stopped me. He whispered to me that he would like a Minyan to ask Mechila from the Rebbetzin.  I have, of course, heard of this being done, although I have never actually participated in such a Minyan.  Preparing to hold back the bile as my Chaver faced the Kever and, surrounded by nine other Talmidim of our Rebbe Rabbi Rennert, described what awful things he had to ask the Rebbetzin Mechila for.  The only tears in one of the most difficult weekends of my life fell when I heard what he had to say.  “Rebbetzin, I want to ask Mechila on behalf of all the Talmidim who may have gone a bit too far, asking for too much in taking your husband’s time away from you.”

I was dumbstruck.  I had repeated “Emes” literally dozens of times over the course of the two Levayas, as speaker after speaker described how the Rebbetzin allowed her husband to spend all day and all night being Mashpeia on his Talmidim without regard to herself.  It was clear that she was more then Mishtataf in her husband’s holy work. She enabled it. As one of our Roshei Yeshiva, Rabbi Yehudah Cheplowitz, Shlita, described at the New York Levaya, “Talmidim could come up to this podium for weeks on end to describe how Rabbi Rennert changed their lives with his selfless dedication at all hours of the night.”  That was time that rightfully belonged to her, that she sacrificed for all of us!

The Rebbetzin, fully cognizant of the effect her husband was having on his Talmidim, not only allowed, but encouraged, with selfless dedication to the future of Klal Yisroel, what can honestly be called the literal production of Bnei Torah, who are now Roshei Yeshiva, Rabbonim and leaders in the Torah world.

I nodded my head so many times.  Yes!  The Rebbetzin believed in what her husband was doing, she knew the impact on Doros of Frum Yidden and she willingly sacrificed time that was rightfully hers to help Klal Yisroel.

What was my Chaver saying?  Did he miss the central point of the Levaya?  Doesn’t he get it? Then right there at the Kever I realized, my Chaver has truly internalized the lessons and special nature of our dear Rebbetzin.  Yes, it was her life’s mission  to help others, and yes she did it with selfless dedication and a warm heart, but my Chaver realized, perhaps there was a time, here and there over decades of intense dedication, that the Rebbetzin truly wanted her husband home for an hour or two.  It wouldn’t have been a complaint, and I doubt it would even have been mentioned to her husband, but we as Yidden need to be cognizant of every nuance of feeling a fellow Yid has.  It is that sensitivity to others that may be the greatest of the multitudes of legacies our Rebbetzin leaves behind.

At the Milwaukee Levaya, Rabbi Rennert quoted a Chovos Halevavos in his description of his wife.  “The Mehus of a Baal Bitachon is Menuchas Hanefesh – the essence of a person of faith is equanimity.” That, of course, was a perfect description of his Rebbetzin.  The Rebbetzin was always smiling.  Always.  She was happy and never complained.  But it was not said at any of the Levayas, and I feel the need to add it here: her smile wasn’t constant.  Yes she was always smiling, but when she saw a fellow person, you could see a change in her smile.  It grew wider and more exuberant.  That small change in demeanor made each person, from the youngest Bochur to the most respected Rosh Hayeshiva feel the warmth and sensitivity she was directing toward them.  She was always in tune to what each person needed at any given time.  The change in her smile and the sincere words she spoke went straight to the heart of each person, as they both were aimed perfectly at what each person needed at that moment to the smallest Nekuda of each individual's Neshama.

I have spoken to literally hundreds of my fellow alumni in the last week.  I have told many that I am quite an advocate for the Rennerts and that they should feel free to stop me if I am too broad in what I feel the Achrayis (responsibility) of the Talmidim is to the Rennerts.  The universal refrain I heard over and over from Chaver to Chaver was that Pum Fakheirt – just the opposite.  I am not enough of an advocate!  The Hakoras Hatov we owe Rabbi Rennert and his Rebbetzin for all they have done for us can never be repaid in this world.

When I told Chaver after Chaver the story of how the Rennerts literally saved my life, a theme began to develop.  Most thought that the personal attention paid to them, the complete empathy, the passion with which Rabbi Rennert handled their problems, from the smallest dormitory issue, to the most complicated matters of life and death, were unique to them.  They did not believe it possible that a person could have such love and compassion for everyone, nor a family person so much time to be completely devoted to others.  But that is the essence of our Rebbe and his Rebbetzin.

I have never publicly described the following before.  It has been and remains incredibly painful to me, but I believe I owe it to the Rebbetzin, so others not privileged to know her understand what kind of people we are dealing with.  After four childless years of marriage, my wife and I were overjoyed to learn we were to have twins.  Our simcha knew no bounds as we counted down the days until the arrival of our babies. 

For whatever reason, Hashem in his infinite wisdom decided it was not to be.  We delivered two otherwise healthy fully formed, yet hopelessly premature babies at 21 weeks of gestation.  I held them as they died, an inevitable process which took almost an hour.  I cuddled them, trying as hard as I could to let them know that Abba loves them.  I asked their Mechila for not being able to save them, my eternal regret, that their father as big and strong and filled with love as he is, was powerless to do anything to help them.

After my son had his bris and both my son and daughter had a Kriyas Shem, they were buried in an unmarked grave.  As dictated by Halacha, there was no Shiva no Kaddish and we observe no Yartzheit.

As could be understood, I was beside myself.  I would accept no Nechama.  And although I had been out of the Yeshiva for 13 years and I had an excellent Rav in the community in which we lived, I knew there was only one person I could call, my Rebbe, Rabbi Rennert.

Rabbi Rennert spent untold hours on the phone with me, anytime day or night.  He even made a special trip in to see me to offer me some Nechama.  I learned quite quickly that if I called my Rebbe’s house at 2 AM on nights I just couldn’t sleep, all I’d do is wake up the Rebbetzin.  Rabbi Rennert was still at the Yeshiva being Mashpeia on whichever Bochur needed it, in whatever way he needed it on that particular night.  At the time, the incredible sacrifice of the Rebbetzin didn’t strike me. I was too involved in my own world.  But I can testify today, were it not for the actions of my Rebbe and the sacrifice of my Rebbetzin allowing her husband unregulated, unrestricted time, her personal family time, to help me through my personal grief - I would not, could not, have made it through those dark days.  I truly owe my life to them.  Rabbi Rennert was the only person who gave me any Nechama at all.

At the behest of my wife, I spoke to my two late children in my Tefilos last Friday night.  I told them to be sure to welcome the Rebbetzin into the Olam Hemes.  She helped Abba in a way Abba couldn’t help you, and I am sure, if such a thing exists in the Olam Hemes, the Rebbetzin will look after you there too.

Stories that would fill volumes can be said about the Rennert family in general and the Rebbetzin in particular.  While shoveling fresh dirt onto the Kever on Sunday, I was within earshot of the Rebbetzin’s eight daughters.  To put it simply, based on what I could hear them say, people on my Madreiga can not understand that level of Mussar, Hashkafa and Bitachon.   I dare not repeat their words because of their private nature, but it is clear that the Rebbetzin has raised a family that is the mirror image of her piety, Avodas Hashem and Ahavas Yisroel.

All of Rabbi Rennert’s Talmidim know it is time we do our part.  As Rabbi Twerski, Shlita told us last Motzei Shabbos, the onus now falls on all of us.  Ten Yisomim have no mother, no mother to walk them down the aisle at their Chasunahs.  They have no mother to get them through the little bumps in life’s road.  They have no mother to offer practical advice about raising their own children.  As Rabbi Twerski bemoaned, who will attend the Siddur party of the Rebbetzin’s two babies? The answer was abundantly clear, Klal Yisroel must be their mother, to kiss them when they fall and offer them the love they so rightly deserve. We, the community, must be there.

How does one Talmid dare speak for hundreds of others, all of whom have had the privilege of a special relationship with Rabbi Rennert, fully enabled and encouraged by his Ezer K’negdo?  To paraphrase the words of Rebbi Akiva in Kesubos, Sheli Vesheloch, Shelah – what is mine and yours, is hers.  There is no more true statement then that.

There are literally hundreds of stories to be told of the selfless dedication and the Hashpaa of the Rennerts.  We are currently writing a compilation of such stories for publication.  Those stories, as well as donations to directly benefit the Rennert family, including their ten Yisomim aging from 4 months to 22 years, can be submitted via the website at www.kerendevorah.org  or sent to Keren Devorah Fund c/o WITS, 3288 N Lake Drive, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 53211. 

Any further ideas to help the Mishpacha can be emailed to witsalumni@aol.com or called into Mr. Chaim Shapiro at 414-963-9317 Ext 24.