The Search for Torah Scrolls

The Encounters of Rabbi Menachem HaKohen, of blessed memory, with the Rebbe.

The Moshav Movement

In the United States, especially in the small towns, the Jewish community is shrinking. Many synagogues are closing, merging into one larger synagogue. As a result, many Torah scrolls remain unused, especially older ones. Often, people try to find them a home – a synagogue in need of a Torah scroll.

In August of 2025, Rabbi Menachem HaKohen passed away. Since 1961 he had served as the rabbi of the Moshav Movement. (Before that, he worked in the IDF rabbinate and served as editor of Machanayim, a periodical printed in the army on matters of Judaism.) When he became the rabbi of the Moshav Movement, most of the moshavim belonged to the Histadrut, and they were not religious, although there were also religious moshavim. He began visiting the moshavim and noticed an interesting phenomenon: in the religious moshavim there were synagogues and Torah scrolls, but no livelihood – their financial situation was difficult.

By contrast, in the secular moshavim of the Histadrut, livelihood was plentiful, but there were no synagogues and certainly no Torah scrolls. In those moshavim, most people did not feel the need for a synagogue, but there were always a few Jews who did. Usually the moshav would allocate them a room to serve as a synagogue. But a room alone was not enough – they needed siddurim, chumashim, chairs, and tables. Those could be supplied, but more than anything a synagogue needs a Torah scroll. Without a Torah scroll, it is impossible to read from the Torah, impossible to maintain religious life. It is the most essential item in a synagogue.

Rabbi Menachem HaKohen heard that in the United States, in small towns, synagogues were closing because Jews had moved to the larger cities. He heard that many Torah scrolls were left without a home. He decided to travel to America, to find those synagogues whose Torah scrolls were left abandoned, and to bring them to Israel.

“What I Do in Private, I Do in Public”

The plan was for him to go to New York, since his brother Pinchas had a connection with a Chabad chassid who lived in Brooklyn – Rabbi Berel Levy. His brother arranged that Rabbi Levy would meet him at the airport and take care of all his needs. When he arrived in New York, at JFK Airport, Rabbi Levy met him and said: “I arranged a private audience with the Rebbe for you – tonight.” The Rebbe already knew the family and had heard of him.

In the meantime, before the audience with the Rebbe, he decided to visit his relatives who lived nearby. When he arrived, he entered the house – the living room was dark, full of people, with only the television on. Everyone was watching it. When he entered, they hushed him so he wouldn’t disturb. He was surprised: how could no one even get up to say hello? He sat for an hour, maybe more, until the game was over. Only then did they get up and hug him. It turned out it was Super Bowl Sunday. In America, this was considered so “sacred” that even a cousin arriving from Israel – someone they had never met – no one was willing to miss even a moment of the game to greet him.

The audience with the Rebbe was scheduled for 2:00 a.m. The Rebbe would receive people all night long. At 2:30, he entered the Rebbe’s room. The Rebbe welcomed him warmly and asked him to sit. He sat down, and the Rebbe began speaking to him about Machanayim, the magazine he had edited. On the Rebbe’s desk there were some 20–30 issues, with slips of paper stuck in them, full of notes. The Rebbe asked him: “Tell me, why did you write this way on this page? And why differently on that page?” He was deeply moved that the Rebbe cared so much about what was written in the IDF rabbinate’s magazine, which was distributed to Israel’s soldiers.

After an hour, the Rebbe asked: “Reb Menachem, why have you come?”
He told the Rebbe that he was the rabbi of the Moshav Movement, and that in the secular moshavim there were often attempts to establish synagogues, for groups who wanted one. But the most important thing a synagogue needs – a Torah scroll – was prohibitively expensive. These people had no money, and in Israel at that time it was simply impossible to invest such sums in Torah scrolls. Therefore, he thought to come to America and collect Torah scrolls.

The Rebbe rang the bell, called for Rabbi Chodakov to enter, and told him to summon the secretary, Rabbi Yehuda Krinsky. Rabbi Krinsky was then a young man, about 30. The Rebbe said to him: “Give Reb Menachem four Torah scrolls.”

Menachem HaKohen asked: “Rebbe, may I publicize that you donated these Torah scrolls?” – He worried that, since they were going to secular moshavim, some religious people might not view it positively. At that time, in the early days of Jewish outreach, many had not yet grasped its importance. He feared it might provoke criticism of the Rebbe.

The Rebbe replied: “What I do in private, I also do in public. And what I do not do in public, I also do not do in private. I have no problem if you publicize it. But it depends on you: there will be some who hear that I donated a Torah scroll, and it will encourage them to donate as well. Others may hear and specifically decide not to.”

In any case, he received four Torah scrolls. Afterward, the Rebbe spoke with him about the situation in the moshavim and in the army. The audience lasted three and a half hours! At six in the morning, the Rebbe rose and said: “It’s time to go daven shacharis.”
(Yechiduyot, vol. 4, p. 93)

The Visit to Cincinnati

After leaving the Rebbe, he began inquiring where else he might obtain Torah scrolls. He heard that in Cincinnati, Ohio, many synagogues were closing, and that there was an opportunity there. In that city lived a great and famous rabbi – Rabbi Eliezer Silver – who oversaw all the Orthodox synagogues in town.

Rabbi Menachem HaKohen sent Rabbi Silver a letter, introducing himself, saying he had come from Israel and was seeking Torah scrolls, and that he had heard there were scrolls in the city and wished to receive some. Two days passed, then a week – no reply. He decided to call. He found the office phone number, dialed, and Rabbi Silver himself picked up.

– “What do you want?”
– “Torah scrolls.”
– “What?! Such chutzpah!” – and he slammed the phone down.

Rabbi Menachem HaKohen was not deterred. He found Rabbi Silver’s home phone number and called. He said to him: “Rabbi Silver, they say you are a great genius – maybe that’s true. But a mensch? Certainly not!” – and slammed the phone down. Two days later he received a telegram from Rabbi Silver, inviting him to come: “I will help you.”

He arrived in Cincinnati, rented a hotel room, left his belongings there, and went to meet the rabbi. He knocked on the door, and Rabbi Silver welcomed him warmly, brought him into his home, and led him to the library. It was enormous – a room full of bookshelves – and in the middle stood a bed. Rabbi Silver said: “This is your place. Here you will stay, and during the days you are here you will be my guest.”

Rabbi Menachem HaKohen tried to object: “But Rabbi, I already rented a hotel room.” Rabbi Silver told him: “If you return to the hotel – you can go back to New York.” He had no choice, and he remained as Rabbi Silver’s guest.

On the first day he tried to raise the subject of Torah scrolls, but Rabbi Silver refused. He spoke to him about other matters – about Israel, about other topics – but gave him no chance to bring up Torah scrolls. The second day was the same. By the third day, when he had to leave for the airport, he thought: what a waste of time! I came here, and this rabbi is not helping me, won’t even discuss it. Why did I even come? He was already ready to go to the airport. Then Rabbi Silver said: “Come, let’s take a taxi together.”

On the way to the airport they drove through downtown Cincinnati, past various neighborhoods, until they stopped at an old synagogue – once it had been a Jewish house of worship. Outside stood three Jews who said: “Rabbi Silver, everything is ready.”

They went inside, and there 23 Torah scrolls were waiting, all packed. Rabbi Silver said to Menachem HaKohen: “Give them your address, and they will ship everything to you.”

Rabbi Menachem HaKohen returned to Israel with 30 Torah scrolls. This was a tremendous boost to establishing synagogues and spreading Judaism in all those secular moshavim. This was his beginning, and he continued this work for many years.

The Rebbe was Mekarev Rabbi Menachem HaKohen – because this was exactly the Rebbe’s work: to seek out people willing to help communities and individuals who were not yet observant, and to draw them close with warmth and kindness.
(From the book “L’maan Achai V’reiai”)

The Mitzvah of Writing a Torah Scroll

In this week’s Torah portion, Vayelech, the Torah says: “Moses wrote this Torah and gave it to the priests, the sons of Levi” (Deuteronomy 31:9). Rashi explains: “When it was completed, he gave it to the members of his tribe.”

Later, the Torah commands that every Jew must write a Torah scroll: “And now, write for yourselves this song.” In essence, every Jew has the obligation to write a Torah scroll. But practically, it is very difficult – it is extremely expensive – so the community writes one Torah scroll together, and each person contributes a symbolic sum to “buy” a letter in the scroll. In this way, every Jew fulfills the mitzvah of writing a Torah scroll.

Already at the end of Parshat Ki Tavo, on the verse “But the Lord has not given you a heart to know… until this day” (Deuteronomy 29:3), Rashi comments: I heard that on that day when Moses gave the Torah scroll to the Levites, all Israel came before him and said: “Moses our teacher, we too stood at Sinai and received the Torah, it was given to us. Why do you make your tribe rulers over it? Tomorrow they will say: It was not given to you, it was given only to us.” Moses rejoiced at their words.

At first, Moses wanted to write only one Torah scroll and give it to the tribe of Levi, since they were appointed to be those who taught Torah to the people of Israel – the rabbis, the teachers, the spiritual leaders.

But the representatives of the other tribes came and said: “What, we don’t deserve a Torah scroll? What will happen after Moses leaves this world? The tribe of Levi will say: the Torah was given to us, it is ours. Look – the proof is that Moses gave the Torah scroll only to us!”

Moses answered them: “You are right. A Torah scroll also belongs to you.” And so he wrote a Torah scroll for each tribe. Over forty years, Moses wrote thirteen Torah scrolls, and on the day of his passing he finished and gave one to each tribe. The Torah scroll for the tribe of Levi he placed beside the Ark of the Covenant, where it was preserved for generations.

Today, in every synagogue – everywhere in the world and among every community – we have that same Torah scroll, written in holiness and purity, word for word, exactly as it was first written by Moses. When we hold a Torah scroll in our hands, we feel connected to three thousand years of history, to a chain of over one hundred generations from the giving of the Torah until today. We are another link in that great chain, whose purpose is to prepare the world for the coming of Moshiach, speedily in our days.