The New York Times has published an extensive feature on Rabbi Shalom Landau, portraying the Williamsburg-based speaker as an unlikely online figure whose Torah-based messages have reached far beyond the walls of his beis medrash, even as he himself remains detached from the digital world.

The article opens by contrasting the rabbi’s modest surroundings with the reach of his influence, describing his headquarters as “a humble wood and brick structure in the shadow of Woodhull Medical Center,” where “the facade is cracked and peeling, and the blinds are drawn.” Inside, it notes, “young men spend their days hunched over dense texts,” while “a tiny pool is hidden away in the basement.”

Despite being characterized as a kind of influencer, the piece stresses that Rabbi Landau himself has little connection to technology, writing that he “doesn’t use social media and favors a flip phone — and no phone at all from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday.” The explanation is simple: “On Shabbos, it’s strictly forbidden.”

The Times identifies Rabbi Landau as “a 48-year-old Hasidic rabbi in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn,” explaining that “the young men are his yeshiva students; the pool a ritual bath called a mikvah.” It adds that “he’s the spiritual leader of Rivnitz,” a group following the teachings of the Ribnitzer Rebbe, who emphasized spreading divine light even in hostile environments.

At the same time, the article highlights the unusual nature of his recent visibility, stating that he is “of late, an unlikely star on Instagram and TikTok for videos offering pearls of Torah-based wisdom.” These clips, it explains, “marry self-help and ‘seichel,’ Yiddish for ‘common sense,’” often beginning with bold statements like “Wealth is in your wiring, not in your wallet” and “A child is not a second chance at your past,” before linking them to traditional sources.

According to the report, “his 250,000 followers on Instagram may not put him in the social media big leagues,” but they “greatly outnumber the several hundred men who come to study and pray at his shul.” The article underscores the contrast, noting that this is “an awful lot for a guy who speaks in Yiddish-inflected English and appears on video in front of bookshelves of Hasidic philosophy.”

The piece describes the rabbi’s online reach as spanning widely different audiences, stating that “from his digital pulpit, Rabbi Landau wields a particular kind of influence,” reaching “a mosaic of overlapping audiences, each of whom interprets him differently.” These include “practicing Jews who share his content earnestly over WhatsApp,” “secular internet addicts who take his videos with a heavy dose of irony,” “curious non-Jews seeking a pure form of religious authenticity,” and “young conservatives attracted to the traditional gender roles he preaches.”

It also notes that some responses are less positive, pointing out that certain commenters “make antisemitic jokes about Jews holding the secret to attaining material wealth,” reflecting the complexities of exposure to a broad online audience.

Tracing how the videos began, the article recounts that a talmid once asked Rabbi Landau, “Why are we keeping your light just closed into this small building?” That suggestion led to the recording and distribution of his talks. Rabbi Landau acknowledged his unfamiliarity with the medium, saying, “I was not so much understanding what social media is.”

The effort has largely been managed by his assistant, Shragi Kalmanowitz, who began uploading clips and later expanded production. Rabbi Landau, however, does not watch the videos, explaining, “I think when you see yourself, you can see too much.”

He also expressed concern that his message is being reduced in the editing process. “When you take all of this, you have to be a Torah-learning Jew to understand,” he said. “A lot of statements they take out, they cut it. So I’m questioning, Why do you take out my point?”

Kalmanowitz responded by explaining the reasoning: “We cut it out. Why do we cut it? Because we have to make applicable to everyone.”

The article reports that the videos have generated unexpected interest from people seeking conversion, with Kalmanowitz stating, “The answer is, Judaism doesn’t encourage conversion,” and adding, “No, Hashem likes it the way you are.”

Rabbi Landau himself appeared uncertain how to frame this level of exposure historically, recalling a recent question posed to him: “Has this ever been in the Jewish history that a Jewish rabbi can speak to so much non-Jewish people?” He responded, “I don’t know, we got to look it up.”

The Times places him within a broader landscape of religious figures gaining traction online, noting that “he seems to be the only rabbinical social media star from the patriarchal ultra-Orthodox world.” It also observes that much of his advice is directed toward men and has found an audience in spaces that emphasize “male authority and initiative.”

Addressing the presence of antisemitic followers, Kalmanowitz described one such idea, saying, “It means, basically, that you created the game, like us Jews rule the world, like you create the system and you’re leaking information about how to cheat the system,” and added, “A lot of our fans are actually big antisemites.”

Despite this, the approach remains unchanged. “Some of them end up turning into big fans of the rabbi,” Kalmanowitz said. “You just shine your light, and eventually they will learn to enjoy it.”

In closing, the profile presents Rabbi Landau as aware of the limitations of the medium he has entered. “The way the world is heading to is, basically, punchlines are taking it over,” he said. “And from the punchline becomes the next punchline.”