By Y.M. Lowy

In the last article, we looked at the 1976 ceremony in Monsey where Rabbi Yehuda “Yudel” Weberman spoke about the gratitude Holocaust survivors felt toward America during the burial of the new Bicentennial time capsule. This week, we step back to explore the remarkable background that shaped Rabbi Weberman himself.

Rabbi Yehuda “Yudel” Weberman would eventually become one of Monsey’s most recognizable askanim, but the mesiras nefesh that defined his life stretched back generations before him.

His father, Reb Bentzion Weberman z”l, was considered an extraordinary figure in early American Jewry during the years before World War II. Although he himself had been born in America, a rarity for frum Jews at the time, Reb Bentzion refused to compromise on Yiddishkeit despite the enormous pressures he faced while keeping mitzvos in those years.

In the period following World War I, a towering spiritual figure arrived in America from Russia: Harav Hagaon Rav Chaim Avraham Dov Ber Levine zt”l, widely known as “The Malach.”

The nickname reflected the almost otherworldly image he projected. Stories about the Malach’s intense holiness spread quickly. He slept very little, barely ate, and lived with an extreme level of separation from gashmius. His talmid, Harav Yaakov Schorr zt”l, later recalled that after davening during the Yamim Noraim, the floor around the Malach would be soaked from the tears he shed in prayer.

As young bochurim learning in Yeshiva Torah Vodaas in Williamsburg, Yudel Weberman and his older brother, Reb Meir Weberman z”l, began traveling weekly to the Bronx where the Malach served as rav of Nusach HaAri Shul.

The Weberman family became deeply attached to the Malach and his teachings.

“My father considered himself like a child of the Malach,” recalled Reb Shmuel Yitzchak Weberman years later. “We were practically like grandchildren.”

Under the Malach’s influence, the Weberman brothers and other students began adopting a visibly chassidish appearance and lifestyle. They wore their tzitzis outside, grew long peyos and beards, and dressed in chassidish levush.

Today, such sights are common throughout frum communities in America. But in those years, the broader American culture was far less accepting.

Newspapers mocked the young men as extremists and fanatics, accusing them of dragging America backward. The students endured ridicule, harassment, and even physical attacks because of their appearance. Still, they refused to back down.

Eventually, the administration of Torah Vodaas became alarmed as more students were drawn toward the Malach and began adopting the same chassidish style and passionate approach to Yiddishkeit. School leaders feared that parents would remove their children and that financial supporters would stop donating to the yeshiva and so the decision was ultimately made to expel the group.

But the bachurim, who became known as “The Malachim,” remained determined. Rather than abandoning their ideals, they established their own yeshiva called Nesivos Olam.

For years, the yeshiva wandered from one temporary location to another until one of the Malach’s students purchased the building at 205 Hewes Street in Williamsburg, which remains a center for the Malachim Kehilla.

“They were the ones who did the hard work of preparing the ground for American Yiddishkeit,” Reb Shmuel Yitzchak later reflected. “With their mesiras nefesh, they paved the way for the Jews who came after the war. Today we are enjoying the fruits of their sacrifice. Hazorim b’dimah b’rinah yiktzoru. Thanks to them, yidden in America can serve Hashem openly and proudly.”

Rockland Daily’s “Unearthing the Past” series will continue exploring the people, places, memories, and hidden stories connected to Monsey’s historic time capsule, preserving the history that helped shape Monsey into the town it is today. As 2026 marks 50 years since the 1976 reopening, Monsey is once again drawing closer to revisiting that historic moment.