Usually we only get to know gedolim once they have clearly established themselves as being in a category of their own. I knew of the greatness of Rav Aaron Lichtenstein, zt”l. But what was he like when he was a teenager? What were his years studying at Harvard like? Through a brief encounter with Rabbi William Millen, zt”l, I caught a glimpse of his childhood friend, the young Aaron Lichtenstein. As Rabbi Millen shared his story with me, he also gave me a window into the incredible evolution of Orthodoxy in America.
I met Rabbi Millen at the Pidyon HaBen of one of his great-grandsons. In that short time with him, I got a taste of Rabbi Millen, “the master storyteller.” Something special happened when Rabbi Millen told a story—especially when it was about his beloved rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, zt”l. Through his memories, I felt as if he took me with him on a journey through time. He recalled when a young Aaron Lichtenstein lived in their home when he was studying at Harvard. He recalled when they watched a crucial Celtics playoff game together. The game was tied and there were only three minutes left. At that moment, Aaron bolted out of the room. When the game was over, we asked him, “Why did you leave at the end?” He said only two words, “shevirat haRatzon (self-control)”
With every story he told, I gained access to a different world. It was a time when Rabbi Soloveitchik was around. It was a time when Rav Aaron Lichtenstein still lived in America. It was a time when, foreseeing his greatness, William asked a 19-year-old Hershel Schachter to sign the tenaim at his wedding. It was a time I long for. I long to have known Rabbi Millen’s world the way he knew it. However, through Rabbi Millen, I got a little closer.
In 1932, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik reached the shores of the United States, making Boston his home. On June 3 of that very year, in the same city, William Millen was born. From the very beginning, it was as if their stories were always meant to be intertwined.
At a time when few supported a Jewish day school, let alone sent their own children, Rabbi Soloveitchik knocked on the Millen’s door. He asked them if they would send their son Billy to his new school. They agreed, and the rest is history. In 1937, Billy became one of the very first students at the Maimonides School in Boston. To the Millens, the Rav was not just a teacher, he was not just a rabbi, he was everything to them. And to Billy, the Rav was like a father.
When he graduated from the Maimonides elementary school, Billy dreamed of going to yeshiva in New York. At the time, Maimonides had no high school. The only two options were MTA in New York, or public school in Boston. So of course, the Millens asked Rabbi Soloveitchik where to send their son. His answer was surprising. William was to go to public high school. William was crushed. He begrudgingly finished 9th grade.
As soon as the year was over, he eagerly awaited the go-ahead from the Rav for him to go to learn in New York. Again however, the answer was no. Now William was determined. He must change his rebbe’s mind. He decided to protest. William began to fail his classes on purpose.
Once his parents got wind of this, Billy was sent to speak with the Rav. “I hear you are failing your classes? Is this true?” the Rav asked.
“Yes,” Billy replied. “Rebbe. I want to learn in New York. I don’t want to be in public school.”
“You may go to New York. Take the train, but don’t get off at Grand Central. Get off at 125th Street, and take the Fort George bus uptown to the yeshiva.”
To his surprise, when Billy arrived at the yeshiva, Rabbi Soloveitchik was standing outside ready to greet him. At that point he realized Rabbi Soloveitchik wasn’t just giving him directions, he was ensuring that he would be there to meet him. After introducing him to the president, the Rav walked Billy to his classroom. This created a stir. Who was this boy from Boston whom the Rav personally escorted to our class?
“He treated me like his own son.” Rabbi Millen felt it was Rabbi Soloveitchik’s care for him that helped him succeed. “Everyone thought I was special because the Rav would check in on me from time to time. I was very far behind the other boys. I had very little Torah background. But once everyone had such high expectations of me, I had to live up to them.”
I asked Rabbi Millen, “Why didn’t the Rav let you learn in New York right away?”
“I don’t know. I can only speculate. I think he was concerned about the influence of the boys in the dorms. He thought staying home would be better for me. Once he saw I was determined, he thought I would turn out okay.”
Rabbi Millen turned out much better than okay. He graduated from MTA and then Yeshiva College. He received semicha from Rabbi Soloveitchik and began teaching Torah. Eventually, he would teach thousands of day school students. In addition to being the principal for about 30 years, he taught for nearly five decades at the Hebrew Academy of Greater Washington.
Unfortunately, along with so many others, we lost Rabbi Millen this year. Rabbi Millen was my window into another world. Before meeting Rabbi Millen, the Rav and Rav Lichtenstein were colossal giants. They were completely untouchable, dare I say, unrelatable. For me, it was Rabbi Millen who brought the Rav and Rav Lichtenstein to life. Through Rabbi Millen’s stories, I felt the Rav’s warm and fatherly love for a young student from Boston. I got a picture of a young Aaron Lichtenstein watching a Celtics game, yet fully immersed in Torah study and Avodat Hashem.
Rabbi Millen was my window into the past. But I believe his story can also help us appreciate the present and how we got here. Rabbi Millen’s story is a reflection of Orthodoxy’s incredible growth in America. Even before Rabbi Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz founded Torah Umesorah in 1944, Billy Millen was one of the first yeshiva day school students in this country. Later, he made the shift from public school to yeshiva high school. Beginning with minimal Torah background, he eventually became a Torah educator par excellence himself, and taught thousands of day school students in his lifetime. All because one Gadol B’Yisrael took an interest in him. In a way, this is the story of the Jewish community’s growth in America.
Rabbi Soloveitchik once recalled that when he first came to Boston, “there were not even five people there who knew that Abaye and Rava once lived.”[1] Today, in Boston and throughout the country, the landscape is unrecognizable. We have grown by leaps and bounds. We are the beneficiaries of people like Rabbi Soloveitchik and Rabbi Millen, who dedicated their lives to the Jewish community and its educational institutions. Rabbi Millen, along with his generation, began as devoted students of the Rav and then became our teachers.
It is difficult to reflect on the many leaders we have lost this year. However, as we start 2021 and attempt to face the future without them, their stories can help us take stock of what we have in the present. Their dedication is our starting point. They utterly transformed their communities when no one thought it possible. Today, we are certainly beginning a new era. The future may hold formidable and unforeseen challenges. It is Rabbi Millen’s generation and the incredible story of American Jewry which gives me faith in our ability to write the next chapter.
[1] Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff, The Rav: The World of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Volume Two (Ktav 1999), p. 13
Shmuel Lesher is a Machon Beren Kollel Elyon fellow at Yeshiva University (RIETS). Previously he served as the rabbinic intern at Congregation Ahavas Achim (Highland Park, New Jersey) for two years. He received rabbinic ordination from the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (RIETS). He is currently pursuing a Master’s Degree in Mental Health Counseling at the Ferkauf School of Psychology. Rabbi Lesher lives in Washington Heights, Manhattan with his wife Leora and three children.
