The first time I met Rabbi Nota Schiller zt"l was in his office at Yeshiva Ohr Somayach, then housed in an apartment building in Yerushalayim. I was in my twenties, eager to establish my career in writing, acting, and producing in Eretz Yisrael—while also preparing for my army service. But as my podcast followers know, Hashem had bigger plans.
I had come to his office to learn how to don my newly purchased tefillin, acquired from a Belzer chassid. I had chosen Ohr Somayach because I had heard it offered a broader path for curious but not yet committed Jews like myself to explore Torah. Rabbi Nota, youthful yet deeply thoughtful, was eloquent and laser-focused. He offered me a scholarship, room and board, and an experience that made me reconsider my plans. I intended to stay for two months. I stayed for two years. Those years laid the foundation for a life steeped in Torah, b'chasdei Hashem.
When this indefatigable, rock-steady Torah visionary was niftar on Shabbos Kodesh Parshas Tetzaveh, thousands of talmidim like myself could not hold back the floodgates of tears. The world he enriched and transformed would never be the same.
"This Is Your Conscience Calling"
After a year at Ohr Somayach, I returned home to visit my family. It was familiar, comfortable. My mother kashered the house, making it easy for me to keep Shabbos. I began contemplating staying—launching my career, settling down. Then, before dawn, the phone rang.
A deep, resonant voice with a New York twang said,
"This is your conscience calling."
It was R' Nota.
"It must be a long-distance call," I quipped.
"Peretz'l, when are you coming back?"
It was a rhetorical question. No further prodding was needed. My parents, aleihem ha'shalom, were disappointed but supportive. They asked only that I put my talents to employable use, which, thanks to the yeshivah and its faculty’s recommendations, baruch Hashem, I did.
Like many alumni, I maintained a kesher with R' Nota over the years—through visits, mentor missions, and y**eshivah events. At one of Ohr Somayach’s first major dinners, R' Nota zt"l wrote a monologue about a young, assimilated Jew standing by his grandfather’s grave, reflecting on his return to Torah. He wrote it for me, and I delivered it to an overflowing audience. It was the performance of a lifetime.
The monologue closed with these words:
"I heard you were a talmid chacham, Grandpa. I want to promise you something. I hope and pray that the great-grandson Mom and Dad worried about—whether we’d still be Jews—I'll name him after you. I’ll call him Yaakov. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll also be a talmid chacham, Grandpa."
Today, as fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers, we say:
"Thank you, Reb Nota. Yehi zichro baruch."
A Legacy That Endures
But it wasn't easy.
Once, R' Yaakov Serle of the Queens Jewish Link and his son Shmuel encountered R' Nota in Mattersdorf and asked how the yeshivah was fairing. His reply was classic R' Nota—undiluted wit and wisdom:
"We thrive on adversity," he said with a wry smile.
And thrive they have. Ohr Somayach continues to light up the world, carrying forward the illumination, passion, and love of Torah that R' Nota held high.
By Reb Peretz B. Eichler
