Chana Brauser Shestack Tribute to Rav Kahn

Chana Brauser Shestack

It doesn’t feel like there is space to say more about my Rebbe, Rav Kahn zt”l. Truly, though, I feel a prerogative, as one of the students lucky enough to have learned from him and been privy to the glory of his connection to our mesorah, to share a bit about what made Rav Kahn a gadol, at least from my personal experience. And while there’s been a chorus of beautiful eulogies, I thought it was worthwhile for me to post my reflections here to both add to the chorus in appreciation of my Rebbe and to post on social media in the event I’m reaching people in my circles who haven’t yet been introduced to Rav Kahn. 

When I first began learning gemara, it was in Rav Kahn’s intermediate gemara shiur in the fall semester of my senior year at Stern College. I had never before learned gemara beyond a quick scan at a source on a source sheet and to say I was intimidated would be an understatement. I remember feeling, too, like I wasn’t sure if my place was among the women I had seen learning with him, the fellow Stern students (and especially the scary GPATS ladies!!) whose voices filled the Beit Midrash with a chorus of learning and laughter and whose connection to Rav Kahn seemed so out of my reach. Wouldn’t I need to do more to be admitted into the hallowed ranks of these gemara students? Didn’t it matter that I hadn’t learned gemara in high school or in seminary or even in college? Could it really be as simple as registering for the Intermediate Gemara shiur in the fall of 2013? 

It was that simple. And also, it was one of the hardest things I had ever done. To be honest, before deciding to enroll in his shiur, I didn’t know if I would “like” learning gemara or even if I “should” be learning gemara. If I should be, and if I would have liked it, then why wasn’t it offered to me earlier? Why should I have to wait until my senior year of Stern when, influenced frankly by my new husband’s Gemara studies at RIETS and a sense that I had yet to discover my own chelek in Torah, I should have to seek it out myself? It felt strange to be knocking on the door and asking to be let in. If I was meant to be there, wouldn’t 12+ years of yeshiva day school education have already let me in? 

I didn’t have to knock that hard. Thanks to the years of work Rav Kahn (and other Rebbeim, teachers, and administrators) had put in at Stern College, there was a seat for me ready and waiting in the Intermediate Gemara shiur. I took it. 

It was scary. It was so challenging. But it was also one of the most rewarding ways of learning Torah I had ever engaged in. Once I got started, I knew I wanted more. I remember when I asked Rav Kahn what he thought about me taking Advanced Gemara in my last semester at Stern. Could I do it? Was I welcome after only one semester ever under my belt? He encouraged me, welcomed me, told me this learning was mine to take, as long as I worked hard. Actually, I think I ended up auditing the class, since by that point I did not need any more Judaic Studies credits. Looking back, I never treated the class like my grade didn’t count. Actually, the special thing was, Rav Kahn was somehow able to make us all feel like it wasn’t the grade that counted. It was the amelus b’Torah, the work of sweating over the sugya, of memorizing hundreds of Aramaic terms, of remembering to look up every Gemara cited by Rashi and Tosfos, every time, that Rav Kahn emphasized and that he somehow motivated so many of us to do. 

When I returned a year later to resume learning Gemara in GPATs, I battled tremendous imposter syndrome, wondering once more if I deserved to be sitting in his shiur, if I deserved to have my own makom in the Beit Midrash, if my chavrusa deserved better? I realized rather quickly that rather than spend any of my time entertaining these fears, Rav Kahn asked only that I work as hard as I could, that I try my absolute best each seder and each shiur. My best was good enough because it had to be, because it could be - for Rav Kahn, all of us were welcome into the world of Torah. He made sure we felt comfortable - with his calm manner, his warm and genuine efforts to check in on how we were doing, his bright smile when we explained something well - but not too comfortable. Part of his gadlus was in his ability to push us beyond what we had dreamed possible and frankly, beyond where many of us (myself included) dreamed we were welcome, wanted, or belonged.Those years were difficult, but whenever I doubted myself, I propped myself up with what I understood to be the truth: Rav Kahn believed in me and in all of us. 

I really don’t need to spend time sharing more of Rav Kahn’s pedagogical style, since there are many teachers out there, well-equipped from years of his tutelage and years of their own teaching, whom I feel grateful to knowing that they can carry on as links in Rav Kahn’s esteemed mesorah. 

I am overwhelmed by the loss of my Rebbe, by the loss of someone of his caliber quietly caring about and committing himself day in and day out to the advancement of women’s Torah learning and to welcoming women into the halls of the Beit Midrash, into the words of our Mesorah. 

When my second daughter Nava was born right before my graduation from GPATS in 2017, my classmates bought her an adorable onesie that said “My Mommy Learns Gemara. I will too. GPATS 2040.” It’s heartbreaking to know that none of my girls will ever learn from Rav Kahn. At the same time, I cannot help but be humbled to have been a part of the lucky hundreds who learned directly from him and place my hope in the thousands of women who have been impacted by his teaching to work towards carrying on his Mesorah. It’s thanks to Rav Kahn that if my girls do indeed want to learn Gemara (and I hope they will, and be presented with many opportunities to do so) they will, too. 

Yehi Zichro baruch. 

(Chana is a maternal mental health psychotherapist.)