From Teveria, Rabbanit Leah Kook spreads authenticity and faith

Photos: Ayala Shooter

Women come from all over Israel, from all over the world, to the bustling house in Teveria where an exuberant Rabbanit Leah Kook dispenses brachos, advice and love

The Tehillim reverberating from the stairwell is the first indication we’ve arrived at our destination.

Rhythmic yet precise, the pesukim escort us up the stairs and through an unpretentious, heavy wooden door. Wall-to-wall across the perimeter of a narrow room sits a motley cross-section of Judaism: women with tightly wound scarves and modest skirts sit shoulder to shoulder beside women in pants. A single girl in demure braids shares a Tehillim with a women balancing a baby on her knee. Most are participating, singing, tapping and clapping along to a jaunty rendition of Sefer Tehillim.

“Shalom,” I call, “We're from Mishpacha magazine!” An older woman leading the Tehillim immediately fixes her watery blue gaze on me and Mishpacha photographer Ayala Shooter and declares, “You’re here for an interview? Only after we finish. We have five perakim left.”

Chastened, I seat myself next to a middle-aged blonde woman scrolling on her phone. Someone nudges a Tehillim my way and beckons toward the blonde woman, “Show her where we are.” Dutifully, I find the place, fingering the words along with others.

“Shabechi Yerushalayim et Hashem, Halleli—” The cadence shifts as the older woman leading the group trills the words and the chanting abruptly morphs to melody. “Who is that?” I question, motioning her way.

“That’s Shosh, the mashbakit [meshameshet bakodesh, or attendant],” someone explains. “She’s in charge of the Rabbanit’s kabbalat kahal.”

“And why are you here?” I ask, angling for more information.

“Because here, we see miracles.”

From Sunday through Thursday, Rabbanit Leah Kook’s home in Teveria is the port of call for hundreds of women from across Israel and beyond. Reception hours begin at 5:30 p.m., but many women arrive earlier to secure their place on a line that often snakes down the stairwell to the street below. Many petitioners are regulars who are part of the Rabbanit’s Teveria community, while some come from as far as Australia seeking advice, brachos, guidance, or to simply unburden their heavy hearts. Stories circulate of the salvation her brachos secured, and of the literally lifesaving advice she’s proffered. The women in the waiting room are here because of something that’s not quite right in their lives, something they believe the Rabbanit will be a conduit to fix.

Rabbanit Kook embodies Torah royalty. Born in 1959, she is the eldest daughter of Rav Yitzchak Zilberstein, a renowned talmid chacham and Torah personality, and Shoshana Aliza, the daughter of Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv. Her ancestors include Rav Aryeh Levin and the noted mekubal the Leshem. Her husband, Rav Dov Kook, a preeminent talmid chacham in his own right, is among the leading kabbalists of our generation.

“When the Rabbanit’s parents were first married, they lived at the home of her grandfather, Rav Elyashiv, on Rechov Chanan,” explains Rav Gedalia, the Kooks’ tenth child and family historian. “This arrangement served a dual purpose, because in those days, the poverty was so crushing, people literally didn’t have a slice of bread to eat. The Zilbersteins were too poor to live on their own, so they lived with the Elyashivs. Rav Zilberstein wanted to maximize the opportunity to learn from his illustrious father-in-law, and what better method of shimush than to actually live together under the same roof!”

In an oft-cited account, Rav Zilberstein asked the Rabbanit, his eldest daughter, to give him a brachah. “The story goes that one night, Rav Zilberstein awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of crying,” Reb Gedalia relates. “He found his father-in-law, Rav Elyashiv, at the table in front of a Gemara. At his feet was a crate lined in rags, with baby Leah, my mother, inside. This was the only form of ‘cradle’ they could afford. Rav Elyashiv was rocking the crate with his feet, singing the words of Gemara to his iconic niggun. As he learned, he sang to my mother in Yiddish, ‘be a tzaddeikes, don’t awaken your mother and father, you’ll have a mitzvah!’

“Rav Zilberstein told his daughter, ‘You have something I don’t, you were rocked by Rav Elyashiv! You are his zera, I am not. Give me a brachah!’”