My Spiritual Crush on Rabbi Sholom Ber Lipskar

By Moishe Shemtov – Life Coach and Marriage Therapist

I’ve never shared this with anyone before, but I have a crush—a spiritual crush. Yes, you heard that right. Someone whose spiritual prowess and conviction I deeply admire, someone whose journey, struggles, and victories have inspired me. His name is Rabbi Sholom Ber Lipskar—a man larger than life—and he just passed away.

Oddly enough, he probably didn’t even remember I existed, yet he made a huge impact on my life.

The first time he touched my life, I wasn’t happy about it. I was eleven years old. My parents—Shluchim in Uruguay—were invited by Rabbi Lipskar to speak at his shul in Bal Harbour, Florida, for a “Spanish-speaking Shabbaton.” They left us (in very capable hands) for about a week, and I missed them terribly. I was furious. One day, I vowed, I’d tell Rabbi Lipskar just how upset I was.

Fast forward three years: I was a teenager heading off to the Chabad Yeshiva in Detroit. Before I left, we spent Shabbat at Rabbi Lipskar’s home in Bal Harbour. By then, I’d forgiven and forgotten my earlier gripe—and, as guests, we were treated with incredible warmth and care.

But there’s one moment from that Shabbat afternoon meal I’ll never forget. After a busy, uplifting day at the shul, Rabbi Lipskar—looking exhausted—welcomed us around his table. He announced that in his home, every guest must contribute something to the meal: a song, a dvar Torah, or a “hachlata” (a personal resolution to grow in a mitzvah).

My heart sank. I was painfully shy and just wanted to disappear. When it came to my turn, he looked right at me and gently asked, “Nu, Moishe, how would you like to contribute?”

Desperate, I chose the hachlata route.

“What’s your Hachlata?” he asked.

I admitted, “Honestly, I don’t have one. Do you have any recommendations?”

He paused, then asked, “Have you ever done Shenaiim mikra v’echad targum (שְׁנַיִם מִקְרָא וְאֶחָד תַּרְגּוּם)?” He explained: Twice in Hebrew (Mikra): Read each aliyah of the parashah two times. Once in Aramaic (Targum): Read the corresponding section in Targum Onkelos once.

I’d heard of it but never tried it. He suggested I commit to it for the coming year. Intrigued, I agreed—and I kept up the practice for over three years.

That simple suggestion changed everything. For years afterward, whenever I needed patience with someone “who added no value to my life,” I’d recall Rabbi Lipskar treating me with such respect, like an adult. His example guided me to channel that kindness in my own interactions.

That wasn’t our last meeting. A few years later, I was a young adult at a farbrengen at the Ohel, surrounded by rabbis and mashpi’im—including Rabbi Lipskar. In the midst of it all, I saw him pull out a notepad, jot down a few lines, then slip it into his pocket. When a rabbi asked what he was writing, Rabbi Lipskar said, “A thought popped into my mind, and I didn’t want to forget it—but I also wanted to be fully present here.” Wow. Powerful. Real. Pnimiyus (inner depth).

As the Frierdiker Rebbe said, “A Chossid, vu er ligt, ligt er in gantzen”—“A Chossid, wherever he is, is there fully.”

Now you see why Rabbi Sholom Ber Lipskar was my spiritual crush.

In the wake of his passing, I find myself reflecting on those moments—the unexpected lessons, the gentle challenges, the way a stranger’s kindness can become a lifelong guidepost. Rabbi Lipskar taught me that true leadership isn’t about grand gestures or public accolades, but about the small acts of seeing someone, believing in them, and nudging them toward growth.

Today, every time I open my chumash, I think of that shy eleven‑year‑old boy and the resolution that changed his world: Sh’neiim Mikra v’echad Targum. And every time I find myself distracted or impatient, I remember the notepad in Rabbi Lipskar’s pocket and the reminder to remain fully present—wherever I am, whoever I’m with.

We lost a giant. I suggest you pay attention to stories that are going to come out of Rabbi Lipsker making others feel like giants. He embodied spiritual confidence. And when you have spiritual confidence, you empower others to tap into theirs.

May G-d comfort the Lipsker family, and his community at The Shul of Bal Harbour.