Memory Lane: R’ Pesach (Pacy) Feldman

He was an accomplished architect who made Shuls and Mosdos haTorah his priority. He was a pillar of the Mirer Minyan, beloved and respected by the “alte Mirers” who davened there, even though he was a kid from East New York. And when he and his childhood friend, Rav Aaron Shechter of Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin, would meet up, they were just Pesach and Aaron from East New York.

Standing Strong

Pacy came from humble beginnings. Like so many who were born in America of the 1920’s, the family immigrated from Russia in the early 1900s, escaping the poverty and the persecution that were their lot back then. His father, Reb Yaakov Koppel Feldman, came as a young boy, the family originated from a village near Stolin.. Pacy would always relate with pride that his father had played violin with the Stoliner Rebbe’s sons in their hometown. Coincidentally, the house that the Feldmans later bought in Boro Park was the first Stoliner Shul in Boro Park.

When the Feldman family came to the United States, they were given a tract of land in Woodbine, New Jersey from Baron De Hirsch Agricultural Society. Country life did not suit them, so they moved to East New York, and opened a dry goods store. It was there that Pacy and his sister grew up. The family was staunch in their adherence to Shabbos, and Pesach grew up in this tradition. He would attend the after-school Talmud Torah, and always gravitated to other boys who were proud of their Yiddishkeit, joining the Young Israel of New Lots which had a more yeshivish crowd. From a young age, he always sought to surround himself with Talmidei Chachamim, and he would do so throughout his life, whether in Brownsville and East New York, to the many Roshei Yeshiva he dealt with over the decades, or the great talmidei chachomim from the Mirer Minyan.

Lifelong Learner

A lifelong learner, he wanted to continue his growth in Yiddishkeit and his proximity to Torah and lomdei Torah. He found an ingenious way of accomplishing this by combining his career with learning. He became an expert in designing shuls, yeshivos and mikvaos. In this way he was helpful to many yeshivos and connected to many Roshei Yeshivos. Many Yeshiva administrators from those days recall the generosity with which he would lend his advice and expertise. They all recognized the aidelkeit in him and his sincere helpful manner. He made himself available to anyone and everyone who needed his advice.

“He was a true eved Hashem,” relates a daughter. “He wore his shirt and tie every single day well into his 90’s because he always said, ‘if I wore a suit and tie to meetings all my years as an architect, shouldn’t I also dress formally when speaking to Hashem?’ He was a stalwart soldier. He never missed a minyan, no matter the weather, and his davening was slow and deliberate, contemplating each and every word. His Krias Shema was likewise heartfelt, and sounded as if he was actually begging Hashem to please give him more days to do mitzvos. He accepted everything with a smile— because this was Hashem’s plan for him. He even saw his condition of spinal stenosis as an opportunity for forced retirement and more time for learning. These were his priorities: davening, learning, tzedaka and of course family,” she recalled.

For all his seriousness in avodas Hashem, he was extremely warm and endearing, and always had a twinkle in his eye. He was an exceptional father, husband, and grandfather, and he connected with each child and grandchild on his or her level. He delighted in his family’s closeness, and this is how he spent his retirement; surrounded by family, engrossed in his learning and davening.

He was niftar during the early days of the coronavirus pandemic, in the month of Nissan, with no opportunity for a big levaya or hespedim—which is exactly the way this humble giant would have wanted it.