כיון שמת אהרון ונתעלם מהם ירדו משה ואלעזר והיו כל ישראל עומדין וחרדין ומצפין לראות מפני שהיה אוהב שלום ורודף שלום – ילק"ש רמז תשפ"ז. הלל אומר: הוי מתלמידיו של אהרן, אוהב שלום ורודף שלום, אוהב את הבריות ומקרבן לתורה – אבות פ"א מי"ב. The death of Aaron, recorded in this morning’s Sidra, is described in stirring and dramatic detail in the Midrash. The people mourned for Aaron even more than they later did for Moses, for Aaron was a man who loved peace and pursued peace. It was an eternal tribute to the first High Priest of Israel that Hillel bade us regard ourselves as the disciples of Aaron by emulating his noble qualities. They are four in number, and deserve to be spelled out clearly for all of us who so earnestly desire the ideals Aaron cherished. Ohev shalom. To the man who is ambitious and opportunistic, peace is only a truce, a poor second-best to total victory for his own ruthless pursuits. In order to be a disciple of Aaron, you must not seek peace merely for its utilitarian value, not merely because it is the best arrangement under the conditions that prevail, but because you love peace, because peace is the normal, most desirable state of the world. One of God’s names is: Shalom. Shalom is a positive virtue in its own right, not merely the absence of strife. Hence, one must not only hate war but love peace. Peace is the kind of harmony that leads to perfection; Shalom leads to shalem. Rodef shalom. To pursue peace means not to be satisfied with finding it, but actively to engage in seeking it out, in creating it where it is lacking. Aaron was a pursuer of peace. The Rabbis tell of Aaron going first to one antagonist and then to the other and telling each how the other regrets the state of enmity and wishes that bygones would be bygones. As a result of his active efforts, peace would reign. There is yet another explanation of this felicitous phrase given by a Hasidic teacher. Peace, he says, is a virtue only when it unites decent people with each other. But …

I shall never forget the first time I met Benjamin Gottesman. It was 33 years and one month ago. I was at the end of my freshman year at Yeshiva College, and had just been appointed a "Gottesman Scholar." At that occasion, I met Ben and the late Herman, and possibly a few other members of the family. Thereafter, for many years, I participated in or presided at the study of Mishnayot with the Gottesman family at the occasion of the yahrzeit of their father, the late Mendel Gottesman.My first impression of Ben Gottesman left me a bit overawed. He first struck me as a man who was rather forbidding: tall, erect, deep- set and penetrating eyes, and firm. Yet, as our relationship developed, I learned that his strength had a tender underside, his dignity was mellowed with charm, his distinguished mien was softened by a crinkly smile. He could be persistent, even stubborn, I learned — but never unreasonable. Above all, he was remarkably human.What most inspired me about him was the depth of his filial devo- tion. He revered his father in a way that is, unfortunately, not very common nowadays. He had a sense of family and family tradition that provided for him the context for his own moral and psychological life. Ben hallowed the name "Gottesman" in his many benefactions at Yeshiva University, in his support of the family's favorite kollel in Jerusalem, in the Sarah Gottesman Synagogue at the Hadassah Hos- pital on Mount Scopus, and in the various charities distributed through the Tree of Life Foundation founded by Mendel Gottesman.It is hard to believe that we are now saying farewell to Ben, the last of the four Gottesman brothers. Unlike some people who leave im- pressions that are somewhat dim and uncertain, he cut a clear figure. The contours of his personality were well-defined and well marked. And we shall therefore miss him all the more.Ben Gottesman reminded me of one Biblical personality above all others — that of Ezra. Ezra was the one who led the Jews back to the…