The Yanuka: The Genius Who Captivates the World
הרב שי טחןכד טבת, תשפו13/01/2026May we all be zocheh—merited—to encounter Torah leaders of such purity, humility, and love, and to be inspired by their example
תגיות:הינוקארבניםלימוד תורה
One of the greatest heavenly gifts bestowed upon our generation is the emergence of an extraordinary talmid chacham who possesses a comprehensive mastery of the entire Torah—Tanach, Mishnah, Gemara with all its commentaries, Rishonim and Acharonim, halachah, Kabbalah, Chassidut, and far beyond. In addition to his vast Torah knowledge, he is proficient in music and demonstrates broad worldly understanding as well.
This remarkable and rare phenomenon has become known as “the Yanuka.” The term yanuka in Aramaic means “a child,” and it echoes a concept already found in the Gemara. Chazal speak of a yanuka as a young child whose Torah insight is endowed with a special clarity and heavenly assistance, at times revealing depths that even seasoned sages did not immediately perceive.
The name of the Yanuka is Rabbi Shlomo Yehuda Be’eri. By now, he has already taken the Jewish world by storm—not only because of his vast and all-encompassing Torah knowledge, but also due to his unparalleled modesty and humility.
When one listens to him, the most striking quality is the simplicity and clarity with which he speaks. Profound ideas, spanning the deepest realms of Nigleh and Nistar, are conveyed with naturalness and calm, without embellishment or self-display. There is no sense of performance or grandeur; rather, his words flow with sincerity, gentleness, and an evident sense of responsibility toward those who listen.
In addition, the Yanuka has become widely known for the many miracles associated with him. These are not mere rumors or secondhand reports. Numerous accounts have been documented on video, with individuals openly testifying to what they personally experienced. These recordings are available for the entire world to see, serving as direct testimony from those whose lives were touched in extraordinary ways.
Yet, even in the face of such public attention and awe, what perhaps defines him most is his unwavering humility—his consistent effort to deflect honor away from himself and to direct hearts upward, toward emunah, tefillah, and attachment to the Ribbono shel Olam.
Another trait that the Yanuka possesses—one that is exceedingly rare—is his boundless love for every Jew. It makes no difference who stands before him: religious or secular, righteous or struggling. All are received with the same warmth, patience, and respect.
There are countless accounts that illustrate this quality. One can see a young secular girl coming before him in tears, sharing that she is being bullied at school. He listens attentively, spends a long time comforting her, strengthening her, and assuring her that she is precious and never alone. He promises to be there for her and, before she leaves, quietly asks that a small gift be bought for her—so that she departs uplifted not only in spirit, but in heart.
In another instance, a man approached him to apologize for having spoken disparagingly about him in the past. The Yanuka responded simply, saying that “the Yanuka does not exist,” and that therefore there is no one against whom to speak, nor any honor to trample upon. He addressed the man with such gentleness and sincerity that the man left transformed—overwhelmed not by shame, but by love.
These encounters reveal that beyond his brilliance and spiritual stature, what truly defines Rabbi Shlomo Yehuda Be’eri is a heart that embraces every Jew without condition, reflecting a living embodiment of “ואהבת לרעך כמוך” in its purest form.
Just as we find in this week’s parashah, when Moshe Rabbeinu approached the Jewish people and declared that he had been sent by Hashem to redeem them, not everyone immediately believed him. Although the majority accepted his words, there were those who were skeptical and doubtful.
So too in our time, there have emerged individuals who speak ill of the Yanuka, attempting to cast doubt upon him by highlighting matters they claim are not “kosher.” One example frequently cited is an audio recording from nearly eighteen years ago, in which the Yanuka—then only twenty years old—expressed a desire for wealth.
Let us examine this claim honestly. Is the desire for wealth inherently wrong? For someone whose life mission is to learn Torah and teach it to others, financial means can be a necessary tool—that enables independence, freedom from distraction, and the ability to devote oneself fully to Torah study and dissemination. Wealth, in such a context, is not an end, but a means.
And even if one were to argue that such a statement was ill-advised, it must be remembered that this recording dates back to his early years. People mature, perspectives change, and life experience reshapes priorities—especially after building a family and carrying responsibility for others.
Moreover, Chazal teach that even if one were to see a talmid chacham stumble at night, one should not harbor doubts about him the next morning, for he has certainly regretted his actions and done teshuvah. How much more so when we are dealing not with an actual sin, but with a statement taken out of its broader context.
Indeed, the Yanuka himself later explained that at that time he was under tremendous pressure and oppression from individuals who were jealous of him and sought to make his life difficult. His desire for financial stability stemmed from a need to gain independence—so that he could continue his Torah mission without interference, fear, or dependency.
Seen in this light, such claims not only lose their force, but instead underscore the resilience, sincerity, and clarity of purpose that have accompanied him throughout his journey.
Another claim raised is based on a class in which they allege that he stated that “Yoshka was a good man.” When I personally listened to that shiur, I was surprised to discover that barely a minute later he explicitly says that Yoshka may have begun as a good man but later became evil.
It appears that this crucial sentence was either deliberately omitted or simply ignored—perhaps because they were eager to stop listening the moment they thought they had finally “found something” against the Yanuka. Read in its full context, his words are clear and leave no room for the distortion that has been circulated.
But the greatest testimony to his greatness is the fact that, even after searching and scrutinizing for anything negative about him, they could not find anything substantial—even when going back two decades. The rule is always: if you want to understand the measure of a person’s greatness, listen to his opponents. If they cannot produce anything real or meaningful, that in itself speaks volumes about the purity and integrity of the individual.
The reason some speakers are raising concerns is obviously not because they genuinely believe there is anything wrong with the Yanuka, but rather out of jealousy. He suddenly emerged onto the stage, and with that, a new gadol arose—one who naturally drew attention and admiration, thereby diverting some of the spotlight from those who were accustomed to it.
Conclusion: In every generation, when a figure imbued with the true spirit of the Torah emerges—one whose greatness is joined with humility, love for every Jew, and purity of intent—voices of doubt and opposition inevitably arise. This is neither a new phenomenon nor a sign of failure; rather, it is part of the very process through which truth is tested and refined.
The Yanuka does not seek followers, praise, or defense. His words, his conduct, and his lifelong devotion to Torah speak for themselves. When Torah is taught with humility, when every Jew is embraced, and when personal honor is set aside for the sake of Heaven, the truth shines on its own—quietly, steadily, and enduringly.
May we all be zocheh—merited—to encounter Torah leaders of such purity, humility, and love, and to be inspired by their example. May their wisdom guide our hearts, strengthen our faith, and ignite in us a deeper commitment to Torah, mitzvot, and love of our fellow Jew. And may we merit to see generations illuminated by Torah giants, whose lives are a living testament to the truth, beauty, and light of Hashem’s world.
This remarkable and rare phenomenon has become known as “the Yanuka.” The term yanuka in Aramaic means “a
The name of the Yanuka is Rabbi Shlomo Yehuda Be’eri. By now, he has already taken the Jewish world by storm—not only because of his vast and all-encompassing Torah knowledge, but also due to his unparalleled modesty and humility.
When one listens to him, the most striking quality is the simplicity and clarity with which he speaks. Profound ideas, spanning the deepest realms of Nigleh and Nistar, are conveyed with naturalness and calm, without embellishment or self-display. There is no sense of performance or grandeur; rather, his words flow with sincerity, gentleness, and an evident sense of responsibility toward those who listen.
In addition, the Yanuka has become widely known for the many miracles associated with him. These are not mere rumors or secondhand reports. Numerous accounts have been documented on video, with individuals openly testifying to what they personally experienced. These recordings are available for the entire world to see, serving as direct testimony from those whose lives were touched in extraordinary ways.
Yet, even in the face of such public attention and awe, what perhaps defines him most is his unwavering humility—his consistent effort to deflect honor away from himself and to direct hearts upward, toward emunah, tefillah, and attachment to the Ribbono shel Olam.
Another trait that the Yanuka possesses—one that is exceedingly rare—is his boundless love for every Jew. It makes no difference who stands before him: religious or secular, righteous or struggling. All are received with the same warmth, patience, and respect.
There are countless accounts that illustrate this quality. One can see a young secular girl coming before him in tears, sharing that she is being bullied at school. He listens attentively, spends a long time comforting her, strengthening her, and assuring her that she is precious and never alone. He promises to be there for her and, before she leaves, quietly asks that a small gift be bought for her—so that she departs uplifted not only in spirit, but in heart.
In another instance, a man approached him to apologize for having spoken disparagingly about him in the past. The Yanuka responded simply, saying that “the Yanuka does not exist,” and that therefore there is no one against whom to speak, nor any honor to trample upon. He addressed the man with such gentleness and sincerity that the man left transformed—overwhelmed not by shame, but by love.
These encounters reveal that beyond his brilliance and spiritual stature, what truly defines Rabbi Shlomo Yehuda Be’eri is a heart that embraces every Jew without condition, reflecting a living embodiment of “ואהבת לרעך כמוך” in its purest form.
Just as we find in this week’s parashah, when Moshe Rabbeinu approached the Jewish people and declared that he had been sent by Hashem to redeem them, not everyone immediately believed him. Although the majority accepted his words, there were those who were skeptical and doubtful.
So too in our time, there have emerged individuals who speak ill of the Yanuka, attempting to cast doubt upon him by highlighting matters they claim are not “kosher.” One example frequently cited is an audio recording from nearly eighteen years ago, in which the Yanuka—then only twenty years old—expressed a desire for wealth.
Let us examine this claim honestly. Is the desire for wealth inherently wrong? For someone whose life mission is to learn Torah and teach it to others, financial means can be a necessary tool—that enables independence, freedom from distraction, and the ability to devote oneself fully to Torah study and dissemination. Wealth, in such a context, is not an end, but a means.
And even if one were to argue that such a statement was ill-advised, it must be remembered that this recording dates back to his early years. People mature, perspectives change, and life experience reshapes priorities—especially after building a family and carrying responsibility for others.
Moreover, Chazal teach that even if one were to see a talmid chacham stumble at night, one should not harbor doubts about him the next morning, for he has certainly regretted his actions and done teshuvah. How much more so when we are dealing not with an actual sin, but with a statement taken out of its broader context.
Indeed, the Yanuka himself later explained that at that time he was under tremendous pressure and oppression from individuals who were jealous of him and sought to make his life difficult. His desire for financial stability stemmed from a need to gain independence—so that he could continue his Torah mission without interference, fear, or dependency.
Seen in this light, such claims not only lose their force, but instead underscore the resilience, sincerity, and clarity of purpose that have accompanied him throughout his journey.
Another claim raised is based on a class in which they allege that he stated that “Yoshka was a good man.” When I personally listened to that shiur, I was surprised to discover that barely a minute later he explicitly says that Yoshka may have begun as a good man but later became evil.
It appears that this crucial sentence was either deliberately omitted or simply ignored—perhaps because they were eager to stop listening the moment they thought they had finally “found something” against the Yanuka. Read in its full context, his words are clear and leave no room for the distortion that has been circulated.
But the greatest testimony to his greatness is the fact that, even after searching and scrutinizing for anything negative about him, they could not find anything substantial—even when going back two decades. The rule is always: if you want to understand the measure of a person’s greatness, listen to his opponents. If they cannot produce anything real or meaningful, that in itself speaks volumes about the purity and integrity of the individual.
The reason some speakers are raising concerns is obviously not because they genuinely believe there is anything wrong with the Yanuka, but rather out of jealousy. He suddenly emerged onto the stage, and with that, a new gadol arose—one who naturally drew attention and admiration, thereby diverting some of the spotlight from those who were accustomed to it.
Conclusion: In every generation, when a figure imbued with the true spirit of the Torah emerges—one whose greatness is joined with humility, love for every Jew, and purity of intent—voices of doubt and opposition inevitably arise. This is neither a new phenomenon nor a sign of failure; rather, it is part of the very process through which truth is tested and refined.
The Yanuka does not seek followers, praise, or defense. His words, his conduct, and his lifelong devotion to Torah speak for themselves. When Torah is taught with humility, when every Jew is embraced, and when personal honor is set aside for the sake of Heaven, the truth shines on its own—quietly, steadily, and enduringly.
May we all be zocheh—merited—to encounter Torah leaders of such purity, humility, and love, and to be inspired by their example. May their wisdom guide our hearts, strengthen our faith, and ignite in us a deeper commitment to Torah, mitzvot, and love of our fellow Jew. And may we merit to see generations illuminated by Torah giants, whose lives are a living testament to the truth, beauty, and light of Hashem’s world.
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