This interview with Yitzchak Mordechai Brach turned into one of the most profound and vulnerable conversations I’ve ever had. He runs the Yereim Orthodox Chapel in Williamsburg. He also runs a matzeivah business and has become a trusted source to whom people turn after the passing of a loved one.
Yitzchak Mordechai is at the heart of Jewish funeral work, and he provides A-to-Z services and support for families.
His business is a difficult one. It involves people at their most vulnerable times having to deal with a financial aspect of death that most of us don’t want to think about.
We talked about what it’s really like to do this sacred work, about feeling a “little meshuga” when dealing with grief, and having to be there for families at their absolute lowest moments, often with no warning. It was truly eye-opening. I hope you gain as much from the conversation as I did.
—Nesanel
I was born and raised in Williamsburg. I got married here and have lived here for the past 54 years. As a child, I went to Spinka for six or seven years, and then I moved to Satmar because my father was a Satmar chasid. My father started out working at a company making plastic coverings for couches and chairs. In 1986, he and my uncle Mordche bought the Yereim Orthodox Chapel. The slipcover company had told him they were closing down because they weren’t making money, and when this opportunity came up, he took it. I was still a bachur, so I didn’t do taharos, but I used to help him pick up meisim from the hospital.
“I wasn’t so sensitive to death back then. I’m actually more sensitive now, after tens of thousands of cases. Of course, some affect me more than others. But at that time, I was 15 and not a serious learner—and to me, it was almost fun. But as I got older, had my own family and began to understand what life really is, it started to affect me differently.
“I got married when I was 20 and learned in kollel. My father paid me $20 an hour. But after a year, I told him that sitting in kollel wasn’t worth it unless I was earning $60 an hour, so I left. I worked for two months at Eisner Brothers in Manhattan—they sold casual clothing. After that, I worked in kashrus for Torah-K and Menorah-K for about five or six years. When I needed a raise, I got one, but they cut my hours. So I ended up earning the same, and it wasn’t a parnasah. Then, in November 1995, around Chanukah time, the worker who had been at Yereim for six years left. He’s now the shammas in the big Satmar shul. That day, I took over for him. I picked up meisim from the hospital, drove to the cemetery and went to the health department for paperwork. I did all the hands-on work.
“Working for my father was complicated. I was young, and I thought I was smarter than him. But the truth is that my father was a much better businessman than I am, even now. I felt like I was more in touch with the people, that I understood them better. Naturally, that led to disagreements. Eventually, my father and my uncle made me the manager. I got a raise, and I was doing work that most regular workers didn’t do, because I treated it like it was my own business. My father’s heart wasn’t well. He was still involved—he’d come in every day for a few hours—but he wasn’t running it like before. About six years later, he passed away. I stayed with the business, working together with my uncle.
“The chapel line of work is unpredictable. One week you’re working 24 hours a day, the next week there might be no levayahs, or just one. Sometimes it’s two slow weeks in a row. I was going crazy from the downtime, so I forced myself to make a seder. I found a chavrusa, and we’ve been learning together for 15 years now—an hour in the morning, an hour and a half in the afternoon. But even with that, I still had a lot of free time. Back in 2001, my father told me, ‘You need a part-time job—something to keep you busy; otherwise, you’ll go nuts.’ So I started working as a salesperson for matzeivos. I made a deal with someone: I brought in the business for him, he did the work, and I took a commission. By 2004, I went out on my own.
“There are only two or three factories that make matzeivos in the whole tri-state area. But I started doing everything myself—layouts, orders to the cemetery, rubber stencils, delivery. Everything. For example, when you called me just now, I was with a family. The shloshim is this Shabbos, and they want the matzeivah delivered to the kever in Long Island on Friday. I don’t yet have the nusach, no foundation, nothing—but it’ll be done. That’s how I operate.
“I also sell the metal candle boxes that are near kevarim. I had to start getting my own because the suppliers used to play games and things wouldn’t arrive on time. So now I stock all kinds.
“My motto is: If something needs to be done, it needs to be done now. No delays. That’s why, when it comes to complex cases, Reb Mendel Rosenberg of Chesed Shel Emes often tells people, ‘Call this rabbi—he’ll deliver.’
“I believe in getting ahead of things, because you never know what the next day will bring. For example, today is Wednesday. I have a body arriving from Mexico tomorrow at 2 p.m., and the levayah is scheduled for Friday at 10 a.m. But all the paperwork, permits, airport arrangements—everything—were already done yesterday. I never wait until the last minute. I also keep a full stock of every size of aron and tachrichim—tall, short, wide, whatever’s needed—so I’m always prepared. If someone passes away on Friday morning and Shabbos is at 4 p.m., you have to move fast. There’s no time to start running around. I keep at least two of every size in stock, and for an average of 50 levayahs a month, I maintain 150 sets of tachrichim.
“Call it OCD, but I’m always early. If a levayah is at 9:00 a.m., I’m there at 8:15, even if it means sitting in my car for 45 minutes.
“From a business perspective, getting things done quickly is more efficient. Things would get done regardless, but we would be scrambling, running and causing myself more stress than necessary in an already stressful business.
“My wife is an incredible help. She runs a lot of the business, and I can say that whenever I listen to her, I don’t regret it. The Gemara says that the key to becoming rich is listening to your wife. Women are calmer than men; they have a different way of thinking.
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