Queens felt a profound and immediate loss this past Friday – a quiet, collective ache that spread through Kew Gardens, Kew Gardens Hills, and beyond, as word of the passing of Mrs. Binah (bas Shlomo) Kasirer a”h began to circulate. To many, she was far more than a respected educator or neighbor; she was a woman whose spiritual strength, emotional resilience, and unwavering emunah shaped the lives of thousands. Her presence carried a rare inner radiance – the kind of light that remains with you long after she left the room.
Mrs. Kasirer was niftar on Thursday, November 13. She was the daughter-in-law of Rebbetzin Gloria Kasirer, who, together with the wider family, now feels the weight of this profound loss. Her l’vayah at Schwartz Brothers-Jeffer Funeral Home drew an extraordinary crowd. Both main chapel rooms filled immediately, hallways and corridors overflowed, and hundreds more gathered outside along Queens Boulevard. More than a thousand mourners in total came to pay honor to her memory.
My own connection to the Kasirer family began in the 1990s, when I was privileged to be a student in her husband Rabbi Hersh Kasirer’s sixth-grade class at Yeshiva Tiferes Moshe. Through his legendary “Gold Club,” I encountered Morah Binah often, and even then, her warmth, sincerity, and depth made a lasting impression. Similarly, my sister Elisheva experienced her as a BYQ parshah and y’dios klaliyos teacher – another chapter in the countless stories of students, neighbors, and families uplifted by the Kasirers.
The community’s grief was palpable. Rabbi Aryeh Sokoloff, Rabbi Emeritus of Kew Gardens Synagogue, remarked, “A sadness has descended upon Queens,” and it was clear everywhere: Shevach High School, grocery stores, shuls, and sidewalks. Some students nearly fainted when hearing the news. Alumnae from Lakewood, Baltimore, and Eretz Yisrael reached out to one another in disbelief.
A deeper understanding of Morah Binah emerged through the hespeidim. “Most people who endure her level of suffering do not smile like she did.” Her joy was not natural or effortless; it was built – carefully, consciously – through years of avodah. “Every day Hashem gave her, she turned into growth.” She carried her pain with dignity, masking a lifetime of internal battles behind genuine warmth and gratitude.
Rabbi Paysach Krohn, a dear friend, noted orator and best-selling author, recounted one of the most powerful stories of her early life. During her engagement, devastating medical news was delivered. Present were towering rabbanim, including Rav Henoch Leibowitz zt”l, Rosh HaYeshivah of Chofetz Chaim, Rabbi Sheinberg, and Dr. Feinberg. After hearing the prognosis, Rav Henoch turned to Rabbi Hersh and asked, “What do you want to do?” Without hesitation, he answered, “I want to marry her.” Rav Henoch replied, “If that is your decision, marry her – and you will build a family.”
And they did. Eight children. Generations of students and grandchildren. A home infused with Torah, chesed, music, and unwavering authenticity. A home built not despite difficulty, but through it.
Rabbi Krohn then turned to the Torah’s description of the creation of woman – Vayiven Hashem es ha’tzela – “Hashem built the side.” Chazal teach that this reflects binah y’seirah, a deeper intuitive understanding gifted uniquely to women. “Queens,” he said, “was given a binah – a Binah.” Despite every prediction, she lived decades longer than expected, inspiring and uplifting everyone around her.
Her career as an educator at the Bais Yaakov of Queens spanned nearly 40 years, and she was beloved by generations of BYQ students – but her teaching extended far beyond lesson plans. She taught her students how to live with Hashem, how to grow, and how to navigate challenges with grace. Even the day before her passing, she asked, “Which girl needs more care tomorrow?” Teaching wasn’t a job; it was her avodah, her calling.
Her home reflected the same devotion. Rabbi Hersh described her instinctive drive to help: She didn’t weigh whether she could manage. She simply said yes. She cooked according to others’ preferences, opened her home even when in pain, and elevated Shabbos with love and sincerity. “I do this for Shabbos,” she would say.
Her children recalled her joyous Purim songs, her beloved JBL speaker, her emotional connection to z’miros, and her ability to perceive Hashem’s presence even in the hospital – smiling when assigned Room 18 and saying, “Chai – Hashem is telling me He’s here.”
Their hespeidim offered the deepest window into Morah Binah’s soul. They spoke of her refusal to complain, her ability to find meaning in every challenge, and her unwavering trust in Hashem. They remembered how she delighted in a 111-page family memory book, how she cherished a simple game they played just days before her passing, and how she often said, “Every challenge comes with a gift. Hashem doesn’t overload.” Her youngest said, “You raised me. You taught me what it means to be a mentch. You put Hashem on my lips.”
Her son-in-law Rabbi Yoni Galili offered a powerful Torah perspective, referencing the Gemara that teaches that each person must account for how he or she lived despite the circumstances. “Binah,” he said, “will stand before the Kisei HaKavod, and if someone says that he or she suffered too much to live with Torah, she will answer: ‘Were you more afflicted than I was?’ Look what she built. Look how she lived.”
Tributes from friends, students, colleagues, and family painted an even fuller picture. Staff member Shayna Brown described how teachers would vie to check the eighth grade in her classroom – just to absorb her wisdom. Former classmates remembered her quiet chesed, such as lending clothing for yearbook photos. Friends like Atara Bin-Nun wrote about her teaching others to appreciate Hashem’s world and imagined her now embracing the Shechinah.
Students spoke of her constant smile. Her sheitel-macher, Aliza Itenberg, described how Morah Binah’s influence inspired her to elevate her own Shabbos table. Devori Muskat called her a living eishes chayil, accepting yisurim b’ahavah. Leah Sarah Chusid remembered her “smile lines painted across her holy face,” calling her “best friends with Hashem.” Her brother Marshall added a deeply personal tribute to her joy, wisdom, and devotion – qualities inherited from their parents, Rabbi Solomon Silberberg z”l and Arline Silberberg a”h.
Each memory – whether shared by family, student, friend, or colleague – revealed a consistent truth: Beyond her decades in BYQ, her 25 years as part of the Camp Dora Golding family, alongside Rabbi Hersh’s role as Assistant Learning Director, shaped countless campers and staff who still cherish her warmth and sincerity. Morah Binah touched people in deep, lasting, and profoundly personal ways.
Mrs. Kasirer lived a life defined by faith, resilience, humility, and kindness. Her message to her students – “Don’t worry about my picture. Carry me in your heart” – captured her essence. Her loss is immeasurable, but so is her legacy. And one of her final teachings, shared with those closest to her, was that Sarah Imeinu did not die from the shock of the Akeidah, but rather because it was simply her time – a reminder that every neshamah leaves this world at the exact moment Hashem, in His perfect wisdom, decrees. Queens lost a giant. Klal Yisrael gained an advocate in Shamayim.
May her memory be a blessing, and may her family be comforted among the aveilei Tzion viYerushalayim.
T’hei nishmasah tz’rurah bi’tzror ha’chayim.
