by Rabbi Moshe Martin Levin

Žilvinas Beliauskas WAS ALWAYS:

Tall and handsome;
Brilliant and articulate;
Talking in long sentences without taking a breath;
He always listened with both ears.

Always was an encyclopedia of so many subjects.

A true patriot who knew the shortcomings as well as the achievements of his homeland.

A husband in love with his wife Ieva.

Anupras and Mikey’s playful Poppa.

Always had confidence and respect for his oldest son Rapolas and pride and appreciation for his tall and smart grandson Abra’omas.

He was always a proud dad who could both andmonish and spoil his kids.

And a father who played on the floor with his sons.

Even when he was in treatment he did more pushups than men half his age.

He always knew he was blessed yet was never arrogant nor an elitist.

Always a person who bonded totally with almost everyone he met.

He was a faithful but private Catholic who treated everyone else’s religion with respect.

Always passionate about everything.

Always a great dresser who dressed “with” rather than “in” style.

Always wore a boy’s childlike-smile on his face, who liked to pose with serious demeanor, as if looking into the future.

A lover of the sea.

An honorary Jew.

A converted Litvak.

An expert in a dozen fields, maybe more.

Always connected. He had the cellphone numbers of three dozen rabbis in his contacts. Maybe more.

And someone who had close friends in many parts of the world.

He was a host who made everyone feel welcome in their home.

And always a loving son whose heart was filled with gratitude for Ronald Reagan because as U.S. President he responded across all borders to Zil’s imprisoned mother’s hope for freedom.

Zilvinas was a person who crossed the lines of all generations. He was equally at home with a 9-year-old and a 90-year-old person.

He was a bookworm who read barely-known but great writers.

He remained a guy in his 60s who could sleep on your sofa like a college buddy.

And a lecturer who could deliver an entire hour-long talk in one very long sentence.

A man’s man.

A woman’s man.

And always a team player.

He was a guy who would never get bald.

A person who didn’t look over your shoulder when in conversation with you.

Someone incredibly generous with his time and his money.

A person to whom money was a means not an end.

He was someone who knew “everyone.”

Someone who loved jokes.

A reader who read voraciously.

A diner who appreciated fine restaurants and also simple pizza, maybe equally.

Someone who loved soccer and Beethoven, equally.

A portrait photographer whose family was his favorite subject.

A subject who liked pictures of himself but somehow wasn’t particularly vain.

An achiever who never boasted of his accomplishments.

An initiator of the improbable, and sometimes the impossible.

Always a true optimist.

A fighter till the end who tricked us into believing that he would absolutely defeat the cancer, and live till 120.

Zilvinas Beliauskas was among the most unforgettable people we’ve ever known!

How did it happen for me?

In 2002 I met Ida.

In 2011 Ida introduced me to her boyfriend of long ago, Rimas when he was in San Diego. .

In 2015 I stopped refusing Rimas’s insistence that I visit the birthplace of my Lithuanian family.

On that first of many visits to Vilnius I arrived at VNO at 8 P.M. one cold night in November. Rimas drove me directly to the Vilnius Jewish Public Library from the airport, instead of bringing me to my hotel.

Zilvinas, whose name I had never even heard before, was waiting for us, and said to me almost immediately, “I’ll be in your hotel lobby at 8 A.M. and I’ll take you to the town where your father was born.”

And he did.

We spent the first two days entirely together, first to Jonava, my father’s shtetl near Kaunus, then he drove me through northern Lithuania, stopping at rebuilt synagogues and Holocaust memorials.

Suddenly, I felt that this land was mine also.

In 2017, a few months after I retired from 48 years as a pulpit rabbi, I decided to ship my entire rabbinic library–40 large cartons–to the Vilnius Jewish Public Library, to fill up some empty shelves with books about all subjects of Judaism, written in English.

Since then we have been guests in each other’s homes, shared rooms at the International Conferences of Jewish Llibrarians, lectured in each other’s venues, toured Lithuania and southern California together We celebrated and laughed together, hugged each other’s wives and kids, and were in constant contact ever since, including during his life’s ultimate and final challenge. Zilvinas had become my “virtual” brother.

Ieva should inscribe on his tombstone:

“You’ll never be forgotten by those whose lives you touched,”

because for him that old cliché will be true.

His family will always be my family, for as long as I live.