Charata (regret) and gaivah (haughtiness)

Let's look at a beautiful Kehillas Yitzchak from last week's parsha, parshas Chayei Sarah, and then a story of Reb Zusya and Reb Pinchas Koretzer that is loosely related, and then one involving Reb Dovid of Lelov.

"Vayavo Avraham lispod l'Sarah v'livkosah - And Avraham came to eulogize Sarah and to cry over her." The word "v'livkosah," he cried over her, is written with a small letter "caf," leading one to ask what the meaning of this is. And the Kehillas Yitzchak offers a wonderful interpretation. Avraham has just come back from the akeidah (the binding of Yitzchak). In the most difficult of his ten trials, Avraham is told by G-d to bring his son, Yitzchak, to Har Hamoriah, raise a knife to his neck, and offer him as a sacrifice to G-d. As difficult as it, Avraham is at that point, wielding the knife in his right hand, when an angel calls down to him, and tells him, essentially, that it was only a test. He lifts his eyes, and sees a ram caught in the thicket, and offers it up to G-d in Yitzchak's place.

Back home in Be'er Sheva, the Satan informs Avraham's wife, Sarah, of what has gone on. But, he leads her to believe that her son was actually sacrificed in the process. She lets out three cries and three wails, and then dies out of grief. And here is where the small letter "caf" comes into play. When Avraham and Yitzchak return home, find Sarah dead, and then find out why she has died, Avraham begins to experience a mix of emotions. He feels that he may have directly been the cause of Sarah's death. If he didn't bring Yitzchak to the mizbeach (altar), then she would still be alive. And so, says the Kehillas Yitzchak, he may have experienced at this point charata (regret). But charata and the performance of a mitzvah don't go together. The charata can actually take back the mitzvah retroactively. It is easy enough to understand how the Satan works against us before the performance of a mitzvah. In this case, the Satan created a stream of water on the way to Har Hamoriah, where Avraham was to take Yitzchak. But as they crossed the stream it became deeper until it was a small river. The water was up to their necks, but Avraham outsmarted the Satan, and they crossed successfully. This is how the Satan places an obstacle before us when we are on our way to do a mitzvah. And by making us feel regret is how he attempts to get us to lose the mitzvah after the fact. In order not to show that he did not have charata for bringing Yitzchak to the mizbeach, the word "v'livkosah - and he cried" is written with a small letter, in order to draw us to the fact that his crying was not excessive, not to lead people to believe that he had any regret for bringing Yitzchak to the mizbeach.

And this is the pshat in the davening when we say "v'hoser satan milifneinu umeiachareinu - and remove the Satan from before us and from after us." After us, meaning giving us a sense of regret, which if we do feel, will take back the mitzvah that we just carried out."


Another "after the fact" or "after the mitzvah" danger is contained in the following story. Reb Zusya needed to raise money for his daughter's chasunah (wedding). Now, he wasn't exactly the type to look for handouts, even though he was a poor man himself, so this didn't make for an ideal situation. He went to houses, to businesses, and to people on the streets, but he could barely raise a penny. He ran into Reb Pinchas Koretzer, who was passing through town, and told him the story. Reb Pinchas asked how much he needed: $500. He assured Reb Zusya that he would raise the money for him in a week's time.

And so it was. He delivered the money to Reb Zusya, who thanked him profusely. On the way home, Reb Zusya spotted a small crowd. Upon closer inspection the people surrounded a woman sitting in the street, wailing that her husband would kill her and that they would be ruined financially. Upon inquiry, it turned out that the woman helped her husband in business, and after a huge business deal she was walking home when she realized that the money was gone: all $500. Reb Zusya walked away from the crowd, and contemplated what he was about to do. Now, since Reb Zusay walked around as a pauper, he was not known in these parts. By name, of course, he was known as the great tzaddik Reb Zusya, but not in appearance. Without much deliberation he cut through the crowd, and said, "I found $500 in the street! It must be yours." The woman got up from her place, and the look of life began to show in her face, once again. Reb Zusya handed over the money. She began to count it, but as she got to the last few bills...there was only $490! "Didn't you say that you found $500??" asked the woman. Reb Zusya replied that since he found the money, he wanted schar (reward). He felt as if he should be entitled to $10. The crowd began to bustle, and soon they were yelling at Reb Zusya. "Just give her back the $10. What kind of guy are you? Who do you think you are?" He said, no way, no how, he's keeping the $10 as reward for finding the lost money. They dragged him to the Rav of the town, who looked at him incredulously. "How could you do this?" he asked. "What kind of person are you?" And again, not knowing the big tzaddik that he really was, they threw him out of the town on his head.

A few weeks later, when talk of the incident died down, Reb Pinchas was passing through town, and an acquaintance began telling him of this absurd story of this guy who would not give back the $10. Reb Pinchas asked, "could you please describe him?" It was him, he realized. It was Reb Zusya. He quickly set out to Hanipoli to find Reb Zusya. "Even though I raised that money for your daughter's chasunah," said Reb Pinchas, "what you did is still a great mitzvah. But why did you give her only $490? If you were going that far then why not the other $10?" Answered Reb Zusya, "you see, I know well, that if I did the COMPLETE mitzvah of giving this woman $500 which is really my own money, then I would become the epitome of gaivah (haughtiness). How many people would give away $500? For the rest of my life I'd be patting myself on the back saying 'Reb Zusya, do you know what a great tzaddik you are? You give away $500 intended for your daughter's chasunah to a broken woman on the street? What a tzaddik you are!' And so I kept $10 to tell myself that I'm not 100% good. If not, I would be taken over by pride."


Reb Dovid of Lelov was on a fast. We hear stories of tzaddikim of yesteryear who went on incredibly long fasts, sometimes shabbos to shabbos. For Reb Dovid, this happened to be a three day fast. On the third day, as he was taking a walk on the road in the heat of the day, beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. Dressed in his complete chassidishe levush (chassidic clothing) he felt his face burning up. Soon his forehead and face became soaked. But then he noticed something up ahead on the road. It was a spring. He began walking toward it excitingly when he remembered that he made this forbidden to himself three days back. And so he realized what was going on. The Satan had placed this spring before him so that he would drink and thereby break his fast. He resolved to strengthen up as he passed the spring, and he did just that. But after he passed the spring he stopped in his tracks. "The Satan didn't place that spring in my path so that I would drink," he said to himself. "There is something all together different going on here. The Satan WANTED me to walk past the spring, because then I would become so proud that gaivah (haughtiness) and pride would overtake me, and the humility I have tried to cultivate all of these years would be buried." And so he walked back to the spring, and took a good few gulps.

Solitude vs. Leading The Tzibbur

Reb Pinchas of Koretz, who was known by the Ba'al Shem Tov and his contemporaries as "the sage," was visited by hundreds, in not thousands, of those seeking berachos (blessings) and advice. So many were his visitors on a daily basis that at some point he became frustrated that he did not have much time left for himself. He worried about his learning and his personal relationship with G-d. He became depressed, and prayed that people should just leave him alone! And so it was. Within a short period of time they stopped coming to the door. Reb Pinchas now had ample time for his personal avodah and for his learning. He lived an austere life. The only time he came into contact with people was when he went to shul to pray. And even then he stood in the back, by the oven, the least desirable spot in the shul.

When Sukkos came around Reb Pinchas relied on the same men that had helped him year in, year out, to build his sukkah. But none of them showed up this year. His wife was sent out to seek their assistance, but they all turned her down. They found a local non-Jew, but he didn't have the proper tools to build the sukkah. They asked the neighbors, but the only answer they got from all of these people was a resounding "no!" Reb Pinchas became depressed, once again.

With sullen faces on the first night of Sukkos, Reb Pinchas and his wife sat in their not-fully completed sukkah. They recalled years gone by: Decorations and bright colors to adorn the sukkah; enough guests to last through Pesach. But this year they were alone with their heads hanging low. But just then they sensed a presence at the door. They looked up, and it was the first of the Ushpizin (holy guests), Avraham Avinu. He stood by the entrance gazing down at Reb Pinchas and his wife. Reb Pinchas asked, "but why don't you come in? What sin have I committed that you don't come into my sukkah?" Avraham answered, "because it is not my custom to enter a sukkah that has no guests." The message was clear. And so Reb Pinchas prayed from that day on that he, once again, be given the opportunity to dispense advice, answer questions, and give berachos to those who were in need.


There is a saying: A day spent making mistakes is better than a day spent doing nothing. The gemara says that there were four people who died without sin. They were Binyamin HaTzaddik, Amram, father of Moshe, Yishai, father of King David, and one of the sons of King David. The only reason for their eventual deaths was because of Adam Harishon's (Adam - first man) eating from the eitz hada'as (tree of knowledge). Beforehand, man was not meant to die. By eating the fruit, Adam and Chava changed the nature of man, and he now became subject to death. But back to our four tzaddikim. Asks the Chasam Sofer, if these four died without sin to their name, then aren't they on a higher madrega (level) than the avos (patriarchs)? And furthermore, if they are on a higher madrega, why don't we put them up in our sukkas as the ushpizin (holy guests) instead than Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov, Yosef, Moshe, Aharon and David? The Chasam Sofer answers that there were those on an elevated level throughout Jewish history that had the opportunity to go through life free of sin. Like our four tzaddikim, they could have spent time in solitude, contemplating their own spirituality, and accessing higher and higher levels G-dliness. But let's take Moshe, in contrast. He was the greatest of the prophets. He spoke to G-d panim el panim (face to face). He was chosen to be the leader over Bnei Yisroel, but because of his speech impediment, and because he wanted to remain in a state of receiving G-dliness in solitude, he was an unwilling leader. But ultimately, he surpassed his nature, and went out to become the greatest leader Klal Yisroel has ever known. And when a person mixes with other people, says the Chasam Sofer, he is bound to make mistakes. A leader, especially, is going to come into conflict and disagreement, and may later regret some of his actions. But this is what happens in life. If one remains in one's daled amos (four cubits), and prays, and learns, and worries only about his personal relationship with G-d, then he is not concerned with the other half of the Torah: Bein adam L'chaveiro (mitzvahs between man and his fellow man). One who is concerned with his fellow Jew will leave his quarters, leave the beis midrash, and go out and do good for the Klal, knowing well that he will have to compromise his own spirituality along the way.





I heard an interview with Rav Shlomo Amar, chief Sephardic Rabbi of Israel, the other day, part of which touched on this same subject. He said that years ago when he served as av beis din (head of the rabbinical court) in the city of Petach Tikvah, he would give shiurim (classes) and inspirational sermons in the local shuls and yeshivos. He spent great amounts of time on that, and soon realized that he was left with little time for learning. One shabbos he was in Jerusalem, and picked up a new sefer written by Rav Yonasan Eibshitz. He opened it up, and the following practically jumped off the page: "With all my learning and with all the piskei din (religious rulings) I write, there is no time as valuable as the time spent offering words of inspiration to strengthen others. This is equal in importance to all of my learning." Rav Shlomo was astounded by both the fact that he opened to that exact page and line, and by the message itself. His depression began to lift. He met soon after with Rav Ovadia Yosef, and told over the story. Rav Yosef said that this exact matter pained him, as well. "There is so much time that I am not learning Torah because I am busy inspiring the public," he said. In fact, in his sefer, Rav Yosef recounted that once when he was suffering greatly from this same dilemma, the Ben Ish Chai came to him in a dream. His message was that educating the public makes a great impression up above in the heavens, and it is very dear to Hashem. He commanded Rav Yosef to continue his work in inspiring others.


On the pasuk (verse), "tzaddik katamar yifrach, k'erez bal'vanon yisgeh," "the righteous will flower like a date-palm tree; he will grow like a cedar in Lebanon," the Maggid of Mezritch says that this represents two different types of tzaddikim (righteous people). The one is concerned with his brothers. Lilmud al menas lelamed (learning for the sake of teaching others) is his motto. He goes out and influences the simple Jew, the unlearned Jew and the disheartened Jew. The other is concerned only with the learning itself. He doesn't lift his head from his book. The first bears nourishing fruit like the date-palm. And the second is like the cedar: Lofty and unfruitful.


The inside of a Chinese fortune cookie said, "knowledge and not doing is equal to knowing nothing at all."

Reb Pinchas of Koretz and challah

We are told in Bereishis Rabbah concerning this week's parsha, parshas Chayei Sara, that while Sara Imeinu was alive three things occurred in her house: a candle was alight from one erev shabbos to the next, a blessing was found in her dough, and a cloud was stationed over her home. In Imrei Pinchas, Reb Pinchas Koretzer comments that concerning the bracha in the dough this does not mean that a small amount of dough grew to giant proportions. Avraham was not short on money, and the dough wasn't lacking. Rather, it means that when the dough was baked it grew evenly, and into a resplendent, deliciously aromatic and delectable challah. And he says that it is a matter of intention. When a woman is happy and cheerful while baking the challah, and has the intention of it being lichvod shabbos, the loaf will come out of the oven pleasing to the senses. And, conversely, if she is grouchy and angry while baking the challah, it will come out of the oven burnt and unshapely. Such was the simcha and contentedness of Sara Imeinu that her dough was blessed.

The Beis Yisroel, the forth Gerrer Rebbe, notes that as is the case with Sara Imeinu in this week's parsha, the Torah always records the lives of tzaddikim in descending order, starting with hundreds, moving down to tens, and so on. The one exception, he says, is Yaakov Avinu, who lived "seven years and forty and a hundred years." The midrash also claims that he didn't actually die. Yaakov is often called "the chosen of the avos (patriarchs)" because of his lifelong striving for truth. The upward numerical progression in his age, says the Rebbe, reflects his constant spiritual "climb," which transcended death and continued until he reached the "upper worlds."

Reb Pinchas of Koretz

Reb Pinchas of Koretz was known for his great humility, among other things. Even as an older man he continued to daven by the stove in the shul, the most undesirable spot. He once said, "everything I learned, I learned sitting quietly in the back row, in the last seat. Now that I'm in a position of prestige I don't understand." When the Ba'al Shem Tov, the founder of chassidus, was asked on his deathbed who in his generation could contend, he said, "there is the bear in the forest (Reb Dov Ber, the Magid of Mezertich), and there is Pinchas, the saint."

When Reb Pinchas was asked why we sway while davening (praying) he replied, "Hashem fills the entire world with His bright light. But there is a screen that covers the luster of that brightness so that it is not that evident. It is like clouds that block the sunlight. When we daven, we disperse the cover, the clouds, and we penetrate the light. We sway in davening to symbolize the moving of the clouds."