Chofetz Chaim and the Gerrer Chassidim on Yom Kippur Katan

For Yom Kippur Katan, a story of the Chofetz Chaim.

The day before rosh chodesh, the new month, some have the custom of davening Yom Kippur Katan (a "mini" Yom Kippur - the day of atonement - service). Yom Kippur Katan is not mentioned in the Shulchan Aruch (code of Jewish Law). The minhag (custom) began in the 16th Century in the mystical city of Tzfas. The hebrew calendar is a lunar calendar, and at the beginning of each month we bless the new moon. The commandment is the first in the Torah, in parshas Bo, in which Hashem says to Moshe, "hachodesh hazeh rosh chadashim... - 'this month is the beginning of months,'" and when the Torah uses the lashon (language) of "zeh -'this,'" it means that something is actually being pointed to (for a list of more examples of the word "zeh" refer to "Koidenov and Alexander" on this website). In this case Hashem is telling Moshe that when the moon looks like "this," when it is this shape and size, you are to bless it, and new month begins. And so, since the new month is a time of renewal it was decided that one should do teshuvah (repentance), supplicate toward the heavens and seek atonement for sins and misdeeds committed over the past month, just as we do on Yom Kippur, when we're seeking a clean slate for the coming year, and beseeching heaven to be inscribed in the book of life. In the words of the holy Shela in regard to Yom Kippur Katan, "one must make restitution both in money and in personal acts in order that he may enter the new month as pure as a new-born infant." Some also have the custom of fasting on this day. And now to the story:

The Chofetz Chaim was taking a trip from Radin to Warsaw. Whenever he took a train ride he looked for a fellow Jew to sit next to on the journey so that he could talk with him in learning. The Chofetz Chaim usually presented himself as a commoner. Before he boarded on this occasion he noticed a Jew, and asked him if he was coming aboard that train. It came out that they were both going from Radin to Warsaw. On the train, the Chofetz Chaim found that the man was not particularly learned, but this was no matter of concern for the Chofetz Chaim. As a rule he spoke little when encountering someone he did not know, because he enjoyed learning about people's lives. "From everyone there is something to be learned," was his motto. As soon as the first stop after Radin came, the man bid the Chofetz Chaim farewell, and made for the exit. The Chofetz Chaim called out to him asking if he did not say that he was going all the way to Warsaw. The man responded that he was an ani (a poor man), and that he didn't have enough money to go all the way to Warsaw in one train ride. He explained that he would get off of the train, try to sell some of his little trinkets, and with the little money he was able to make, he would buy a ticket to the next stop where he would repeat the procedure, until he made it all the way to Warsaw.

When the Chofetz Chaim arrived in Warsaw it was the day before rosh chodesh. He began to look for a shul at which he could daven Yom Kippur Katan. He walked into a Shtiebel (small Synagogue), and inquired as to whether they davened Yom Kippur Katan there. It turned out to be a Gerrer shtiebel, and the chassidim responded that no, they don't do so because it is not the Rebbe's custom. And so the Chofetz Chaim told them a story. He told them the story of the man he met on the train on the way to Warsaw, and because of his poverty he was forced to get off at every stop along the way, make a few dollars and refuel in a manner of speaking, and then get back on the train until the next stop, until he made his way all the way to Warsaw. "And so," said the Chofetz Chaim, "the Gerrer Rebbe has the spiritual resources to carry him from one Yom Kippur to the next. But we, the ordinary people, need to make stops along the way. We need to supplicate to Hashem, ask for forgiveness for our sins in the passing month, and do teshuva so that we will gain the resources to make it through the next month unscathed. The stops along the way for this man were necessary for him to regroup and get his bearing, just as the stops at rosh chodesh are a time for us to reflect and ascend to a greater spiritual level so that we can make it all the way to our destination, Yom Kippur itself." The chassidim stood with there mouths gaping, staring at this unknown holy man who had presented himself as an everyman off the street. And the story ends there. But the big question! Did they or did they not daven Yom Kippur Katan? In all likelihood they did not, and the Chofetz Chaim had to go on searching. It is unlikely that the chassidim would have gone against their Rebbe's minhag (custom).

What do you think?

Rav Elchonon Wasserman and the New State of Affairs

Available upon request.

Koidenov and Alexander

The Koidenover Rebbe of Bnei Brak came to New York last year, and told a story. The Rebbe has revived Koidenover chassidus over the past number of years, and has established a prestigious yeshiva ketana (elementary school), which is already highly sought after.



In his lecture, the Rebbe was discussing the state of affairs in today's broken world. He spoke of gashmius (materialism), and the preoccupation with the dollar. He said that he had recently visited Tel Aviv, and had stopped by a library that contained old and rare seforim (religious books). He pulled a book from a shelf, and it was a sefer written by an ani (a poor person). The author happened to be the nephew of the first Alexander Rebbe. He thought that by publishing a sefer that included a few stories of his uncle, he might make a few dollars.

In one of the stories, the Alexander Rebbe was presiding over a beis din (religious court). One party claimed that he had been cheated out $500, while the other claimed that it was rightfully his. After hearing the lengthy arguments the beis din ruled in favor of the man who claimed he had been cheated, leaving the other man furious and enraged. Those present tried to calm him down, but the man insisted that the money belonged to him, and he and refused to accept the ruling of the court. After the beis din broke up for the day an announcement was made that it was time to daven mincha (the afternoon prayer). As the frantic man was hurrying out of the room, someone took hold of his arm, and said that they needed him for a minyan (quorum of ten men to pray). "Mincha? Mincha??" exclaimed the man. "I just lost money, and you expect me to think about davening mincha?" He stormed out of the room. The Alexander Rebbe began to pace back and forth, with his head in his hands. Someone asked what was bothering the him, and the Rebbe cried out, "twenty years! Twenty years this man has been my chosid, and this is what he learns from me? He can't daven mincha? I can no longer be a Rebbe of chassidim." Those assembled were in shock. The Rebbe was clearly distressed, and they knew not to take his words lightly. The Rebbe was crying, and insisted that he was not fit to be a leader. It took the Rebbe a few days to get over the incident, and after desperate pleas and appeals by his chassidim, the Rebbe agreed to stay on as their leader.

"He couldn't daven mincha. He couldn't daven mincha!" exclaimed the Koidenover Rebbe, astonished, as if the story were taking place then and there. "And so," concluded the Rebbe, "this is the type of thing that happens in our times on a regular basis. Stocks, bonds, the market. Nobody could make a dollar fast enough. And everyone worries excessively over their money." The Rebbe then spoke words of chizuk (strength) and inspiration despite his adverse assessment of the materialism of our times, and after this five-minute modulation in emotion and spirt, he was able to leave his audience uplifted and assured of the available spiritual treasures of even our times.

And in this week's parsha, parshas ki sisah, we have a reference to the dangers of money. The pasuk states, "zeh yitnu...this is what they shall give," referring to the half shekel contribution by which the nation would be counted for the census. When the Torah states, "zeh, this," it means that "this" actually refers to something tangible that was shown to Moshe Rabbeinu or the Bnei Yisroel. In this case it was "c'min matbei'a shel aish, a sort of fiery coin," indicating the half shekel that was to be given. And, so too, in parshas Bo, the pasuk says, "hachodesh hazeh, this month," referring to the shape and size of the moon that Hashem showed Moshe. He indicated that when the moon is this size "zeh," we are to bless it. And, so too, in parshas beha'aloscha, "v'zeh ma'aseh hamenora, and this is the work of the menorah," with "zeh" indicating the fiery menorah that Hashem showed to Moshe after he expressed difficulty making the menorah himself. And, so too, in parshas beshalach, "zeh keili v'anveihu, this is my G-d, and I will exalt him." On the world "zeh," the Bnei Yisroel pointed up to the heavens. Reb Elimelech of Lizhensk, in Noam Elimelech, explains the significance of the fiery coin in this week's parsha. Fire could be used for useful purposes, such as cooking or heating a home, and it can also be used for negative purposes, such as burning down a house and causing destruction. And, so too, just as the coin, money, could be used for positive things, such as chesed and giving to the poor, it can also be the root of all evil. It could lead to gaivah (haughtiness) and kavod (honor). And the message is that we have to be inordinately careful in our dealings with money. In some cases it could lead to an inappropriate elevation of the self, and in the worst case it could come to play in our dealings bein adam l'mokom (between ourselves and G-d), as with the man in the above story.

Reb Shlomo Halberstam HaNavi

It was a wonderful Purim this year at Bobov, so why not a story about founding Bobover Rebbe, Reb Shlomo Halberstam. When I read this story in the Pshevorsker Rebbe's sefer, Shelosh Esrei Oros-Sipurei Kadosh, I really got a good laugh. In actuallity though it's a very sad story, but it tells of Reb Shlomo Halberstam's nevuah (prophesy). Of course that's a bit of a joke too.

Reb Shlomo Halberstam was av beis din (head of the religious court), in the city of Vyzhnytsia, known as Viznitz, before he became Rebbe. The people didn't get along with him, and he didn't get along with the people. While there, Reb Halberstam said that it's been tried and tested in Viznitz, and whenever a new Rabbi is appointed the people always have machlokes (disagreement) with him. HaBa'al Baruch Ta'am, author of sefer Baruch Ta'am, is a gadol (great man; giant) in Torah, and not a Rebbe of chassidim, and the people have machlokes with him. The gaon Rav Tzvi Hirsch had a position as Rav, and he was actualy a Rebbe. He wasn't well known and kept a low profile, but the people still had machlokes with him. There was another Rav who a gadol in Torah who was also a Rebbe of chassidim, and they still had machlokes with him. "And so to conclude," said Reb Halberstam, "I am not a gadol, nor I am not a Rebbe, and the people still have machlokes with me! This city has no mazel, and there will always be machlokes in Viznitz."

And so the Rebbe's words proved correct. Viznitz may have been transplanted from Poland to Bnei Brak, but there is still machlokes in Viznitz. The machlokes is just as bad, or even worse, then in Bobov or Satmar, with people literally beating each other up in the streets. There are stories of chassidim stealing each others Streimels and then ransoming them off to their owners. Like Bobov and Satmar, there will be two competing Rebbes when the present Rebbe passes away. Not to mention the Vizniter Rebbe of Monsey.

It should be noted, however, that while in the city of Viznitz, Reb Halberstam was responsible for the establishment of the first yeshiva in Poland.

Chiddushei HaRim on Purim

This isn't quite a story, but a short mashal (parable) about Purim and drinking from the Chuddushei Harim, Reb Yitchak Meir Alter, first Gerrer Rebbe. Just as a matter of interest, the name Alter was not the original family name, but had been changed when Reb Yitchak was Rebbe. Reb Yitzchak, believe it or not, was a Polish national, and supported the Polish nationalist movement, as did a number of other chassidic Rebbes at the time. When the Russians came in Reb Yitzchak was afraid that he would be hounded, and therefore changed the name from Friedman to Alter.

But before we get to the mashal, just a few words about Purim. We know about the great power of Purim in ruchnius (spirituality), when we gain access to the upper spheres, more so than at other sacred times. As we say, Yom Kippurim is only "ke Purim (like Purim)." There is a certain access to shamayim (heaven), and if we daven (pray) with intensity of feeling and fervor on this day, our innermost supplications will be heeded and perhaps fulfilled from on high. The key is to remember that the story of Purim did not only take place many years ago, but that the power of Purim comes forth every year on the 14 of Adar, and at this time we must keep in mind to re-live the events. As they say, "hakoreh es haMegillah l'mafreia lo yatza." (if one reads the Megillah - Scroll of Esther -retroactively then he does not fulfill the mitzvah). We can interpret this in the following way: If one reads the Megillah "retroactively," meaning that the story and power of the day is only something that took place many years ago, then one has not fulfilled the mitzvah. We must keep in mind the efficacy of our prayers, because after all, Purim is when we accepted the Torah without a mountain over our heads (kimu v'kiblu). And the Gerrer Rebbe gives a mashal in this vein in connection with drinking on Purim:

There was once a commoner looking on as the king was riding by on his chariot. Thousand of people gathered for the event. This commoner saw a man with a gun pointing toward the carriage. He snuck up, and wrestled the sniper to the ground. Word got to the king that his life was saved, and after meeting the commoner, he told him that as a reward he could take anything he wanted from the palace.

A few days later, guards of the palace went running up to the king to alert him that a caravan was headed toward the palace. The king went to the window, and saw empty cart, after empty cart, after empty cart, blocks long. He realized exactly what was going on (the man was going to clean out the palace). So he told his ministers to get out the wine. He said, "we'll give him a few drinks, and then he won't know what to ask for."

And so it is with Purim, says the Rebbe. We drink to get confused so that we don't know what to ask for, because on Purim we just might get things before their time.


A number of leaders have come out very strongly this year against drinking on Purim, including Rav Shmuel Kamentzky and Rabbi Abraham J. Twersky, noted expert on addiction and dependency. The issue is how to interpret the famous words of the gemara (Megillah 7), "meechayev inish livsumeh b'Purya ad d'lo yada bein arur Haman uvein baruch Mordechai," usually translated as, "a person is required to become intoxicated on Purim until he can't distinguish between 'cursed is Haman', and 'blessed is Mordechai.'" The key word is "livsumeh." Rav Kamentzky said that this word means "whiff," and he explains that in relation to drinking, a whiff means a "sip." So much for getting intoxicated this Purim. Then again, how many will really heed his interpretation and advice. Others rule that one should drink a bit more than he would normally drink. Others, that one should drink until one gets tired, because while sleeping one won't know the difference between "arur Haman" and "baruch Mordechai." Some say that one should drink enough so that one can't compute the gematria (numerology) of the two (each one equals 502. No coincidence!) Others say that it's a matter of how joyous one becomes, and that the joy should be to the point that one doesn't know the difference between the two. There is a number of rulings.

Gerrer Rebbe on the Ba'al Shem

The holy Ba'al Shem Tov (1698-1760) used to tell a story. The lion, the king of beasts, was angry with all of the animals of the jungle. The animals, fearing for their lives, got together, and appointed the sly fox to go and appease the angry lion. The fox was reluctant, but finally agreed, and he came up with three hundred parables to relate to the lion. He set out on his journey, but soon into his stroll, he forgot one hundred of the parables. He was in shock. Never had his mind failed him before. He continued his journey, but after another little while he forgot another one hundred of his parables. "This is unlike me!" he thought to himself. He became quite nervous, fearing the lion's impending rage. He mustered up the courage to go, reasoning that he still had another 100 solid parables to tell to the lion. But, yet again, he forgot 100 parables, leaving him with nothing to say to the lion. He feared the lion's wrath, and became paralyzed in his tracks. But all the animals of the jungle had appointed him, and nobody else, to appease the lion. And so he set out, once again, not having any idea of what he was going to say when he finally reached the lion. And the Ba'al Shem Tov relates that when the fox reached the lion an indescribable feeling came over him. He went right up to the lion, and began to pour out his heart. He talked, and wept and, with deep emotion, told the lion everything on his mind and on the minds of all the animals in the jungle. The lion was receptive, and the lion was subsequently appeased.

I recently realized the true meaning of this tale (how could I have missed it earlier?) It's clearly about chassidus vs. the Litvish world, the status quo at the time. Wisdom (being a talmid chocham, very learned, in Torah), is not necessarily the best or only conduit to reach the lion (the King, G-d). Genuine, heartfelt emotion, passion, and pouring out one's soul to the King is another, perhaps superior, way of getting close to the Creator. One need not know hundreds of parables, and one need not be learned and wise to reach the lion, G-d. And this is the essence of the Ba'al Shem Tov's Chassidus.

The Ba'al Shem would often take his disciples out to a nearby field to observe a certain ignorant shepherd. At one point while tending to the flock each day he would get caught in a burst of religious inspiration, drop his stick, close his eyes, look up to the heavens, and cry out, "G-d! I'm just a simple shepherd! I don't know how to learn. I don't know how to write, and I don't even know the aleph-beis (the Hebrew alphabet). But this, this I can offer to you!." And he would begin to do somersaults and flips, all throughout the field. The Ba'al Shem and his disciples would watch from behind a rock, and he would say to them, "observe closely, because this is a holy man."

The following story on the Imrei Emes, Reb Avraham Mordechai Alter (1866-1948), third Gerrer Rebbe, in which he used the above mashal, is simply meant as a matter of interest:



After the death of the Sfas Emes, second Gerrer Rebbe, many of the chassidim supported his son, the 39 year old Reb Avraham Mordechai. Others had gone to Alexander, but eventually there was a major push to make Reb Avraham Mordechai the next Rebbe. He refused, and he refused again. He was an anav (a humble man), and didn't feel worthy of the esteemed position. Finally, the chassidim insisted, and so he got up in front of the crowd, and told them a mashal. He said that the lion, king of the jungle had become very angry with the animals in the jungle, and the sly fox was appointed to appease him. He came up with three hundred parables to appease the king, and so on. But at the point in the story in which the fox forgets his last one hundred parables, the Rebbe said that the fox then decided to turn back. He was simply undeserving and unworthy of this great task. "And so," said Reb Avraham Mordechai, "I am the fox, and you are the animals of the jungle. I am unworthy of being the representative to the king. And so now you will all have to fend for yourselves."

The chassidim were so taken by his humility in the face of honor that they urged him even more now to become their Rebbe. After further cajoling he finally did agree to become Rebbe. But his first takanah (decree) as Rebbe came as a shock and blow to the Gerrer chassidim. Immediately after being crowned Rebbe he changed the time of shacharis (morning prayer), and set it for a significantly earlier time in the morning. Chassidim, in general, had developed the custom of davening (praying) later than the generally established times, and one major reason was for spiritual preparation. This was done in the times of the chassidim harishonim in another era, and the present chassidim had picked up the custom of meditating for an hour or two before prayer to enhance their davening. A large protest broke out in the Gerrer court until the Rebbe was forced to give an explanation. And he explained with a mashal. "There was once a man who loved his wife's cooking. In fact, he loved it so much, that before dinner time every evening he would sit by the table for a lengthy period just to prepare himself. One evening, after sitting at the table for half an hour, the food was placed before him. He looked up at his wife, and barked, "what is this?" She replied simply, "it's your dinner." The man was furious. "I sit and prepare myself for half an hour for your cooking only to be given burnt hash!" "And so it is with our davening," said the Rebbe. "In days of old we had reason for hachana and meditation. But the davening of our days has dropped to a level that no amount of preparation could salvage."

We see the extent of yeridos hadoros (the weakening of the generations) in Poland circa 1905 in the estimation of a gadol of the time. To think of how much further we have slipped since then.

Do you agree with my interpretation of the Ba'al Shem Tov's parable above?

How far do you think we've slipped in the past 100 years since the Gerrer Rebbe's first takanah?

28th of Teves, The Vigor of Shabbos in Skver

The 28th of the month of teves is a day of thanksgiving in Skverer communities worldwide. It was on this date that the second Skverer Rebbe, Reb Dovid'l (1848-1919), as he was affectionately known, survived a great fall and a number of serious bodily injuries. A seudah hoda'ah (meal of thanksgiving) is held by Skverer chassidim on this date.

The Rebbe made his residence in Skvira, and later in Kiev after the outbreak of the Russian Revolution. The following story takes place during one the Rebbe's visits to the Romanian city of Kishinev. Interestingly enough, Kishinev in Romanian means "water" or "flowing water," and the story happens to take place in a mikvah (ritual bath). Although reserved and understated, in the style of Skverer chassidus, Reb Dovidl's influence was great. Upon his first visit to Kishinev he made so many new chassidim that they began work on a Skverer shtiebl a few days into his trip.

During a subsequent visit one shabbos the Rebbe had been up late into the night learning. He suddenly felt the urge to go to the mikveh. As he was still somewhat unfamiliar with the mikveh he had to feel his way around at the top of the stairs in the pitch dark. Trying to find his way he tripped and went tumbling down the entire flight of stairs, and landed straight in the mikveh with a great splash. A non-Jew who lived next door to the mikveh was awoken, and he wasn't very happy. He figured that an animal must have been wandering about in the darkness of night, and fallen down the steps to the mikvah. He grabbed a long stick and made his way there. As he approached the water he saw only a vague form, and began prodding and jabbing this form with the stick. The form in the dark only splashed around, but would not make its way out of the mikveh. So he began to poke and prod even harder. The Rebbe at this point was practically unconscious, and lying face down in the water, finally let out a scream. Upon realizing that this was, in fact, a human being, this non-Jew helped lift the Rebbe out of the water, and apologized profusely. He helped him up the stairs, apologized again, and bid him goodnight. The Rebbe, beat up and barely able to walk, then realized: he hadn't toivled (immersed) properly. He made his way back down the stairs in the dark, and went into the mikveh, this time with the proper kavanah (holy intentions).

Shabbos day was one remembered well by the chassidim of Kishinev. The Rebbe was inordinately fiery, and his davening was exuberant. His energy and enthusiasm at the tish were beyond his normal capacity. All was well.

After shabbos the Rebbe began to have pains, and a doctor was summoned. During the examination the Rebbe collapsed to the floor, and fell unconscious. With broken bones and wounds to the body the Rebbe would spend the next few months in bed. He would, however, survive. What the doctor couldn't figure out was how he made it standing from the night before, never mind his energy at davening, his words of Torah, and the tish. It was only for the sake of shabbos that the Rebbe was able to leave his physical body behind.


In a related incident, Reb Asher of Pshedborz, father of the Yid Hakadosh of P'shischa, passed away on a Friday in the year 1798. Since the funeral took place just before shabbos, the Yid Hakadosh, Reb Yaakov Yitzchak, spent shabbos in Pshedborz. Gedolim, talmidei chachomim, machers, and the rest of the town came out to lay eyes on Reb Yaakov Yitzchak. And over shabbos they could not believe what they saw. Hours after his father's passing, Reb Yaakov Yitzchak's face was radiant! He conducted himself Friday night as he would any other shabbos throughout the year. He presided at the tish, his face alight. He gave over glowing words of Torah, and led the zemiros. And on shabbos day he davened with a fiery passion. He was b'simcha throughout the day, and the chassidim became annoyed. After all, his beloved father, their beloved Rebbe, had passed away just the day before. It is known that one is forbidden to mourn on shabbos, but dancing and singing to boot? The end of shabbos came, and someone recited havdalah. As the chassidim began to sing "hamavdil," Reb Yaakov Yitchak fell off of his chair and began to wail. He pulled at his hair and banged on the ground. He lay four hours prostrate on the ground in his grief. It was only then that the locals began to get a glimpse of just who the Reb Yaakov Yitzchak, the Yid Hakadosh, was. It was all for the sake of shabbos.