The Chiddushei HaRim, first Gerrer Rebbe, was known as an iluy (young genius). His father brought him to the Maggid of Kozhnitz for an assessment. The Maggid said to the young Yitzchak Meir, "I'll give you a gold coin if you could show me where G-d is." Young Yitzchak replied, "I'll give you two gold coins if you could show me where G-d isn't!"
As a child, Reb Yitzchak Meir learned with the son of the Maggid of Kozhnitz, Reb Moshe. Once, after quite some time deliberating an intricate matter, Reb Moshe asked young Yitzchak what he thought. He gave an astounding answer that solved the matter at hand, and Reb Moshe gave him a kiss on the forehead. Reb Yitzchak complained to his family, "I want a teacher who's going to rend the flesh off my bones, not one who is going to give me a soft kiss on the head." Soon after he left Reb Moshe to look for a new teacher.
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Reb Baruch of Mezhibuz was the grandson of the Ba'al Shem Tov. As a child, he was present when his grandfather was visited by an old man who posed a question. "The Torah relates that after the third day of his circumcision, Avraham saw three men standing above him. We learn that they were Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. But how could Avraham be standing before Avraham?" Young Baruch jumped in, "this old man is very silly. Obviously these three men, who were angels, represet the three attributes of the avos (patriarchs): chesed, gevurah, and tiferes (kindness, strength, and glory)."
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The daughter of, I believe, the Mitteler Rebbe, Reb Dov Ber of Lubavitch, was very precocious. Once, as a toddler, she threw a crying fit. Reb Dov Ber gave her a candy and put her on his lap. Sucking on the candy, she said, "you only think I stopped crying but I'm just taking a break!"
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It was the custom of Reb Moshe Leib of Sassov to arrange a meal every Sunday for the poor people of the city. He once visited the city of Brodt, and arranged his customary meal there. The Divrei Chaim of Sanz was a young boy, just one and a half years old at the time, and when a bad fire had broken out in the city of Ternigrad, where the family had lived, they were forced to travel to Brodt. Reb Chaim's wet nurse took him to the fesitve seudah (meal) thrown by Reb Moshe Leib. Young Chaim caught sight of the Reb Moshe Leib, and immediately propped his chin upon his wet nurse's shoulder so that he could get a full view of the Rebbe. He couldn't take his eyes off of Reb Moshe Leib. In fact, he recalled that his chin was hurting him for about an hour after the event. So what do we see from here? Was it that young Chaim was so spiritually attuned at the young age of one and a half that he was able to perceive the holiness exuded by Reb Moshe Leib, and therefore went to great pains to watch the tzaddik's every move? Or was the aura of Reb Moshe Leib so great that even a boy of one and a half years old could sense his eminent level of ruchnius (spirituallity)? It must have been a mixture of both, but there is certainly no denying the Divrei Chaim's spiritual nobility at such a young age.
The Divrei Chaim liked playing with wooden sticks in his youth, both during the week, and on shabbos. When he got older he was pained to learn that it is not permissible to do so on shabbos, because the sticks are considered muktzah (one may not touch them). Later he learned that if one arranges them before shabbos then he is allowed to touch and play with them on shabbos itself. But then it occurred to him! That even as a young boy he had arranged the sticks every week on the eve of shabbos. And about this, the Rebbe of Tziashnov said, "from this we see that a tzaddik (righteous person) is guarded from heaven even from the time of his youth." Even though he did not know that such a thing was prohibited, the knowledge was present in his heart, and he therefore arranged the sticks before shabbos.
The Divrei Chaim told that in his youth he had no money to buy seforim (religious books). He asked the seller at a local seforim store if he could sit in the store after hours, and spend the night learning. It was agreed upon, and one night he learned the entire hilchos melichah (the laws of salting meats to render them kosher, a very difficult subject), and he remembered them for the rest of his life.
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Reb Eliezer of D'zikov, son of Reb Naftali Ropshitzer, once pulled a prank on his father. When Reb Naftali berated him, he answered, "what do you want from me? It's not my fault! The yetzer harah (evil inclination) made me do it! I didn't do anything wrong." "And that's exactly who's example you should be follo," said Reb Naftali. "The yetzer harah's example. He is commanded to follow a certain path, and that's the path he follows, without veering." Answered young Eliezer, "that's right, the yetzer harah doesn't veer, and that's because the yetzer harah doesn't have a yetzer harah! But we do. So what do you want from me??"
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An iluy in a European city was summoned by the local bishop. The bishop had apparently heard of the child's consummate genius, and having complete faith that he would defeat the child in a religious argument, called upon him to appear at the church. "It says in your Torah that a majority rules, correct?" asked the bishop. "Yes, correct," answered the child. "Then you and all your brethren have to convert to Christianity! Because the majority of the world's population is Christian. Majority rules!" "Majority comes into play only in a case of doubt," answered the boy with great composure and coolness (since there's no doubt that the path of Judaism is the correct path in life, there is no argument in the first place!).
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The brothers Reb Shmelke of Nickolsburg and Reb Pinchas of Frankfurt were very precocious children. At the age of five or six, they were already delving deep into gemara (talmud) with their father. A month before Purim they would begin mashechta (tractate) Megillah, in order to be finished in time for Purim. And immediately following Purim they would begin mashechta Pesachim, in order to be finished in time for Pesach. Immediately following Pesach their father asked young Shmelke, "and what should we begin to learn now my son?" Reb Shmelke responded, "Why, of course, we should begin to learn masechta Shavuous since the holiday of Shavuous is next." His father let out a chuckle, and remarked, "but surely Shmelke, you know that masechta Shavuous is not about the holiday of Shavuous, but rather about oaths." "Yes, and that's exactly why we should learn masechta Shavuous for the holiday of Shavuous," answered Shmelke. "Because on Shavuous we received the Torah, and we did so by taking an oath that we would keep the Torah and observe its mitzvos for all time. So therefore it's appropriate to learn about oaths for Shavuous. And, furthermore, there are forty-nine pages in masechta Shavuous, and forty-nine days from Pesach to Shavuous"
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Once, when Reb Simcha Bunim of P'shischa was a child, his father had three guests in the evening. The three were talmidiei chachomim (Torah scholars), and were deep in discussion of Avraham Avinu and his primary trait of hachnasos orchim (hospitality to guests) since it had been at the time of parshas vayeira. Young Simcha walked into the room, and his father smiled at him, and said, "I would like you to think hard Simcha, and come up with a new interpretation on the mitzvah hachanasos orchim. Perhaps you could come up with a chidush (original Torah thought) of some kind." Young Simcha went into the next room, and half an hour later, as the four men got up from the table, Simcha's father called into him, and said, "OK Simcha, let's see your chidush on the mitvah of hachnosos orchim." And in the next room were three beds with three pillows and three sheets and covers for the three men in case they needed to spend the night.
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When the Belzer Rebbe, Reb Aharon Rokeach, was a young boy, he was given a watch as a gift. His joy could not be concealed. When asked about his tremendous glee he replied, "there are two good things about a watch. One, it shows you the time, minute by minute, second by second, so that one knows what he is doing at every moment. It calls out, 'do not waste your time, do not waste your time, because the current moment is all but gone.' And two, by having a watch I can help out other Jews. If they ask what time it is I could tell them." The chassidim were impressed by the young boy's insight. One of them asked the boy the time, and he responded down to the exact minute and second. The chassid asked, "are you trying to show me that you could tell time?" to which young Aharon replied, "when I do a favor for a fellow Jew I do it with love and with perfect detail."
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SIPPUREI TZADDIKIM: STORIES OF REBBES (AND A FEW OTHER TZADDIKIM). FROM ALEXANDER AND APTA TO VIZHNITZ AND ZUTCHKA. NOTE: INTERNET EXPLORER AND OTHER BROWSERS DO NOT SUPPORT THIS SITE CORRECTLY. TO VIEW THE SITE WITH THE SIDEBAR AND ALL OF ITS VARIOUS AND INTERESTING FEATURES PLEASE TAKE ONE MINUTE TO DOWNLOAD MOZILLA FIREFOX AT:
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
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.
"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.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Hachnasas Orchim
For this week's parsha, parshas vayeira, a couple of stories on the mitzvah of hachnasas orchim; hospitality and opening one's house to others. The parsha starts off by saying that G-d appeared to Avraham (to visit him on the third day after his circumcision), and almost immediately goes on to talk about three visitors that were passing by Avraham's tent. And from this we derive the rule "gadol hachnasas orchim mikabalas pnei ha'shechinah, greater is the mitvah of having guests than welcoming the Divine Presence," because as soon as he saw the potential guests, he took leave of G-d.
There was a businessman traveling on a cold wintery night through the town of Gostynin. Too cold to travel on to the next town, he looked for a house with candles still burning inside. It was late into the night, but there was one house with a flickering of light at the window. He knocked on the door, and was warmly welcomed in by Reb Yechiel Meir. Now, he had no idea who this man was had just taken him in, but was joyed to find hard drink and refreshments on the table taken out immediately for his sake. But after eating and drinking he was still hungry. Reb Yechiel Meir found some uncooked porridge in the cabinet, and a pan of fat lying on the stove. Not knowing much about the finer points of cooking, he threw them together and put the dish into the oven to bake. The visitor wolfed down the entree, and was sated. Reb Yechiel Meir then gave the man his own bed to sleep in, and with wet clothing and galoshes he fell into bed and slept soundly. Reb Yechiel Meir had nowhere to sleep now, so he stayed up for the night. In the morning, he instructed his family not to go into his room, and he himself walked on tiptoe until he left for shacharis (morning prayers). The man later got up, and made his way to shul, as well. Telling some of the people after davening about his inordinately giving host, he discovered that he had slept in none other than the Rebbe's house! He made his way to the Rebbe at the front of the shul and, with quivering lips, manged to say, "please Rebbe, forgive me. I did not know that it was the Rebbe that I had put through so much trouble!" Reb Yechiel Meir responded, "I'm sorry, but I am not able to accept your apology on this." Stupefied, the man begged, this time with a stutter. Reb Yechiel Meir responded to the man's plea by saying, "I cannot accept your apology unless you agree to one condition." Now, highly intimidated, the man took a nice big gulp, and responded, "O..O...K." "You must promise me that any time you pass through Gostynin, you stay at my home at a guest. Because when else do I have the opportunity to perform the mitzvah of hachnasas orchim in such a fashion??"
Reb Eliezer, father of the Ba'al Shem Tov, was known for the mitzvah of hachnasas orchim. He would go so far as to send out emissaries to the town's crossroads, in order to see if anybody passing through might need a meal or refreshments, or even a place to stay for the night. He was also known for giving out money to travelers for provisions for the road. His actions were so great that his name became known up above. It was decided that he would be put to the ultimate test. The Satan immediately came forward and volunteered to carry out this test. But Eliyahu HaNavi (Elijah the Prophet) said that it would be more proper for he himself to go down to this world. And so it was.
One day on shabbos, Reb Eliezer got a knock on the door. He opened it to find a disheveled and slightly confused-looking man holding a sack over his back with a walking stick in hand. He was clearly being mechalel shabbos (desecrating the Sabbath). But Reb Eliezer promptly invited him in, prepared the third meal of shabbos for him to eat, and did not say one word to put him to shame. After shabbos he lavished him with a melavah malkah (meal that symbolizes taking leave of shabbos), and the man ate his fill. In the morning, Reb Eliezer gave the man some money for his upkeep, and escorted him to the door. Walking over the threshold he turned back to Reb Eliezer, and said, "you should know that I am Eliyahu HaNavi, and I have come down to give you a test. You did not make me feel ashamed, and due to this, you have been found worthy to beget a son who will illuminate the eyes of all of Israel." The blessing was subsequently fulfilled, and Reb Eliezer's wife gave birth to a baby boy within the year. Little did they know just how much light and fire he would bring to Israel and just how far it would spread.
There was a businessman traveling on a cold wintery night through the town of Gostynin. Too cold to travel on to the next town, he looked for a house with candles still burning inside. It was late into the night, but there was one house with a flickering of light at the window. He knocked on the door, and was warmly welcomed in by Reb Yechiel Meir. Now, he had no idea who this man was had just taken him in, but was joyed to find hard drink and refreshments on the table taken out immediately for his sake. But after eating and drinking he was still hungry. Reb Yechiel Meir found some uncooked porridge in the cabinet, and a pan of fat lying on the stove. Not knowing much about the finer points of cooking, he threw them together and put the dish into the oven to bake. The visitor wolfed down the entree, and was sated. Reb Yechiel Meir then gave the man his own bed to sleep in, and with wet clothing and galoshes he fell into bed and slept soundly. Reb Yechiel Meir had nowhere to sleep now, so he stayed up for the night. In the morning, he instructed his family not to go into his room, and he himself walked on tiptoe until he left for shacharis (morning prayers). The man later got up, and made his way to shul, as well. Telling some of the people after davening about his inordinately giving host, he discovered that he had slept in none other than the Rebbe's house! He made his way to the Rebbe at the front of the shul and, with quivering lips, manged to say, "please Rebbe, forgive me. I did not know that it was the Rebbe that I had put through so much trouble!" Reb Yechiel Meir responded, "I'm sorry, but I am not able to accept your apology on this." Stupefied, the man begged, this time with a stutter. Reb Yechiel Meir responded to the man's plea by saying, "I cannot accept your apology unless you agree to one condition." Now, highly intimidated, the man took a nice big gulp, and responded, "O..O...K." "You must promise me that any time you pass through Gostynin, you stay at my home at a guest. Because when else do I have the opportunity to perform the mitzvah of hachnasas orchim in such a fashion??"
Reb Eliezer, father of the Ba'al Shem Tov, was known for the mitzvah of hachnasas orchim. He would go so far as to send out emissaries to the town's crossroads, in order to see if anybody passing through might need a meal or refreshments, or even a place to stay for the night. He was also known for giving out money to travelers for provisions for the road. His actions were so great that his name became known up above. It was decided that he would be put to the ultimate test. The Satan immediately came forward and volunteered to carry out this test. But Eliyahu HaNavi (Elijah the Prophet) said that it would be more proper for he himself to go down to this world. And so it was.
One day on shabbos, Reb Eliezer got a knock on the door. He opened it to find a disheveled and slightly confused-looking man holding a sack over his back with a walking stick in hand. He was clearly being mechalel shabbos (desecrating the Sabbath). But Reb Eliezer promptly invited him in, prepared the third meal of shabbos for him to eat, and did not say one word to put him to shame. After shabbos he lavished him with a melavah malkah (meal that symbolizes taking leave of shabbos), and the man ate his fill. In the morning, Reb Eliezer gave the man some money for his upkeep, and escorted him to the door. Walking over the threshold he turned back to Reb Eliezer, and said, "you should know that I am Eliyahu HaNavi, and I have come down to give you a test. You did not make me feel ashamed, and due to this, you have been found worthy to beget a son who will illuminate the eyes of all of Israel." The blessing was subsequently fulfilled, and Reb Eliezer's wife gave birth to a baby boy within the year. Little did they know just how much light and fire he would bring to Israel and just how far it would spread.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
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."
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."
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Sukkos Stories
dIt was the first morning of Sukkos in Lizhensk, and something was bothering Reb Elimelech. There was something in the air; something that just didn't seem right. He paused in the middle of hallel, and began to walk around the shul with his nose in the air, trying desperately to find the source of his disturbance. After davening he made his way, once again, around the shul, but before he walked out the door, his olfactory senses directed him to the esrog in the hand of the last man, in the last row, in the last seat. Reb Elimelech rushed over: "What is it about your esrog that emits the scent of Gan Eden (the Garden of Eden)?" he asked after taking in a long steady whiff. "Where did you acquire this esrog?" The man said that it was a long and not-so-exciting story, but if the Rebbe wished, he would tell it over.
"I live in Strelisk. I'm not a wealthy man, but I make a living. Every year before Sukkos I save money, even months in advance, so that I could buy a fancy and pleasing esrog. I save up 50 gulden, and make my way to Lemberg for the purchase. When I stopped this year at an inn on the way to Lemberg, I was woken in the night by screams and shouts outside of the inn. I made my way downstairs to see what the commotion was all about. Apparently, a ba'al agalah (wagon driver) needed to buy a new horse. His trusty horse had broken its leg, and the driver would lose his livelihood without a new horse by the next day. He begged the innkeeper to sell him a horse, which the innkeeper tried his best to do, but the price was way beyond the ba'al agalah's budget. The horse cost a total of 50 gulden. The driver begged the innkeeper to lower the price, but to no avail.
"And so I asked the innkeeper if he would give the driver the horse if I would pay him 45 gulden in cash. He agreed, and the ba'al agalah, astonished, thanked me profusely, and offered a free ride to any destination at any time.
"When I arrived in Lemberg I bought the best esrog I could find with only five gulden: Small and unattractive. When I got home, my wife and I agreed that we would be laughed out of Strelisk with such a tiny, ugly thing. And so we set out to Lizhensk to be in the company of the Rebbe, where we knew we would be accepted no matter how displeasing our esrog was."
"This is truly an amazing story," said Reb Elimelech. "Now I understand why the scent of Gan Eden has been wafting through the shul all through davening. You are really a lucky man, and you truly deserve this esrog. I'd like to hold it for a few minutes before you go home."
Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was once so excited and so anxious about making the bracha (blessing) over the lulav and esrog on the first day of Sukkos, that he broke the glass esrog case because his hands were shaking so intensely. It was only after he made the bracha that he realized that his hand was bleeding.
The Rizhiner's youngest son, Reb Mordechai Feivish, would spend several hours concentrating on shaking the lulav and esrog. He shook so intensely at times that it looked as though he was going to faint. Once, he coughed up blood out of exhaustion, not realizing that he had stained his esrog with his blood.
And this recalls the story of the second Skverer Rebbe, Reb Dovid, who while slicing a piece of bread, sliced into his finger, and did not take notice of it right away. When his wife saw blood dripping from the counter she ran for the doctor. While the doctor sat at the table stitching up Reb Dovid's hand, Reb Dovid sat immersed looking into a sefer. Such was his prishus (separation from earthly happenings).
And this, of course, recalls the story of the "Ezkara Gedolah" of the first Modzitzer Rebbe. Read Inspiration Under the Surgeon's knife by clicking "Modzitzer Rebbe" on the right side column.
A few days before Sukkos one year, the Chassam Sofer was interviewing two prospective students for his illustrious yeshiva in Pressburg. There was only one slot left open for the new zman (session). One turned out to be a young man of extraordinary learning, while the other turned out to be quite average. The Chasam Sofer's mind was made up. He accompanied the bachurim off the grounds of the yeshiva and, on their way out into the yard, they saw the sukkah being erected. One bochur, the talmid chochom, stepped onto the schach (bamboo used for the top of the sukkah) on the ground, and the other walked around the schach. Said the Chasam Sofer later, "for someone to trample on a mitzvah?" And now his mind was made up for sure.
According to Abudraham, the reason that the lulav is waved several times during davening is because it signifies a gesture of triumph. Just as kings wave their flags over territories they have won from their enemies, so too do we wave the lulav to proclaim victory over the accusers on Yom Kippur.
"I live in Strelisk. I'm not a wealthy man, but I make a living. Every year before Sukkos I save money, even months in advance, so that I could buy a fancy and pleasing esrog. I save up 50 gulden, and make my way to Lemberg for the purchase. When I stopped this year at an inn on the way to Lemberg, I was woken in the night by screams and shouts outside of the inn. I made my way downstairs to see what the commotion was all about. Apparently, a ba'al agalah (wagon driver) needed to buy a new horse. His trusty horse had broken its leg, and the driver would lose his livelihood without a new horse by the next day. He begged the innkeeper to sell him a horse, which the innkeeper tried his best to do, but the price was way beyond the ba'al agalah's budget. The horse cost a total of 50 gulden. The driver begged the innkeeper to lower the price, but to no avail.
"And so I asked the innkeeper if he would give the driver the horse if I would pay him 45 gulden in cash. He agreed, and the ba'al agalah, astonished, thanked me profusely, and offered a free ride to any destination at any time.
"When I arrived in Lemberg I bought the best esrog I could find with only five gulden: Small and unattractive. When I got home, my wife and I agreed that we would be laughed out of Strelisk with such a tiny, ugly thing. And so we set out to Lizhensk to be in the company of the Rebbe, where we knew we would be accepted no matter how displeasing our esrog was."
"This is truly an amazing story," said Reb Elimelech. "Now I understand why the scent of Gan Eden has been wafting through the shul all through davening. You are really a lucky man, and you truly deserve this esrog. I'd like to hold it for a few minutes before you go home."
Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was once so excited and so anxious about making the bracha (blessing) over the lulav and esrog on the first day of Sukkos, that he broke the glass esrog case because his hands were shaking so intensely. It was only after he made the bracha that he realized that his hand was bleeding.
The Rizhiner's youngest son, Reb Mordechai Feivish, would spend several hours concentrating on shaking the lulav and esrog. He shook so intensely at times that it looked as though he was going to faint. Once, he coughed up blood out of exhaustion, not realizing that he had stained his esrog with his blood.
And this recalls the story of the second Skverer Rebbe, Reb Dovid, who while slicing a piece of bread, sliced into his finger, and did not take notice of it right away. When his wife saw blood dripping from the counter she ran for the doctor. While the doctor sat at the table stitching up Reb Dovid's hand, Reb Dovid sat immersed looking into a sefer. Such was his prishus (separation from earthly happenings).
And this, of course, recalls the story of the "Ezkara Gedolah" of the first Modzitzer Rebbe. Read Inspiration Under the Surgeon's knife by clicking "Modzitzer Rebbe" on the right side column.
A few days before Sukkos one year, the Chassam Sofer was interviewing two prospective students for his illustrious yeshiva in Pressburg. There was only one slot left open for the new zman (session). One turned out to be a young man of extraordinary learning, while the other turned out to be quite average. The Chasam Sofer's mind was made up. He accompanied the bachurim off the grounds of the yeshiva and, on their way out into the yard, they saw the sukkah being erected. One bochur, the talmid chochom, stepped onto the schach (bamboo used for the top of the sukkah) on the ground, and the other walked around the schach. Said the Chasam Sofer later, "for someone to trample on a mitzvah?" And now his mind was made up for sure.
According to Abudraham, the reason that the lulav is waved several times during davening is because it signifies a gesture of triumph. Just as kings wave their flags over territories they have won from their enemies, so too do we wave the lulav to proclaim victory over the accusers on Yom Kippur.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
No Esrog in Berditchev
All of Berditchev was in a panic just before Sukkos, because there was no esrog to be found in the vicinity. Reb Levi Yitzchak had one last hope, and that was to send a few of his chassidim to the crossroads in the hope of finding a passer-by who owned an esrog for Yom Tov. And, indeed, the chassidim came across a Jew who was carrying a big, beautiful esrog, but he lived in a far-off town, and was in quite a hurry to return before the start of the holiday. The chassidim begged him to come into town, and when the man continually refused, they told him that he was summoned by Reb Levi Yitzchak himself to appear with his esrog in hand.
Reb Levi Yitzchak immediately entreated the man to spend the Yom Tov in Berditchev, so that the Rebbe himself, in addition to as many townsfolk as possible, could pronounce a bracha on the lulav and esrog. But the man had a wife and children waiting back home. He couldn't possibly have them spend Sukkos alone. Reb Levi Yitzchak offered him brachos for children and wealth, but he already had seven children, and he was a wealthy man. Finally, Reb Levi Yitzchak made him an offer: "If you stay in Berditchev for Sukkos, I can promise you part of my portion in the world to come." And at this the man agreed, and the people of Berditcheve were overjoyed.
Following this news, Reb Levi Yitzchak issued an unusual order saying that no townsman is allowed to receive this man into his sukkoh. The people were baffled, but, after all, this was an order from the Rebbe. Upon coming home from shul, the man entered his rented room, and found wine for kiddush, two challahs, candles, and a complete Yom Tov meal. He exited the house only to hear singing and general jubilation coming from his temporary landlords sukkah. When he entered, he was told that he was not allowed in. Dumbfounded by this decline, he took a walk around town, listening to and watching complete families exult in the simcha of the festival. But whenever he poked his head into a sukkah he was denied entry. Finally, he learned that this was by order of the Rebbe. "What is all of this? What have I done to deserve it?" he asked of Reb Levi Yitzchak. "If you will waive your claim to the promise I made to you earlier (to receive part of the Rebbe's portion in the world to come), then I will rescind my order, and you will then be allowed to enter the sukkah of your choice," said Reb Levi Yitzchak.
"What to do now?" wondered the man. It was a choice between receiving a portion of the Rebbe's lot in the world to come vs. fulfilling the mitvah of eating in the sukkah this year. The sukkah had won out. "All my life I've been sitting and eating in the sukkah each year, and now, this year, would I simply eat like a goy, indoors?" The two shook hands. The promise of the Rebbe was taken back, and the man found a nice family with a nice sukkah for the evening meal.
As Sukkos came to an end, Reb Levi Yitzchak called for the man. "I hereby return my promise to you," said the Rebbe. "Naturally, I wanted you to have part of my portion in the world to come. But I didn't want you to gain your extra portion in the world to come cheaply through a small matter of bargaining. I wanted you to earn it, through your deeds. And so that is why I put you through the test with the matter of the sukkah. And now, since you've withstood the test, and demonstrated the self-sacrifice of mesirus nefesh so that you could fulfill that mitzvah, now you really do deserve a portion of my lot in the world to come."
More to come...
Reb Levi Yitzchak immediately entreated the man to spend the Yom Tov in Berditchev, so that the Rebbe himself, in addition to as many townsfolk as possible, could pronounce a bracha on the lulav and esrog. But the man had a wife and children waiting back home. He couldn't possibly have them spend Sukkos alone. Reb Levi Yitzchak offered him brachos for children and wealth, but he already had seven children, and he was a wealthy man. Finally, Reb Levi Yitzchak made him an offer: "If you stay in Berditchev for Sukkos, I can promise you part of my portion in the world to come." And at this the man agreed, and the people of Berditcheve were overjoyed.
Following this news, Reb Levi Yitzchak issued an unusual order saying that no townsman is allowed to receive this man into his sukkoh. The people were baffled, but, after all, this was an order from the Rebbe. Upon coming home from shul, the man entered his rented room, and found wine for kiddush, two challahs, candles, and a complete Yom Tov meal. He exited the house only to hear singing and general jubilation coming from his temporary landlords sukkah. When he entered, he was told that he was not allowed in. Dumbfounded by this decline, he took a walk around town, listening to and watching complete families exult in the simcha of the festival. But whenever he poked his head into a sukkah he was denied entry. Finally, he learned that this was by order of the Rebbe. "What is all of this? What have I done to deserve it?" he asked of Reb Levi Yitzchak. "If you will waive your claim to the promise I made to you earlier (to receive part of the Rebbe's portion in the world to come), then I will rescind my order, and you will then be allowed to enter the sukkah of your choice," said Reb Levi Yitzchak.
"What to do now?" wondered the man. It was a choice between receiving a portion of the Rebbe's lot in the world to come vs. fulfilling the mitvah of eating in the sukkah this year. The sukkah had won out. "All my life I've been sitting and eating in the sukkah each year, and now, this year, would I simply eat like a goy, indoors?" The two shook hands. The promise of the Rebbe was taken back, and the man found a nice family with a nice sukkah for the evening meal.
As Sukkos came to an end, Reb Levi Yitzchak called for the man. "I hereby return my promise to you," said the Rebbe. "Naturally, I wanted you to have part of my portion in the world to come. But I didn't want you to gain your extra portion in the world to come cheaply through a small matter of bargaining. I wanted you to earn it, through your deeds. And so that is why I put you through the test with the matter of the sukkah. And now, since you've withstood the test, and demonstrated the self-sacrifice of mesirus nefesh so that you could fulfill that mitzvah, now you really do deserve a portion of my lot in the world to come."
More to come...
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Yom Kippur Stories
A few vignettes for Yom Kippur.
One year during davening (prayers) on Yom Kippur, the Alter Rebbe, Reb Shneur Zalman of Liadi (one of the early chassidic masters), was seen taking off his tallis (prayer shawl) in the middle of the service. It was just before musaf when he put his tallis aside, and hastily made his way for the door of the shul. The chassidim were flabergasted. Came the beginning of musaf, and the Rebbe had not yet returned. He had not returned for the rest of the davening, in fact. And so a delegation was sent out to look for the Rebbe on this cold day. But he was nowhere to be seen in the houses, and nowhere to be seen in the town. They asked the children playing in the street if they had seen the Rebbe, and the children pointed in the direction that they had last seen him walk in haste. The delegation then came about some more children and, once again, followed in the direction that they had indicated. Finally, they were at the edge of town. They walked on a bit, and there was Reb Shneur Zalman, chopping wood in the cold, on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year. The chassidim looked on in utter astonishment until they mustered up the courage to approach the Rebbe. It turns out that there was a sickly, neglected widow at the edge of town, whom the Rebbe forgot to visit before the start of the holiday. He was customarily active in buying her food, providing her with wood to heat her home, and looking after her general well-being. "Unfortunately, too many widows are neglected on the holidays," said the Rebbe. Although any type of labor is forbidden on Yom Kippur, the Rebbe found it his duty, as soon as he remembered that he had not come to the aid of this older woman, to make his way out of the shul, even during the davening, and to take upon himself the aveirah (sin) of working on this holiest of days, in order that a widow would not be left in the cold.
Reb Dovid of Lelov was making his way to shul one year on Erev Yom Kippur. Passing by a house, he heard the wail of a baby. He opened the door, and found the baby lying wrapped up on the table, with no parents to be seen. It was obvious what had happened: The parents had gone to shul to hear Kol Nidrei, and they simply left the baby behind, hoping that it would rest quietly and peacefully until they had returned an hour or two later. Reb Dovid was horrified at this idea. He sat with the baby, and cradled it in his arms for the complete duration of Kol Nidrei. Meanwhile, the shul was abuzz with rumors and theories as to what could have happened to the Rebbe on the most important night of the year! The door to the house finally opened, and the baby's parents were astonished to see the Lelover Rebbe sitting at their table with their baby in his hands. "One must not leave a young baby unguarded EVEN if it is to hear Kol Nidrei on Yom Kippur," said the Rebbe. Here too, the Rebbe had compromised his own spiritual obligations on Yom Kippur, in order to give comfort and warmth to a needy infant.
Rav Zelig Epstein, Rosh Yeshiva Shar Hatorah - Grodno, who recently passed away, had been friendly with a family. The parents survived the Holocaust, but only one of the children survived, a boy. The father had passed away at some point, and the son died in the mother's own lifetime, as well. Now this woman lived in a section of New York that was not inhabited by many Jews. Her neighborhood was certainly not in walking distance and, due to her advanced age and her poor health, she would not be able to attend Yom Kippur services, and she would, most likely, not even come into contact with any other Jews during the holiest day of the year. Rav Zelig Epstein walked into Yeshiva Torah Voda'ath, then in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, and went up to Rav Yaakom Kamenetzky, as he was reciting kriyas shema. At Rav Kamenetzky's conclusion Rav Epstein whispered his shailah (religious question) into his ear: Could he take a bus on Yom Kippur to visit a poor, sickly widow at the edge of town, who doesn't have a friend or relative left in the world. Rav Kamenetzky put his hand in his pocket and handed Rav Epstein change for the bus.
One year for Yom Kippur at yeshiva Ponovitch in Bnei Brak, there was an issue at hand. The yeshiva was a popular place to daven (pray) for the High Holidays, but the yeshiva just didn't have enough room. Year after year, they made expansions, but more people kept on coming. One year some of the members of the yeshiva came up with a plan. They would put a mechitzah (separation) through the ezras nashim (women's section), thereby decreasing the ezras nashim by half, and allowing more men to enter the yeshiva to daven. The question was taken to Rav Shach. "Do you know what kind of women come to shul on Yom Kippur to daven?" he asked. "The women with the babies, the women with the families are home with the kids. Those that come are made up of widows, women who are alone, and so on. And the tefilla (prayers) of the entire yeshiva ascends to heaven on the backs of these women. So no, you may not put up a second mechitza!"
The Tolna Rebbe of Jerusalem told a story of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach. It was erev Yom Kippur, and everyone was scrambling with last minute preparations. Rav Shlomo Zalman, presumably busier than anyone in the Sha'arei Chesed vicinity, undoubtedly answering last minute shailos on fasting, and doing his own spiritual hachanah (preparation), had heard about a young girl of fifteen. She was broken down emotionally; she had lost her Yiddishkeit (Judaism) all-together. Nothing in the world could help her. On Erev Yom Kippur, a few hours before Kol Nidrei, Rav Shlomo Zalman called this girl up, and asked, "how are you?"
After the holiday, the girl's father came to Rav Shlomo Zalman, and said, "you were mechaye meisim (you resurrected the dead). After the phone call, she asked me for a ticket to go to shul to hear Kol Nidrei." The busiest time of year, and the busiest Rav around, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, took the time to make a phone call to a young girl in need. And it changed her life.
One year during davening (prayers) on Yom Kippur, the Alter Rebbe, Reb Shneur Zalman of Liadi (one of the early chassidic masters), was seen taking off his tallis (prayer shawl) in the middle of the service. It was just before musaf when he put his tallis aside, and hastily made his way for the door of the shul. The chassidim were flabergasted. Came the beginning of musaf, and the Rebbe had not yet returned. He had not returned for the rest of the davening, in fact. And so a delegation was sent out to look for the Rebbe on this cold day. But he was nowhere to be seen in the houses, and nowhere to be seen in the town. They asked the children playing in the street if they had seen the Rebbe, and the children pointed in the direction that they had last seen him walk in haste. The delegation then came about some more children and, once again, followed in the direction that they had indicated. Finally, they were at the edge of town. They walked on a bit, and there was Reb Shneur Zalman, chopping wood in the cold, on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year. The chassidim looked on in utter astonishment until they mustered up the courage to approach the Rebbe. It turns out that there was a sickly, neglected widow at the edge of town, whom the Rebbe forgot to visit before the start of the holiday. He was customarily active in buying her food, providing her with wood to heat her home, and looking after her general well-being. "Unfortunately, too many widows are neglected on the holidays," said the Rebbe. Although any type of labor is forbidden on Yom Kippur, the Rebbe found it his duty, as soon as he remembered that he had not come to the aid of this older woman, to make his way out of the shul, even during the davening, and to take upon himself the aveirah (sin) of working on this holiest of days, in order that a widow would not be left in the cold.
Reb Dovid of Lelov was making his way to shul one year on Erev Yom Kippur. Passing by a house, he heard the wail of a baby. He opened the door, and found the baby lying wrapped up on the table, with no parents to be seen. It was obvious what had happened: The parents had gone to shul to hear Kol Nidrei, and they simply left the baby behind, hoping that it would rest quietly and peacefully until they had returned an hour or two later. Reb Dovid was horrified at this idea. He sat with the baby, and cradled it in his arms for the complete duration of Kol Nidrei. Meanwhile, the shul was abuzz with rumors and theories as to what could have happened to the Rebbe on the most important night of the year! The door to the house finally opened, and the baby's parents were astonished to see the Lelover Rebbe sitting at their table with their baby in his hands. "One must not leave a young baby unguarded EVEN if it is to hear Kol Nidrei on Yom Kippur," said the Rebbe. Here too, the Rebbe had compromised his own spiritual obligations on Yom Kippur, in order to give comfort and warmth to a needy infant.
Rav Zelig Epstein, Rosh Yeshiva Shar Hatorah - Grodno, who recently passed away, had been friendly with a family. The parents survived the Holocaust, but only one of the children survived, a boy. The father had passed away at some point, and the son died in the mother's own lifetime, as well. Now this woman lived in a section of New York that was not inhabited by many Jews. Her neighborhood was certainly not in walking distance and, due to her advanced age and her poor health, she would not be able to attend Yom Kippur services, and she would, most likely, not even come into contact with any other Jews during the holiest day of the year. Rav Zelig Epstein walked into Yeshiva Torah Voda'ath, then in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, and went up to Rav Yaakom Kamenetzky, as he was reciting kriyas shema. At Rav Kamenetzky's conclusion Rav Epstein whispered his shailah (religious question) into his ear: Could he take a bus on Yom Kippur to visit a poor, sickly widow at the edge of town, who doesn't have a friend or relative left in the world. Rav Kamenetzky put his hand in his pocket and handed Rav Epstein change for the bus.
One year for Yom Kippur at yeshiva Ponovitch in Bnei Brak, there was an issue at hand. The yeshiva was a popular place to daven (pray) for the High Holidays, but the yeshiva just didn't have enough room. Year after year, they made expansions, but more people kept on coming. One year some of the members of the yeshiva came up with a plan. They would put a mechitzah (separation) through the ezras nashim (women's section), thereby decreasing the ezras nashim by half, and allowing more men to enter the yeshiva to daven. The question was taken to Rav Shach. "Do you know what kind of women come to shul on Yom Kippur to daven?" he asked. "The women with the babies, the women with the families are home with the kids. Those that come are made up of widows, women who are alone, and so on. And the tefilla (prayers) of the entire yeshiva ascends to heaven on the backs of these women. So no, you may not put up a second mechitza!"
The Tolna Rebbe of Jerusalem told a story of Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach. It was erev Yom Kippur, and everyone was scrambling with last minute preparations. Rav Shlomo Zalman, presumably busier than anyone in the Sha'arei Chesed vicinity, undoubtedly answering last minute shailos on fasting, and doing his own spiritual hachanah (preparation), had heard about a young girl of fifteen. She was broken down emotionally; she had lost her Yiddishkeit (Judaism) all-together. Nothing in the world could help her. On Erev Yom Kippur, a few hours before Kol Nidrei, Rav Shlomo Zalman called this girl up, and asked, "how are you?"
After the holiday, the girl's father came to Rav Shlomo Zalman, and said, "you were mechaye meisim (you resurrected the dead). After the phone call, she asked me for a ticket to go to shul to hear Kol Nidrei." The busiest time of year, and the busiest Rav around, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, took the time to make a phone call to a young girl in need. And it changed her life.
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