Chag HaSukkos/Shemini Atzeres/Simchas Torah/Parshas Bereishis 5785
- Torah Tavlin
- Oct 16, 2024
- 10 min read
ותתן לי לב טהור להבין תורה שעולה כמנין אתרוג עם הכולל .... (תפילה בשעה שאוגדין את הלולב)
In 1877, during the war between Russia and Turkey, there were no esrogim available throughout the entire Russian Empire, as their enemy, the Turks, was the main supplier. In the city of Vilna, they managed to find one esrog for sale - one for which a sailor had smuggled it through, even swimming with it attached to his person, through the Black Sea into Russia.
A middle-class man by the name of Reb Leib was determined to purchase it. “Whatever it entails, I’ll see to it that I buy that esrog,” he declared. There was just one simple problem. How was he going to come up with the 150 rubles needed for its purchase? He wasn’t rich, or even mildly wealthy. The only belonging of such value was his house. But he really wanted that esrog so he and his wife agreed to put their house up for sale just so they could shake an esrog on the forthcoming Yom Tov. Within a short time they found a customer and were soon holding the complete sum to cover the cost of his prized esrog.
On the night of Sukkos, Reb Leib was twisting and turning from excitement. The hours went by and soon it was time for him to perform the mitzvah of a lifetime. As dawn was nearing, Reb Leib fervently ran to the mikvah in preparation for the mitzvah, and then back home. As soon as dawn broke, Reb Leib made a beracha and shook the esrog in all directions.
He looked out his window and saw lines of people waiting outside his newly rented apartment, waiting to shake his esrog. He happily handed it over to them granting them permission for its use. Shortly thereafter, the eager crowd pushed and shoved mightily, causing a jostle that caused the esrog to fall on the ground, breaking off its pitom.
The people standing there were filled with pain - they were unable to shuckle the esrog. The air thickened with their agony. On top of that, they now had to break the news to Reb Leib, and they were afraid of his reaction.
Seeing the crowd standing in silence, Reb Leib sensed that something was wrong. “What happened?” questioned R’ Leib. When someone built up the courage to disclose what had occurred, they were shocked to hear the soft-spoken voice of Reb Leib respond, “Well, if there is no pitom, then there is no beracha!” Meaning, that up until now our obligation was to shake it, and now our obligation was not to shake it - a true acceptance of the situation.
The audience was in awe over Reb Leib’s humility.
The story was told over to the great Chofetz Chaim zt”l in Radin. He was noticeably shocked by what he heard, and he proceeded to question all those around him, “Tell me, which act shows his true greatness? Is it the fact that he sold his house to purchase an esrog, or is it his acceptance of the loss of the esrog?” The people standing there were under the impression that selling his house for this mitzvah was surely greater, but that was not the opinion of the Chofetz Chaim.
“In my opinion, his reaction and calm demeanor was surely greater,” continued the Chofetz Chaim. “Accepting the way Hashem runs the world is a demonstration of emunah, and that is the foundation of all the mitzvos. That was a proclamation how he understood that Hashem is conducting the world, and that’s the root to all the remaining mitzvos!” The great Sage concluded, “So yes, he passed two great challenges, but the second challenge was the greater one.” (Printed with permission from the Zichru Toras Moshe – Shabbos Table Stories. To subscribe email: The.Zichru.Toras.Moshe@gmail.com)
אתה הראית לדעת כי ה' הוא האלקים אין עוד מלבדו ... (נוסח התפילה לפני הקפות)
The 25th of Tishrei, two days after the conclusion of Sukkos, is the yahrzeit of the great Rebbe, R’ Levi Yitzchok of Berditchev zt”l. R’ Levi Yitzchok is best known as the advocate of the Jewish people (סניגורן של ישראל). He is famous for his ability to find a positive point in every Jew and in advocating in favor of the Jewish people as a whole in front of the Almighty and His Heavenly tribunal. In his early years, however, the Berditchever was misunderstood and often ridiculed. What was there to ridicule about the Berditchever’s behavior? Well, because of his tremendous arousal and excitement in worshiping the Almighty, R’ Levi Yitzchok would often act with abandon and without any regard for décor. It was common to see him jumping on tables, turning over dishes, etc. This caused numerous Misnagdim and opponents of Chassidim to ridicule and mock him and R’ Levi Yitzchok was driven out of a number towns until he settled in Berditchev. At the time Berditchev was a town full of Jews who had been influenced by the enlightenment and had all but abandoned their Judaism, so much so that the nature of R’ Levi Yitzchok’s ecstatic service of the Almighty furnished material for the local theater which would regularly put on a performances, satirizing him and traditional Judaism. Still, as the advocate for the Jewish people, R’ Levi Yitzchok felt that it was imperative for him to live in a place like Berditchev and accepted the difficult task of being the Rav there with great aplomb.
One year, on Simchas Torah, the gabbai of the main shul honored R’ Levi Yitzchok with reciting the posukim of “Ata Hareisa” that are said before Hakafos. The shamash of the synagogue called up the Rav using all kinds of fancy musical flourishes and compliments. Everyone leaned forward expectantly to hear the young sage.
R’ Levi Yitzchok rose from his place, put his Talis over his head, and then paused. A minute went by and suddenly, he removed his Talis from his head. With all eyes on the great Tzaddik, he again placed the Talis over his head, and after an extra few seconds, he once again removed it. This happened a few more times until finally, R’ Levi Yitzchok called out in a loud voice, “If you are a such a great Torah scholar and chasid, then you go to the Aron and say Ata Hareisa!”
With that, he turned and walked back to his seat. In the end, someone else was called up who recited Ata Hareisa.
His father-in-law was in attendance in shul and was frankly embarrassed by his son-in-law’s behavior. However, R’ Levi Yitzchok returned from the Beis Medrash in a particularly joyous mood. During the meal, his father-in-law asked, “Levi Yitzchok, why did you humiliate me publicly?”
“Let me explain what happened,” said R’ Levi Yitzchok. “When I put my Talis over my head to go to the Aron, I saw the yetzer hara, the Satan himself, standing next to me. ‘Who are you?’ I asked him.
“‘Who are you?’ he asked me in return.
“‘’Me? I am a Torah scholar,’ I said.
“‘I, too, am a Torah scholar,’ he told me.
“‘Really? And where,’ I asked him, ‘did you learn to be a scholar?’
“‘And where,’ he asked me, ‘did you learn to be a scholar?’
“‘I studied under the Rebbe, R’ Shmelke of Nikolsburg zt”l,’ I told him.
“‘And I too,’ he said, ‘was with you, and my hand did not leave your side for a moment.’
“‘But,’ I went on, ‘I am a chasid.’
“‘I, too,’ he said, ‘am a chasid.’
“‘Where,’ I asked him, ‘did you learn your way in chasidus?’
“‘And where,’ he asked me, ‘did you learn?’
“‘I learned it all from the Sefer Yereim,’ I said.
“‘I was with you,’ he said, ‘and we learned it together.’
R’ Levi Yitzchok turned to his father-in-law and smiled. “I saw that he refused to leave me alone. I therefore took the Talis off my head and said, ‘Okay, if you are a Torah scholar and a chasid, then you say Ata Hareisa....’”
על כן יעזב איש את אביו ואת אמו ודבק באשתו והיו לבשר אחד ... (בראשית ב-כד)
The following story was recently told over by a yungerman, married with three children. The story occurred when he was twenty-seven years old. The shidduch period was a real Krias Yam Suf for him. It’s not that he was overly picky; the appropriate offers just didn’t happen and the right date hadn’t come along. After so many offers that ended in nothing, one can easily reach despair. What’s more, most of his friends were married and one of them already had a six-year-old child.
“On one of the days of Bein Hazmanim, I went to Bnei Brak to attend the wedding of a friend. I arrived at the Chupah, stayed for the food and dancing, and at ten o’clock, left the hall for the nearest bus station to Jerusalem. I met a friend and started talking to him at the entrance of a building. It turns out that he was at a Sheva Berachos of his relative. Suddenly, a man comes down from the building and says to my friend, ‘Why are you out here? Go upstairs, it’s really empty and sad up there.’ Then he turns to me, ‘Come upstairs, they’re waiting for you there.’ Waiting for me? Waiting for what? I try to tell him that he is mixing me up with another person, but he interrupts me: ‘Look, I’m currently looking for ten men to complete the minyan for Sheva Berachos, so please come upstairs. There is a chosson and kallah there who are supposed to be happy but it’s already 10:30 PM, and there are only six participants for the simcha.... If you go up, you’ll get a prize.’
I open my mouth to answer him that I’m in a hurry, and besides, I wasn’t looking for a ‘prize’ but something in his voice sounded kind and innocent and I decided to comply. It was a basic Sheva Berachos in a regular house, it was also rather shabby with the bride and groom, the two in-laws, one grandfather, two boys and several babies in a stroller sitting there. No one sang or even spoke loudly. No music was played. It was quite “Nebechdik,” to be quite honest. I thought to myself, how are they going to pass the time here? Little by little, individual family members arrived until finally a minyan was formed.
The man who had called me up looked at me and said, ‘Sing something.’ I looked left and right and realized he was talking to me. I had no choice. I started with ‘Od Yishama’ and ‘Mehaira’ and then lapsed into ‘Invei haGefen b’Invei haGefen’ and ‘V’yizku livnos bayis ne’eman B’yisroel.’ A few members of the bride’s family (it might have been the groom’s family - who knew?) hummed along and this went on for a few moments. After these songs, the same man approaches me and whispers in my ear: ‘Say a few words for the simcha.’ I looked at him dumbly. ‘I know you didn’t prepare a dvar Torah but go ahead, start to speak, say something about the chosson ... You will receive a prize!’ Again, with the prize - what does he want from me?
The man tells me that the chosson’s name is Mordechai and he learns in such and such yeshivah, the Mesechta, his Rosh Yeshivah, and a few other pertinent details. ‘Say a few words, L’kavod the simcha,’ he again urges me. And here I act bravely, get up and begin to sing the praises of a man named Mordecai whom I have never seen before, and most likely will never see again. Somehow, a speech came out that was full of praise for the bridegroom, whose name I only heard a few minutes before, and who went far in his learning and avodas Hashem... and in relation to friends. I even gave examples from his life (which I heard a moment before), in which Mordechai proved himself to be noble and special in the midda of giving.
My words made a great impression on those present, and to be honest, myself too. I praised the wonderful chosson by stating that this is what they say about him. Everyone shook my hand, and the bridegroom embraced me with many thanks. No one stood up to speak after me, and it seemed that my speech saved a sheva berachos that had almost been shut down.
The Yid sitting next to me asked for my name. He wanted to propose a shidduch. ‘How are you related to the groom?’ He was interested. ‘I am not related to the groom - or the bride,’ I explained to him. ‘I don’t even know what the bride’s surname is.’
‘So, what are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘Chessed,’ I told him. ‘I was asked join and make the minyan.’
He laughed heartily and said: ‘I am also a passer-by who came here at the request of one of the relatives, and since we are both in the same ‘family situation’ towards the chosson and kallah, this already makes us mechutanim - kind of!’ He smiled kindly. ‘In short, I want to suggest to you my sister’s daughter,’ he tells me. ‘What makes you think of proposing your sister’s daughter, before you even know me?’ ‘To tell you the truth, after your special speech, I feel like I know you a little, and after I hear that you are here voluntarily - I know you even more and appreciate you. And thirdly ... why not give it a try?’
Indeed, the third claim tipped the scales. I gave him my parents’ phone number and we went our separate ways. Everything else is already history. That evening produced a match, and today I am married with three children, baruch Hashem.
“And why did I remember this story? Because a week ago, I met someone familiar on the bus. He looked at me and I stared at him. ‘I know you from somewhere,’ he says. ‘Yeah, you too,’ I answer him. We both looked at each other. It is clear to us that we saw and talked and even had something nice and funny between us, but we couldn’t remember what it was.
‘Well, well,’ he suddenly taps his forehead. At that moment, I do the same. We both remembered! ‘It was you who spoke at the Sheva Berachos of my brother, Motti, in Bnei Brak, without even knowing him! How could I forget that? I have never heard such praise from someone who does not know the groom at all. It might have been the best Sheva Berachos speech of all time! It was a very sad evening that did not contribute to the happiness of the chosson and kallah, and you saved it with your appearance and your wonderfuyl words.’ I remember that night well. We both laughed.
‘Oy vey,’ he says suddenly. ‘What’s the Oy vey?’ I asked. ‘I promised you a prize, remember? One has to keep his promise.’ I laughed and said to the kind man, ‘Don’t worry, Hashem has kept your promise. I received my prize...”