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Chassidic Story
# 280
(s5763-25/24 Adar 1) THE MIDDLE OF THE STORY When
the Chafetz Chaim opened his eyes, they were filled with tears.
THE
MIDDLE OF THE STORYThe Chafetz
Chaim was a leading sage of the late 19th and early 20th centuries who lived
in the village of Radin, in Poland. He was a unifying and beloved leader, and
even those who had left the Torah path recognized that he was a great "tzadik"
- righteous person. He passed away in 1933. Over four decades later, a rabbi visiting
Miami, Florida gave a lecture on the life and accomplishments of the Chafetz Chaim.
He mentioned the many books that the Chafetz Chaim had authored, and he told numerous
stories which depicted the Chafetz Chaim's deep love and concern for others.
There
was another story the rabbi wanted to tell, but he hesitated, for he only knew
part of it. As he stood at the lectern, he thought for a moment and then decided
that he would tell it anyway. He rationalized that even an unfinished story about
the Chafetz Chaim would have a meaningful message. He began to relate an incident
about a teenage boy in the Chafetz Chaim's yeshiva who was found smoking a cigarette
on Shabbos - the sacred seventh day. The faculty and students were shocked, and
some of the faculty felt that the boy should be expelled. However, when the Chafetz
Chaim heard the story, he asked that the boy be brought to his home.
At
this point, the rabbi recounting the story interrupted the narrative and said,
"I don't know what the Chafetz Chaim said to the boy. I only know that they
were together for a few minutes; yet, I would give anything to know what he said
to this student, for I am told that the boy never desecrated the Shabbos again.
How wonderful it would be if we could relay that message - whatever it was - to
others, in order to encourage them in their observance of Shabbos." The rabbi
then continued with his lecture.
After his talk, the hall emptied of everyone
except for one elderly man, who remained in his seat, alone with his thoughts.
From the distance, it seemed he was trembling, as if he was either crying or suffering
from chills. The rabbi walked over to the elderly man and asked him, "Is
anything wrong?" The man responded, "Where did you hear that story
of the cigarette on Shabbos?" He did not look up and was still shaken. "I
really don't know, answered the rabbi. "I heard it a while ago and I don't
even remember who told it to me." The man looked up at the rabbi and said
softly, "I was that boy." He then asked the rabbi to go outside, and
as the two walked together, he told the rabbi the following story:
"This
incident occurred in the 1920's when the Chafetz Chaim was in his eighties. I
was terrified to have to go into his house and face him. But when I did go into
his home, I looked around with disbelief at the poverty in which he lived. It
was unimaginable to me that a man of his stature would be satisfied to live in
such surroundings.
"Suddenly he was in the room where I was waiting.
He was remarkably short. At that time I was a teenager and he only came up to
my shoulders. He took my hand and clasped it tenderly in both of his. He brought
my hand in his own clasped hands up to his face, and when I looked into his soft
face, his eyes were closed for a moment. "When he opened them, they were
filled with tears. He then said to me in a hushed voice full of pain and astonishment,
'Shabbos!' And he started to cry. He was still holding both my hands in his, and
while he was crying he repeated with astonishment, 'Shabbos, heliger Shabbos!'
"My heart started pounding and I became more frightened than I had
been before. Tears streamed down his face and one of them rolled onto my hand.
I thought it would bore a hole right through my skin. When I think of those tears
today, I can still feel their heat. I can't describe how awful it felt to know
that I had made the great tzadik cry. But in his rebuke - which consisted
only of those few words - I felt that he was not angry, but rather sad and disappointed
with me. He seemed frightened at the consequences of my actions." The
elderly man then caressed the hand that bore the invisible scar of a precious
tear. It had become his permanent reminder to observe the "holy Shabbos"
for the rest of his life.
Adapted by Yrachmiel Tilles from <chazon1@netvision.net.il>
by Yosef Ben Shlomo Hakohen, who first heard the story from Rabbi Shlomo Riskin,
when he was serving as the Rabbi of the Lincoln Square Synagogue in Manhattan
in the late 1970's, and supported his memory with the version found in the book
"Around the Maggid's Table" by Rabbi Paysach Krohn (Artscroll).He thinks
that Rabbi Riskin was also the rabbi-lecturer of the story, but on that we await
reader confirmation.
Biographical note: Rabbi
Yisrael Meir HaCohen Kagan (1838-24 Elul 1933), popularly known as the Chafetz
Chaim after the title of one of his many influential books, was one of
the most important and beloved rabbinical scholars and leaders of the 20th century.
His other works include Mishna Berura, an authoritative, almost universally
accepted compendium of Jewish Law, and Shmiras HaLashon, about proper and
improper speech.
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