THE
NOVICE AND THE MISER
One day in the 1960's, when Rabbi David Schochet of Toronto picked
up the envelope from Buffalo and read the letter inside, he was taken
aback. He was used to being asked to address Jewish audiences all
over the continent, but this invitation was something different. This
organization wanted him to speak before an "inter-faith"
audience of both Jewish and non-Jewish students. He felt uncomfortable
about it. How was he to speak about practical mitzvos such
as Shabbos and kashrus to large numbers of non-Jews?
His Buffalo contacts shrugged off his doubts. They insisted that lots
of Jews would be in attendance and much could be accomplished.
Feeling unclear about how to respond, Rabbi Schochet decided to consult
with the Lubavitcher Rebbe. He telephoned to Chabad world headquarters
in Brooklyn and explained his dilemma to one of the Rebbe's secretaries.
An answer was soon forthcoming. The Rebbe recommended that he accept
the invitation, and prepare to speak on a topic applicable to non-Jews
also, such as tzedakah, for the Torah portion of that week,
Re'ey, included the verse [Deut. 15:8], "You shall surely open
your hands to him...." The Rebbe also advised that he tell a
certain story, related to the topic of tzedakah.
When the date came, Rabbi Schochet crossed the border. Since it was
a night engagement, his hosts provided him with a hotel room. He checked
in, rested for awhile, and reviewed his notes. When he entered the
auditorium, two sights immediately surprised him: the audience was
much larger than he expected, and among the people gathered there
was a group of young novice priests, easily distinguishable by their
collars. Again, Rabbi Schochet felt apprehensive but, recalling the
Rebbe's advice and blessing, his confidence returned. During his lecture,
he made sure to tell the story that Rebbe had recommended, a now-famous
incident that had occurred in the mid 1600's in Cracow. In brief:
A certain wealthy man was scorned by the Jewish community because
of his notorious stinginess. They called him "Shiya the miser."
He never contributed to any charitable appeal. When he died, it was
decided to bury him in an unprestigious corner of the cemetery and
inscribe on his tombstone, "Shiya the miser."
In the ensuing weeks, the esteemed rabbi of the city, R. Yomtov
Lippman Heller, author of "Tosefos Yomtov," noticed
a dramatic increase in the number of poor Jews seeking his help to
purchase their Shabbos needs. The butchers and bakers were
no longer giving them food for free, and when he referred them to
the various funds for needy families, they reported back that the
treasurers of those funds insisted that no money was available.
How could it be that so many different funds had simultaneously become
depleted? The rabbi investigated. It turned out the so-called miser
had been single-handedly supporting every one of those merchants and
ffunds -- secretly-and for years!
Shocked, the rabbi immediately instructed that all Cracow Jewry gather
the next evening at the central synagogue to ask forgiveness of Reb
Shiya for their disrespectful treatment of him. He also gave instructions
that when he himself passed away, he should be buried next to Shiya.
In this way, when people came to visit his gravesite they would also
be paying respect to the person who had made the great mitzvah
of giving charity anonymously for so many years, at the expense of
his own reputation and social life. He also had the tombstone inscription
changed to read, "Shiya the holy miser."
The talk was very well received. One of the young priests even came
up to talk to him afterwards. He thanked the Rabbi profusely for his
lecture, and then asked him to please repeat the story. Rabbi Schochet
didn't feel so comfortable speaking at length with a priest in public,
so he invited him to drop by his hotel room.
Later that evening, the rabbi answered the quiet knock at the door.
He welcomed the priest in, offered him a comfortable seat, and repeated
the story that so interested the young man. His listener concentrated
intensely. After, he sat quietly for a moment and then asked the rabbi
to please do him the kindness of telling the story just one more time;
he wanted to be sure that he was retaining all the details.
Rabbi Schochet was startled by this unexpected request. The whole
situation was becoming bizarre. Perhaps his 'guest' wasn't quite normal?
Nevertheless, he told the story for a third time, and again noticed
that the young man was listening with rapt attention and great concentration.
This time, he asked the rabbi a number of questions about the Tosefos
YomTov: who was he, when was he, what other books did he write,
and so forth. Some of his questions Rabbi Schochet was able to answer,
and some not.
Finally, the novice thanked him profusely, mumbling several times
about how important it was to him to have heard this story. By now
the rabbi was more than half convinced that the man in the room with
him was out of his mind.
He escorted his guest to the door, still wondering. For a long time
the unsolved riddle of this strange encounter gnawed at him, but eventually
he let the memory slide away.
* * *
Fifteen years later, Rabbi Schochet had the opportunity to go to the
Holy Land for a visit. One day, when he was at the Western Wall, a
man came up to him and said "Sholom Aleichem." Rabbi
Schochet wasn't sure how to react. It wasn't anyone he knew. Was he
seeking tzedakah? As he reached towards his pocket the man
suddenly grabbed his hand and shook it heartily, insisting that they
knew each other. The rabbi stared at him and racked his memory, but
still had no idea who he was. Perhaps he had mistaken him for someone
else?
When Rabbi Schochet suggested that to him, he laughed. "Do you
remember that time in Buffalo fifteen years ago that you spoke to
an audience of Jews and non-Jews about tzedakah?"
"Yes," he replied. "So?"
"And you told a story about a miserly rich man in Cracow, remember?"
The rabbi nodded affirmatively, flashing back to that strange episode
in the hotel room.
"Well," the man said with a huge smile, "I am that
young priest who kept asking you to repeat the story!"
Rabbi Schochet couldn't believe it. Standing in front of him at the
Western Wall was an obviously observant Jew, wearing a long black
coat with a broad round black hat, and sporting long peyot (sidelocks)
dangling below his jawbone. He was flabbergasted and virtually speechless.
"But, but...."
The man cheerfully related his whole story.
"When my parents migrated to the United States, they concealed
their Jewish identity and raised me as a non-Jew. They even sent me
to a seminary for priests when I became old enough.
"My mother was a Polish survivor of WWII, who passed away while
I was still in that school. Before she died, she told me the secret
of her identity and that therefore I was really Jewish. I can't begin
to tell you how shocked I was. She also told me that story about the
miser who was buried next to a great rabbi, and said that the "stingy"
rich man of the story was her ancestor! She did not, however, remember
the name of the rabbi.
"When you told the story that night, it reminded me of what
my mother told me on her deathbed. But you knew so many more details.
I was fascinated. I felt I needed to know and retain as much as I
possibly could. That's why I kept asking you to repeat it.
"Afterwards, thoughts of my lineage allowed me no rest. I started
to investigate Judaism and became captivated. Finally I made the decision
to return to my people. I came to Israel and studied for a long time
in a yeshiva. Now I am a Breslover chasid, married with a wonderful
Jewish family and fully committed to the Torah way of life."
Rabbi Schochet listened, spellbound. He thanked his "old friend"
for recognizing him and initiating the conversation. He couldn't stop
marveling at the intricacies of Divine Providence, and that at last,
after all these years, he could begin to understand the profound effect
of the Rebbe's unusual advice.
Source: Translated and adapted by Yerachmiel Tilles from Lekket
Sipurim.
Biographical notes:
R. Yomtov Lippman Heller [1579-1654], is known as the "Tosefos
Yomtov," after his major commentary on the Mishna, the most
famous of his many scholarly works. As a young man, he studied in
Prague under the Maharal and subsequently under Rabbi Eliyahu Baal
Shem, a predecessor of the Baal Shem Tov. In Cracow, he succeeded
Rabbi Yoel Sirkis, the "Bach" as chief rabbi, and Yaakov
Yehoshua, the P'nei Yehoshua, as rosh yeshiva.
Rabbi Dovid Schochet was was born in Switzerland in 1932.
After the Second World War, the family moved to the Hague, Holland,
and then in 1951 to Canada. A world renowned Torah scholar, Rabbi
Schochet eventually became President of the Toronto Rabbinical Council
and a member of Vaad Rabbonei Lubavitch (the International Committee
of Chabad Rabbinical Judges).
Editor's note:
This story is sometimes told in the name of other contemporary rabbis.
Rabbi Schochet has confirmed confirmed all the major details of my
rendition.
