Also the Small Print
Many years ago in Tel Aviv, a distraught stranger appeared on the
doorstep of Rabbi Aharon of Belz (who lived in the Holy Land
in his later years after his miraculous escape from the Nazis). There
was no doubt that the stranger was not a traditional Belzer Chasid.
When the Rebbe's attendant explained that it was not the usual time
for visitors, the man declared that he would not leave until he was
admitted. After a brief consultation with the Rebbe, the attendant
let him in.
From the other side of the closed door, the attendant was shocked
to hear the Rebbe raising his voice. He could not imagine what could
have prompted the saintly Rebbe, who was the epitome of refinement,
to employ such a tone of voice when speaking to another Jew. The whole
matter was quite curious.
A short time later the door to the Rebbe's room opened and the man
walked out. His eyes, which he kept averted on the floor, were swollen
and red from crying. Without uttering another word he was gone.
Not long afterward, the Ohr HaTzafun ("Light of the North")
synagogue on Ibn Gabirol Street acquired a new attendee. The gentleman
in the light-colored suit and beret showed up every morning and took
the same seat. His first day in shul, he had asked someone
to find him a volume of Tractate Brachot. Opening the Gemara
to the first page he had then asked, "And where is Rashi's
commentary?" The helpful congregant had pointed out the small
letters on the inner margins.
Taking the huge tome with him into a corner, the stranger had sat
a long time staring at the text. For the first few days he hadn't
even turned the page, a look of intense mental exertion on his face.
The man was strangely quiet, almost inanimate. Every day around noontime,
after several hours of study, he would close the volume and leave.
Over the next few weeks the man gradually found his voice. One could
tell that he understood what he was learning, and indeed, was enjoying
himself. The man always studied the Gemara with Rashi's
commentary. One finger was always on the text; another was always
on Rashi's explanation.
Over the course of time the other congregants grew accustomed to
the stranger, who by now sported a beard. They referred to him as
the "baal teshuva," someone who had recently returned
to religious observance, but despite their attempts the man seemed
uninterested in emerging from his shell of isolation and loneliness.
And so the situation continued for many years: ten, 15, maybe even
20...
Eventually it came to the attention of the Belzer Rebbe's attendant
that the mysterious gentleman who sat and learned Gemara in
the Ohr HaTzafun synagogue was none other than the visitor
who had insisted on seeing the Rebbe so many years before. In the
end, the man revealed his secret:
His
name was Levi Yitzchak; he had been named after the famous Rabbi
Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, from whom he was descended. Born
in Russia, he had attended cheder as a child. But after the
Bolshevik Revolution his parents had been forced to send him to Communist
schools, where every last vestige of Judaism had been uprooted from
his heart.
Years ago he had come to Israel, where he expected to live out his
life much as he had till then. One day, however, seemingly out of
the blue, he found himself thinking about his late parents. Their
memory soon became an obsession; no matter what he did, he could not
rid himself of it. The disparity between his present lifestyle and
his early childhood was just too great; his conscience bothered him
night and day.
The more he sought relief, the more it eluded him. Things got so
bad that he seriously considered suicide, G-d forbid. Then one night
he had a dream, in which an elderly Rabbi appeared to him. The next
morning, he was even more agitated. Wandering the streets of Tel Aviv
he had entered synagogue after synagogue frantically searching for
relief from his dreams, but to no avail.
Some time later he happened to visit the study hall of the Belzer
Rebbe. When he saw the holy tzadik he recognized him as the
nocturnal visitor of his dream. That very day he had insisted on speaking
with him and had poured out his heart, including his plan to do away
with himself. "I've already forfeited the World to Come,"
he had wept bitterly, "and in this world I can find no peace."
Upon hearing these words the Rebbe had raised his voice and thundered,
"What are you saying? G-d forbid that you should do such a thing.
G-d forbid, do you hear me?" After a long talk the Rebbe had
put his holy hand on Levi Yitzchak and said, "The tikun
[rectification] for your soul will be to study Gemara with
Rashi's commentary -- a lot of Gemara with Rashi.
Now go home and begin a new life."
Levi Yitzchak had followed the Rebbe's advice, and his peace of mind
was soon restored. And ever since, not a day went by that he didn't
learn Gemara with Rashi.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Adapted by Yrachmiel Tilles from the rendition on www.lchaimweekly.org
(#680).
Photograph of the new Belz shul in Jerusalem courtesy of www.ThirdTemple.com]
Biographical note:
Rabbi Aharon of Belz [1900 - 21 Av 1957], the fourth rebbe
in the Belz dynasty, was considered one of the purest holy men of
his generation. In 1944 he miraculously escaped from the Nazis and
moved to Israel, where after a brief time in Jerusalem he set up his
court in Tel Aviv. The current Belzer Rebbe, who has established a
huge center in Jerusalem, is his nephew.
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (1740-25 Tishrei 1810) is
one of the most popular rebbes in chasidic history. He was a close
disciple of the Maggid of Mezritch. He is best known for his
love for every Jew and his active efforts to intercede for them against
(seemingly) adverse heavenly decrees. Many of his teachings are contained
in the posthumously published Kedushat Levi.
Yrachmiel Tilles
is co-founder and associate director of Ascent-of-Safed, and editor of Ascent
Quarterly and the AscentOfSafed.com and KabbalaOnline.org websites. He has hundreds
of published stories to his credit.
