Chapter 61: Continuing the Time in Binovitch, Baruch Also Sees Negative Things

00:01 We continue the story of Baruch’s time in Yanovitch. Now, before his wedding, he is observing the changes that have taken place in the town because Zalman Chaim is there—the remarkable shamash who has completely changed the way people throughout the town behave. Baruch tells us several stories about people he met and the changes he saw in them. In the background is a Jew named Yaakov Isaac, whom we’ll hear about shortly. In a sense, he is the town’s leader, a very wealthy man. But first, some other people. There was Shimon the flour seller, Shimon the butcher, and Feiva the potter. At first, these three attended Zalman Chaim’s Chumash class, and when Baruch had previously been in town, they had seemed unable to absorb anything more. Now they were already attending a Mishnah class, and Baruch could see that they had acquired a considerable knowledge of what they were learning. Not only had these Jews become more learned; their general conduct had also changed for the better. Baruch remembered clearly how they used to stand in the marketplace, each beside his shop or stall, making jokes, quarrelling, and hurling insults at one another. Now they had developed good character traits and behaved like genuinely G-d-fearing people. Berl, known as the One-Eyed, and Chatzi[?] Teeth, too, would sit at the table in the beis midrash, listening to words of Aggadah or saying Tehillim. Even people like Shaul the horse thief and Yaakov Zalman the musician, who were looked down on in Yanovitch because of their dubious occupations, had changed for the better. One stole horses, while the musician played at the landowners’ revelries. Now both had changed their ways completely.

03:04 Shaul stopped stealing horses and began earning an honest living by the work of his hands. Yaakov Zalman, the musician, stopped playing for non-Jews and began playing at Jewish celebrations. Both spent their free time in the beis midrash. A great surprise to Baruch was Mordechai the miller, who, as we related, had become a shopkeeper in Yanovitch and served as the gabbai of the beis midrash. This Mordechai, who had spent his whole life in a village and had once struggled to grasp even a passage of Aggadah, now sat in a Gemara class and even took part in the discussions. Once again, Baruch saw what could be done with ordinary people. So he had no doubt that the right path was not the solitary, withdrawn one followed by Simcha Zelig, but that of Zalman Chaim the shamash, who spread Torah and good deeds among ordinary people. Baruch also had an opportunity to compare different approaches and consider which was more beneficial to people, both in their relationships with one another and in their relationship with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. This comparison convinced him firmly that Zalman Chaim’s way—the way of the hidden tzaddikim, who devoted themselves entirely to guiding ordinary people and cultivating good character traits even among the scholars—was more effective and spoke more deeply to his heart. In comparing the different approaches, Baruch did what he would do when studying Gemara. For every question and debate, he would vividly picture the Tannaim and Amoraim, listen, as it were, to their words and their arguments with one another, and delve into their reasoning and ideas. In that way he weighed, examined, and thought deeply about the different outlooks and directions in Jewish life. To be alone with nature, as he had loved to do since childhood, Baruch would walk outside the town. He sat down on a tree trunk by the roadside and sank into thought. He recalled an interesting conversation he had had with his brother-in-law, the rosh yeshivah Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, before leaving Vitebsk.

06:06 It had been a lovely sunny day at the beginning of Nissan. After the cold winter, it was simply pleasant to sit in the sun and warm up a little. Baruch was on his way back from his day’s work when, passing the town garden, he noticed his brother-in-law Yosef Yitzchak sitting on a bench, warming himself in the sun’s rays. Baruch sat down beside him, and an interesting conversation developed. Baruch remarked on the fine weather and the warmth of the sun, and quoted the verse, “The sun of righteousness, with healing in its wings.” Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, the rosh yeshivah and Baruch’s brother-in-law, said that there was, at first glance, an argument against seeking healing from the sun. Why? Because the sun was worshipped as an idol. Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak did not merely state the argument; he immediately launched into an intricate discussion of it. First he pointed to Avodah Zarah 45a, which says that one may benefit from something untouched by human hands. In other words, one may benefit from the sun, which human hands cannot grasp, even though it is worshipped as an idol. He then discussed the passage in Pesachim 25b concerning a benefit a person receives involuntarily. After all, we do not tell the sun that we want it to warm us; it happens automatically. Is a benefit that comes to a person involuntarily permitted or forbidden? At the time, Baruch had been deeply impressed by the sharp analysis and depth of his brother-in-law’s discussion. Now, in Yanovitch, as he thought back on it, that discussion seemed to him not to have the same value as Zalman Chaim’s good deeds, for example. Baruch saw clearly the great difference between the world of scholarship represented by his brother-in-law Yosef Yitzchak and the world of ordinary Jews. It was clear to Baruch that, for all the lofty wonder of the scholars’ world, scholars had a duty to go out to the people, as Rabbi Zalman Chaim had done, in order to lift

08:46 ordinary Jews toward a life of Torah and good deeds, and bring light into their everyday lives. During this short stay in Yanovitch, Baruch also got to know the third son-in-law of Mordechai the miller. His name was Avraham Yitzchak, and he followed Zalman Chaim’s path completely. He taught Mishnah and Shulchan Aruch to the craftsmen. Baruch watched the people who came to Avraham Yitzchak’s classes. There were old people, young people, and children among them. All were interested in the lessons because Avraham Yitzchak had a gift for explaining things and winning over his listeners. Baruch was especially struck to see Chaim among Avraham Yitzchak’s listeners. Chaim was the son of Shimon the flour seller. Baruch remembered him from three years earlier, when he had previously been in Yanovitch. Back then, Chaim had been the scourge of the town. Every prank in town had been his idea. He had made Baruch’s life miserable, too, during the period when Baruch earned money carrying sacks of flour from Shimon’s house to the town’s bakers. Chaim had played all sorts of tricks on him. And now Baruch saw Chaim sitting at the table, listening to Avraham Yitzchak’s lesson. Avraham Yitzchak had a gift for captivating his listeners with stories from the Aggadah and his explanations of them. Afterward, each person would retell the stories he had heard from Avraham Yitzchak to someone else, and all were influenced by the lessons those stories conveyed. Baruch happened to hear Avraham Yitzchak tell the story of Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Akiva had been an unlearned shepherd who hated Torah scholars. Later, his heart turned toward Torah, and he became one of the nation’s greatest spiritual figures. Avraham Yitzchak told the story with such enthusiasm and affection that it was unmistakable: in his view, every Jew, even the simplest, could and should follow the path of Rabbi

11:33 Akiva. In this respect, Avraham Yitzchak followed the example of Zalman Chaim the shamash. He drew the simple Jews close to him. Alongside the classes he studied with them, he would say that learned Jews owed a great debt to simple Jews. He, too, would walk through the market and the city streets, and when he saw someone commit a wrong or an injustice, he would rebuke him from the heart. Avraham Yitzchak felt as though he himself had committed the wrong. Yet despite all this, and despite all the good things Baruch saw in Yanovitch, he still saw its less admirable side. Much of the old attitude remained. There were learned men who looked down on simple Jews and even tried to humiliate them and make jokes at their expense. Here Baruch tells us a very sad story. It happened on a Monday, during the Torah reading. There was a Jew there named Shlomo Halash—“Halash” because he worked kneading dough—or Shlomo of Vitebsk, as he was also called. Shlomo was a simple Jew, but G-d-fearing. He arrived late for the communal prayers that morning, so he was praying on his own while the congregation was already reading the Torah. The synagogue shamash did not notice that Shlomo had not prayed with the congregation and was at a point in his prayers where one may not interrupt. The shamash called him up to the Torah. Shlomo interrupted his prayers, went up to the Torah, and then resumed praying. Ah, the jokers had found their opportunity. When the prayers ended, several of them began mocking Shlomo’s ignorance and lack of learning. They hurled cutting insults at him and taunted him over the terrible offense he had committed, though it had come only from not knowing the law. Baruch watched those who were mocking him, and his heart ached when he saw how deeply their words hurt the innocent, upright Shlomo. The jokers threatened him with Gehinnom and all kinds of punishments, and they knew

14:28 how distressed Shlomo was. But Baruch was especially pained to see that among those mocking this simple Jew was that same Yaakov Eizik we spoke about earlier: the wealthy man of Yanovitch, a rich Jew and a leader of the town. Yaakov Eizik was by then an elderly Jew with respected standing in the town, but apparently he could not resist making fun of a simple Jew who took every word seriously. Shlomo was writhing in anguish. He stood there with tears in his eyes as everyone around him hurled their barbs at him. Baruch was not so indignant with the usual jokers; after all, he understood that not everyone is perfect. But he felt strong resentment toward Yaakov Eizik, particularly because he knew his background. And who was Yaakov Eizik, really? Yaakov Eizik was the most respected Jew in Yanovitch. He was also the one whose opinion carried the day in town. Everyone feared him, knowing his power and influence. Yaakov Eizik was born in Yanovitch. His father was named Shimshon Eliyahu. It was Shimshon Eliyahu who had built up the community in Yanovitch. Shimshon Eliyahu, Yaakov Eizik’s father, was himself the son of the gaon Rabbi Yaakov of Vitebsk. He was an accomplished and astute man, fluent in Russian and Polish and knowledgeable in mathematics. Because of these abilities, Count Lipsky, one of the largest and wealthiest estate owners in the Vitebsk province, appointed him to manage his estates near Yanovitch. To manage the estates, Shimshon Eliyahu settled in Yanovitch. This secured a livelihood for many Jews. Yanovitch began to flourish not only materially but spiritually as well. All its Torah and charitable institutions grew stronger and expanded. Within twenty years, the Jewish community of Yanovitch had developed both in size and in quality. Many Torah scholars joined it as householders took learned men as sons-in-law and hired Torah scholars as teachers. Yes, in the study halls

17:39 of Yanovitch, young men and perushim sat and studied Torah. In those days, the focal point of Yanovitch was Shimshon Eliyahu’s home, a gathering place for scholars in the fullest sense of the term. Anyone who wanted to absorb Torah and wisdom came to that house. Shimshon Eliyahu’s home was open to guests, especially Torah scholars. A great many Jews earned their livelihood through him, and his hand was always open in charity. He was always ready to do a kindness for a Jew, especially when it came to arranging a livelihood. For this reason, everyone held Shimshon Eliyahu in high esteem and regarded him as the town’s true leader. They called him “the prince of Yanovitch.” Indeed, his opinion carried more weight than that of Count Lipsky himself.