Chapter 66: Baruch Learns About the History of the Blacksmith's Sons-in-Law

00:01 We have been telling the story of the blacksmith Eliezer Reuven’s third son-in-law, Yitzchak Shaul, who became Baruch’s friend. Yitzchak Shaul came from the town of Horki, where his father, Rabbi Nissan, worked as a teacher. Rabbi Nissan taught gifted older students with exceptional skill. He himself had studied under Azriel Yosef, the maggid of Horki. Azriel Yosef was a student of the Baal Shem Tov, and he led a group of select young men, teaching them Chassidus and guiding them in the spirit of the Baal Shem Tov. Rabbi Nissan became one of the group’s leaders, and when Azriel Yosef traveled to visit the Baal Shem Tov, Rabbi Nissan took his place as its guide and leader. Yitzchak Shaul had been raised by his father in the ways of Chassidus, so he could tell Baruch a great deal about Chassidus, its customs, and its founder. Later, when Baruch saw the blacksmith’s three sons-in-law together, he had a chance to observe the difference between the two older ones, whom he already knew and who were typical scholarly young men, and the third, who followed the new path of Chassidus. All three shared Torah teachings and insights. The first son-in-law, Zalman Meir, taught his students tractate Kiddushin. Moishele, the second, taught his students tractate Bava Kamma. They discussed their Torah insights into those tractates. Both were serious, with worried expressions; no one ever saw them smile. Yitzchak Shaul, the third son-in-law, was their complete opposite. He was always cheerful and alert, his face always radiating great joy, and he always had something pleasant to say, even in the middle of a serious conversation. Baruch then saw before him the fundamental difference between the Misnagdic path and the Chassidic path. He could see it not only in the words of

02:31 the three young men and in their moods, but also in how they approached all sorts of things. Zalman Meir and Moishele judged everything by whether it conformed to Torah law, while Yitzchak Shaul always looked at it through the lens of Chassidus, according to what was right beyond the letter of the law. All this made Baruch feel that here, in the home of the blacksmith Eliezer Reuven, he could learn a great deal and perhaps even uncover the deep secret his young, curious soul longed to fathom: What is the true way to serve Hakadosh Boruch Hu? Baruch knew well that the hardest task in life is finding the path to a person’s genuine self-improvement, and all his thoughts centered on this question. He reflected that Hakadosh Boruch Hu provides every living creature, human beings included, with an abundance of the thing most essential to life: air. As everyone knows, air is everywhere, and no one has to worry about obtaining it or keeping it available. The next most essential thing for life is water. Water, too, is generally plentiful and requires no special concern to obtain, although getting it often involves effort, such as digging a well, diverting a river, drawing water, and the like. Food, which is also necessary for human life, is different. Because of the sin of the Tree of Knowledge, humanity was cursed with “By the sweat of your brow you shall eat bread,” and here a person must toil and labor. Spiritually, solitude in nature was like air for Baruch’s soul. There, in the fields and forests, he could immerse himself in lofty thoughts, far from the noise of people. Torah study, meanwhile, and understanding all its parts and branches, was like water to the body for him. He felt able to swim in the sea of the Talmud and even dive into its depths. Yet the fundamental question remained: What was the aim, the ultimate purpose, of all this? What was the purpose of wandering through forests and fields

05:14 to contemplate G-d and creation? What was the goal of swimming across the sea of Torah and contending with its waves? What was the right path in life, the best way to serve Hashem? And another question: Where should the emphasis lie? On “turn away from evil”—refraining from doing things that are wrong—or on “do good”? All these questions arose for Baruch during a long conversation with Yitzchak Shaul. Baruch was particularly struck by a teaching Yitzchak Shaul related in his father’s name, in the name of the Baal Shem Tov, explaining the Mishnah: “Who is wise? One who learns from every person,” as it says, “From all my teachers I gained understanding.” The Baal Shem Tov asked: Does every person teach? After all, teaching requires particular qualities and strengths. How, then, can one learn from every person? And what proof is there in the verse “From all my teachers I gained understanding”? It speaks of someone who is discerning. But how can one actually learn from every person? The Baal Shem Tov said: It is written, “The soul of man is Hashem’s candle.” A candle has two aspects: its light and its shadow. The candle’s light comes from the flame itself, while its shadow is cast by the vessel holding it. The same is true of the soul: it, too, has light and shadow. The light comes from the soul itself; the shadow comes from the person’s body, which is its vessel. When one stands within four cubits of a tzaddik, one is illuminated by the tzaddik’s light, and good thoughts come to mind. That is the revelation of the soul’s light. When one stands within four cubits of a wicked person, bad thoughts come to mind. From the tzaddik we learn to do good, and through that we help others do good. From the wicked person we learn to turn away from evil, and through that we become baalei teshuvah. This, says the Baal Shem Tov, is what it means to learn from every person—every person, whether a tzaddik or, G-d forbid,

07:51 a wicked person. One can and must learn something from everyone. “From all my teachers I gained understanding,” for everything Hakadosh Boruch Hu created in the world is meant to teach a person. There is a verse that says, “He teaches us from the beasts of the earth.” Rabbi Yochanan says that we must learn from animals and other creatures. As Rabbi Yochanan puts it, had the Torah not been given to the Jewish people, we would have learned modesty from the cat and how to avoid theft from the ant. Hakadosh Boruch Hu provides a person with things and people to learn from. That is the wise person who learns from everyone—what evil to turn away from and what good to do. Back when Baruch earned his living at Eliezer Reuven’s forge, he had found a secluded spot not far from it where he could immerse himself in thought during his free time, as he had loved to do since his youth. It was a tree-sheltered hill overlooking a stream that flowed at its foot. Whenever Baruch wanted some solitude during his visits to Eliezer Reuven, he would go to that hill and spend time there. He did so now as well, but on this visit to Dobromysl he had more to think about than ever before. Yitzchak Shaul, the blacksmith’s young son-in-law, had made a deep impression on him—not only because of the Chassidic path he had described, but also because, although he was only four years older than Baruch, he was already entirely settled and independent, both in his outlook and in his conduct. Baruch, meanwhile, was still searching for a path that would satisfy his thirsty soul. Now, sitting on the hill, Baruch compared Yitzchak Shaul with the blacksmith’s two older sons-in-law. They were certainly great scholars, and Baruch had heard many Torah insights from them, but Yitzchak Shaul was a warmhearted man. He helped his father-in-law prepare the house for Pesach. He helped his father-in-law at the forge when the need arose

10:42 Whenever a Torah thought or a fine saying comes to mind, he shares it at once, even while working. He is always cheerful and good-hearted, quite unlike his brothers-in-law, who are always serious. Baruch also asked for more details about the two brothers-in-law, the heads of the yeshivos. Both had studied in yeshivos in Vitebsk when they were young. The older son-in-law, Zalman Meir, studied at the yeshiva across the river on the smaller bank, first under Rabbi Yisroel Yitzchok of Vilkomir and later under Rabbi Paltiel. The other son-in-law, Moshe Leib, studied at the yeshiva called Yeshivas Nechamah, headed by Rabbi Nachum son of Tevel. This yeshiva was also known as Yeshivas Nechamah of Devorah. What was this yeshiva of Nechamah of Devorah? The story of a yeshiva named after a woman—a rarity in the history of yeshivos—is an interesting chapter in the Jewish history of Vitebsk. In this city, which later became a major Jewish center, there were almost no Jews until the year 5311. Vitebsk was a commercial center entirely in non-Jewish hands. The surrounding area was rich in grain, vineyards, and various fruit orchards. The few Jews who lived in Vitebsk until then were poor, both materially and spiritually. Then, in the year 5311, Jewish merchants began settling in Vitebsk. As soon as they did, the government issued an order preventing the Jewish settlement in the city from expanding. The number of Jews permitted to live there was severely limited. It was only in 5365 that a Jew named Tevel settled in the city and brought it a new spirit. Tevel had a son named Nachum. Nachum, his wife Devorah, and their daughter Nechamah had an extraordinary love of Torah, and it was they who opened and supported the yeshiva named after the daughter, as we have related. But what we have said so far is not enough to acquaint us with Tevel’s remarkable family. For that, we must go back

13:36 to the story of Tevel himself, and in doing so, we will also encounter a glorious chapter of Jewish history. It was the year 5334. A Jew named Nachum moved from Prague to a place called Segzhesh. Segzhesh was a town on the border between Poland and Sweden, and was part of the estate of a Polish nobleman, Bencz Zinkowitz. Bencz Zinkowitz was friendly toward the Jews of Segzhesh, especially Nachum’s family, who had come from Prague, and the town’s Jewish community continued to grow. Several years passed, and Prince Zinkowitz decided to move to his estates near Krakow. He therefore wanted to sell his estates around Segzhesh. These estates included villages and farms with a population of about six hundred. Prince Zinkowitz approached Nachum, the head of the Jewish community in Segzhesh, and asked him to find a buyer for his estates. Nachum looked into the matter and saw that the neighboring estates, which lay within the territory of Sweden at the time, belonged to a Swedish prince named Johan Kumbri. Johan Kumbri would visit his estates from time to time and stay there for extended periods. Nachum thought of offering the Polish nobleman Zinkowitz’s estates to this Swedish prince, Johan Kumbri. He waited until the prince visited his estates and then went to see him. Prince Kumbri received Nachum with great warmth. During their conversation, the prince raised various subjects, but gave Nachum no answer about the proposed purchase. Instead, he asked Nachum to come back in two or three weeks.