Episode 82, Part A: Eliezer Reuven and Zevulun Binyomin

00:01 We now turn our attention to the third son-in-law of Eliezer Reuven the blacksmith, whom we have already met: Yitzchak Shaul. He is now the subject of our story. It was not with an easy heart that Eliezer Reuven, the blacksmith from Dobromysl, came to terms with the fact that his third son-in-law, Yitzchak Shaul, would become his assistant in the smithy. Eliezer Reuven took pride in Yitzchak Shaul’s scholarship and had always hoped he would become a person of high standing in Torah, like his two older sons-in-law, who had become heads of yeshivos. It was not that Eliezer Reuven looked down on work or on craftsmen. But he had a deep love for Torah and Torah scholars, and had gone to great lengths to marry off his three daughters to learned young men. He had spent a great deal of money on them and provided for all their needs, and it gave him immense pride and delight to see them sitting and learning Torah. Now that his two older sons-in-law were no longer dependent on him, Eliezer Reuven’s pleasure centered on his third son-in-law, who still lived at his expense and learned Torah. Eliezer Reuven now felt a heaviness in his heart. Had he gone to all that trouble for a son-in-law who would become a craftsman? Once, he shared these thoughts in a conversation with his wife, Devorah, and his daughter Pesha, Yitzchak Shaul’s wife. Devorah gave her practical view: “Aren’t you yourself an example of a craftsman who is also a Torah scholar?” Eliezer Reuven’s misgivings continued until he became fully convinced that his third son-in-law belonged to a special kind of scholar, unlike any he had known before, and especially unlike his two older sons-in-law. This difference was also evident in the way Yitzchak Shaul treated their neighbor Zevulun Binyamin. He was an unrefined ignoramus who spent his days among the non-Jews in the villages, earning his living by treating animals and skinning the carcasses of animals that had died. Everyone in Dobromysl looked down on Zevulun

02:56 Binyamin, mainly because of how he earned his living, but also because of his profound ignorance. Eliezer Reuven the blacksmith was the only one who showed him warmth and friendship. For his two older sons-in-law, by contrast, Zevulun Binyamin was a target for mockery, jokes and ridicule. The blacksmith took this behavior for granted. After all, his neighbor was a lowly sort of person, and there was no reason to expect Torah scholars to treat people like him any better than his sons-in-law did. But Yitzchak Shaul’s attitude toward Zevulun Binyamin, the skinner of carcasses, was entirely different. To the blacksmith’s great surprise, this son-in-law treated Zevulun Binyamin with great respect, even though Zevulun Binyamin himself would never have dared to approach a learned young man, especially while he was studying Torah. Yet the blacksmith noticed that when Yitzchak Shaul saw Zevulun Binyamin, he put his Gemara aside, invited him to sit beside him and began talking with him, asking how he was, how his family was doing and what was weighing on his heart. At first, Zevulun Binyamin could hardly take in such warmth. But as he listened to the young scholar’s words, he took heart. Yitzchak Shaul offered him not only encouragement but also useful advice for his own needs and those of his family. Among Zevulun Binyamin’s greatest worries were the problems involved in raising his children. First, he had an only daughter, Dinah, who was nearly eighteen, and he was worried about finding a suitable match for her. In addition, there were young children in his home: his own, as well as the orphaned children of his brother-in-law, whom he had kindly taken in and was raising as though they were his own. Zevulun Binyamin wanted with all his heart for both his own children and the orphans not to grow up ignorant like him. He had sent them to the best teachers. Now the children were older, and Zevulun Binyamin dreamed of sending them to a yeshiva to study,

05:33 but he did not know how to go about it. When he dared to ask someone in town how to do so, the man waved his hand dismissively and said, “What would be so terrible if your children became craftsmen? Isn’t it enough for you that they can read?” Those words hurt Zevulun Binyamin deeply. When he finally found in Yitzchak Shaul someone to whom he could speak about his worries, he poured out his despair. “Who can I turn to when everyone turns me away and decides my fate for me, as though I have no right to children who are Torah scholars?” he said, tears in his eyes. Yitzchak Shaul spoke reassuringly to him and at once offered to help and guide him. “Send me your children,” Yitzchak Shaul told him. “I’ll test them. If they prove to have ability and a desire to learn, I’ll teach and guide them until they’re ready to enter a yeshiva.” Zevulun Binyamin’s eyes lit up. “How can I thank you[?]? I’ll never forget your kindness for as long as I live,” he declared fervently. Then, wiping a tear from his eye, he gathered his courage and decided to say what else was on his heart. He turned to Yitzchak Shaul and said, “I’d also like your advice about my daughter. She is a precious soul. It isn’t her fault that her father is an ignoramus whom people look down on. With all my heart, I want a son-in-law who is a Torah scholar for her. I envy your father-in-law, who was blessed with three learned sons-in-law. Why shouldn’t I, too, be blessed with a learned son-in-law for my Dinah?” “And who is stopping you?” Yitzchak Shaul encouraged him, moved by the sincerity of this simple Jew. “You’re the first person I’ve even dared tell that I want a Torah scholar as a husband for my daughter. I never even tried to tell anyone else, for fear they would laugh at me,” said Zevulun Binyamin. He told Yitzchak Shaul that he had saved a hundred rubles for his daughter’s dowry and had enough money to provide for the

08:00 son-in-law. “I promise you,” Zevulun Binyamin continued, “that a Torah scholar will want for nothing in my home. I’ll carry him on my hands. He’ll be able to sit and learn without interruption. If only such a son-in-law would come!” He spoke with such emotion and longing that Yitzchak Shaul was moved as well. “I’ll see to it that we find you a Torah scholar for a son-in-law,” Yitzchak Shaul reassured him. Zevulun Binyamin was beside himself with joy. Yitzchak Shaul went on to tell him that his father, Rabbi Nissan, in the town of Horki[?], loved arranging matches for promising young men. He would write to him at once and ask him to find a suitable match for Zevulun Binyamin’s daughter. “But please don’t forget to tell your father the whole truth,” said Zevulun Binyamin. “I’m a lowly man, a complete ignoramus, who makes a living skinning carcasses and treating animals. My wife, too, is an utterly simple woman, and my father-in-law is a shoemaker who, in his old age, became the caretaker of the poorhouse in Dubrovna. Tell your father as well that until after I married, I couldn’t even recognize a letter. I couldn’t say a blessing, either. Only after my marriage did I manage to learn to read a little, along with the blessings a Jew needs most. I still can’t pray with the congregation. When I’m called up to the Torah, I’m gripped by fear that I’ll stumble over the blessing. I know people laugh at me behind my back, but what can I do? This is how I was punished from Heaven. Yet I have never told a lie or cheated anyone.” The next day, Zevulun Binyamin brought Rabbi Yitzchak Shaul a hundred and twenty rubles, which he had set aside for his daughter’s dowry and wedding expenses. With simple sincerity, he explained his decision: “I once heard that you can’t trust an ignorant man, so it’s better for you to hold the money.” The sincerity and simplicity of the man who skinned carcasses made a deep impression on Yitzchak Shaul. Yitzchak Shaul’s friendship and openness made an even deeper impression on Zevulun Binyamin. It stirred

10:44 What moved him was the fact that Yitzchak Shaul spoke to him as an equal. Zevulun Binyamin knew very well how little the people of Dobromysl thought of him because of his ignorance and his trade. He remembered the time when he could not read at all and could not even recite the blessings over the Torah. In those days, he was called up to the Torah only once a year, on Simchas Torah, for the aliyah given to all the boys. Zevulun Binyamin would stand behind the man who had paid for the aliyah with all the young children and repeat the Torah blessings after him word for word. Since he could not even repeat the blessings accurately, the children sharing his aliyah enjoyed the spectacle, and some burst out laughing. Soon there were jokers among the adults, too, mocking him for stumbling over the words as he repeated them. Zevulun Binyamin felt terrible pain and anguish at that moment. Had he not felt obliged to receive an aliyah at least once a year, he would have spared himself the torment of being the target of ridicule from adults and children alike. And it was not only on Simchas Torah that people made fun of him. Whenever he appeared in the shul or, lehavdil, the bathhouse, someone was sure to mock him. This caused him great distress, so he moved from the center of town and bought a home near Eliezer Reuven the blacksmith, the only Jew in Dobromysl who showed him warmth and friendship. There, near the blacksmith and far from the other townspeople, Zevulun Binyamin felt freer. Yet he was still pained that he could not daven with the congregation like any other Jew or take part in Jewish gatherings without being ridiculed. In his conversations with the friendly Yitzchak Shaul, Zevulun Binyamin opened his heart for the first time in his life. “Why are Jews different in this respect from

13:21 non-Jews?” he asked innocently. “Non-Jews don’t need to know anything. They go to church, listen to the priest, and that fulfills their obligation. But among Jews, everyone has to know how to daven for himself, and there is no end to how much he needs to know. If there’s a Jew like me, whose mind can’t take in so much, everyone makes fun of me.” Yitzchak Shaul answered him at length, saying things that encouraged him and breathed new life into him. He kindled in Zevulun Binyamin a spark of joy at the possibility of rising to a higher level. First, Yitzchak Shaul explained that Jews could not be like non-Jews, for they were the chosen people and had to stand on a higher level than the other nations. Every Jew has a range of duties and tasks to fulfill each day, and to fulfill them he must learn and know a great deal. On the other hand, that does not mean that someone who has not had the opportunity to learn is on a lower level. Deed is what matters most, and a simple Jew, too, can excel in good deeds. As for his trade, Yitzchak Shaul explained, there is no shame in any kind of work, provided a Jew does it honestly and with fear of Heaven. “Simply by being a Jew,” Yitzchak Shaul told him, “a scholar is no different from an unlearned Jew. All are equal in matters of holiness. Kohanim have a particular status and special mitzvos, but other Jews are equal when it comes to fulfilling the Torah’s mitzvos. When it comes, for example, to a minyan for davening or a zimun for bentching, there is no difference between a scholar and an unlearned Jew. Nine brilliant scholars and tzaddikim cannot daven with a minyan. But when an unlearned Jew arrives and joins them as the tenth, he completes the minyan and enables them all to daven together.” All this sank into Zevulun Binyamin and gave him a new lease on life. He had never heard such things before. He listened with great wonder, and

15:54 great hope began to stir within him. He felt encouraged. Eliezer Reuven went on to share teachings of our Sages that Zevulun Binyamin had never heard before. He explained them so simply that Zevulun Binyamin was able to understand them well. He repeated to him the teaching of Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish in Chullin, page 92: “The Jewish people are likened to a vine. Its branches are the householders, its clusters are the Torah scholars, and its leaves are the unlearned.” The Gemara goes on to say that Torah scholars should pray for the welfare of the unlearned, for just as the leaves protect the clusters, so the unlearned protect the Torah scholars by providing them with food and support. Eliezer Reuven had more good news for Zevulun Binyamin: although he had learned little until now, he was still capable of making progress. “This,” he told him, “is one of the ways Jews differ from non-Jews. Jews are always learning. Every beis midrash has a variety of classes, not only for learned Jews but also special classes for simple people. I suggest you go to the beis midrash every day between Minchah and Maariv and listen to the classes held there. Before long, something will sink in. There is no Jew who cannot learn something over time.” Zevulun Binyamin was so impressed that he promised Eliezer Reuven he would go to shul every day and listen to the Torah classes there. “Even if they laugh at me,” he said, “in time I’ll be like everyone else.” Zevulun Binyamin gained confidence in his own abilities. He began listening to the classes in the beis midrash and even to the discussions. When he did not understand something, he went to Eliezer Reuven, who explained it to him. Some time later, Eliezer Reuven received a letter from his father in Harki[?], in reply to the letter he had sent him

18:37 about finding a match for Dina, Zevulun Binyamin’s daughter. Rabbi Nissan informed his son that he had several young Torah scholars in mind from whom a husband could be chosen for Dina. He promised that a suitable match for her would soon be found.