Episode 84: Interesting Debates Between Yitzchok Shaul and the Learned Sons-in-Law of the Blacksmith

00:01 We continue the story of how the teachings of Chassidus were established. From Yitzchak Shaul, Baruch first heard about Rabbi Adam Baal Shem and Rabbi Yisroel Baal Shem Tov, who was then at the head of the Chassidic movement. Yitzchak Shaul spoke warmly and enthusiastically about the history of Chassidus as he had heard it from his father, Reb Nissan. And because he himself was a living example of Chassidic life and outlook, his words made an enormous impression on Baruch. Baruch eagerly absorbed every word Yitzchak Shaul said about his father’s acquaintance with the first hidden chassidim and their ways of spreading Chassidus among ordinary Jews. This is how it happened. Six months after Reb Nissan joined the secret Chassidic circle in Minsk, he met two interesting figures among the early chassidim. They were Rabbi Mordechai of Dubrovna and Rabbi Yitzchak of Monostitch Ritchina[unclear], both of whom served as rabbis in their towns: Rabbi Mordechai in place of his father, the gaon Rabbi Chaim, and Rabbi Yitzchak in place of his father, the gaon Rabbi Binyamin Segal. Both Rabbi Mordechai and Rabbi Yitzchak were among the hidden chassidim who traveled from town to town from time to time to plant the teachings of Chassidus there. In each place, they established a small Chassidic circle that served as a base for spreading Chassidus. Reb Nissan joined these two hidden chassidim and traveled with them through cities and towns. In this way they reached the town of Harki. After great effort, they succeeded in gaining a foothold there for the Chassidic approach, and Reb Nissan himself settled in Harki. This was apparently at the request of the two hidden chassidim, so that Reb Nissan could guide the new Chassidic circle while they continued their travels. Reb Nissan married the daughter of one of the town’s prominent residents, and a year after their marriage, Yitzchak Shaul was born. Under Reb Nissan’s leadership and guidance, Harki became, within ten years, an important center of Chassidus

03:02 and Chassidic activity. As time went on, shluchim often came there, bringing fresh teachings of Chassidus and news of the Chassidic movement’s development. The number of chassidim in Harki grew, and their influence was strongly felt throughout the surrounding area. Although Reb Nissan devoted himself specifically to the holy work of teaching children, he would occasionally entrust his students to suitable hands and join the travels of the hidden chassidim, taking part in their secret efforts to spread the new approach. Before long, the leadership of the Chassidic movement passed from Rabbi Adam Baal Shem to Rabbi Yisroel Baal Shem Tov. Around that time, Reb Nissan made a determined effort to travel to the Baal Shem Tov and succeeded in visiting him. Thus Reb Nissan took an active part in the main stages of the Chassidic movement’s development: from its days as a secret circle led by the hidden tzaddik Rabbi Adam Baal Shem, until its distinctive approach became publicly known under the leadership of Rabbi Yisroel Baal Shem Tov, who had emerged from obscurity. In his early years, Yitzchak Shaul knew very little about Chassidus. Apparently his father did not yet consider him ready to be introduced to its teachings. He preferred to prepare him first through extensive Torah study and the cultivation of good character traits, and it was for this purpose that he sent him to study in Minsk. There, his father put him in touch with old friends of his who were themselves hidden chassidim. Yitzchak Shaul learned a great deal from them, but he still knew nothing about the teachings of Chassidus themselves. Only when he returned to Harki did his father begin introducing him to Chassidus. In the process, he also taught him the difference between the approach of Rabbi Adam Baal Shem and the new approach of Rabbi Yisroel Baal Shem Tov. By then, the Chassidic approach had spread openly in Harki, and there was a circle known to everyone as “the Chassidic group.” Baruch was deeply moved as he listened to Yitzchak Shaul. Everything was new to him. The truth is

05:44 that Yitzchak Shaul himself was a revelation to him, both in his attitude toward various matters and in the warmth of his relationships with people, especially simple people. Baruch clearly noticed the great difference between Yitzchak Shaul’s attitude toward simple people and that of his two brothers-in-law, who belonged to the familiar type of Torah scholars of that time. One incident prompted an interesting argument between Yitzchak Shaul and his brother-in-law Moshe Leib. Baruch overheard the argument and followed it with interest. It began when Moshe Leib related, with considerable amazement, that he had happened to listen to two children studying Gemara in the beis midrash. He found that they understood what they were learning very well and had excellent abilities. Moshe Leib grew curious about the children’s family backgrounds. “How astonished I was to hear,” Moshe Leib said, “that one child is the son of Zevulun Binyamin, who skins animal carcasses, and the other is the son of Yisroel Shmuel the carpenter. I thought to myself that this is a vivid illustration of the Sages’ interpretation of the verse, ‘Who can bring a pure thing out of an impure one?’—referring to the fact that Avraham Avinu was the son of Terach. Here we have a similar case: from impure men like Zevulun Binyamin and Yisroel Shmuel come children who excel in Torah study.” These words, spoken matter-of-factly, without the slightest sense of how appalling they were, drove Yitzchak Shaul to anger. For the first time, Baruch saw him flare up like a burning brand, shaken from his usual calm, his whole body trembling as he spoke. “Do not sin with your tongue!” he shouted angrily. “Do not disparage genuinely fine, upright Jews!” “First of all,” Yitzchak Shaul continued, “that same Yisroel Shmuel the carpenter, whom you regard as a lowly man, is actually a great Torah scholar. He simply [unclear] to conceal his learning so that no one notices. I discovered it by chance, but I can testify that he knows the entire Seder Nezikin by heart, word for word, as well as Shulchan Aruch,

08:28 Orach Chaim. Do you know anyone among the scholarly young men living at their fathers-in-law’s expense who knows every page of the tractates of Seder Nezikin by heart? Yisroel Shmuel also constantly reviews his learning from memory while he works. As for Zevulun Binyamin, whom you speak of so dismissively, you know as well as we all do that his conduct and sincerity are those of a true tzaddik.” Once he had begun speaking, Yitzchak Shaul went on to express at length his view of his brothers-in-law’s disregard for simple Jews, instead of recognizing their real duty: to raise these Jews to a higher spiritual level. In the course of this, Yitzchak Shaul told how he had discovered Yisroel Shmuel’s Torah knowledge. Near him, in Dobromysl, lived a landowner named Zygmunt Kobsitzky, who wanted a special kind of sleigh like one he had seen belonging to another landowner, Jozef Shybnitzky, whose estate was near Lubavitch. This sleigh was built so that it could be used in the deepest snow. The landowners used such a snow sled for winter hunting in the forests, because it was wider and sturdier than ordinary sleighs. So Zygmunt Kobsitzky summoned the blacksmith Eliezer Reuven, his son-in-law Yitzchak Shaul, and Yisroel Shmuel the carpenter. He put them in a carriage that took them to Jozef Shybnitzky’s estate so they could examine his sleighs closely and make one like them for him. In the end, they agreed to undertake the job, with Reb Yisroel Shmuel doing the woodwork and Reb Yitzchak Shaul the metalwork. They spent several weeks working together on it. During that time, Yitzchak Shaul noticed that Yisroel Shmuel hummed to himself constantly as he worked. His curiosity was aroused, and with considerable effort, without Yisroel Shmuel noticing, Yitzchak Shaul managed to listen closely and make out the words he was murmuring. Then it became clear to him

11:05 To his surprise, page after page of Gemara poured from Yisroel Shmuel’s mouth. He asked him about it and discovered just how learned he was. “And even if he weren’t a scholar,” Yitzchak Shaul concluded, “doesn’t he deserve respect as an upright, G-d-fearing Jew?” Baruch listened to Yitzchak Shaul’s long account and felt a new spirit stirring within him: the distinctive spirit of Chassidus, a new path in serving Hashem. Another incident that Baruch both saw and heard was etched deep in his memory. Ezra Yehuda, a gardener who lived next door to Eliezer Reuven, came into the blacksmith’s house and passed along news he had heard in town about certain communal matters and the rabbi’s condition. The blacksmith listened closely, but his two older sons-in-law immediately showed their displeasure. In their eyes, Ezra Yehuda was too simple a man for them to bother listening to, especially on such subjects. The eldest son-in-law could not contain himself and burst out angrily: “Don’t talk nonsense. You know more about cucumbers and radishes than you do about such matters.” Ezra Yehuda fell silent. For several minutes he was at a loss, but then he recovered and said, “If I had been sent to cheder and yeshivah as your parents sent you, and if I had a father-in-law like yours who supported me at his table, perhaps I would be a greater scholar than you. But sadly, I was left a complete orphan, without a father or mother, at the age of nine. I wanted to study then, but I had to earn my bread. Ever since, I have had to work by the sweat of my brow all my life to make a living. Despite all that, I know all Five Books of the Torah well, and I know every verse of Tehillim by heart. But have you learned as much Torah as your opportunities have allowed? Besides, I heard with my own

13:52 ears from our rabbi that study is not the main thing, but action.” The two sons-in-law were angered by what they considered Ezra Yehuda’s insolence and impudence. They were ready to lash out at him, but their father-in-law, Eliezer Reuven, hurried to stop the quarrel and left the house with the gardener. The eldest son-in-law was now furious and began shouting about the audacity of an ignoramus speaking that way to scholars. In his opinion, Ezra Yehuda needed a lesson he would never forget. The blacksmith’s second son-in-law agreed. Yitzchak Shaul, by contrast, came to Ezra Yehuda’s defense. For one thing, he held that a Jew like the gardener, who knew Chumash and Tehillim, was no ignoramus. He too spoke heatedly on the matter, and once again Baruch saw two distinct paths before him, represented by Eliezer Reuven’s different sons-in-law. Another event, which took place in Dobromysl on Shabbos Hagadol, made an even stronger impression on Baruch. The Shabbos Hagadol sermon was delivered by Rabbi Shloime, the husband of the rabbi’s granddaughter. The rabbi had suddenly suffered a stroke that Friday and expressed his wish that Rabbi Shloime speak in his place. Rabbi Shloime, as we already recall, was the son of Avraham Binyamin, the wool sorter who had gone from poverty to wealth. He wasn’t—he was, he was—Shloime was a great scholar, but no one in the community liked him. He always carried himself with an air of self-importance and spoke lavishly of his own merits. Even when speaking of great sages of earlier generations, such as Rashi and Rabbi Yonasan, he treated them as his equals. “Each has his own approach, and I have mine,” he would say proudly. Simple people were impressed by such talk, taking it as proof of Rabbi Shloime’s immense greatness. But Torah scholars frowned upon it and could not bear that attitude. Many, therefore,

16:34 were unhappy that Rabbi Shloime would deliver the Shabbos Hagadol sermon, especially in place of the elderly rabbi, who had occupied the rabbinic seat in Dubrovna for more than sixty years. Of course, no one dared voice an objection to the wishes of the elderly, ailing rabbi. Then came the sermon. From the moment Rabbi Shloime ascended the bimah beside the Aron Kodesh, the congregation felt displeasure toward him. The elderly rabbi would ascend the bimah with great humility, kiss the curtain and whisper a quiet prayer that he not stumble in his words. During the sermon itself, his sense of awe and responsibility was plain to see. Rabbi Shloime’s manner was entirely different. As soon as he reached the bimah, he cast a dismissive glance at the congregation. In a contemptuous tone, he ordered the elderly shamash to bring him his tallis and to announce that no one should dare yawn during the sermon, as ignorant people do when they hear Torah teachings they cannot understand. The sermon itself was full of deep scholarship, but it was also full of arrogance: Rabbi Shloime compared himself to the great sages of earlier generations and considered himself entitled to disagree with them. The sermon went on for two hours. Many were troubled by Rabbi Shloime’s audacity, though they said nothing. Chaim Shimon, whom we already remember, was different. His patience ran out, and he began shouting that Rabbi Shloime was showing disrespect to the great sages of Israel. An uproar broke out in the beis midrash. Rabbi Shloime’s face turned red and pale by turns. From where he stood, he began shouting that this insolent man, Rabbi Chaim Shimon, should be placed under a ban. The community leaders, headed by Rabbi Moshe the dayan, intervened and managed to calm everyone down. The dispute subsided, but it became the subject of heated talk throughout Dubrovna. The blacksmith’s two older sons-in-law thought that Chaim Shimon

19:00 had shown great insolence and impudence in his behavior. Yitzchak Shaul, however, defended him and said that in his hometown of Horki they would have dealt differently with an arrogant man like Rabbi Shloime. They would simply have taken him into the community room and treated him to a beating. Yitzchak Shaul related that a young Torah scholar once came to Horki with letters from the great scholars of Vilna and Brisk attesting to his Torah learning. He was invited to deliver a sermon on Shabbos, and the whole town came to hear him. It was the same sort of sermon Rabbi Shloime had given. No one said a word, but at dusk, when no one could be recognized, several young Torah scholars seized him, took him into a side room of the beis midrash and gave him a sound whipping. Their visiting speaker felt the pain for several days. He went to complain to the rabbi, but could say nothing about who had whipped him. The rabbi explained that it was apparently a punishment from Heaven for his disrespect toward the great sages of earlier generations. “And that,” said Yitzchak Shaul, “is how Rabbi Shloime should have been treated too.” That is all.