Episode 89: Yitzchok Shaul Encourages and Strengthens Baruch - Erev Pesach in Dubromisl

00:01 The conversation between Yitzchak Shaul and Baruch continued. Yitzchak Shaul told Baruch that while the ordinary people were swept up in the fervor of the dancing and singing in honor of the Torah, the scholars stood to the side, shaking their heads solemnly and looking on in bewilderment. They seemed unable to believe their eyes: a new kind of hakafos had been introduced in their shul. The ordinary people, meanwhile, looked as though a new soul had entered them. Chaim Shimon had already taken a liking to Yitzchak Shaul, and now felt even greater affection for him. Chaim Shimon himself had a gift for music; he even had a violin at home, which he played often. Yitzchak Shaul’s heartfelt songs, sung in his sweet voice, warmed and stirred him, as did the dancing into which he drew the crowd. Chaim Shimon took the scholars’ standing aside as another sign of their pride and sense of superiority, and of their wish to keep a barrier between themselves and the common people. It angered him. He went over to Yitzchak Shaul and whispered in his ear, “You’ll soon see how I give them a taste of their own medicine.” Yitzchak Shaul did not understand what he meant, but Chaim Shimon hurried to carry out his plan. It was during the seventh hakafah. Chaim Shimon approached the gabbai and asked him to invite, this time without naming names, all the great scholars—and especially the humble ones among them. The gabbai apparently missed the barb. After some hesitation, perhaps deciding that on Simchas Torah such a prank could be allowed, he made the announcement Chaim Shimon had requested. Surprisingly, the strange announcement did not startle any of the great scholars seated along the eastern wall. The rabbi rose first, then the dayan, followed by Shimon Sagi Nahor, and fourth came Nochum the ascetic. “Truly humble men,” said Chaim Shimon, “who don’t even notice they’re being mocked.” Feigning innocence, he went over to Nochum the ascetic and told him that he now saw Nochum ranked fourth in the degree of

03:21 his humility, since he had come out fourth for the hakafos. “Nothing of the sort,” said Nochum. “In truth, had they called us by name, they certainly would have called me first, in keeping with my degree of humility. I know of no one here who equals me in it.” Shimon Sagi Nahor gave Chaim Shimon a similar answer. He explained frankly that he had indeed been the first to set out for the hakafos, but someone less humble than himself had gone ahead of him—an act of great insolence. Baruch listened to the whole account and felt as though he stood at the border between two worlds. He could look into each of them and discern the different qualities that set them apart: the world of the misnagdim and the world of the chassidim. Baruch saw himself as belonging to neither. He felt no connection to either world, and so he felt lonely and forsaken. What weighed on him especially was that he would soon be establishing his own home, yet he did not know what his future father-in-law stood for. Perhaps he was one of the stubborn misnagdim and would later prevent Baruch from following his own path. Baruch had not yet decided which path was right or which suited his mind and soul, but he did not want to be bound in a way that would prevent him from exploring the right path later, until he could determine from inner conviction where he belonged and where his soul would find rest and fulfillment. Being gentle and deeply sensitive, Baruch remained troubled and confused even after his talks with Yitzchak Shaul. Instead of the joy Yitzchak Shaul had hoped to awaken in him, sadness took hold of him. Baruch did not sleep a wink that entire night, the night before Erev Pesach. For hours he lay in bed, tormented by his thoughts and doubts. Pained sighs rose from deep in his heart until

06:13 they turned into prolonged sobbing. In this dark mood he got out of bed and sat down to say Tehillim. He tried to say it quietly so as not to wake anyone in the house. This made it even harder for him, until he slipped into a strange sleep in which he imagined himself wandering along a distant road, alone, tired and thirsty. Suddenly he felt raindrops falling on his face. He awoke to find Yitzchak Shaul standing beside him, sprinkling water on his face. “What happened to you?” Yitzchak Shaul asked with a look of compassion. “Through the wall I heard you tossing in bed and sobbing bitterly. Then I heard you saying Tehillim quietly. I understood that something was weighing on your heart. When some time passed in silence, I came in and found you unconscious, with the Tehillim beside you.” Baruch burst into tears, and immediately afterward burst out laughing. “You seem confused,” said Yitzchak Shaul. “Let’s go outside.” He took Baruch by the hand and led him into the fresh air until he regained his composure. By then dawn was breaking, and the two went together to the beis midrash in town to daven with the first minyan. When they entered Dobromysl, the town was already fully awake, even though it was not a market day. Non-Jews from all around had gathered there to sell the Jews provisions for the holiday and to buy what they needed from the Jewish shops, knowing the shops would be closed throughout the holiday. After davening, something happened that once again pointed Baruch toward the path of Chassidus. As soon as davening ended, Zalman Meir, the blacksmith’s older son-in-law, sat down at the table with Tractate Yevamos in hand to make a siyum and deliver a hadran. He was a firstborn. Other firstborn men gathered around the table, both scholars and ordinary people, intending to hear Zalman Meir’s siyum and thereby exempt themselves from the Fast of the Firstborn on Erev Pesach.

09:04 Yitzchak Shaul had also prepared a siyum on Tractate Chagigah. Out of respect for his older brother-in-law, however, he stood and waited for him to finish his hadran. Zalman Meir displayed great brilliance in his discourse, but most of those listening could not understand him because of its depth. Aharon ben Nush[?], the gabbai, approached him and said it would have been better to explain the Gemara according to its plain meaning so that everyone could understand. Zalman Meir took offense, seeing the remark as a slight to his honor. He immediately declared that if he was dealing with such ignoramuses, who were incapable of understanding him, he had no interest in delivering a hadran at all. He added that he had heard such remarks were an affront to the honor of the Torah and deserved a reprimand. He closed the Gemara and left the table, and no amount of persuasion or appeasement could calm his anger. An uproar broke out in the beis midrash. Just then Shloime, the rabbi’s son-in-law, came in. He too was a firstborn, and he too had a siyum prepared. Noticing the commotion, he called the shamash over and asked what had happened. When he heard the story, he grew furious and called out to the shamash loudly enough for everyone to hear: “Tell the blacksmith’s son-in-law that only someone who has received the approval of the local rabbi may be considered a Torah scholar. Anyone who conducts himself as a Torah scholar in the rabbi’s presence without first asking permission is considered to be defying the Torah sages and affronting their honor, and his punishment is very severe.” These words were meant as an open attack on the blacksmith’s son-in-law. Shloime spoke with open contempt, denying his right to be considered a Torah scholar and to be angry at someone who failed to show him respect. Having made this declaration, Shloime opened Tractate Shabbos and began to deliver his siyum, but this did not calm the uproar in the beis midrash. On the contrary, the contempt he showed for the blacksmith’s older son-in-law, whose scholarship was well known to everyone, left an impression that was not

11:28 Well, it led to a disagreement. Meanwhile, Moishele, the blacksmith’s second son-in-law, came to his brother-in-law’s aid and called out, “A tanner remains a tanner even when he wraps himself in a scholar’s cloak.” The remark was meant to remind Shloime that, although he was the rabbi’s son-in-law, his lineage was lacking: he was only the son of a wool-comber. Yitzchak Shaul and Boruch stood to one side. Yitzchak Shaul wanted to show how far things can deteriorate when people get caught up in petty matters, and how, when prominent people step in to defend the honor of Torah, they can end up bringing it even greater disrespect. “Here is an important rule,” Yitzchak Shaul told Boruch and several people standing around them. “The less water there is in a pot, the more noise it makes.” The listeners burst out laughing. Shloime, the rabbi’s son-in-law, noticed the laughter, grew angry, and began shouting at the shamash to throw the blacksmith’s son-in-law out of the beis midrash at once. “Their insolence has gone beyond all bounds!” he cried. The shamash did not move. Everyone stood stunned. In his usual lighthearted tone, Yitzchak Shaul said, “Apparently a verbal insult isn’t enough for him; he wants to trample the other fellow underfoot. But leave him be. Let him have his way.” When things calmed down, Yitzchak Shaul, who was also a firstborn, began to make a siyum on Tractate Chagigah. The listeners were surprised: instead of presenting an intricate Talmudic argument like his brother-in-law Zalman Meir, he chose to explain the conclusion through a homiletic interpretation. Tractate Chagigah ends with a disagreement between Rabbi Eliezer and the Sages concerning the altars. It says: All the vessels in the Beis Hamikdash require immersion. That is, after the festival, they are purified by immersion from any impurity contracted through contact with pilgrims who were impure—with the exception of the golden altar and the copper altar. According to Rabbi Eliezer, this is because they are considered like the ground and therefore cannot become impure. The Sages say it is because they are plated: the gold and copper are merely a coating. Yitzchak Shaul explained it this way: A Torah scholar, who is

14:10 a sacred vessel like the altar, does not become impure only when he is humble and considers himself lowly as the ground: “Let my soul be like dust to all.” That is Rabbi Eliezer’s view. The Sages are more lenient. They say that even if there is a slight coating, he does not become impure, since a tiny measure of pride is permitted after the fact—provided that pride remains a coating and does not become part of his very being. But if pride penetrates the Torah scholar’s inner self, then, according to all opinions, he becomes impure. When Yitzchak Shaul began his siyum, his two brothers-in-law also came closer to listen. Knowing his great Torah scholarship, they expected an impressive Talmudic argument. But when Yitzchak Shaul began to speak, their faces soured. Moishele, the firstborn, stayed to listen, but Zalman Meir, who saw these remarks as an affront to the honor of Torah scholars, angrily decided to leave. He returned a short time later to hear the rest, apparently assuming that the siyum would take a different turn. Yitzchak Shaul continued with the Gemara: “Rabbi Abahu said in the name of Rabbi Elazar: The fire of Gehinnom has no power over Torah scholars, for their entire bodies are fire, as it is written, ‘Is not My word like fire? says Hashem.’ Reish Lakish said: The fire of Gehinnom has no power over the sinners of Israel, for they are filled with mitzvos like a pomegranate, as it is written, ‘Your temple is like a slice of pomegranate.’ Do not read ‘your temple,’ but ‘the empty ones among you.’” Yitzchak Shaul explained this at length, drawing on the teachings of our Sages about the characters and lives of Rabbi Abahu and Reish Lakish. Both lived in the same generation as Rabbi Yochanan. Rabbi Abahu was Rabbi Yochanan’s student, while Reish Lakish was his fellow student. Rabbi Abahu was wealthy, close to the royal court, and a great authority in halachah. At the same time, he was humble and would teach aggadah to the public to bring people closer to Torah

16:49 and mitzvos, as well as to rebuke them and inspire them to teshuvah and good deeds. Tractate Sotah, for example, relates a conversation between Rabbi Abahu and Rabbi Chiya bar Abba after the crowds flocked to Rabbi Abahu to hear his teachings of aggadah. That conversation shows Rabbi Abahu’s humility and his closeness to ordinary people, despite his greatness in Torah. Rabbi Abahu’s intention here, then, was to explain the role of Torah scholars: to study Torah with reverence, holiness, and fiery enthusiasm. “A fiery law for them”; Hakadosh Boruch Hu says, “Is not My word like fire?” In this connection, Yitzchak Shaul recalled what Beruriah said in Tractate Eruvin to a student who studied Torah in a whisper, concerning the verse “ordered in all things and secure”: Torah must be ordered throughout all 248 limbs, studied with holy enthusiasm, and refined in a fire of purity. Only when a Torah scholar conducts himself this way does the fire of Gehinnom have no power over him. Reish Lakish, as related in Tractate Bava Metzia, had a turbulent past among robbers. Only when Rabbi Yochanan showed him that his strength belonged in Torah did Reish Lakish draw close to him and become his student, and later his colleague. Reish Lakish would challenge Rabbi Yochanan with twenty-four questions on every subject, thereby bringing out its richness and depth. Because Reish Lakish came from the lower strata of society, he knew the masses well and understood their pure inner selves. He therefore pointed to their great qualities: they are filled with mitzvos like a pomegranate. Both Rabbi Abahu, addressing Torah scholars, and Reish Lakish, addressing the masses, were expressing the Torah’s teaching that every Jew has a pure inner self and can rise higher and draw closer to Torah. Torah scholars must therefore study with humility and self-effacement, and work with enthusiasm to teach Torah to the people, encourage ordinary people, and bring them closer to Torah and mitzvos. Yitzchak Shaul continued to develop his explanation in this way, citing an abundance of sources from the Talmud and presenting them in a compelling and engaging manner.

19:34 He made a powerful impression on the listeners. The crowd kept growing, and everyone listened with rapt attention and inspiration despite the increasing crush. They drank in his words eagerly and with great interest, and a sense of uplift filled them. But Zalman Meir could not contain himself at the sight of this strange scene. He took his brother-in-law Moshe Leib by the hand and said angrily, “Come on, let’s go home. How long are we going to waste our time listening to sermons fit for women?”