Episode 97: Jews in the Town of Harki - Shlomo Getzel and His Son Chaim Shmuel

00:01 We remember that in one of the earlier stories, we heard that the Baal Shem Tov gave one of his chassidim, Avraham Mendel, a mission to bring a Jew named Chaim Shmuel, who lived in a village near the town of Harki, closer to Chassidus. Now we’ll hear the story of Chaim Shmuel himself and his father—a story no less interesting—about their lives and what eventually happened to them. This is a story that young Baruch hears from Yitzchak Shaul, who tells him about the history of Chassidus in Harki. One story that left a deep impression on Baruch was the account of Getzel Shlomo of Harki and his son Chaim Shmuel. Through this story, which Yitzchak Shaul, the son-in-law of the blacksmith from Dubormisl [?], told Baruch, he brought him closer to an understanding of the first chassidim, the disciples of Rabbi Yisroel Baal Shem Tov, from the time when Chassidus was still the province of a select few. For Baruch, it was all new. Harki, Yitzchak Shaul’s hometown, was revealed to him as a secret center of Chassidus, home to hidden tzaddikim who were in close contact with the Baal Shem Tov in Mezhibuzh and carried out all his instructions and missions. From this story about Getzel Shlomo and his son Chaim Shmuel, Baruch also learned that ordinary people could be great tzaddikim and hidden Torah scholars. Getzel Shlomo was known in Harki as a poor man who went from door to door. He was also known as an ignoramus and a simpleton who had never exchanged a word with anyone. In fact, no one was interested in hearing anything from him. No one even knew whether Getzel Shlomo could recognize a Hebrew letter. From time to time he was seen in the beis midrash, but it was unclear whether he was able to daven. All anyone ever heard from him was the verse, “Hear, O Israel, Hashem is our G-d, Hashem is One.” He would make this declaration regardless of what anyone said to him or what he

02:58 said to anyone else. When someone gave him a donation, he would answer with the verse “Hear, O Israel.” When someone refused to give him a donation, he again responded with “Hear, O Israel.” It was the same at every opportunity. It seemed these were the only words he knew how to say. Getzel Shlomo had one son, named Chaim Shmuel. His wife and son lived in terrible poverty. Getzel Shlomo was away from home for most of the year, wandering from town to town. No one knew what he brought his wife and child when he returned from his travels. In fact, no one took any interest. Getzel Shlomo never sent Chaim Shmuel to cheder to learn, and no one in town paid any attention to him either. When Chaim Shmuel reached bar mitzvah age, one of the town’s teachers took pity on him and taught him how to put on tefillin and say the blessings over them. When Chaim Shmuel turned fourteen, he set out to wander among towns and villages.

04:15 Unlike his father, though, he did not collect donations. He took on various hard, grueling jobs to earn a living. Here and there he hired himself out as a shepherd, or as a gardener’s or dairy farmer’s assistant. Ten years passed this way. Chaim Shmuel was already twenty-four and had still not found any direction in life. He continued to earn his living by tending livestock in the summer and doing other backbreaking work in the winter. Chaim Shmuel grew into an impressive figure: tall, broad, and healthy. At the same time, he was an ignoramus who could barely read a word of Hebrew. But in his heart, he was a warm Jew. He was deeply distressed by how little he knew about Torah and mitzvos. Because he was often among non-Jews, he faced serious tests in matters of Yiddishkeit and always passed them. Chaim Shmuel lived in constant fear that, G-d forbid, he might do something wrong because he knew so little. He would often fast for entire days while reciting verses from Chumash and Tehillim without stopping. Finally, when he was about thirty, Chaim Shmuel married the daughter of a Jew who lived in a village and moved into his father-in-law’s home. He continued looking for hard work to earn bread for himself and his wife. Meanwhile, his father, Getzel Shlomo, continued going from door to door and proclaiming “Hear, O Israel.” No one knew whether he had ever taken an interest in his son’s fate, or whether he even knew where his son was. When Getzel Shlomo reached a very old age and could no longer walk from place to place, he remained in his home in Harki, confined to his bed. One day he sent for one of the town’s burial attendants and said to him, “Please convey my final request to the gabbai of the chevra kadisha: bury me among the ordinary, poor Jews. But I ask you to begin a new row of graves, with my grave at the head of the row.” Getzel Shlomo then pointed

07:09 to his bag, which lay beside the bed, and said, “Please take the bag and make sure it is placed in my grave together with my body. Since I have no money for burial, I have tried to spare the chevra kadisha some trouble. I have prepared a barrel of water here for the taharah and cloth for shrouds.” The burial attendant, himself a simple Jew, treated Getzel Shlomo’s words with contempt, though he was surprised and puzzled that Getzel Shlomo had suddenly found his voice and begun saying things other than “Hear, O Israel.” He took the bag, hurried to the gabbai of the chevra kadisha, and relayed the dying man’s request. “The things a person can ask for,” he added mockingly. “To send a bag with him to the World Above?” “Is the bag empty?” asked the gabbai. The burial attendant put his hand into the bag and pulled out a bundle of papers. “Apparently it’s a work written by Getzel Shlomo,” he said sarcastically. The gabbai took the bag and the papers from the burial attendant and sent him back to the dying man so that someone would be with him when his soul departed and say Vidui with him. He himself hurried with the papers to Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak, the rabbi of Harki. When they examined them, they discovered that the papers contained a complete accounting of the money Getzel Shlomo had collected throughout his life, together with an exact record of where it had gone. They learned that Getzel Shlomo had never taken even a penny for himself. All the money he collected had been distributed to many needy people who were embarrassed to accept charity and depended entirely on him for their livelihood. Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak and the gabbai hurried to Getzel Shlomo’s house in awe. But when they arrived, they found that he had already passed away. The burial attendant told them in amazement that Getzel Shlomo, from whom no one had heard a word other than “Hear, O Israel” throughout his life, had recited Vidui himself, without any help, and said all the prayers with great concentration. When he finished, he breathed his last. Getzel Shlomo’s funeral was large and dignified. Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak delivered

09:42 a moving eulogy, adding the title “Reb” to his name. Now everyone in Harki knew that Reb Getzel Shlomo had been a hidden tzaddik. Getzel Shlomo’s request to be buried among the poor and ordinary people was honored, but his grave immediately became sacred in the eyes of the townspeople. Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak sent someone to find Getzel Shlomo’s son so that he could say Kaddish. The gaon Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak, rabbi of Harki, announced that until Chaim Shmuel was found, he wished to have the merit of saying Kaddish for the soul of the hidden tzaddik Reb Getzel Shlomo. After much effort, they located Chaim Shmuel in a remote, distant village. Later, Chaim Shmuel moved to Harki, but although his father’s name was revered there, no one paid Chaim Shmuel any attention. Chaim Shmuel was destitute and had no bread, but he never complained about his situation. Besides the poverty, he suffered greatly at the hands of his wife, who treated him badly. Chaim Shmuel went on living this way until something happened that changed him. Avraham Mendel and Azriel Yosef, the two leaders of the hidden chassidim, had, as we already related, visited the Baal Shem Tov in Mezhibuzh and received guidance from him. On one occasion, the Baal Shem Tov turned to Avraham Mendel and said, “When you return to Harki, bring Chaim Shmuel closer to Chassidus. Teach him and guide him. Chaim Shmuel has a lofty soul. That soul came down to this world in its present incarnation, its second, to rectify the matter of tzedakah. He has endured many tests. Now it is the will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu that he become wealthy.” Of course, Avraham Mendel carried out the Baal Shem Tov’s mission. He had a long conversation with Chaim Shmuel and suggested that they learn together, though in secret. Chaim Shmuel was overjoyed. Slowly, slowly

12:30 Gradually, he became a Torah scholar and a member of the secret circle of chassidim in Horki. At the same time, his fortunes began to improve materially, and he became wealthy. Before long, Chaim Shmuel became known for his great generosity, his fine character and, to everyone’s surprise, his Torah scholarship. Through Avraham Mendel, Chaim Shmuel—now called Reb Chaim Shmuel by everyone—had become thoroughly versed even in the finer details. Yet no one in Horki knew that he was a secret chossid and a respected member of the town’s circle of chassidim. Chaim Shmuel had visited the Baal Shem Tov in Mezhibuzh several times and had earned his esteem, but the time had not yet come for Chassidus to be revealed in Horki. That happened later, on an occasion we will now describe. The secret chassidim of Horki were revealed unexpectedly, because of a distinctly strange incident involving a Frenchman—later known among Jews as Reb Pesach the Frenchman—and a member of the princely Radziwill family. Prince Radziwill owned Horki and the surrounding area. His name was Benedict. His estates included vast forests and many villages and towns. Despite the estates’ enormous value, Benedict was rarely seen there, for he spent most of his time in France, where he had grown up and been educated. From his early youth in France, he had been friends with a young man his own age named Pierre Louis. Whether the prince knew that Pierre Louis was of Jewish descent is uncertain. Pierre Louis himself had forgotten it, since his father, an assimilated Jew, had raised him as a non-Jew. In appearance, way of life and outlook, Pierre Louis was thoroughly French. To Prince Benedict, though, he was a kindred spirit, a wonderful companion to spend time with

15:30 because he knew how to enjoy himself and take pleasure in life. In time, Benedict married a woman from the old Russian noble family of Dmitrov, which owned large estates in various parts of Russia and palaces in Moscow. After his marriage, Benedict moved to his wife’s family estates. Not wanting to part from his friend Pierre Louis, he brought him along to Russia and gradually introduced him to Russian culture and customs. To tie him more closely to Russia, Benedict arranged Pierre Louis’s marriage to the daughter of one of his estate managers. Benedict and Pierre Louis continued their carefree lives without interruption. They spent time together in Moscow and went on extended pleasure trips and bouts of revelry in France and other countries. That was how they passed their time, as noblemen did.