Episode 130: The Story of Rabbi Nachman Yitzchok, Rabbi of Harki

00:01 All the stories we have heard so far about Reb Moishe, and about the family history from the Maharal of Prague down to Reb Moishe, are stories Yitzchak Shaul tells Baruch in the town of Dobromysl. Young Baruch is hearing about his own family from Yitzchak Shaul. Yitzchak Shaul then continues his account. Because he had spent a long time in Minsk, he could tell Baruch not only about the hidden tzaddikim there, but also about the leading figures in its Jewish community, among them Baruch’s grandfather, Reb Moishe. For the first time in his life, Baruch heard concrete details about his grandfather. Yitzchak Shaul’s tone was not sympathetic toward Reb Moishe, because of his opposition to Chassidus. But Baruch was still searching for the right path in serving Hashem, and he felt a longing to visit Minsk and get to know his grandfather. He was certain he could learn a great deal from him, since his grandfather was great in Torah and, lehavdil, in secular knowledge as well. Baruch’s wish to visit Minsk was also fueled by Yitzchak Shaul’s stories about the city’s Torah scholars and tzaddikim, both the well-known and the hidden. These stories moved him deeply. Yet precisely because he was gaining so much knowledge and guidance from Yitzchak Shaul, the blacksmith’s son-in-law in Dobromysl, Baruch could not bring himself to leave him. He decided to remain in Dobromysl and continue his conversations with the young chossid. Baruch heard from Yitzchak Shaul not only a wealth of extraordinary stories, but also Torah teachings and guidance, especially the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov and the other great figures of Chassidus. Meanwhile, the little money Baruch had saved from his various jobs was running out, and he had to look for new ways to earn a living. This caused him some concern, because he was firmly resolved to live only by the work of his own hands. With all his heart, he wanted to be sure he would never have to rely on or benefit from help from

02:40 another person, even one of his closest relatives. Baruch thought a great deal about the possibility of traveling to Minsk. His heart drew him to his grandfather, but he knew he could not eat at his grandfather’s home, even if his grandfather wanted to provide for him from his wealth. He therefore needed money for his needs and, of course, for the journey: provisions to last until he reached Minsk. Along the way, he would have to hire himself out for various kinds of work, either in Dobromysl or elsewhere. Baruch was not at all particular about what work he would do. The main difficulty was finding work that met his requirements. Neither the type of work nor how hard it was concerned him. What mattered was a principle he had set for himself at the start of his independent life: he would work only a limited number of hours each day, so that he could devote most of his time to Torah study and serving Hashem. That was how he had lived all these years. Finding such work was not easy, and the pay for it was very low. All this made it difficult to find a quick way to fulfill his wish to reach Minsk and stay there for a time. While Baruch weighed his options, he continued to meet Yitzchak Shaul every day for long conversations. Yitzchak Shaul, for his part, was very fond of Baruch and enjoyed satisfying his intense thirst to hear about Chassidus and chassidim. In fact, Baruch was the only person in Dobromysl who took an interest in these things and drank in Yitzchak Shaul’s words with such eagerness. Chassidus spoke to Baruch’s mind and heart and captivated him, but he did not yet consider himself a chossid. For that reason, he wanted to learn more and more about Chassidus and its history. He made every effort to draw from Yitzchak Shaul teachings that would deepen his acquaintance with Chassidus and open its gates

05:03 wide. Among the things Baruch heard with enthusiasm was Yitzchak Shaul’s fascinating account of the connection between the rabbi and Rebbetzin of Horki—Yitzchak Shaul’s hometown, as we know—and Minsk, where Baruch’s grandfather now lived. This is how Yitzchak Shaul told it: “Horki was a small town. Its Jewish population numbered about eighty families. Yet this small town held an important place in the history of the hidden tzaddikim and the kabbalists, and later in the history of Chassidus as well. The Jews of Horki were distinguished by their yiras Shamayim. Many of them were also great Torah scholars. Even the tradesmen knew how to learn, and there were generally no unlearned people in Horki. Even Zalman the hide stripper, Tzadok Eliyahu the waste collector, Zelig Tzvi the butcher, and Avraham Yosef and Moshe Aharon, the wagon drivers, could open a sefer, study it, and learn from it. And in yiras Shamayim, they could equal the greatest Torah scholars. Much of the credit for Horki’s being a town of Torah learning and yiras Shamayim belonged to its rabbi, Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak, and his wife, the righteous Rebbetzin Sarah Rivka. Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak served as rabbi of Horki for no fewer than sixty years. During those sixty years, he instilled yiras Shamayim and good character traits in the local Jews, and taught them Torah until every Jew could study even the fine print. Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak was a rare personality. He was actually born in Minsk. He was the son of the local bathhouse attendant, who was in charge of the mikveh. All his life, the attendant was regarded as a simple man, but toward the end of his life it became clear that he was a great Torah scholar and tzaddik—a true hidden tzaddik. We will hear more about this remarkable bathhouse attendant later. First, let us get to know his remarkable son, Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak, the rabbi of Horki. Nachman Yitzchak was not only a great Torah scholar, but also an example of goodness

07:52 of heart and integrity. The householders of Horki, who had known him for many years, said they had never heard their rabbi utter even one harsh word about anyone. He showed everyone particular warmth and courtesy. Even when he wanted, for example, to rebuke someone who had sinned, he did so with love and great compassion, and with pain in his heart at having to speak words of rebuke to a fellow Jew. Nachman Yitzchak’s great righteousness became especially apparent when an epidemic, rachmana litzlan, broke out in Horki. Many people died. The rabbi called a large gathering of the entire community—men, women, and children, young and old. Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak went up to the platform and said, ‘It is perfectly clear that the epidemic has come because of sins in the town. Hakadosh Boruch Hu would not have brought such a punishment upon the town had serious sins not been committed here. But I cannot imagine who in our town could be guilty of such transgressions. Therefore, I am certain the responsibility rests with me, as Rashi writes on the verse, “And I will place them at your head.”’ Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak burst into tears, and then the whole congregation broke down in tears. Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak treated the members of his community like a father treats his children. He made no distinction between one person and another, just as a father makes no distinction between one child and another. He treated everyone with love and special attention, and guided them all toward good character traits. For example, he established a thoughtful arrangement for the town’s twelve shopkeepers. Under this arrangement, all twelve shops were open at the same time only on market day, when the farmers from the surrounding area came into town to do their shopping. On ordinary days, however, the rabbi instituted a daily rotation in which only three shops were open. This arrangement allowed the shopkeepers to earn a decent living without excessive competition, jealousy, or disputes, and also left them free time for spiritual pursuits. Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak introduced another practice

10:31 So that all the merchants would share equally in supplying goods to the three noblemen’s estates near Harki. Only during hunting season, when all the local noblemen gathered in town to hunt in the surrounding forests, was every Jew free to offer goods to the noblemen and their many attendants. Thanks to the rabbi’s efforts and wisdom, peace was preserved in the town, which knew no jealousy, hatred or strife. Rebbetzin Sarah Rivka, for her part, made a significant contribution to the town’s yiras Shamayim and good character. Sarah Rivka was an outstanding person in her own right. She was always involved in such things as helping brides, visiting the sick and acts of kindness. She made sure that every celebration in town—a bris, a bar mitzvah, an engagement party or a wedding—was made as joyful as possible. At the same time, she saw to it that if, G-d forbid, anyone in town experienced sorrow or bereavement, the whole town would share in it. She herself was always first to offer comfort in sorrow and help in times of joy. Sarah Rivka devoted particular time to teaching the women good character: not to quarrel among themselves, insult one another, speak lashon hara or gossip, or show hatred and jealousy toward each other. When a new family arrived in Harki and, for example, the wife was not as kind or well-mannered as the town’s longtime residents, Rebbetzin Sarah Rivka would devote herself to long conversations with her until she changed. On long summer days, the Rebbetzin would gather the town’s women around her on her porch and tell them stories from the Torah, the Midrash and other books. She would explain the deeper ideas in the stories at length and draw out their lessons. In winter, she would gather the women inside her home and continue her stories with captivating explanations. That is why the Rebbetzin was loved and admired by the women of the town. The older women called her “Mother,” the younger ones “Grandmother,” and when she was not present, everyone called her “the holy Rebbetzin.” Sarah Rivka, too,

13:08 like her husband, Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak, came from Minsk. Her past was no less interesting than his. And now we come to the bathhouse attendant from Minsk, the father of Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak. His name was Shimon Leib. The people of Minsk did not think particularly highly of him; after all, tending a bathhouse was not such a respectable occupation. Shimon Leib did have an unusually dignified appearance. His face shone, his beard added to his charm, and his eyes radiated great wisdom. But even so, who paid attention to a bathhouse attendant? Naturally, Shimon Leib was regarded as a simple, unlearned man. No one had ever heard him quote a teaching of our Sages, or even a verse from Chumash. All that was known about him was that he paid his regular weekly dues to the Tehillim society and often joined its communal recitation of Tehillim. Since the bathhouse in Minsk was not heated every day in those days, Shimon Leib would spend whole days wandering the streets. Naturally, this only reinforced the impression that he was idle and kept company with people who hung around on street corners—hardly something that raised his standing among his acquaintances in town. There was, however, one virtue for which everyone gave Shimon Leib credit. He lent the poor all the money he had saved over the years. His kindness was especially great because he did not wait for someone to come and ask him for a loan. Because he spent so much time walking the streets, he always knew where, and to whom, a little money was needed—whether to buy goods to resell or to support a wife and children. Almost miraculously, Shimon Leib knew what every family in town lacked and acted accordingly. Often he did not stop at making a loan, but would bring a sack of potatoes or flour to the home of a poor Torah scholar, a widow or simply someone in need. He was tall,

15:28 sturdy and strong. He carried the sacks as though they were light packages and brought joy into many homes. But none of this increased his standing in Minsk. After all, an unlearned man held little importance in scholarly Minsk. There was also Rabbi Yonasan, the shamash—the synagogue attendant—in Minsk. His wife was Bashe Rochel. They had a daughter and decided to raise her, Sarah Rivka, as though she were a son. That is, they would teach her Torah from early childhood, unlike many others at the time who refrained from teaching Torah to girls. Rabbi Yonasan taught Sarah Rivka himself. Gradually, he taught her first to read, then Chumash, Nach, Mishnah, Gemara, Aggadah and Midrash. The shamash and his wife, however, kept their daughter’s studies secret. They were simply afraid that the Jews of Minsk, especially those who attended the beis midrash where Rabbi Yonasan served as shamash, would misunderstand. Years passed, and Sarah Rivka grew into a learned young woman. At the same time, of course, she was brought up with good values and good character. Her kind heart and modesty were recognized and praised by those who knew her. When Sarah Rivka turned seventeen, Rabbi Meir Nosson, a shopkeeper who prayed at Rabbi Yonasan’s beis midrash, sent a matchmaker to the shamash. Rabbi Meir Nosson wanted the kindhearted, modest Sarah Rivka to marry his son. He knew very well that Rabbi Yonasan had no money for a dowry or to support the couple at his table, so he was prepared to cover all the expenses, including the wedding and even the bride’s needs and clothing. The matchmaker came to Shimon Leib’s house... to the house of—sorry—to Rabbi Yonasan’s house, and got nothing. Rabbi Yonasan answered neither yes nor no. All right, the matchmaker went back and told Rabbi Meir Nosson. Rabbi Meir Nosson assumed this was due to

18:11 Rabbi Yonasan’s quiet nature. But surely, he thought, Rabbi Yonasan agreed to the match; after all, he must know what a golden match it was for him. After the matchmaker spoke with Rabbi Yonasan two or three times without getting a clear answer, and reported back to Rabbi Meir Nosson, Rabbi Meir Nosson decided to send him again with one of his close associates. This time they went not to Sarah Rivka’s quiet father, Rabbi Yonasan, but to her mother, Bashe Rochel, who was considered more levelheaded than her idle husband. Bashe Rochel gave them a clear no and explained why: Sarah Rivka had been secretly betrothed as a very young child as a segulah for long life. This meant that their rejection of Rabbi Meir Nosson’s proposal did not reflect any negative feelings toward him. Bashe Rochel did not reveal to whom Sarah Rivka had been betrothed, and no one pressed her to do so, since betrothing children at a young age as a segulah for long life was common. But in this case there was a special background to the matter, as became clear later. A few months later, it became known that immediately after her birth, Sarah Rivka had been betrothed to none other than Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak, the prodigy, son of Rabbi Shimon Leib the bathhouse attendant. Only after Shimon Leib’s passing did his brilliant son reveal that he had been a hidden tzaddik—but at this point, no one knew that. It emerged that the match had been arranged between the two fathers, Rabbi Shimon Leib the bathhouse attendant and Rabbi Yonasan the shamash. Everyone now understood that Rabbi Shimon Leib, the hidden tzaddik, would not have arranged a match with just anyone. And if he had chosen Rabbi Yonasan’s daughter for his brilliant son immediately after her birth, then Rabbi Yonasan himself must also be a hidden tzaddik. All Minsk talked about the match. Many simply envied Rabbi

20:43 Yonasan the prodigy. Many simply envied Rabbi Yonasan. The prodigy Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak, whom the wealthiest men and the greatest Torah scholars had hoped to have as a son-in-law, had become the son-in-law of Rabbi Yonasan the shamash.