Yiras Hashem Is the True Motivation
Reb Shmuel had so many virtues — a love of chessed, purity, and chassidus — but the diamond in the crown of his many virtues was his pure yiras Shamayim.
“When I was a little boy,” he related in a rare moment of candor, “I thought a lot. I used to simply walk and think. All my thoughts were focused on how to become more pure, holier and closer to my Creator. Sadly, the business world corrupted me...”
Those thoughts he’d had as a child, which stemmed from the holiness and purity that he’d absorbed in his parents’ home and from being close to the Pashkaner Rebbe, were a foundation for a life replete with emunah and pure yiras Shamayim. These traits accompanied him as he underwent the challenges that awaited him when he came to Eretz Yisrael as a lone, young lad. It is in their merit that he stood firm in his observance of mitzvos, without any support from his surroundings.
His tremendous yiras Hashem also accompanied him during the days when he could have basked in his astounding financial success. However, he never became prideful in the face of the power that money ostensibly gives a person; he had other forces guiding his life. Remarkably, the wealthier he became, the more modest and more submissive to Torah scholars and the needy he became. He was truly humble and always remembered what the main purpose in life is.
His principles in tzedakah and good middos did not only stem from his soft nature or good heart, but primarily from the wellsprings of yiras Shamayim contained within him. Because ultimately, good middos are rooted in yiras Hashem.
Hidden Intentions
During Reb Shmuel’s successful years, it once happened that his children were sitting with him, and he suddenly allowed a glimpse of his deepest thoughts and motivations.
His son related:
It was warm and pleasant in the house, the atmosphere peaceful and serene, and my father sat there, telling us what he thought about the blessed wealth and the abundance that was granted to him by the Creator.
He explained himself with a story, and asked us to listen with close attention:
One day, it was revealed to the Baal Shem Tov that the kavanos that a butcher in a certain city had while eating were even loftier than his own intentions.
The Baal Shem Tov traveled to the city of this butcher, seeking to learn from him the lofty kavanos of eating. He asked around, “Where does the righteous butcher live?” People shrugged. “Eh, that butcher? He’s the simplest of men. His whole world consists of meat and delicacies. He’s always fattening his body and feasting on delicious foods.”
The Baal Shem Tov became increasingly puzzled. What kavanos could the butcher be having while eating so gluttonously that could possibly be so lofty in the Eyes of Hashem?
“Could I be your guest for Shabbos?” he asked the butcher. The latter agreed, and the Baal Shem Tov prepared to keep an eye on his host during the Shabbos seudah. He imagined that he would surely discover the lofty kavanos concealed beneath the coarse demeanor.
The butcher hosted the Baal Shem Tov with graciousness and respect, but the Baal Shem Tov did not discover any esoteric kavanos in his eating. On the contrary, the butcher ate and ate endlessly, seemingly without any kavanos at all. He consumed excessive amounts of food and his large girth was commensurate.
“He’s probably hiding his intentions from me,” the Baal Shem Tov thought, yearning to discover his host’s secret.
But no matter how closely he observed his host, he saw nothing. There was not even one ounce of avodas Hashem evident in the way the butcher ate. The Baal Shem Tov’s disappointment and surprise mounted.
On Motzaei Shabbos, before parting from his host, the Baal Shem Tov had a conversation with him, and he asked him why he ate such excessive amounts of food.
At that point, the butcher opened up to him, and shared his story:
“I am a butcher, the son of a butcher. One day, the poritz caught my father and tried to force him to give up his Yiddishkeit.
‘I will never renounce my religion,’ my father declared.
‘If you don’t listen to me, I’ll burn you at the stake!’ the poritz threatened.
My father stood his ground and refused to give in. The poritz actualized his terrible threats and burned my father at the stake.
I was there,” the butcher related. “I saw how they burned my father, and how he sanctified Hashem’s Name in public. But it was all over very quickly. A few moments after my father was burned, there was nothing left of him, because he was very thin. I cried in anguish, ‘My father was moser nefesh — and how long did the kiddush Hashem last? Just a short time!’
At that moment, I took upon myself that I would not be as thin as my father,” the butcher continued. “I would eat huge quantities of food until I became very fat, so that if I would ever be burned al kiddush Hashem, it would take a long time and everyone will see how a Jew is burned al kiddush Hashem. That is why I eat almost constantly.”
At that moment the Baal Shem Tov realized why the kavanos of the gluttonous butcher’s eating habits were so precious to Hashem.
My father finished his story and gazed at us intently.
“What did you learn from the story?” he asked. We didn’t know what he was aiming at.
“It’s an interesting story,” we replied. We saw his disappointed expression at our lack of understanding.
He explained it, the emotions welling from deep inside his heart. “Look, if you would have observed the butcher superficially, his actions seemed very coarse. But a person can only understand what he sees with his eyes, while Hashem sees the heart. The Gemara tells us about the greatness of Rabi Akiva, who aspired all his life to sanctify the Name of Hashem. The moment his body was being combed with iron, he reached the pinnacle of his aspirations. Here, this simple butcher reached the level of constant anticipation, and his life became an entity of preparation to be burned al kiddush Hashem!
What was the butcher thinking when he saw his father burning? Not thoughts of revenge. He wasn’t considering how to settle accounts with the bloodthirsty murderers who had killed his father. His thoughts revolved around one thing, which was a very exalted way of thinking: how could he sanctify Hashem’s Name in a loftier way than his father, who was burned in such a short time...”
Silence reigned in the room. My father gave us time to digest what he said and to absorb its meaning. We were too young to grasp the full significance of the story, and to realize what these concepts symbolized for him.
A wealthy Jew, a millionaire, sitting with his children at a quiet moment — and this was the story that emerged from his heart. On the outside, my father seemed to be up to his ears in materialism, working at the Bourse, seemingly drowning in money, surrounded by honor. But only HaKadosh Baruch Hu knows the thoughts that filled him, which aspirations beat in his heart, to which heights his soul wished to climb, and what he perceived as the apex of his achievements.
It was winter. Outside, the cold chilled the passersby. We sat in the elegant, warm house as he permitted us a peek into his deepest emotions, as he painted a picture in our minds’ eye, and he allowed us a glimpse into the considerations that motivated his actions.
Not in Japan for Shabbos
“I’m careful not to stay in Japan for Shabbos, even though that’s sometimes very difficult for me,” Reb Shmuel once commented.
As is known, the opinions of gedolei Yisrael are divided as to the exact location of the International Date Line with regard to halachah. Some say that it runs 90 degrees east of Yerushalayim, while others believe it runs 180 degrees east of Yerushalayim.
The Chazon Ish determined that the International Date Line passes 90 degrees east of Yerushalayim, on the coast of Asia’s mainland; therefore, Shabbos in Japan falls on the day that is considered Sunday everywhere else. Many gedolei Yisrael followed the Chazon Ish’s ruling, or ruled that it’s a significant sh’eilah.
This ruling contravened that which was customarily practiced in Japan. Even after the Chazon Ish’s ruling, those in Japan continued to follow the tradition that had been practiced for hundreds of years.
Reb Shmuel related:
In the initial years that I traveled to Japan, I did not know that the Chazon Ish disputed the custom practiced there. I used to spend Shabbos in Japan with my friend, diamond dealer Reb Freddie Hendeles, whose home was a center of hachnassas orchim for hundreds of businesspeople. Shabbos with Mr. Hendeles was a unique experience.
But after I heard that the Chazon Ish had ruled differently than what is practiced in Japan, I was careful to avoid being in Japan on those days that were in question. On Friday, I flew to a place where there was no doubt as to the date. I preferred to spend Shabbos alone, without friends, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about a safek chillul Shabbos.
Because of this safek, he lost a day of business, left his friends and acquaintances in Japan, and spent the time elsewhere, alone. He could have remained in Japan and adapted the stricter view of keeping two days of Shabbos. Yet, he didn’t want to be in a place where it was possible that Shabbos was being desecrated by others. Such was the extent of Reb Shmuel’s yiras Hashem.
Davening Is of Paramount Importance
“My father would stand next to Reb Shmuel at the mizrach wall on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and he was very impressed by his davening,” related Reb Zalman Senderovitz, in the name of his father, Harav Fishel Senderovitz.
Even during the weekdays, Reb Shmuel’s tefillos were very prolonged, despite the many business matters that he needed to attend to. Before davening, he studied mussar and recited Tehillim and techinos.
During the time that he was in shul, three minyanim managed to finish davening.
On the Way
Reb Shmuel had a diamond sales office in Hong Kong. At the time, flights to Hong Kong passed through Iran, and from there, continued to Japan with a stopover in India.
He once told his children:
One day, I found myself in the airport in India. It was late, almost sof zeman tefillas Shacharis, the last time of day when one can daven Shacharis.
I didn’t know what to do. Where could I put on my tallis and tefillin? How could I do it in the middle of a bustling airport? I looked for a quiet spot, and when I didn’t find one, I thought about how I was proud enough to wrap myself in a tallis and don my tefillin even here in public. I stood for a long time davening. The non-Jews stood around and gaped in wonder at the scene — in India, a Jew wrapped in tallis and tefillin? And I wondered back — what does life look like without tallis and tefillin?!
Tehillim Is the Best Weapon
At a routine security check before boarding a flight, Reb Shmuel was asked, “Are you carrying any weapons?”
“Yes, Tehillim!” he replied wittily.
His Tehillim was his loyal companion on every flight. From a very early age until his final day, he never parted from his Tehillim. Each week, no matter what, he was scrupulous about finishing the entire Sefer Tehillim. At every opportunity, he poured his heart and soul into the perakim of Dovid Hamelech.
Keeping a Distance from Problematic Ventures
Reb Shmuel’s business dealings eventually expanded beyond the diamond industry, but he kept a distance from any business venture relating to kashrus, so he wouldn’t have a hand in potential transgressions if any kashrus problems arose. On many occasions, he could have earned huge profits from building factories or purchasing assets relating to the kashrus field, but he firmly refused.
The Rav of Komemiyus, Harav Menachem Mendel Mendelson, related:
One year, Reb Shmuel planned to build an abattoir in Komemiyus, but he then retracted for fear of possible kashrus issues that might arise and for which he’d have to take responsibility.
Similarly, a relative shared that he once suggested to Reb Shmuel a very profitable real estate deal — to purchase a hotel from receivership. Reb Shmuel refused because he didn’t want to be in charge of the kashrus at the hotel.
“But the Rabbinate is responsible since it gives the hechsher!” the relative tried to persuade him. But it was futile.
With Holiness and Purity
Reb Simcha Saks, one of the workers at the factory in Shikkun Hey, related:
In addition to all the chessed that Reb Shmuel did for his workers, the loftiest virtue that I saw in him was the way he worked to preserve kedushah.
In most offices, women are employed as secretaries because they’re usually paid less than men. But Reb Shmuel preferred to pay the higher wages to men so that his offices should not have men and women working together. It’s no wonder that in his factories, there was an atmosphere of purity, and they had much siyata diShmaya.
Parnassah for Women
However, Reb Shmuel wanted to provide dignified parnassah opportunities for women as well, since they are often the tomchei Torah. He came up with a brilliant solution. He opened a diamond factory where only women were employed. The managers sat in a separate department from the women. For the many years that the factory was open, frum girls could have employment in a pure environment. The daughters of Bnei Brak’s most prominent rabbanim worked there.
The Yarmulke Is More Important Than the Syndicate
Reb Shmuel once related:
I was in London, walking briskly down the gleaming corridor leading to the Syndicate.
The Syndicate, or the DTC, supplies raw diamonds from the mines and represents the diamond industry and its producers and experts. Its objective is to maintain an open channel between the Israeli diamond industry and the diamond mines.
During that time, the Syndicate was virtually the only company that received diamonds directly from the mines. I was young and just a beginner in the business at the time, but baruch Hashem, I’d been able to forge ties with the company in London. It was an impressive achievement on my part — to receive merchandise directly from the Syndicate without agents. This trade, called a site, meant I could purchase merchandise at a lower price, which made it easier to earn a larger profit.
I came to attend the Syndicate conference with the yarmulke on my head. It’s hard to describe what a yarmulke expressed at the time. It wasn’t considered acceptable to wear a hat or yarmulke at the Syndicate, but I had no intention of removing mine. I’d met a friend in London — renowned diamond dealer Reb Moshe Cohen, owner of Orion — and he was wearing a yarmulke.
“If Moshe Cohen is allowed to wear one, so can I!” I resolved. I entered the conference with the yarmulke sitting proudly on my head.
There was stunned silence in the room. The heads of the Syndicate shook their heads in disbelief, but I was determined to prevail. As far as I was concerned, taking off the yarmulke was not an option.
They came to terms with it. They got used to the sight of a religious Jew...and their admiration for me only rose.
