It was 9:00 PM. Meir keenly felt the words recited in the bedtime Shema. With the last of his strength, he dragged his body to bed... By force of old habit, his hand reached out to the sefer he kept permanently at his bedside, and he opened it. This is what was written there:
Once, three friends sat together to discuss the definition of a tzaddik (righteous person). The first said: a tzaddik is someone who fulfills all the words of the Shulchan Aruch (the Code of Jewish Law). The second said: a tzaddik is someone extremely, extremely careful about all matters concerning the honor of others. But the third argued that they were mistaken in their definition of a tzaddik since those are duties of every Jew. A tzaddik is someone who fasts, mortifies his body, and lives frugally...
They could not reach a conclusion, so they decided to go to Naftali, the elderly neighbor living nearby. "He's already 87; maybe he knows something on this matter." Naftali dragged his weary legs to the door and opened it wide, letting them all in. After hearing their question, he closed his eyes and pondered for a few moments, then said, "A tzaddik is a Jew who manages to withstand trials! A tzaddik is someone who, despite all the trials he endures, remains steadfast in his faith and in his joy!"
Meir's eyes opened wide, his fatigue vanished, and thoughts flooded his mind...
He got up from his bed and went to the living room, and there, beside the bookcase crammed with books, he paced back and forth...
In the end, he decided: These past few weeks, we learn in the Torah about Moses, so, let me begin my study of the Book of Exodus.
In Hayom Yom (entry for 2 Cheshvan), the words of the saintly Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi Zt"l are brought, that one must "live with the times." His disciples explained that one must live with the weekly Torah portion — a Jew must know that it is not enough to read the weekly parashah, but one must live with the parashah and learn from it practical lessons that positively influence his life.
In a talk delivered by my father, Rabbi Yoram Michael Abargel Zt”l, he said the following:
We must know that the bounty that the Holy One, blessed be He, brings down to the world is transmitted and descends into the world via the weekly Torah portion — and, more precisely, via the section of the parashah that corresponds to that day.
Therefore, it is advisable (for women as well) to learn each and every day the verses corresponding to that day of the week. For example: on Sunday, the first section of the parashah; on Monday, the second section of the parashah; and so on. By virtue of this consistent reading, a person will be able to draw down upon himself a bounty for the entirety of that day. However, in order for a person to "live" with the parashah — to derive from its directives and guidance for his life in general and for that day in particular — he must also study Rashi's commentary. It is a tradition that when Rashi wrote his commentary on the Chumash, he did not study from an ordinary Torah scroll or Chumash but from the Torah scroll of the Heavenly Academy. Therefore, hidden within his commentary are supernal and mystical secrets.
Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi Zt”l said: A person’s level of reverence for G-d is measured according to his investment in studying Rashi’s commentary on the Torah. This was also hinted by the author of the Shulchan Aruch in his ruling (Orach Chayim 285:2) that although the primary obligation is to read the weekly Torah portion “twice in the text and once in the Onkelos translation,” nevertheless whoever is truly God-fearing will also study Rashi’s commentary on the parashah — thus it turns out that a person’s fear of Heaven can be measured by his study of Rashi on the weekly portion.
When Shechem, the son of Chamor, sought to marry Dinah, the daughter of Jacob, Jacob's sons told him: If you will be circumcised, we will give her to you. Shechem then persuaded all the men of his city to circumcise themselves along with him... And on the third day after the circumcision — the day when the pain is at its peak — Simeon and Levi took their swords and killed 24,000 men! At that moment, the Satan stood before the heavenly throne and clamored, “Is this the reward for those who keep Your covenant?” From Heaven, he was looked at with a smile and asked: “Did you not see what the nations did to My children in Egypt?” (Midrash, Parashat Vayishlach on Genesis 34:31).
The Harsh Enslavement in Egypt
The first chapter (and the end of the second chapter) of the Book of Exodus deals with the harsh and cruel enslavement that the Egyptians imposed on the people of Israel. The supposedly “polite and civilized” Egyptians revealed, during those years of bondage, their true nature – it turned out that beneath all the “fine mats and tailored suits” lay mountains of wickedness: demonic spirits, fearsome and cruel agents of destruction...
Not only did the Egyptians show their naked depravity – the other nations of the world also revealed their baseness – the whole world knew about it. The whole world knew that for 116 years, they had been enslaving the people of Israel, and it didn't bother them one bit.
Indeed, at this point, the well-known question arises: The holy Gemara says (Beitzah 25b): “It was taught in the name of Rabbi Meir: Why was the Torah given to Israel? Because they are brazen... If the Torah had not been given to Israel, no nation or tongue could stand up against them [due to their brazenness]!” The boldness of the people of Israel is so great and strong that if not for the holy Torah, which refines them, they would conquer the entire world!
Yet, the enslavement in Egypt occurred before the giving of the Torah. So, how did the Egyptians succeed in enslaving the people of Israel? How were they not met with fierce retaliation?
Our holy Sages addressed this question and answered: the Holy One, blessed be He, wanted to discipline the people of Israel, and he, therefore, took away all their strength and placed them under the fierce Egyptian boot!
To quote the Midrash: “If the people of Israel are so beloved, why did He deliver them into the hand of their enemy? Rabbi Chanina said: Because all the Holy One’s attributes operate measure for measure. In the beginning, before they went down to Egypt, the sons of the matriarchs Rachel and Leah would belittle the sons of the maidservants (Bilhah and Zilpah) and did not treat them with brotherhood. This was very grievous in the eyes of the Holy One, and the Divine Spirit would shout and say: ‘You are wholly beautiful, My beloved, and there is no blemish in you (Song of Songs 4:7). The Holy One, blessed be He, said: What shall I do so that the sons of the maidservants will be accepted? I will bring them down to Egypt where they will all be slaves, and at the time of their redemption, I will grant them the mitzvah of Pesach and that they will all engage in it — they and their children and their grandchildren — and all of them will say: “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt” (Deuteronomy 6:21), and thus they will all feel as equals.”
The Importance of Peace and Unity
All this indicates the greatness and praise of the Holy One to all inhabitants of the world, that they should know to make peace among themselves. It is for this reason that his name is called 'Shalom' – 'Peace,' as it is said: “And he called it Hashem Shalom” (Judges 6:24).
Long years passed in the Egyptian "school of re-education" (116 years of slavery), and the Holy One saw that the people of Israel had managed to cleanse away their lack of brotherhood and that now they were capable of being truly united.
The Holy One now searched for a tzaddik with the ability to elevate the souls of Israel from the spiritual mud in which they were sunk and to strengthen their confidence — so that they would not fear or be terrified of the forces of impurity and powers of defilement. A tzaddik with the capacity to illuminate the souls of Israel, removing and uplifting them from slavery to freedom, from darkness to a great light...
A Story of the Ger Rebbe
The following story was published in HaMevaser (issue 111, p. 22): Row upon row of young married men stood crowded together. In order to wedge into these rows, one had to hurry through the Friday night meal and rush to the study hall of the Beit Yisrael of Ger Zt”l. By the time the Rebbe would appear for the Shabbat tish, the place was filled wall to wall, and anyone who wanted to witness the holy sight had to arrive early and secure a place long beforehand. More than once, those standing at the tish would emerge afterward with their kapotes (long coats) torn and soaked in sweat from end to end; the regular Gur yeshiva boys would come equipped with special kapotes that had no lining and were pre-torn so that their good kapotes would not get ruined. All agreed that it was all worthwhile to be present at this exalted gathering.
When the Rebbe entered, in a moment, the entire space of the study hall would be filled with awe and dread. Many people felt their knees rubbing against one another. The Rebbe himself would walk among the masses by various routes as if strolling long and short paths, his hands clasped and his holy eyes shooting glances that pierced each man's heart and kidneys, surveying everyone with a single sweep. Upon his entrance, he sent an electric charge that was felt from one end of the hall to the other, and when he stood directly before the disciple and sent his penetrating gaze, many were seized by literal shuddering.
Each person felt that the Rebbe was peering at that moment into his very essence — into his innermost being, and everything was exposed before him: one’s thoughts, one’s deeds, one’s open and hidden matters. Whoever merited his penetrating gaze would never forget that moment. By inclining the lashes of his eyes in a certain direction, he would split and cleave through the sea of people, carving out a visible path all the way to that particular person whom he wished to see. It was like a "splitting of the Sea," with a wall of Chassidim to his right and to his left. Sometimes, he would toss toward someone a word or two, which sufficed to set that person's soul astir.
There were times when he called out to a group of young Chassidim and said, “And you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy people.” It also happened that he would feign anger and call out sharply to someone, "Why have you come to me? And you..." Yet, surprisingly, in general, those Chassidim whom the Rebbe rebuked were not offended at all. On the contrary, in that very moment, their awe and reverence toward their Rebbe intensified sevenfold — in the spirit of "Faithful are the wounds of a friend." Still, the Rebbe himself wished to know and ascertain that this was indeed so — that no insult had been taken...
An incident along these lines is told by the following narrator: It was a winter Shabbat in Jerusalem roughly fifty years ago. At the home of Chaim Simon, an honored guest had arrived — a distinguished relative who served as a rabbi of a community in New York and had come to the Holy Land to bask in the aura of Jerusalem's sanctity and beauty. Even before Shabbat, the guest inquired of his host what marvelous spectacles might be seen in Jerusalem on Friday night. In those days, the most spectacular sight of all was the Rebbe Beit Yisrael of Ger’s Friday night tish — it was a gathering suffused with the splendor of old that, to this day, everyone who merited being present still longs for.
Chaim himself came from an old Hasidic family, but in the heat of the 1948 war and the events that had occurred before and after, he had been somewhat swept up by the spirit of the times. Even so, he did not abandon his ancestral tradition and did not, G-d forbid, slacken in his observance of the Torah and mitzvot. However, his attire and lifestyle were what is called “modern.”
He, too, yearned to witness at least once this much-talked-about tish. And so, he and his guest agreed already before Shabbat that on Friday night, they would end their meal early so they could walk afterward to the Gerrer Beit Midrash in the Geulah neighborhood and get a good spot at the tish. But on the eve of that Shabbat, a proclamation was issued throughout Jerusalem, the Holy City: "Be it known that the eruv enclosing the city was discovered to be invalid shortly before Shabbat. The breach was the result of severe damage to some eruv poles in a location that — given the conditions of those days — could not be reached to be fixed before Shabbat. Therefore, carrying in the public domain is forbidden this Shabbat in accordance with halachah."
In the Diaspora, this is commonplace — it is normally not possible to enclose the sprawling cities in an eruv, and the inability to carry in the public domain is part of the Shabbat routine for every Jew. But not so in the Holy City of Jerusalem, which has been encompassed by a wall whose gates are closed at night from ancient times. Even after venturing outside the walls into the new city, every Jewish neighborhood had always been enclosed by an eruv from the beginning. It was no wonder that the Badatz’s announcement immediately created an uproar in the city. Everyone turned to empty their pockets of any remaining handkerchiefs or particles. The elders hurried to dispatch their grandchildren to the study hall before the onset of Shabbat in order to stash their reading glasses there.
These unusual preparations made their mark in every household. Chaim and his guest did the same — not that it was any special task for the guest, who, after all, hailed from the exile of New York, where an eruv cannot encompass the city. After candle-lighting, they strolled gracefully to the shul for Friday night prayers. From there, they quickly turned home for the meal, after which, as planned, they set out together for the Beit Midrash of the Beit Yisrael of Ger in order to secure a decent spot at the tish. Upon arriving at the Beit Midrash, they pushed their way among the masses and waited... Then, a hush fell in the study hall: the Rebbe entered and began walking to his place while, along the way he scrutinized all those present with a piercing scan. Then suddenly, he turned toward Chaim's direction and stopped near him, addressing him with a brief, sharp remark:
“Where is your beard?”
Chaim blushed to the roots of his hair, not knowing how the Rebbe knew of his Hasidic background and of the beard that had once adorned his cheeks in his youth. Even so, he did not feel any insult in his heart. The legendary love for fellow Jews that flowed from the Rebbe could be felt even when he had shot sharp words his way...
Seven years passed. The New York guest had long since safely returned home, and Chaim himself — although he had heard from the Rebbe's words, nonetheless, the influence of his surroundings and his habits prevailed, and his cheeks remained smoothly shaven as before. But then, one Shabbat, he felt in his heart a burning nostalgia for the Rebbe, the Beit Yisrael of Ger, and he decided to go once again to visit his court and attend the tish. Again, he squeezed in among the hundreds present — a crowd which had only grown in the intervening years — but he nevertheless managed to find a decent spot. There he stood with the whole congregation, waiting for the Rebbe's entry. Once more, the study hall instantly fell silent, and the crowd tensed like a spring. The Rebbe, whose sharp eyes missed nothing, immediately noticed Chaim. He made his way directly over to him and asked him:
“And now, where is your beard?”
— a follow-up to the question from seven years prior. So many people had passed before him since then — tens of thousands — yet the Rebbe remembered this man well and was concerned lest he had been hurt. He did not continue until he heard from a flustered, blushing Chaim that, no, he was not at all offended...
However, the Beit Yisrael's pointed arrow had been firmly lodged in Chaim's heart; a few years later, he decided that he would no longer shave his beard. From then on, a whitish-brown beard began to adorn his ruddy cheeks until his last day — he sported the beard on Shabbat and on the weekdays when a proper eruv enclosed the city as well as those times it was down for repairs.
Moses and the Light of Redemption
When Moses was 79 years old, G-d revealed Himself to him and informed him: “Go and gather the elders of Israel and say to them: Hashem, the G-d of your fathers, has appeared to me, saying: I have surely remembered you and what is done to you in Egypt” (Exodus 3:16). When they heard from Moses the words “I have surely remembered (pakod pakadeti)," an immense light was revealed in the hearts of the people of Israel — the great and exalted light of redemption; a light that instantly lifted their spirits to heights of greatness... They felt it, and they believed, and from that moment, the process of redemption began to actualize.
We may pause for a moment and ask ourselves: Why did Moses merit this level? How did he merit having the power to illuminate the souls of Israel?
The answer is written in a single verse describing Moses’ deeds at an earlier time: “And it came to pass in those days, when Moses was grown, that he went out unto his brethren, and looked on their burdens” (Exodus 2:11). Rashi explains: “He set his eyes and heart to be distressed over them.” Moses succeeded in leaving his own inner world — the world that envelops and surrounds each person’s entire existence — and sensing and feeling the inner world of the people of Israel.
Because he attained this lofty, divine level — to feel the suffering of Israel — a sublime and lofty light was bestowed upon him from Heaven, lifting him to the highest heights of holiness until he merited and was chosen to be the redeemer!
The Midrash states so explicitly (Shemot Rabbah 1:27): “And it came to pass in those days, when Moses was grown, that he went out unto his brethren, and looked on their burdens.” Moses set his eyes and heart to be distressed over them, and he could not bear to see their suffering. Therefore, he merited to be the redeemer of Israel.
This is also expressed in the war against Amalek, where it is stated: “But Moses' hands were heavy; and they took a stone, and put it under him, and he sat thereon; and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side; and his hands were steady until the going down of the sun” (Exodus 17:12). Rashi comments: “He became weary because he was a man of faith and prayed for Israel.”
Meir's heart leapt with joy. Here, it is explicitly spelled out in the words of the Midrash: the definition of a tzaddik is a Jew with a merciful and sensitive heart that is aware and feels the suffering of others!
To be sure, as with every spiritual level, there are endless degrees of love for others and sensitivity to fellow Jews of the righteous. To bring an example of this lofty character trait, let us relate the following story (Toldot Tzaddikim, p. 596, published by Rabbi Yaron Amit):
The Holy Rabbi Mordechai of Neschiz
The holy Rabbi Mordechai of Neschiz was a disciple of the righteous Rabbi Yechiel Michel of Zlotchov. After his teacher's passing, he was appointed rabbi of the city of Neschiz, and his fame soon spread far and wide as a righteous miracle worker; he revived the dead and healed the sick, and he helped free agunot (women unable to remarry due to missing husbands).
At that time, a large wedding took place in Slavita, and many tzaddikim and Torah greats were there. They spoke among themselves, “What is the source of the power of Rabbi Mordechai of Neschiz?” Some even began to suspect that perhaps it was not from the side of holiness, and they decided to send two Torah scholars to investigate the source of his power.
The two Torah scholars arrived to see him and began to casually converse with him. He perceived their intentions immediately and opened the siddur to the Ana Bekoach prayer and showed them the 42-letter Name of G-d derived from the acrostic of that prayer. He continued and detailed for them the secret of this Divine Name...
