As a young man, Horav Elazar Koznitzer, zl, asked his uncle, the saintly Saraf of Mogolnitz, Horav Chaim Meir Yechiel Shapiro, zl (early nineteenth century grandson of the Koznitzer Maggid), for a blessing. “What blessing would you like?” he asked.
“That I should not be challenged with nisyanos (spiritual challenges),” he replied.
The Saraf countered, “This is not a blessing. One cannot achieve greatness; one cannot rise up ladder of spirituality without first having overcome various trials. I bless you, however, that, when you confront a nisayon, you should be aware that it is only a test. With this in mind, you will merit to withstand life’s trials.”
An Israeli soldier who had fought in a number of battles and had served with distinction left his base to go on furlough to spend quality time with his family. He grabbed the first minibus that passed by and sat down, closed his eyes and looked forward to a restful weekend.
Suddenly, he heard the other passengers speaking among themselves in Arabic. He immediately froze with fear with the realization that he had been duped. The passengers on the bus were not Jews, but Palestinians. They were up to no good. As a high-ranking office of Tzahal, he was privy to many high-level secrets, which these terrorists would do anything to extract from him. He knew that he would be in for a traumatic and painful questioning.
His resolve was as strong as his fear. He would not commit treason and give up any secrets – regardless of the torture to which he would surely be subjected. He would not bring shame on his parents. First and foremost, he was a Jew with a responsibility towards his people. If necessary, he would give up his life, but he would never reveal any information.
The bus stopped at a far-off campsite, and he was taken off. He was cuffed, dragged off and bound to a chair. It did not take long before the terrorists got down to business. They asked question after question, all to which he did not reply. They became physical with him; yet, his silence continued. To maintain his fortitude, he visualized the damage to national security which the secrets he carried could engender.
After about an hour of non-stop questioning and threats, they took a break and went out, leaving him alone in the room. He realized that they had not shut the door completely. He eased over to the door to listen to their conversation, to get an idea about what was next. How shocked he was to hear the “Palestinians” speaking among themselves in Ivrit! These were Jewish officers who were testing his ability to withstand pressure and not reveal secret information.
He decided not to let on that he knew. Thus, when the tribunal of questioners returned, he was ready for them. He was no longer afraid. This was not real. It was only a test to determine his level of commitment: Was he a security risk, or could he achieve the next security level?
This is what the Saraf meant. Realizing that life’s challenges are all a test to determine where we stand with regard to our commitment -- and to avail us the opportunity to manifest our abiding love for Hashem -- is the key to passing life’s challenges successfully.
Reprinted from the Parshas Vayeira 5785 edition of Peninim on the Torah, a project of the Hebrew Academy of Cleveland.
