The tzaddik of Yerushalayim, R’ Arieh Levin, had a superior heart. He knew how to make people feel comfortable and offer them chizuk. One time, he heard how a grocery was remaining open on Shabbos, which bothered him to no end. He decided that he must act.
Before doing anything, though, he thought how he would best reach the heart of the owner without bringing upon ill feelings. He came up with the clever solution—to show the store owner how he understood his challenge, and by doing so, he hoped it would bring about the right change.
So, early one Friday morning, after finishing his Shabbos preparations, he headed to the store. His escorts, not knowing his plan of action, were speculating and wondering how he was going to address the owner and what the owner was in for. Yet, they were in for a surprise. When they got there, R’ Arieh just froze. He just stood at the storefront, waiting. He didn’t even look for the store owner.
Seeing the tzaddik at the door sparked the owner’s curiosity. Walking outside, the owner asked R’ Arieh how he can help him.
“Is there anything that I can get you, Rabbi?
“Nothing,” responded R’ Arieh. “I’m OK!”
Some while later, the owner came back out and asked, “Can I at least offer you a chair? I don’t want you standing the whole time.”
“Yes,” came the response. “That’s kind of you!” and he brought him a chair.
The store owner headed back into the store to assist his customers.
The clock was ticking. One hour. Two hours...and R’ Arieh was still sitting. As it got closer and closer to Shabbos, R’ Arieh remained in place, sitting in the chair that the store owner had given him. Sixty minutes before shkiah, when in Yerushalayim the music starts playing - bringing forth the aura of Shabbos, R’ Arieh was still sitting there...
When the sirens went off, indicating that it was time to light candles and the sensation of Shabbos was palpable, nothing had changed. R’ Arieh still sat in front of the busy grocery, wearing his prestigious Yerushalmi garb.
Even as Shabbos came in, R’ Arieh remained in his place.
When finally the store owner left to lock up for the night, he asked the Rav, “What are you doing here? Why are you remaining here all this time? Don’t you have a family? Why aren’t you spending this sensational time with your family?”
“I heard that someone in the neighborhood was keeping his store open on Shabbos,” R’ Arieh said. “I understood that he must be facing a big nisayon. He wouldn’t just keep it open without having a good reason. Every Yid desires to keep Hashem’s Torah and mitzvos, and if someone’s not doing so, it must be because he has a burning yetzer hara preventing him.
“Therefore, I wanted to personally experience that test. My only solution was to sit at the foot of the store and witness the nisayon, allowing me to understand the challenge. Watching all your clients coming in and out throughout the day gave me a better understanding, and now I can relate to what you’re facing.”
R’ Arieh continued empathizing with him. “Shabbos is a time when no other stores in town are open, so you have all the business of the non-observant customers. Now I see what you’re facing.”
“Rabbi,” said the store owner with tears in his eyes, “you’re the first person who sought to understand me. Instead of firing words of rebuke and scolding, you sought to relate to me.”
It didn’t take long before the store owner built up the courage to close shop for Shabbos. Feeling understood, and seeing R’ Arieh’s sincere love, gave the owner the facility to accept the words of R’ Arieh.
