Horav Yechiel Tzuker, Shlita, relates the story of a popular maggid shiur, who under no circumstances permitted his students to leave in middle of seder. As far as he was concerned, everything could wait – post office, dentist/doctor’s appointments, parents – everyone could wait until after seder, and they had better return on time. This was an affable Rebbe who was easy to get along with, highly respected and admired – but, with regard to Torah study, he accepted no compromise, offered no flexibility whatsoever.
At the end of the yeshivah year, the bochurim all came to say good-bye and receive the Rebbe’s warm blessing for a restful, productive summer bein ha’zmanim. One thing gnawed at them: their Rebbe was a very easy person who had many friends and was loved by his students. Why was he so impossibly inflexible with regard to seder?
He explained with the following story: “I was once a single bachur in yeshivah. I was considered a top student and was blessed to find my bashert, Heavenly-designated match, in no time. My father and future father-in-law took it upon themselves to purchase an apartment for us at a reasonable price – one to which they were both in agreement. As the date of our wedding approached and still no apartment, I decided to take things into my own hands.
“I decided to close my Gemorah, take off time from yeshivah, and go apartment hunting. “I met a real estate broker who showed me an apartment that fit our criteria exactly. I said I would speak with my future father-in-law. When I described the apartment to him, my father-in-law said that he had seen a “for sale” sign for this apartment on the shul’s bulletin board. We proceeded to the seller and made the deal.
“It was then that the agent became livid, claiming that he had shown me the apartment first, and, as such, deserved his customary fee as a broker. I replied that I had taken the apartment because my father-in-law had seen the sign in shul. It made no difference. This man was bent on extracting his fee from me. He took me to court where I was obligated to pay him 25,000 shekel, which was a considerable amount of money. As a result, we were compelled to cut back on the furniture and appliances that were important to us. We had just lost a considerable amount of money – because had I closed my Gemorah one day to go apartment hunting.
“The story is not yet over. There is more. After this fiasco, I made a firm decision to prioritize my Torah learning, and that, under no circumstances, would I take a break/close my Gemorah to pursue a mundane objective that was not life-threatening. Torah was paramount.
“Ten years passed, and I was approached by a friend whom I knew from my early days at the yeshivah. He had an investment for me to consider. I was interested; after all, before I would realize, my children would grow up and weddings, apartments and kollel support would become a way of life. A maggid shiur’s salary could not compensate for such expenses.
“Apparently, the city of Ashkelon was selling parcels of land. His goal was to put together a Torah-oriented shechunah, neighborhood. His strategy was to purchase the land at bargain- basement prices, and, within a year, the price of the real estate would double. This was one of those “you have nothing to lose and all to gain – too good to be true” ventures. He needed 25,000 dollars (four times the amount of shekalim which he had lost ten years earlier).
“I explained that I did not carry that sum in my pocket. I would have to make a loan from the bank, where my credit was good. I added that now is the time for second seder in the kollel where I learn. I could go to the bank only during bein hasedarim. The bank’s hours did not coincide with my schedule. They were open bein ha’sedarim: once a week on Wednesday. Today is Sunday; I will go on Wednesday.
“That Wednesday, as I prepared to go to the bank, my young son fell, requiring a trip to the doctor and stitches. By the time I returned, I barely made it to seder on time. I had missed the bank. Needless to say, my friend was beside himself. We had no alternative but to wait until the following week. The following week, I went to the bank, took out a loan and immediately went to my friend’s home to share the good news.
“By now, you can imagine what happened. The entire deal from beginning to end was a sham, the workings of a disreputable real estate broker, who made away with the life’s savings of many an unsuspecting investor – of which my friend was one. Apparently, he was so taken in by the broker that he had convinced his parents, many family members and friends – who all lost every penny they had invested. His friend was afraid to leave his apartment for fear of what the investors he had convinced would do to him.”
The maggid shiur looked at his talmidim for a few moments, allowing the story to sink in. He then said, “When I closed my Gemorah the first time, I lost 25,000 shekalim. When I refused to close it and refrained from taking time off from seder – I saved 25,000 dollars. Now you know why I will not compromise on Torah study – mine, or yours.”
Reprinted from the Parshas Pinchas 5758 email of Peninim on the Torah, compiled by Rabbi L. Scheinbaum at the Hebrew Academy of Cleveland.
