A Jewish traveler passed through the small town of Radin in Lithuania. By the time he arrived, it was late at night. He began searching for a place to stay, but all the houses were dark, as it appeared that the townspeople had long since gone to bed.
After searching for some time, he noticed a faint light emanating from a window. He approached the house, knocked gently on the door, and was greeted by a Jewish man who welcomed him warmly. This man was Rav Tzvi Levinson, the son-in-law of the illustrious Chafetz Chaim zt”l. Rav Levinson received the traveler graciously, provided him with a satisfying meal, and prepared a bed for him to rest.
The guest thanked his host profusely and asked if he could arrange for him to meet the Chafetz Chaim the following day to receive his berachah. Rav Levinson agreed to try.
Exhausted from his journey, the traveler immediately went to the comfortable bed prepared for him, covered himself with a warm blanket, and stretched out. As he lay there, half-asleep, he suddenly remembered that he had not yet prayed Maariv! Due to the pressures of the evening—his hurried arrival in town and the search for lodging—he had completely forgotten about the evening prayer. Now, moments before falling asleep, the thought struck him suddenly: he still needed to pray Maariv!
A few more minutes, the man thought, heeding the advice of his evil inclination... He wrapped himself snugly in his wool blanket. “It’s cold now... I’ll warm up here just a little... and then I’ll get up to pray Maariv.”
Those few minutes stretched into several hours of deep and sweet sleep. When the man finally awoke the next morning, it was already several hours after sunrise—just as Chazal predicted in the first chapter of Berachos (4a): “Let a person not return from the field in the evening and say, ‘I’ll go home, eat a little, drink a little, sleep a little, and then recite the Shema and pray,’ for sleep may overtake him, and he will end up sleeping all night.”
After Shacharis, his gracious host, the son-in-law of the Chafetz Chaim, brought him into the holy presence of the tzaddik. The Chafetz Chaim gazed at him with a piercing eye and said:
“Listen carefully, dear Yid, to what I wish to share with you. When I was a child in Russia, there were many wealthy people, and wealth was abundant. This was before the communist era, which equalized all citizens and confiscated the riches of the wealthy.
“In those days,” the Chafetz Chaim continued, “if people saw copper coins lying in the streets, they would not bother to pick them up, as they were small coins of little value, insignificant in the eyes of society.
“However, after the great revolution in Russia, when great poverty descended upon the world, people rejoiced over every small coin they found discarded in the streets. In their great destitution, even such small coins were considered a treasure.
“In our current times,” the Chafetz Chaim concluded his sharp parable, “we are extremely impoverished in Torah and mitzvos. Therefore, even the ‘light mitzvos that a person tramples underfoot’ are exceedingly precious and lofty. In Heaven, every effort a Jew makes in serving his Creator is valued, and it is forbidden to belittle any mitzvah, chas veshalom.
“Sometimes,” the Chafetz Chaim added with fervor, “a Jew may arrive in a town very late at night. Due to the many burdens of the day, he might forget to daven Maariv, chas veshalom. When he finally remembers, he may lack the strength to get up and pray. Therefore, one must understand not to belittle even the simple and regular Maariv tefillah, which is immensely valuable, significant, and exalted!”
In the face of this clear and evident ruach hakodesh, which shone like flashes of fire from the pure and holy mouth of the Chafetz Chaim, the man was filled with repentance and regret. His heart broke within him, and he resolved with complete commitment never again to neglect any mitzvah, even the “light mitzvos,” as it is said (Pirkei Avos 2:1), “Be as careful with a minor mitzvah as with a major one.”
