An ordinary-looking fellow in Boro Park was super successful in sh’miras einayim, guarding his eyes. His success was out of the norm, and this envied his friend. “Do you perhaps have no yetzer hara,” the friend asked him, “allowing you to withstand this challenge? How do you succeed to such milestones against such a strong yetzer hara?”
“No,” the man responded. “That is not the case. I have a yetzer hara.”
“Do you perhaps have a weaker yetzer hara, allowing you to withstand the challenge?”
“No,” he confirmed. “I have an ordinary yetzer hara like any other person. I have the same challenges that everyone has. Sometimes it’s easier, and sometimes it’s exceptionally hard.”
“So, how do you succeed in such an outstanding way?”
“I’ll tell you the story behind my motivation. As a bachur, I controlled my eyes in an exceptional manner. At that point, I hadn’t had such a yetzer hara, and so it was relatively easy.
“One year on Purim, under the influence of alcohol, a bachur approached me in the Chebiner Yeshiva, shaking me like a lulav. He then asked me for a brachah. ‘You’re the tzaddik of Chebin,’ he told me. ‘You’re the one withstanding this challenge in the greatest way, and so I’m asking you for a brachah. I’m not asking a brachah from anyone aside you. On this special day, I only want a brachah from the most special individual.’
“Those positive words penetrated my heart. Every time that I’m faced with such an opportunity, I remind myself that ‘I’m the tzaddik from Chebin. Does it befit me not to guard my eyes?!’
“Although that drunk bachur was clueless as to what he’d told me the very next day, nonetheless, his inspiration stayed with me all this time, reminding me who I am and preventing me from any downfalls.”
