The challenge he was facing was tremendous. He was just a regular person, and he’d never dreamed he’d ever be facing such a proposal, and a dilemma, and now, he was confused and at a loss about what to do.
Reb Shimon, the subject of this story, serves as the unofficial Rav in a small shul on a moshav in the Sharon region. He happened to be visiting there a number of years ago, and was honored with giving a shiur between Minchah and Maariv. The mispallelim enjoyed the shiur and urged him to return the next day. The rest is history. Each morning and evening, he travels to this small moshav, where the residents are happy every day anew to see him. They thirstily drink in his words, and garner chizuk from his shiurim. They even consult him about their questions in life.
In the last year, one of the regular mispallelim, a Torah observant elderly man, passed away. The Rav was sure that the son, who had grown distant from observance, would not be strict to say Kaddish for his father. But to his surprise, as soon as the shivah was over, the son appeared in shul to recite Kaddish at each of the three tefillos.
When the son returned the next day, and in the days that followed, for each tefillah, the surprise turned into a mystery. It was hard to attribute his behavior to his closeness to the path of his forebears, because he had made sure to maintain a distance. Throughout the tefillah, he remained outside, bored or busy with his things, and he came in only to say Kaddish. Even when the Rav tried to speak to him to come in at least for the shiurim, the son responded coolly; he made sure not to develop any personal connection and the Rav gave up. He realized that there must be something to it, and this man was not coming to shul for no reason. But he did not have answers.
Despite the son’s antagonistic behavior, the Rav made sure that during each tefillah, before Kaddish, he went out to call the son. He did this solely for the benefit of the father’s soul, as he had truly loved Torah. This was his way of making sure the son did not miss Kaddish.
A few months later, the phone in the Rav’s house rang, and he was surprised to hear that it was the daughter of the niftar on the phone. The story that she related shed some light on the mystery:
“As you know,” the sister began, “my father, z”l, was a religious person. After his passing, he left me and my brother, who was distant from his path. During the shivah, we found our father’s will, and what he wrote there stunned us. My father had left assets worth twelve million shekel, of which he chose to give my brother ten million, and me only two million. But he conditioned it on the fact that my brother would say Kaddish at all the tefillos throughout the year of mourning, and if he did not fulfill this condition fully, he would have to split the sum with me evenly.
When my brother declared his intention to fulfill my father’s instructions, I smiled to myself. The distance between him and the shul, physically and emotionally, was tremendous. I was sure he’d give up very fast... But as the days passed, and I saw that he was keeping to his word, I began to fear that he would indeed meet the condition that my father had set, to the fullest.
In order to prevent this tremendous loss, I hired a private investigator to follow my brother and to try and find a way to thwart his receipt of the inheritance. The investigator discovered quickly that although my brother is careful to come to the tefillos, he sits outside during the davening, and you are the one who makes sure to call him in for Kaddish. Honored Rav, I am pleading with you, please, stop, at least a few times, calling my brother inside for Kaddish. We just need a few times for him to miss it once because he didn’t notice, and then I’ll have gained what I seek.”
The woman paused for a moment before she continued, and dropped her ‘bombshell’:
“Honored Rav, if you are able to help me get that four million shekel, I promise to give you the ma’aser from that amount, meaning four hundred thousand shekel, no less. You can do what you want with the money, take it for yourself, or share it with the poor and needy, just prevent him from saying one Kaddish...”
If at first, this Rabbi was inclined to reject the proposal out of hand, he later began to have second thoughts, and realized he had a real sheilah on his hands. There was so much to gain from doing something so minor; he began to find all kinds of justifications for his actions... With these thoughts in mind, he went to the home of the Ayeles Hashachar, Harav Aharon Leib Steinman, ztz”l, who gave him a quick and decisive response:
“Chalilah, chalilah do not answer this request; you don’t know the value of every single Kaddish for the niftar. You must make sure that the niftar gets every Kaddish that he deserves, in a complete way, and there should be no other consideration involved!”
Armed with these clear instructions and a brachah for success, the Rav continued going outside during every tefillah to call the son to say Kaddish. What happened after that was surprising:
One day, after Maariv, the son suddenly turned to the Rav and asked: “Tell me, Rabbi, how do you do this?! Aren’t you offended that I go outside for all the tefillos and don’t attend your shiur?”
And like from Shamayim, the answer was on the tip of the Rav’s tongue: “My friend, first of all, your Kaddish is very precious to the soul of your father, and that is what urges me to come out and call you over and over again. Secondly, regarding the shiur, Dovid Hamelech says (119:72): ‘Tov li Toras picha mei’alfei zahav vakesef.” The divrei Torah that I share are invaluable treasures, and if so, the loss is for the one who does not participate in the shiur; why should I be offended?!”
To the Rav’s surprise, the next day, the man decided to come inside for the tefillos and the shiur that followed. He listened to the shiur and the divrei Torah spoke to his heart. The next day he participated again, and likewise, the coming days.
Two months later, he began to keep Shabbos, and then became closer and took on many more mitzvos.
It was not surprising that even after the year was over, the man continued to come to shul, this time, not for the money, but l’Shem Shamayim.
Heard from Rav Binyamin Cohen, Chairman of Keren Hashvi’is, who heard it firsthand
