By Yoni Schwartz
Rav Yisrael Yaakov Fisher, ZT”L, a renowned dayan for the Badatz, had to have a pacemaker installed late in his life. However, the doctors were worried that he might not wake up after the anesthesia due to his old age and frailty. Rav Fisher told them he could undergo the procedure without anesthesia.
The doctors thought he was crazy, not understanding how anyone could endure the pain of having the heart cut open while awake. Nevertheless, he reassured them and went ahead with the procedure, learning Torah in his mind to distract himself from the pain. Throughout the entire procedure, he didn’t move a muscle or make a single sound.
Many years later, Rav Fisher had grown even frailer. Simply speaking and answering questions was an enormous challenge for him. Attendants were appointed to ensure that only people with very serious issues would be allowed to speak with him, and even then, they would speak first to his grandson, who would relay the message to Rav Fisher.
Rav Yisrael Yaakov Fisher, zt”l
One time, a man whom Rav Fisher had known for years came with a very urgent life-or-death halachic dilemma. His grandson relayed the problem to the Rav and then told the man his answer. The man needed clarification on something, so the grandson went back. This conversation continued back-and-forth for a while, about 20 minutes.
Towards the end, his grandson asked, “Zeidi, since this is clearly something very important to you, why didn’t you have him brought in so you could speak face-to-face? The conversation would’ve been finished in a quarter of the time.”
Rav Fisher responded, “This man is suffering! If I see him and witness his pain, I don’t know if I’ll have the heart to withstand his agony.”
Rav Fisher was strong enough to withstand having his heart physically cut open, yet soft enough to feel so much for fellow Jews that their pain becomes unbearable. That is true empathy. That is greatness.
Reprinted from the Parshas Chukos 5785 email of Torah Sweets
