In Eretz Yisrael, not every kollel has its own beis midrash. It is common for several kollelim, sometimes made up of yungeleit from very different backgrounds, to share the same building. Although they may be learning different limudim, they inevitably cross paths in the kitchen, coffee room, or coat area. Those interactions often lead to friendships and mutual respect. Occasionally, they become unforgettable lessons.
One such story took place in a shul in Ramat Beit Shemesh that housed two very different kollelim: one for English-speaking working men and another Chassidish kollel for aspiring dayanim. It was customary for people to bring kibbud, some food to the kitchen as a zechus for a loved one’s neshamah, allowing the yungeleit to enjoy a light refreshment before learning.
One morning, R’ Saul Barron arrived more than an hour after seder had begun. He had spent the morning taking care of several matters for his children and had not even had a chance to eat. When he entered the kitchen, he spotted a tray with two generous slices of babka accompanied by a note requesting that anyone eating it make a berachah l’ilui nishmas the deceased.
Not wanting anyone else to assume the babka was still available, R’ Saul picked up the tray and moved it off to the side. Satisfied that it was “claimed,” he turned around to prepare himself a cup of coffee. A few moments later, he heard someone enter the kitchen. Before he even had a chance to turn around, the newcomer walked directly over to the tray and began eating one of the slices of babka.
R’ Saul’s heart sank. There went his breakfast. But why would someone take food that had clearly been set aside? Ordinarily, he might have spoken up. But the man was one of the Chassidim from the dayanus kollel, and between the language barrier and the cultural differences, R’ Saul hesitated.
The Chassid, however, sensed that something was wrong. Looking at R’ Saul, he asked, “Would you like the other piece?” R’ Saul didn’t immediately answer. After all, he was quite hungry, and had thought both pieces were his. The Chassid smiled, unconvinced.
Realizing he had to say something, R’ Saul finally admitted, “I... had actually taken them both for myself.” The Chassid looked at him thoughtfully, then handed him the remaining slice.
“Let me tell you a story,” he said. R’ Saul was puzzled, but listened.
Mrs. Levi* was once waiting in Jerusalem’s central bus station before a two-hour bus ride. To make the wait more pleasant, she stopped at a kiosk and bought herself a bag of cookies. She found a seat at a table in the food court beside another woman she had never met. After settling down, she reached into the bag of cookies on the table and took one. As she ate, she casually watched the crowds of travelers, the buses coming and going, and the constantly changing departure board. She paid little attention to the woman sitting beside her.
A few moments later, she reached for another cookie. At that exact moment, the other woman also reached into the bag and took one. Mrs. Levi froze. “Is she taking from my cookies?” she wondered. She could hardly believe it. Of course she would have gladly shared had the woman asked. But simply helping herself?
Trying to judge favorably, Mrs. Levi reasoned that perhaps the woman was embarrassed or in a rush. She decided not to say anything.
A few minutes later, the woman took another cookie. Then another. Back and forth they went, each quietly taking cookies from the same bag without exchanging a single word.
Mrs. Levi became increasingly uncomfortable. “Doesn’t she realize how awkward this is?” she wondered. Finally, only one cookie remained. The woman picked it up, broke it in half, and placed one half in front of Mrs. Levi. That nearly pushed her over the edge. “After eating half my cookies, she’s generously giving me half of the last one?” Before Mrs. Levi could respond, the woman stood up, blended into the crowd, and disappeared toward her departing bus.
“What chutzpah,” Mrs. Levi muttered as she recited her berachah acharonah. She then reached into her shoulder bag to retrieve her bus card. There, sitting untouched inside her bag, was the unopened package of cookies she had purchased. She had spent the last several minutes eating someone else’s cookies!
R’ Saul sat silently as the Chassid finished the story. Then he looked at him curiously. “If you’re telling me that story,” he said, “I suppose I should also be dan l’kaf zechus. Tell me... were you the one who brought this babka?”
A broad smile spread across the Chassid’s face. “I had brought it this morning l’ilui nishmas my grandmother. When I saw it was still sitting there more than an hour into seder, I assumed nobody wanted it, and therefore took one slice for myself, and would move the remainder one to the central giveaway spot.” Pointing toward the remaining slice, the Chasid said warmly: “Please, enjoy.”
