Do You Know of a Needy Person?
Reb Shmuel’s home was known to be a magnet for brokenhearted people who had nothing — and once they went in, they emerged feeling strengthened. Gabba’ei tzedakah came, soliciting for all kinds of noble causes, and left the house feeling encouraged.
But Reb Shmuel did not suffice with those who actually came to him to ask. He felt the desire to help needy people who did not have the courage or abilities to come.
It is human nature for one to be preoccupied with his own affairs, and not necessarily have the time or headspace to consider the suffering, pain, or financial straits of others. But someone like Reb Shmuel, who pursued tzedakah and chessed, did not seek to avoid the inevitable pain when feeling along with another’s tzaar. He didn’t have compassion on himself; he directed his compassion toward a Yid in need.
Reb Meir Yaakov Barnet related that when Reb Shmuel used to come to Belgium, he used to ask regularly, “Do you know of a needy Jew whom we can secretly help?”
Boundless Giving
A son-in-law of Reb Shmuel, Harav Chaim Yitzchak Zuckerman, a maggid shiur in Yeshivas Vizhnitz L’Tzeirim, related:
My father-in-law’s car came to an abrupt halt. He smiled broadly at the man who approached the car. That specific person had received help from my father-in-law many times; every time they met, he received a sum of money. When my father-in-law saw him while he was driving, he would stop, extend his hand, and with a bright smile, give this man a sum of money.
Even when he was traveling in the opposite lane, and the needy man was walking on the sidewalk across the street, he didn’t hesitate — he stopped the car, crossed the street, and gave the tzedakah. I saw him do this many times.
In Times of Trouble
Reb Yaakov Vizel of Kiryat Vizhnitz in Bnei Brak related:
During the shivah for Reb Shmuel, a woman entered my grocery store.
With great emotion, she shared memories of a difficult period in her life. Her husband had once traveled to America, gotten into trouble, and was imprisoned there for more than a year. During that time, Reb Shmuel came to her each month and gave her an envelope with cash. “It was my only source of sustenance at the time,” she explained.
Support for Many Years
Harav Simchah Cohen, a maggid shiur in Yeshivas Nesivos Olam and a leading kiruv activist, related:
“I know a Jew who was chozer b’teshvuah,” I told Reb Shmuel. “He abandoned a steady income and instead chose a life of Torah.”
“And what does he live off these days?” Reb Shmuel inquired.
My response did not satisfy him. “I will take care of it,” he said.
For years, this man received a regular stipend. It was a very large amount that provided for the basic needs of his family, as well as much more.
The Money Is Delivered Directly
Harav Shimon Werner related:
It was at the end of Minchah on Shabbos. My father, Harav Shmuel Werner, the av beis din of Tel Aviv, was standing and speaking to a man whom I did not recognize. When they parted, I asked my father who he had been conversing with.
“You should know,” he said to me, “Reb Shmuel Daskal is a philanthropist of a rare genre. I have never encountered anybody like him! Often, I ask him for money for needy people and he graciously gives whatever I ask, even though he does not know me well. And he always gives with it pleasantly and with a smile!”
“But it is Shabbos now; when will he give you the money for tzedakah?” I asked.
“Every time I ask him for tzedakah, he comes to my house and gives it to me. He’ll come after Shabbos this time as well.”
No Honor
The Chernobyler Rebbe related that he saw how each month, for several years, Reb Shmuel would come to his father, the Rebbe Rav Meshulem Zusia of Chernobyl, and give him a sum that was equivalent to a kollel avreich’s monthly stipend.
He would do it with tremendous modesty, quietly and unassumingly, with no honor involved. He didn’t wait for anyone to come to him and he sought no acclaim for his actions.
Help for a Friend
Diamond dealer Reb Chaim Dzialowski related:
When I opened my diamond polishing business, I invited my friends for a “l’chaim” in honor of the opening. Obviously, Reb Shmuel was among the invitees, and I was very happy to see him participate in my simchah along with my friends.
When the event was almost over, before Reb Shmuel turned to leave, he gestured that I step to the side with him. He took out a thick envelope from his pocket containing $30,000.
“Shmuel, what is this?” I gasped in surprise. “Does it look to you like I need tzedakah?”
“Chalilah, Chaim!” he replied. “I know that you are a man of means. But when you invited me to drink l’chaim, I thought of the many expenses involved in opening a new business, and how relieved you’d feel if you had a plentiful supply of cash to buy merchandise. I know that you can easily repay this loan, so why don’t I make the beginning a bit smoother for you?”
Reb Chaim concluded the story, clearly moved. “The fact that a person was able to think of the needs of another person to this extent left me with an indelible impression — which has remained even forty years after the incident happened.”
