When the Bobover Rebbe, R’ Shlomo Halberstam, arrived in America after surviving the Holocaust, he settled in the West Side of Manhattan. With barely a minyan (a quorum of 10 people), the Rebbe and his son, R’ Naftali, would often stand on the sidewalk in search of Jewish men to complete the minyan.
One Erev Shabbat, they called in a man named Yankel, who was also a Survivor. Yankel shared that back in the day, he had served as the baal tefillah (cantor) in his village. When the Bobover Rebbe heard that, he said, “Wonderful! Please lead the Friday Night prayers for us!”
This continued for many weeks – Yankel would lead the community with the Friday Night prayers. As they got to know him, it was clear that Yankel’s traumatic war experiences had left him angry at Hashem for all he had endured.
One Friday, Yankel decided not to come. And the following week he again did not come. The Bobover Rebbe was concerned. He asked R’ Naftali to find him. But they did not know his address.
“He said he lives on the other side of Central Park,” said the Bobover Rebbe, “so go there and see if you can find him.” R’ Naftali took someone along, and they started their search, which felt like finding a needle in a haystack. As they walked through Central Park, they were shocked to see Yankel sitting on a bench smoking a cigar – on Shabbat!
They went over and relayed that the Bobover Rebbe was concerned about his welfare. Yankel nodded, thanked them, and continued smoking his cigar. R’ Naftali reported back to his father, “We found Yankel in the park. Unfortunately, he was smoking a cigar.” The Rebbe responded, “It can’t be.”
“But we saw him smoking with our own eyes.”
The Rebbe again said, “It can’t be.”
“But we are two witnesses, who both saw him smoking on Shabbat.”
The Rebbe responded, “He’s not the one smoking, it’s the Germans that are smoking. You don’t know what he went through.”
The next week, Yankel returned to shul. The Rebbe greeted him with, “R’ Yankel, I’ve been missing your Lecha Dodi! Please daven for us.”
Fast forward 30 years. The Rebbe was now a leader of thousands of chassidim. One day, a man approached the Rebbe after Shacharit. “Rebbe, do you remember me? I’m Yankel from your minyan in the West Side.”
The Bobover Rebbe gave him a very warm welcome. Yankel continued, “I am marrying off my first grandchild, and I’d be honored if the Rebbe would be mesader kiddushin (officiate the wedding).”
The Rebbe explained that he didn’t even do it for many of his own grandchildren but agreed to come to one of the Sheva Brachot. R’ Naftoli came along with the Rebbe to the simcha. When they entered, they saw at least 100 of Yankel’s grandchildren – all Bnei Torah, many learning in Kollel.
The Bobover Rebbe turned to R’ Naftoli and said, “Didn’t I tell you? It was the Germans smoking that cigar; it wasn’t him.” The Rebbe relegated the cigar smoking on Shabbat to the effects of Yankel’s traumatic experiences, not attributing it to his essence. It’s not that the Rebbe judged R’ Yankel favorably – he did not judge him at all!
Reprinted from an email of The Weekly Vort.
