Beware for yourself lest you forsake the Levi. (12:19)
Chazal (Chullin 85a) relate that Rav tells us that every day a Divine Voice emerges from Har Chorev and says: “The entire world is sustained by the merit of Chanina ben Dosa, My son, and for Chanina, My son, a kav of carob is sufficient to sustain him for an entire week, from Shabbos to Shabbos.” Rashi comments that this is referring to the holy Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa in whose lifetime this Heavenly Voice emerged. The fact that people were unaware of Rabbi Chanina’s dire poverty is very telling. Imagine, one of the greatest Torah giants of all time had nothing to eat other than a small measure of carobs – and no one was aware of it. Clearly, Rabbi Chanina did not walk around with a banner claiming poverty. He was quiet and unassuming, refusing to beg for food, so he lived in poverty, with no one aware of the reality. Clearly, his stressful situation was not readily apparent on his face. He did not walk around depressed and complaining. Indeed, all people saw was a shining, happy countenance. He never uttered a word of his plight.
Years passed, and Rabbi Chanina concealed his economic challenges from those around him. It would have continued in this vein had Hashem not decided to let the world know of Rabbi Chanina’s saintliness. What was the reason for the delay? Horav Yitzchak Zilberstein, Shlita, explains that Hashem was teaching us a lesson: Do not ignore the Torah scholar who goes about his daily endeavor without calling attention to his dire circumstances. Anyone with a modicum of intelligence should realize that, if one spends his days and nights studying Torah, and, for all intents and purposes, does not have any visible means of support, he requires our assistance. “But he did not say a thing” is the often heard response. We ignore such answers because such a person obviously is either included among those who do not posses a modicum of intelligence, or they have chosen to disregard the obvious, because it might cost them.
Mordechai Katz, zl, arrived in Cleveland. Lech, ki shilachaha Hashem. We are here on a mission, sent by Hashem, to build Torah in America – and this they did.
Over the years, I have written thousands of stories – Some inspire me while I write; others stay with me, their message resonating, inspiring and guiding. I wrote the following vignette years ago, but it continues to visit me often, its message powerful and timeless. Indeed, as I get older, and I see and hear what is occurring in the wider community, its message becomes even stronger.
A distinguished Kollel fellow was known throughout his community for his tireless devotion to serving Hashem. He meticulously devoted every minute of his life to Torah study, tefillah and performing acts of kindness. His fervent devotion knew no bounds, as he sought to fulfill his purpose in life with unwavering commitment.
It all came to a halt, however, when he was struck down by the relentless grip of the dread disease. The ravages of illness left him bedridden, his body wracked with pain, and his spirit tested to its limits. In his darkest moments, he questioned the purpose behind his suffering. He asked his Rebbe why such vicissitudes had befallen him, when he could achieve so much more if he would be healthy and filled with vitality.
His Rebbe responded with powerful wisdom, which became the guiding light in this yunger man’s journey of faith. “Hashem does not want you to serve Him only when you are healthy,” he gently said, “He wants you to serve Him with your last ounce of strength. This is your personal mission in life.”
These words, though simple in delivery, carried a profound truth that resonated deeply within this young man’s neshamah, soul. Despite the excruciating pain that he endured, he found solace in the knowledge that his suffering had purpose. It was, instead, a testament to his unwavering commitment to serving Hashem, even in the face of adversity. With renewed determination, he embraced his illness as a means to deepen his connection to Hashem. Every moment became an opportunity to serve Hashem with greater devotion, to offer prayers of gratitude amidst the throes of pain, and find joy and inner peace in fulfilling his Divine mission.
He eventually succumbed to the devastating illness, but not before imparting a legacy of undeviating faith and devotion with which he served Hashem until his last breath. His story and its powerful lesson stand as a beacon of hope for all who face adversity, reminding us that even in our darkest moments, we find purpose and meaning in serving a higher calling. After all, we are on a Divine mission.
Those talmidei chachamim who have chosen to live like Shevet Levi, whose sole support was from the Jewish community, should be treated in a like manner and not be subject to a “kav carobs” from week to week. This is why a Bas Kol, Heavenly Voice, emerged – to wake up the people to fulfill their responsibility.
This idea may be extended to relationships between “friends” (quotes are by design). In a true friendship, a deep understanding and mutual consideration for each other’s needs, feelings and desires exists. It requires each individual to be present for the other physically and emotionally. Caring for – and about – one another is what strengthens the bond between them, and defines their friendship as well. Moreover, being attuned to each other’s needs also enables friends to anticipate and respond to them without having to be explicitly asked.
If, however, one remains unaware of his friend’s needs, it can lead to feelings of neglect and even resentment. This will eventually cause the friendship to deteriorate. Horav Moshe Leib Sassover, zl, would often relate a conversation which he had overheard between two villagers. After they imbibed considerably, one asked the other, “Do you really love me?” to which the other replied, “Of course I love you deeply.” The first friend countered, “Do you know what I need?” “How should I know your needs?” the fellow asked. When the friend who had started the dialogue heard this, he asked, “If you do not know what I need, how can you say that you love me?”
The Sassover said, “From the conversation that ensued between these two ordinary villagers, I learned that true ahavas Yisrael, the requisite love that one Jew should manifest for another, means that each one must know and sense the needs of his fellow. If I am unaware of my friend’s needs, if I do not know what troubles he may be experiencing, then I cannot call myself a friend.” Rav Zilberstein concludes: “One may claim to love Torah scholars, but, if he does not know what they are missing in their lives, his love is destructive and delusional.
