I once spoke to Rabbi Yaacov Haber from Ramat Bet Shemesh, who shared with me the following.
When Rabbi Haber was newly married, he and his wife lived in a small apartment in Jerusalem. In their neighborhood there was a homeless Jewish man who would knock on doors asking for a bit of money or a warm meal. As young newlyweds, Rabbi Haber and his wife felt compassion and invited him in. They gave him food, treated him with dignity, and welcomed him from time to time.
Over time, however, the situation began to change and the man grew increasingly comfortable. He started coming almost daily, and eventually, he stopped knocking altogether. He would simply walk in. The boundaries blurred, and the couple found themselves unsure how to handle it.
Eventually, their lease ended. They were also expecting a child and needed a larger apartment. Before moving, they asked a halachic authority whether they were obligated to inform the homeless man of their new address. Given the circumstances, they were told that they were not. They moved, and the man no longer knew where they lived. Naturally, the visits stopped.
Shortly after settling into the new apartment, one morning, Rabbi Haber’s wife put on her shoe and felt something inside. She shook it out—and a scorpion fell to the floor. Alarmed, they called an exterminator. Yet nothing more was found. But then another scorpion appeared. And another, this time in the kitchen, and then in the bathroom. They brought in multiple professionals, but no one could explain what was happening. The apartment was deemed safe, yet the scorpions kept appearing.
At a loss, Rabbi Haber decided to seek guidance from Rav Chaim Pinchas Scheinberg zt”l. When he described the situation, Rav Scheinberg responded calmly. “You have scorpions? Let’s see what the scorpion says.”
He opened Perek Shirah, the ancient text that assigns a verse of praise to every element of creation, and looked up the scorpion. The Pasuk read:
“Hashem is good to all, and His mercy extends to all His creations” (Tehillim 145:9).
Rav Scheinberg offered no interpretation. He simply said, “I don’t know your story. Take this message and do with it what you will.” Rabbi Haber left, still unsure what it meant.
But as he boarded a bus to return home, he looked out the window, and there he was. The homeless man. Walking the street.
In that moment, everything clicked. “Stop the bus!” he called out. He ran off, embraced the man warmly, and said, “I haven’t seen you in so long. We moved. Please, come with me now.” He brought him home, gave him a hot meal, and treated him once again with warmth and kindness.
From that moment on, the scorpions never appeared again.
This story is not a simplistic message about ignoring boundaries. Halachah matters and boundaries matter. The couple had acted correctly according to the ruling they were given. But teshuvah is not only about technical correctness. It is about repairing what was broken, restoring compassion where it quietly slipped away, and responding when Heaven nudges us to look again at our actions.
Hashem, in His great mercy, sometimes sends us messages not to accuse us, but to invite us to grow. Teshuvah is more than just regret. It is the courage to make things right.
