There was once a rosh yeshiva who paid a visit to R’ Nachum Deutsch. Hanging on the wall, the visiting rosh yeshiva saw a picture of R’ Nachum’s beloved rebbi and mentor — R’ Shlomo Freifeld. The rosh yeshiva acknowledged that he had recently seen the same picture when he had visited a friend of his on the outskirts of Yerushalayim. There, the host began retelling a story that he knew firsthand:
There was a Yiddish boy, whom we’ll call Sam, who unfortunately found himself wrapped up in the grips of the social revolution of the times. He had been a young, respectable-looking bachur, but after he’d taken his life in a different direction than that of his yeshiva days, he soon found himself totally lost and on his own — in every way. His hair was long, his clothes were unrespectable rags, and he was living in the dumps — disheveled, dirty, and also starved with no financial support in his new “lifestyle.”
One day, he found an advertisement in the newspaper for a job as a janitor in a local yeshiva. With no better option, he called to apply. Sam showed up to the interview and was ushered into the office of the esteemed rosh yeshiva, Rav Shlomo Freifeld. Before he knew it, the rosh yeshiva was in a deep discussion about his origin. Sam disclosed that he was a former talmid of a highly respected European yeshiva and had been a full-time learner.
When Rav Freifeld heard that, he immediately offered a better paying job than the janitorial work Sam thought he was coming for.
Sam’s eyes lit up. “What’s that?”
“To become a maggid shiur!”
“Rabbi, what are you talking about?” Sam replied in shock. “A maggid shiur?!”
“Yes, yes, I mean it,” R’ Shlomo confirmed. “You’ve learned in a respectable yeshiva for a few years, and you probably know how to give over a good shiur on a blatt Gemara. I have a couple of wild guys (R’ Shlomo attracted all sorts), and there are those who even I can’t talk to, but I’m sure that you’ll connect well to them. If you’d deliver a shiur to them, I’m certain it’ll be unbelievable!”
The Right Candidate
“But rabbi,” Sam protested, “I have hair down till my waist!”
“We don’t have a dress code; look, I’ve got payos down till there. What’s the difference?”
And the more Sam would try to argue otherwise, the more he realized that nothing would work to convince R’ Shlomo that he wasn’t fit for the job. “So, what is the yeshiva learning?” Sam asked.
“The yeshiva is learning Bava Metzia. Preparing a shiur won’t take you a day, so I’ll give you till Monday. Monday morning start the sugya of ‘tokfo Cohen.’ I’m sure you’ll be prepared by then.”
Well, Sam took R’ Shlomo’s confidence in him and started preparing a shiur. He knew he couldn’t come to the yeshiva in his current state of attire, so he went out and bought a yarmulke, tzitzis, a white shirt, and black pants, etc., to look the part and begin teaching Torah!
“And do you know who that was?” the friend outside Yerushalayim asked the visiting rosh yeshiva. “That was me. I was that boy who strayed, and if not for Reb Shlomo’s foresight and belief in me, who knows where I’d be?!”
The rosh yeshiva then concluded to Rav Nachum, “I’m telling you this story so that you should know who R’ Freifeld was. This friend of mine runs a Kollel in the outskirts of Yerushalayim. He and his family of ten, all of whom are shomer Torah and mitzvos, all came to be because of a Yid who saw through his outward dress and looked at his pnim. He saw a sterling neshama and knew that there was something worthy of respect, worthy of acknowledgement, and worthy of being loved! That outlook saved his life, and B”H he was zocheh to build a beautiful family.” (As told by Reb Efraim Wachsman)
