Rabbi Shimshon Pincus, zt”l
Rav Yechiel Spero related a story. Rosh Hashanah had arrived and Meir Goldbaum, a 17-year-old Yeshivah Bachur was disappointed. He was learning in a Yeshivah in Eretz Yisroel. He had worked very hard to improve in his Yiras Hashem, both in his Davening and learning, but he felt he had not progressed sufficiently for the Yom HaDin. As a Talmid of Rav Shimshon Pincus, zt”l, Meir had begun to understand what the awe of the Yamim Nora’im meant. Rav Shimshon’s inspiring Shmuesen had made a distinct impression on him, and resulted time and again in commitments and resolutions to improve in his Avodas Hashem, and time and again Meir failed to put his commitments into action.
As a result, he felt like a complete failure. On Rosh Hashanah morning, Rav Shimshon stepped outside the Bais Medrash for a moment during the Chazan’s repetition of Shemoneh Esrei, and he spotted his Talmid sitting on a chair in the corner of the hallway, with his head between his knees. Rav Shimshon, with his warm and caring demeanor, approached Meir, placed a hand on his shoulder, and asked him why he seemed so depressed.
Meir looked up into his Rebbe’s gentle eyes and poured out his frustration. He told him how hard he had tried during the past Elul to improve, and how each time his efforts had fallen short. In essence, Meir perceived himself as a total failure. He had pledged that this Rosh Hashanah would be different, and he would rise to the occasion, yet, he had not. Meir cried bitterly and hung his head in shame.
Rav Shimshon sat down next to the young boy and related the following story:
It was in the middle of the Yom Kippur War, October of 1973. I was sitting in the Emergency Room in the Shaarei Zedek hospital waiting for one of my children to be seen by a doctor for a cut that apparently needed stitches, when I noticed a bit of a commotion taking place. Many doctors had converged in front of the Emergency Room doors and appeared to be discussing an important matter. I inquired as to what was the cause of the commotion, and I was told that a soldier had been shot and had been brought to the hospital. The bullet was lodged in his leg and it needed to be taken out.
After the doctor removed the bullet, he notified the soldier, who had remained awake during the entire procedure, that the surgery was complete, and he was free to go home. The young man, no older than nineteen years old, grimaced in pain as he struggled to slide off the operating table. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he looked curiously at the doctor. He said, “Home? You think I’m heading home? True, I was shot and lost this battle, but there’s a war raging out there and my fellow soldiers need me back on the battlefield!”
The brave young man hobbled out of the room and headed back out toward the front lines. Rav Shimshon concluded the inspiring story and looked into the eyes of the young Bachur. He said, “Meir, I’m not going to convince you that you have not stumbled. But just because you’ve fallen does not mean you can’t get back up. Losing a battle doesn’t mean that you’ve lost the war. We’re fighting a war in there and I don’t want to head back in without you. We need you to fight alongside the rest of us!”
A small smile formed on Meir’s face and he thanked his Rebbe for his warm words of encouragement. Rav Shimshon placed his arm around Meir’s shoulder, and together they walked back into the Bais Medrash to “fight” alongside one another!
Reprinted from the Yom Kippur 5785 email of Rabbi Yehuda Winzelberg’s Torah U’ Tefilah.
