Yerushalayim in the mid-1950s:
In no way was Berish the butcher ordinary. Besides for his honesty, which attracted so many, he was the go-to shop for those seeking higher kashrus standards. In short, he was a popular butcher who served the community with superior standards.
Whenever the shop was quiet, he would grab a sefer and open it, happy to learn for a few minutes before the next customer would walk in. Throughout the day, he found several such moments, and he used them wisely.
One day, as he peeked his head out of his sefer, he was dumbfounded. The chunk of meat that had been lying on the cutting board had gone missing. Engrossed in his learning, he hadn’t realized that someone had audaciously shoplifted the freshly sliced meat — and left no trace of identity.
What bothered Berish, though, was not what would bother others. What most disturbed him was that the sliver had not been salted, and thus whoever consumed it would transgress a serious issur of eating unsalted meat.
Though his chances of finding the shoplifter was low, as robbers don’t advertise their misdeeds at the streetcorner, without batting an eyelash, he went marching up and down the streets of Yerushalayim in the hope of spotting the ganav.
After pacing the streets for some time, he did what any Yid would in a time of need: He turned to Hashem. With the Kosel in close proximity, Berish ran there and stood before the makom ha’kadosh, pouring out his heart and requesting that Hashem send the piece of meat back to his store and that no one eat it.
(That itself is incredible enough — that Benish was not so concerned about the one who wronged him but went all out so that the person would not transgress an aveirah.)
Shortly after returning to the shop, the front door opened wide, and in walked a woman, very apologetic. Holding the piece of meat in her hands, she explained that in her rush, she’d taken it while Benish was learning — obviously with the intention to compensate him for it when she’d next come in (which halachically may not be done).
She was anticipating a lashing of some sort, but in place of that, she saw a huge sigh of relief on Berish’s face. He went on to tell her the gravity of the neis she had just experienced, how she should be very grateful to have been spared the grave sin of eating blood.
“So what brings you back here now?” asked Berish the butcher.
“To tell you the truth, I had no intention of returning here today. But when I arrived home, I realized that my house keys were nowhere to be found. Having no way to enter my house, I traced my steps back to your store.”
“That’s not the real reason why you’re here,” interjected the butcher. “You’re here because Hashem is protecting you from eating unsalted meat. You could’ve transgressed a serious sin, and in His great mercy, Hashem spared you from that.”
Davening on her behalf brought about an incredible resolution. With the heilige Yom Kippur upon us, who doesn’t want that day to leave him with a positive change? Of the most powerful ways is to release a tefillah to Hashem that He assist us in the journey. And as Reb Yisrael Neuman said (when addressing the audience before Selichos): Davening alone is already a level in teshuvah. We show Hashem that we dislike our sins and have a burning passion to improve and grow. Attached to that is already some level of kaparah.
Requesting ruchniyus in general, says Reb Yisrael Salanter, has a special chance of being answered. After all, it’s for His sake, and He cherishes that over mundane requests.
In his sweet melodic voice, Reb Nosson Wachtfogel would constantly repeat, “Lev tahor bara li Elokim — please, Hashem, implement in me a new spirit.” Repeating this or the like can leave us with a very meaningful day.
