One evening, some 20 years ago, Rabbi Fink, a rebbi in Flatbush, received a phone call from a talmid of his, requesting to speak. Rabbi Fink apologized to his talmid, saying that he was busy preparing for a sheva brachos of a wheelchair-bound couple, and wasn’t available to speak just then. There wasn’t anyone who could oversee the care of that event other than himself, so he asked the talmid to kindly call back at a later time. The talmid apparently understood, and they hung up.
20 minutes later, Rabbi Fink’s phone was buzzing again. He picked up and was surprised to hear the same talmid’s voice on the other end, again requesting to speak. Rabbi Fink again explained how he was busy with the sheva brachos preparations, and that he couldn’t talk then. Another 20 minutes passed, and again the talmid called. Rabbi Fink told him that couldn’t help him at that time, hung up the phone, and put his phone on silent mode.
After the sheva brachos, Rabbi Fink looked at his phone and saw 17 missed calls from...guess who! It’s no surprise. At that hour of the night, it was too late to return the call, so he decided that he’d go to the talmid’s classroom after he finished teaching the next day to see how he can help.
When they met the next afternoon, Rabbi Fink told him that they could meet at his house at 9:30. At 9:29:59, the boy already knocked on Rabbi Fink’s door, and he was greeted warmly. After sitting down, the boy’s tears broke forth. He told the rebbi his bitter story: His parents had gone away for Shabbos, and they’d left him home all alone. Sitting bored for several hours before Shabbos, he started fidgeting with his parents’ computer, and in no time he was pulled into the rock-bottom of the internet. He saw the worst.
“I can no longer learn in yeshiva,” the bachur proclaimed, with hot tears pouring out of his eyes. “My life is over. I am going to find myself a job, as I’m lost from growing any further in ruchniyus. Not only that, but when my parents find out where I was looking, I’ll be abandoned from them, too. So not only did I lose my yeshiva life, I also lost my family life. I’m doomed. What should I do, rebbi?”
Rabbi Fink sat there thunderstruck. What was he to tell this boy? Meanwhile, his phone rang, and it was his brother on the other line. “I’m making sheva brachos tonight,” he said. “We’ll be honored with the presence of the mashgiach, Reb Don Segal. It would be our pleasure for you to come and hear the mashgiach speak.”
Rabbi Fink was amazed. Right at the moment when he was sitting faced with a dilemma like this, he’s offered this chance. The mashgiach must be the right address for the chizuk, he realized, and so he told the talmid to come along, and they’d address the issue with Reb Segal.
At the sheva brachos, the mashgiach’s escorts told Rabbi Fink that under no circumstance would he be able to approach the mashgiach. “Reb Segal came to speak for just five minutes — and that’s it. The mashgiach is in America for a one-night stopover, and tomorrow he’s off to Mexico to raise funds for his kollelim.” Still, as the mashgiach was leaving, Rabbi Fink pushed his way in while holding the boy’s hand, and said that they had a time-sensitive urgent matter.
The mashgiach told them that they’d speak outside. There, Rabbi Fink detailed all that happened to the boy, and how he feels that he can no longer continue as a “yeshiva boy” after the damage that was done. The mashgiach turned to the boy and told him that his thoughts were certainly the wiles of the yetzer hara. “The yetzer hara tells you that you’re over,” said the mashgiach, “but I am telling you that you are not. The Torah allows us to do teshuva, and with that you can restart anew.
“These are the three ingredients for you to get over it: First of all, don’t think about it. (Reb Aryeh Leib Zell told over in the name of Reb Don Segal that the way to know if such thoughts are evoked by the yetzer tov or the yetzer hara is by examining if they bring one to serve Hashem better. If it’s coming from the yetzer tov, it would bring a person to serve Hashem better, but if not, it must be a fabrication of the yetzer hara.)
“Second of all, accept that if you ever need to go on the internet, that you’ll only do so with someone watching. Otherwise, don’t go on under any circumstances. Third of all, go and learn the amount of time you spent on the computer in beis midrash, and that’ll purify your eyes once again.”
When the mashgiach finished the conversation, he commented that up until today, he thought that he left Eretz Yisrael to raise funds for his kollelim, but now he sees that he left all so that he can revive this neshama. Rejuvenating that Yid was so important that it was worth leaving Eretz Yisrael just for that.
This talmid took to the words coming out of the mashgiach’s pure mouth and didn’t let himself be led by the Evil Leader — the yetzer hara. He caught himself in his tracks, didn’t allow it to overpower him, and he was able to continue growing to heights he never thought he would reach.
After finishing yeshiva in Flatbush, he went on to Eretz Yisrael, where he learned as a bachur and continued for many years after his chasuna — following the guidance of the mashgiach.
In the time when he was faced with darkness and despair, he replaced it with hope and light — and brought life back into his life.
