The following story, I’m certain, is quite familiar to most or all of you, so let’s retell it:
Rabi Yochanan was once swimming in the Yarden river. Reish Lakish saw him, and jumped into the river after him. When Rabi Yochanan saw the power of his leap, he bemoaned the fact that such power was being wasted, saying: “Strength such as yours would be put to better use for studying Torah”!
Reish Lakish (who, at the time, headed a gang of bandits, and who had entered the river having been captivated by Rabi Yochanan’s majestic appearance and mistaking him for a woman) retorted: “Your beauty would have been put to better use on a woman”.
Rabi Yochanan replied: “If you repent, and apply yourself to learning Torah, I will give you, in marriage, my sister, who is handsomer than me”.
Reish Lakish accepted this. When attempting to return to the riverbank to retrieve his clothes, he could no longer cover the distance in one leap as before (because his commitment to Torah had weakened his physical strength).
Rabi Yochanan accepted Reish Lakish (now his brother in law) as a talmid, and taught him the entire Torah, until Reish Lakish became a gavra raba;–a great scholar in his own right and one of the illustrious amora’im of the gemoro.
One day, there was a dispute between them in the beis midrash regarding the halochos of tumah of weapons (and other tools);–at what stage do they become fit to be rendered impure.
In the course of their disagreement, Rabi Yochanan said to him: “It is to be expected that you show expertise regarding weapons, for these were your tools of trade in your past as a leader of bandits”!
To which Reis Lakish retorted: “And in what way did you benefit me by introducing me to a life of Torah? How am I better off now than before, now I am addressed; as “Master” (by my talmidim), and before, as well, I was addressed as “Master” (by the bandits who I led)”?
Replied Rabi Yochanan: “I benefitted you by bringing you under the wings of the holy shechina!”
But, Rabi Yochanan felt slighted by Reish Lakish’s comment, and, as a result, Reish Lakish became ill. His wife, Rabi Yochanan’s sister, came crying to Rabi Yochanan to have mercy on Reish Lakish and forgive him so that he should live. “Do it for the sake of my children (so that they don’t become orphaned)” she cried. Rabi Yochanan quoted a Posuk in which Hashem declares Himself as helping orphans. She begged further: “Do it for my sake (so that I don’t become widowed)”. But Rabi Yochanan quoted that Hashem is the support of widows.
And Reish Lakish passed away. (And, of course, that’s not the end of the story either, but will have to suffice for now).
What an extraordinary story!! Every word cries out דרשני! To begin with, what possible rationale could there be for Rabi Yochanan to make mention of Reish Lakish’s unsavory past in the midst of a halachik dispute??! Firstly, we are strictly warned not to remind a baal teshuva of his earlier misdeeds, under any circumstance. But, especially, it seems totally out of place during a discussion about Torah between two holy amora’im whose sole quest was to arrive at the truth of Hashem’s Knowledge! It goes without saying that Rabi Yochanan, whose entire life was one of Torah and avodas Hashem, was a paradigm of midos tovos and perfection, who did not mix in personal feeling into his Torah discussions.
And the ensuing exchange is remarkable! Were our holy sages engaged ch”v hasmilihazkir, in some insult-fest (something which would be more fitting of–lehavdil infinite havdolos–our esteemed president than of the authors of the gemoro about whom we know that זוטר שבהו 'מחימתים)? Were they the kinds of people who feel the need to answer back and have the last word, even if they misunderstood something that they were told and misconstrued it as an insult?! Of course not! This would contradict everything we learn in Pirkei Avos, in sifrei musar etc., and is inconceivable!
And Reish Lakish, is it fathomable that he should even suggest equating his position as master of thieves to his position as a “gavrarabo” (as the gemoro describes him) and a leader in Torah?! Is that a way, in any case, to speak to his master and teacher, is it imaginable that he didn’t feel, at all times the greatest hakoras hatov to Rabi Yochanan and appreciation of what he had given him, regardless of what he may have thought that Rabi Yochanan said to him?!
And the rest of what is puzzling, especially with the ending, I don’t think needs spelling out.
Let us then begin with the statement of Rabi Yochanon. We can surely be certain that Rabi Yochanan’s intent was not to insult Reish Lakish or put him down. If שיחת חולין של תלמידי חכמים צריכה לימוד, how much more can we be certain that a statement in the midst of a halachik discussion had direct relevance to the discussion, or else it would not have been said. Especially this is true about Rabi Yochanan, who cried before his demise איני יודע באיזה דרך מוליכין אותי, because he was so busy with his avodas Hashem that he never had a moment in his life to appraise his own situation, and surely he would not find time for idle chatter ch”v or irrelevant critique!
But, rather, perhaps, he was saying as follows: Reish Lakish had knowledge about weaponry, that stemmed from his own involvement with them, earlier in his life. This resulted in his having, already then, an opinion regarding the status of weapons.
Afterwards, when Reish Lakish began studying Torah, he had to learn the “svoros”, the ideas in Torah and understand the viewpoint of Torah on the subject. Of course, his prior familiarity with the subject could serve to help him understand the sugya clearer (as we find with various amoro’im that went to study various subjects in order to enhance their grasp of the halochos).
However, here he would encounter a challenge: Is he using his worldly knowledge to better understand and comprehend the svoros of Torah, or, perhaps, just the opposite,–he is using the svoros of Torah and halocho to support and strengthen his preconceived ideas (and cause them to have the backing of Torah). The difference between the two can be very subtle, yet, understandably, most crucial!
Rabi Yochanan sensed that Reish Lakish, in offering his opinion on this subject, was basing himself on his worldly understanding and not on the Torah intellect. Although he was using the ideas of halocho, Rabi Yochanan sensed that they were, in this case, merely serving as tools to present his preexisting understanding (rather than the worldly understanding being the tool to more thoroughly grasp what the Torah teaches). As his dedicated teacher, Rabi Yochanan had to call his attention to this.
Rabi Yochanan told Reish Lakish that it was clear to him that his opinion in this halavh was an expression–not of what he had been taught by Torah, but–of the understanding of weaponry that he had possessed as a bandit familiar with them.
In light of this, we can now try to re-understand Reish Lakish’s response: Reish Lakish was not seeking to be disrespectful or insolent ch”v to Rabi Yochanan, something which is unthinkable, and especially to the one who gave him everything he had (not to mention Reish Lakish surely fulfilling the directive of מורא רבך כמורא שמים). Rather Reish Lakish understood and accepted Rabi Yochanan’s point. But it was because he accepted and acknowledged the truth of Rabi Yochanan’s point, that this brought him to further soul searching and further self-analysis, and led him to question the effects of all of his learning. Perhaps all of his learning was merely being used as a tool to support his preconceived ideas, instead of becoming a new foundation for his life. He felt forced to question his entire Yiddishkeit,–was he really living a life based on the teachings of Torah, or were the teachings of Torah continuing to serve his personal aims.
He knew that his original commitment to Torah was–partially–שלא לשמה, for the sake of marriage. Did that ever change, he asked. Did he ever start seeking Torah for its’ own sake?
When it became known that the tzadik, Rabbi Levi Yitzchok of Berditchev, had joined the disciples of the Magid, his town was in uproar. The young prodigy, the gaon and righteous man who had shown such promise, had fallen in with the “kat”! His father in law, in particular, was incensed, and didn’t know where to hide his shame. He resolved that at the first opportunity, when R’ Levi Yitzchok would return home, he would give him a proper “dressing down”, and set him straight.
However, when the Berditchever returned home, everyone saw that he continued to learn with extreme diligence, and he continued to be meticulous in his performance of mitzvos, and none could find fault with his behavior. His shver, too, gave him begrudging respect. Every once in a while, there would be something unusual or eccentric in R’ Levi Yitzchok’s conduct, which would remind the father in law of how upset he was, but–afterwards–when he returned to his learning and davening (earning the respect and admiration of the townsfolk), he would forget about it.
On Simchas Torah, the young scholar was honored in leading the congregation in the Pesukim of Atoh Horeiso. R’ Levi Yitzchok approached the bima, and put on his talis, covering his head with it. But then, instead of reciting the Pesukim, he stood there for a few moments in silence, and then removed the talis from his head.
This repeated itself. Once again, he covered his head with the talis, stood a few moments in silence, and removed it. People were beginning to snicker at the strange “show” they were getting, and the father in law didn’t know where to hide from his shame. He resolved that this time, come what may, he would give his wayward son in law the mussar that he deserved!
In the meantime, the Berditchiver’s bizarre behavior continued. He repeated the procedure a third time. Then, he exclaimed loudly, “If you are the lamdan, and you are the chosid, then say Atoh horeiso on your own!” He removed the tallis completely, and returned to his place.
His shver immediately confronted him, and demanded an explanation for his actions. “It’s very simple”, the Berditchever explained. “I went up to recite the Pesukim, proud of the great honor that was bestowed on me. But as I was about to begin, I was surprised to see my nefesh habehamis, my yetzer hora, standing up there next to me. ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked. ‘And what are you doing here’, he countered. ‘I was honored to say the Pesukim of Atoh horeisa’, I clarified. ‘Well’, he returned, ‘I am here to say them together with you’. ‘What do you mean?!’ I spluttered, ‘You are a beheima, a yetzer hora, what connection do you have with saying Atoh horeisa?!’ ‘And what connection do you have with saying Atoh horeisa?’ was his cheeky reply. ‘What do you mean? I was given this honor because I am a big lamdan, I learn very well’. ‘Well, I am a great lamdan as well’, he replied. ‘You!’, I said, ‘since when are you a lamdan?! Did you forget who you are?! You are the NHB!’ ‘And since when are you a lamdan?’ he shot back. Feeling the need to justify myself, I named the great roshei yeshivos by whom I had studied, who had honed my thinking and made me into the scholar that I am. I was sure that, finally, I had laid the matter to rest. But, no! ‘I, was right there with you, all along, by the same roshei yeshivos, and I, too, was made into a lamdan, by them, alongside you’, he argued. I felt that the conversation was becoming absurd, and I decided to try a new tack. ‘I’, I pointed out, ‘deserve to say the Atoh Horeiso, by virtue of my being a chosid!’ ‘Well, I am a chosid as well’, was his ridiculous assertion. I was outraged. ‘A chosid?! How can you even suggest such a thing?! You are the antithesis of a chosid! You are the NHB! What gave you the idea that you’re a chosid?!’ ‘And by what right do you consider yourself a chosid?’ he challenged. That was easy, I thought. ‘I travelled to my Rebbe, the great Magid of Mezeritch. I sacrificed much to go to him, and he made me into a chosid!’ But the uncouth youth next to me was still not silenced. ‘There, too, I was with you all along. All the time that the Magid was teaching you to be a chosid, he was teaching me to be a chosid as well!’ “I realized that matters had spiraled out of control. There was nothing I could say to win this awkward argument, but, at the same time, there was no way in the world that I would have my NHB partner with me in such a holy endeavor. So, finally, seeing no choice, I removed the talis, and told him to say it on his own!”
Reish Lakish was asking a similar question. He knew that he had made great advances in his Torah learning, and had grown into an accomplished lamdan,–a holy amora. But did this really change him, did it make him a new person? Or was he still seeking the same types of goals, and merely using the Torah as a tool to reach them? If it was possible that the svoros in Torah that he learned were not the root of his mindset, but rather being used to reinforce and support his earlier ideas, then perhaps the same could be said in a more general way as well? Perhaps it was all the NHB, that was using the Torah ideas and Torah lifestyle to further its own goals?
Let us bear in mind that Reish Lakish was the talmid muvhak of Rabi Yochanan, who cried out במר נפשו about his concern and preoccupation with ימים יוצרו etc. It is reasonable to assume, then, that Reish Lakish’s question ומאי אהני לי was also a bitter cry from the depths of his soul. He was led to question if he had ever acquired the desired benefit of committing to a life of Torah, or was he perhaps, deep down, still the same person as before, ch”v?!
התם רבי קרו לי והכא רבי קרו לי. Of course Reish Lakish would never ch”v equate the position of a leader of bandits and that of–lehavdil–a Torah leader. Even a small child knows that there is no similarity between אנו עמלים לדבריתורה and הם עמלים לדברים בטלים! But he wondered whether perhaps, at some deep level, the driving force of the current רבי was not altogether different that the original one;–perhaps he had not undergone an inherent change!
Rabi Yochanan took the question very seriously, he knew that it demanded a satisfactory answer. Rabi Yochanan explained to him that, in fact, there was, in fact, a fundamental change that Reish Lakish had undergone, and that he was inherently a different person than he had been before. It could be that this difference is subconscious,–makif, but it is unquestionably there.
Rabi Yochanan described this change as having brought Reish Lakish תחת כנפי השכינה. The shchinah may be hovering above, but it is what defines who he is now.
Still–חלש דעתו דרבי יוחנן. Rabi Yochanan was not “insulted” ch”v. Even having the smallest inkling of who Rabi Yochanan was makes it absolutely certain that he is not at all the type of person to be slighted by a perceived disrespect (and especially to such an extent). Rather, Rabi Yochanon was bothered by the question itself. He understood the question all too well, and knew that it begs for a better answer.
Let us not forget that it was Rabi Yochanan who cried before his demise saying איני יודע באיזה דרך מוליכין אותי. One of the explanations in chassidus (quoted by the Rebbe in the maamar “Ach bagoral” and other places) is that Rabi Yochanan questioned the state of his “etzem haneshomo”. He knew that he had spent all his years exclusively learning and teaching Torah, and never went out of the 4 cubits of Torah. Still, that was all on a revealed level. He still questioned what was behind it all. Deep down, at his essence, what defined him. Therefore, Rabi Yochanan related very well with Reish Lakish’s question (in fact, it is presumable that it was the fact that Reish Lakish was the true disciple of Rabi Yochanan, who had cried over his worry באיזה דרך מוליכין אותי, that caused him to have this question).
