By Rabbi Ephraim Shapiro
Allow me to share with you a story that you might already be familiar with. Why then would I mention it at all? Because there is a second part that is far less known, and it brings to light some remarkable lessons.
One young man was extraordinary beyond words. In every conceivable area, he excelled, whether it be his extensive and in-depth Torah erudition, his sterling character or his overall successful approach to life. He had gone for an entrance exam to Rav Yochanan Wosner in Montreal, Canada, and was tested on two full sections of the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim and Yoreh Deah).
Rav Yochanan Wosner
Rav Wosner attested that he had never seen such an accomplished young man in so many areas.
Sometime later, Rav Wosner met the father of the young man and asked if his son had always been that way, marked by both superb brilliance and character. The father was clear in his response. “He wasn’t. But let me tell you what happened years ago...
“When I myself was a bachur in yeshiva, I was once asked to do hag’baah (lift the Torah) on a regular weekday after the reading of the Torah had concluded. To the shock of everyone present, I did a reverse hag’baah whereby I turned the Torah around so that the parchment faced outward, away from me—as is done only on Simchas Torah—instead of it facing inward, toward me. As soon as I did this, everyone began to murmur and talk about what they had just witnessed. Shortly afterward, I was called in to speak to the Rosh Yeshiva. It was there that he asked me directly why I did what I did. I explained as follows.
The Boy Had a Terrible Stutter
“The boy who had gotten an aliyah just before me had a terrible stutter. It was painful and terrible to listen to, and without question, it left him feeling utterly ashamed and embarrassed. The final beracha, said after the reading had concluded, felt as if it took forever.
“As soon as he finished the concluding beracha, I could tell that the people around were whispering about him. He had certainly humiliated himself and everyone felt bad for him. And then I came up to do hag’baah. During those few seconds before I raised the Torah, I started thinking what I could do to divert and distract the attention from all the bachurim to focus solely on me instead of the boy who had just terribly stuttered. And so, I decided to do something strange—namely, a reverse hag’baah. It actually worked in getting everyone around to start talking about me and forget about the other boy.
“It was on that day,” concluded the father to Rav Wosner, “that all of the windows in Heaven opened and blessings came pouring forth to my son. It must have been because I thought about the other boy that Hashem showered such blessing upon my family.”
This is the part that you might be familiar with.
The Second and Perhaps More Incredible Story
But recently, I received a call from Rav Shmuel Dovid Hakohen Friedman who shared with me that he himself had spoken to Rav Wosner. Rav Wosner told him that the father, at that very same time they stood together at the wedding, in fact told him a second story. “It’s possible that the second story is even more remarkable than the first,” Rav Friedman told me on our call. At the mention of this, I grew that much more than interested in knowing what exactly the father had told Rav Wosner.
“My son,” began the father, “is now a yungerman living in a particular city near the Tristate area and learning in a Chassidishe Kollel. A few years ago, as can happen in the middle of davening or learning, a meshulach from Israel collecting funds for the wedding expenses of two of his children approached the yungerman. Collectively, he needed to raise fifty thousand dollars for the two weddings and related expenses. The yungerman, in speaking with the meshulach and getting to know him, recognized that he was a fine gentlemen, but at the same time, knew that he’d have a hard time collecting the entire sum he needed.
Realizing this, my son thought of a friend he had gone to yeshiva with who had become quite successful. And so, he picked himself up, traveled hours away to the city his friend lived and asked if he would be able to cover the expenses of the two weddings so that this father could adequately provide for his family and quickly return to Israel.
The Friend Hesitates to Give the Entire $50,000
My son’s friend was quite moved that my son would expend so much care and effort on behalf of another stranger. “Normally I give one or two hundred dollars to those who come collecting, and for you who really went out of your way, I certainly want to give more. But the full fifty thousand, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to give it all.”
On the spot, my son turned to his friend and said, “I’ll make a deal with you. If you write out a check for the full fifty thousand, in one year from now, I will have learned Shas Bavli.” As my son knew, to accomplish this requires learning roughly seven and a half blatt (folios) every day. “And that Shas,” my son told his friend, “will have been learned for you, and all the merits will accrue directly to you and your family. It will be your Siyum HaShas and your Torah learning. I’ll give you those zechusim (merits) if you write out the check for fifty thousand.”
Right there and then, the friend wrote out a contract, noting that he would pay fifty thousand dollars to the meshulach so he can return home, and that my son has committed to learn all of Shas Bavli in one year, with the merits accruing to the friend.
Who That Sitting at the Head Table
One year later, my son made the Siyum HaShas and I was invited. When I arrived, I noticed my son’s friend sitting at the head table and inquired why. That is when he disclosed to me what had taken place.”
Let’s think about this for a moment. This man’s commitment wasn’t something taken upon himself for a day or a week. It was a serious commitment that would last hours a day, every single day, for an entire year. To learn seven and a half blatt every day with diligence and understanding is no simple decision or feat. And why did he do it? It wasn’t for his mother or first cousin. He did it for a man from Israel he had never met until just the day before.
Maybe he actually viewed the meshulach from Israel as his brother. May he really believed that this stranger from Israel was not a stranger at all. And with this attitude, he was willing to undergo a colossal and stratospheric commitment to learn all of Shas in one year.
And that is the second part of the story.
This is what it means to not live for yourself. Because truthfully, when you view the entirety of the Jewish people as your brother for whom you are responsible, you’ll do anything.
Reprinted from the Parshat Bo 5784 edition of the Torahanytime.com Newsletter that was compiled and edited by Elan Perchik.
