By Shmuel Botnick
Rav Nota Greenblatt was in Palo Alto, California, where he had spent the bulk of the day writing quite a number of Gittin (Jewish divorces); those in the field can describe just how exhausting an experience that is. Upon completion of the last Get of the day, Rav Nota paid a visit to the Palo Alto Kollel.
There, he delivered an impromptu shiur with his classic brilliance, a whirlwind of Rambams and Raavads spinning like leaves on a windy autumn day. When the last of his questions was answered and the crowd dispersed, Rabbi Yitzchak Feldman, rabbi of Congregation Emek Beracha of Palo Alto, presented a question of his own.
“How is it,” he asked, “that the rav is able to spend hour after hour writing Gittin and then immediately deliver such an incredible shiur?”
Here was Rav Nota’s response: “In the Amidah on Shabbat and Chag we say, V’tein chelkeinu b’toratecha,’ a request that Hashem grant us our cheilek (portion) in Torah.”
Rav Nota paused. “What does it mean when we request our ‘cheilek’ in Torah?” he asked rhetorically. Rabbi Feldman was silent. “When we daven for our ‘cheilek,’” Rav Nota explained, “it means our ‘primary self.’ Meaning, we ask Hashem that, no matter what it is that we do, the Torah should be our true portion, it should be our foremost identity.”
Rav Nota completed this thought and then looked Rabbi Feldman in the eye. “My cheilek,” he said, “is in Torah.” It was a five-word explanation for a ninety-year phenomenon. No matter how weary, how traveled, or how busy Rav Nota was, he continued to learn. Torah was his cheilek.
No story demonstrates this as cogently as the following. Rav Nota once walked into the Phoenix Kollel’s Beit Midrash while they were in the middle of second seder. The kollel was learning Beheimah HaMakshah - the fourth chapter of Masechet Chullin and they were in the heart of the difficult subject of ben pakuah. Rav Nota paused for a moment and listened.
He then produced his cellphone and placed a call. “Mrs. Goldstein,” he said, “this is Rabbi Greenblatt. I want to ask you a favor. Something urgent has come up. Can we postpone our appointment for two or three hours?” Rav Nota listened for a moment, nodded, smiled, said, “Thank you, Mrs. Goldstein,” and then rammed his phone back into his pocket.
He then sprang into action. “Ich daft dus lernen, I must learn this!” he cried. “Siz shoin asach tzeit vuhs ich hub dus nisht gelernt! I have not learned this part in a long time!”
He sat down. “Bring a Gemara, please,” he requested, and a Gemara was quickly handed to him. “I’m not going to bother you,” he called out to the students of the kollel. “I’m going to keep quiet.” He opened the Gemara and began to learn softly. But after a few minutes, he couldn’t contain himself. He began to talk, slowly at first, and then picking up speed and animation.
The students huddled around him as Rav Nota launched into a shiur that lasted for three hours, churning out sources and his own novel ideas as if he had spent weeks in preparation. The shiur ended and all present headed home, not quite believing what they had just witnessed. And Rav Nota? He headed to his appointment, ever grateful to Mrs. Goldstein for her gracious patience.
Torah was his cheilek, but, in a conversation with a young Memphian, Rav Nota revealed yet another perspective.
Josh Feingold was walking down Memphis’s Cole Road when he presented his rabbi with a question. “When the needs of the community are so great,” he asked, “how does one prioritize the study of Torah?”
Rav Nota paused. “Torah,” he then said, “is a keter (crown).”
They walked in silence and Josh, not fully understanding Rav Nota’s answer, tried again. Rewording the question slightly, he repeated it. “How does one prioritize limud haTorah when there is so much to do for the community?”
“Torah,” Rav Nota repeated, “is a keter.” And then Rav Nota repeated it once again. “Torah is a keter.” It was a cryptic sentence, but the message was clear. When you recognize the primacy of Torah study, nothing can diminish its importance.
Reprinted from an email from At the ArtScroll Shabbos Table.
