When Shmuel was only nine years old, his father came home from the synagogue not feeling well. A few hours later his father passed away, leaving behind a sick widow and two young children. From that day on, Shmuel's life was turned topsy-turvy. The young orphan left his home and was sent from one institution to another. He went to the Diskin Orphanage, the Eitz Chaim Talmud Torah, and to the homes of various relatives and friends who were trying to help his mother, who worked at cleaning jobs in order to support her two children.
When he finished high school, Shmuel already had one foot outside of the realm of a life of Torah and observing the mitzvot. While waiting to be drafted into the IDF, he found a temporary job selling ice cream in the "Alaska Cafe" on Yafo Street, in Jerusalem. The remaining path of life for such a child, who grew up in harsh and estranged surroundings, seemed almost completely predictable.
And then, one day, while working in the cafe, Shmuel suddenly saw his twelfth grade teacher. The teacher asked how he was and asked what his plans were for the future. "Until the army, I am working to help support my mother," he said. The rabbi/teacher asked to meet Shmuel after work. The teacher arrived with coffee and cake. He said with a smile, "This is for you."
The rabbi said, "I have a suggestion. Before going into the army, come and get a taste of Torah. During the month of Elul, would you consider studying – just for that month – in Yeshivat Merkaz Harav? Just one month, that's all." But Shmuel refused. He said, "I have to make money for my mother."
The teacher did not give up. He asked, "How much do you make in a month?" He took out a checkbook and on the spot gave Shmuel an amount equal to his monthly salary. "Go there for one month, then you can go into the army." The warmth and the sincerity of his teacher had a strong effect on Shmuel.
* * * * * *
Fifty years passed. The rabbi and the student did not see each other, except for this one chance meeting. Their paths led them along different ways. And then, after fifty years, the Master of All Hidden Things brought Shmuel and his teacher together once more, for a last meeting.
The teacher had just finished reciting some chapters of Tehillim at his father's grave. The date of his father's death was during Succot, but the Jewish custom is not to visit a grave during a holiday. The rabbi therefore went to the grave a few days after the holiday.
When the teacher returned from the grave, he encountered a very large crowd, gathered for a funeral. He asked one of the participants, "Who is this great rabbi, for whom such a large crowd has gathered?" The answer shocked him so much that he was silent for a long time. "It is Rabb Shmuel Eckstein, the Rosh Yeshiva of the yeshiva high school at Shaalavim, who taught hundreds of students there during more than forty years."
* * * * * *
When I went to console the dear and noble family of Rabbi Shmuel Eckstein I was not familiar with the above story. But when I was asked what I had learned from the rabbi, I replied that he knew how to show warmth for his students even when it appeared that they were not about to achieve all that could be expected of them. I also said that in contrast with the spirit of the general surroundings, which demand quick results, Rabbi Shmuel had a high level of patience. He invested in his students during their youth, knowing that he might see results many years later.
When I said this to the family, I had no idea how Rabbi Shmuel had learned this great lesson about having faith in every student. Only later on did I find out that he had learned about love and patience from his own personal tough experience.
May his memory be blessed.
* * * * * *
I heard this remarkable story from the family of the "student," Rabbi Shmuel Eckstein, and later also from the teacher-rabbi who had helped him in his hour of need. The teacher asked me not to give his name, and told me to concentrate on the important lesson to be learned from this precious story – just how important it is to believe in every child and in every human being, and how terrible it is to despair of helping any human being. "Do not disparage any person... for there is no man who does not have his own specific hour..." [Avot 4:3].
* * * * * *
However, this story has another lesson to teach us. When our children decide to become involved in education, we often feel tense. Who knows how they will manage on the low salary of a teacher? (The truth is that almost everybody is able to manage, with G-d's help.) But aside from the economic aspects of the question, we must never forget that even if the salary is not very big, the satisfaction and the wealth that a person can achieve from educational activity is beyond any possible measurement. And what can a parent ask for, other than that his child will be happy?
