This week, I heard a first-hand story from a Gerrer chassid. About thirty
years ago, his parents sent him from America to Eretz Yisrael to learn in
a yeshiva gedola. One day they called and told him that someone had
proposed a shidduch that sounded promising. They asked him to return
home in order to meet the young woman.
He reserved a place in a sherut taxi that would take him to the airport.
The driver instructed him to wait outside the Karlin beis medrash,
because he would be picking up some other passengers there. He arrived
early and decided to wait in the beis medrash. It happened to be a yoma
d’pagra, the day of a special occasion in Karlin, and everyone was singing
and dancing. The young man simply sat on the side without participating.
Suddenly my grandfather zy”a sat down next to him and asked him why
he was sitting by himself and not dancing with everyone else.
The bachur responded, “I’m not a Karliner chassid.” My grandfather
asked him, “What does it mean to be a Karliner chassid? To daven with
hislahavus? To be happy? You’re a Jew aren’t you? Every Jew has to daven with hislahavus, to dance and to be
happy. Now that you have said that you aren’t a Karliner chassid, it’s as
if you said that you don’t want to daven with hislahavus and to be
b’simcha!”
My grandfather continued, “What you have to do now is to say three
times out loud that you are a Karliner chassid. That will enable you to
disassociate yourself from your previous statement.” The young man
realized that he had no choice, and declared three times out loud, “I am
a Karliner chassid”.
That wasn’t enough for my grandfather. He said, “Just saying those
words doesn’t prove that you are truly a Karliner chassid. Now, you must
join in and dance with everyone.” The boy saw that my grandfather
wouldn’t take no for an answer and joined the dancing. Afterwards, my
grandfather wished him well, and the bachur went on to the airport.
For one reason or another, the shidduch that brought him to America,
didn’t work out, but he stayed in America. One year followed another,
but he didn’t manage to find his bashert. One day, a very promising idea
came up. They met, and it seemed that he was finally going to become a
chasan. Suddenly, the girl’s father said that before they could get
engaged, the chasan would have to agree to one condition.
“I am a Karliner chassid”, said the girl’s father, “I’m not asking you to
become a Karliner, but I need you to reassure me that you have no
opposition to Karlin.” When the chasan heard this, he declared, “The
Tolner Rebbe can testify that I am truly a Karliner chassid!” With that,
the shidduch was “closed” with Mazal Tov.
Aside from the mofeis in this story, it contains an important lesson for
the younger generation. They must learn that in every Jewish community
around the world, there are good things that every Jew can learn and
adopt, no matter what group he is affiliated with. They should learn from
Chassidim, Misnagdim, Teimanim or Eidot Hamizrach. We are all
brothers, and we all serve Hashem.
If a chassid steps into the Mirrer Yeshiva to wait for a taxi, and sees
everyone learning with great hasmadah, he shouldn’t say, “I’m not a
Mirrer talmid, why should I join in with their learning.” Instead, he
should take a gemara and sit down to learn with everyone. This applies
to every Jewish community you will encounter. You always can and must
learn from them. You will discover new ways to improve your midos, and
hanhagos tovos, beautiful customs that you can appreciate and
incorporate into your avodas Hashem.
There was a similar story with the Beis Yisrael zy”a. There was a bachur
who learned in the Mir but would occasionally come to the Gerrer beis
medrash. The Beis Yisrael called him over and began to speak with him
about matters of kedusha (as was his custom). The bachur told the
Rebbe, “I’m not a Gerrer chassid.” The Beis Yisrael cried out, “You’re
not a Gerrer, but you are a Jew!”
That was truly the way of my grandfather zy”a. From his youth, he was a
הכל קונה, one who tried to learn from everyone. He went from place to
place to find new ways to reach shleimus and learn new ways of Torah
and avoda. It was well known that nearly every Shabbos, he would walk
from his house in Bayit Vegan, to join the seuda shlishis of the Gerrer
Rebbe. From there, he would make his way to Rachmistrivka, and then to
Karlin.
Often, he would only get to the Gerrer Beis Medrash towards the end of
the tish. He would take his place behind the rows of bachurim in order to
simply join in with those who were able to see the Gerrer Rebbe. A
chassid told me that once my grandfather arrived at the tish and stood
behind him. The chassid should have moved aside so that my grandfather
would be able to see the Rebbe. However, he was a fervent young
chassid and he refused to budge from a place that enabled him to see the
Rebbe.
Soon afterwards, the chassid standing next to him moved away to make
place for my grandfather, who thanked him profusely. When the Beis
Yisrael noticed that my grandfather was there, he immediately motioned
to the people standing near my grandfather, indicating that they should
be careful not to push him. The Beis Yisrael then sent a large amount of
fruit to my grandfather. The chassid said that my grandfather
immediately gave the fruit to him, and to the other bachur who made
room for my grandfather.
He told me that when my grandfather gave him the fruit, he was
ashamed of himself for not making room for my grandfather as soon as he
arrived. After the tish, he approached my grandfather and apologized for
his behavior. My grandfather told him, “What are you talking about?
Helevai – I wish that I could be a Gerrer like you!”
Here in my grandfather’s Beis Medrash, we should commit ourselves to
refrain from discounting any kehilla or eida. On the contrary, we should
we wise enough to be לומד מכל אדם , learn from each person. Let us learn
good hanhagos and minhagim from every community in every place.
The Tolna Rebbe Shlita
