Shalom Aleichem, my sweetest friends. We are continuing our series on "Holy Men," and today we turn our hearts and minds to the Heilige (Holy) Beis Yisrael, Rabbi Yisrael Alter of Gur.
The Beis Yisrael was a figure of immense holiness, sharp wit, and hidden kindness. Here are but a few glimpses into his world.
I. The Soup and the Cholent
The Story of Rav Avraham Shlomo Brum
Around the year 1953, a touching story unfolded involving Rav Avraham Shlomo Brum. Rav Brum had left his family behind in the United States to make aliyah to Eretz Yisrael.
However, the reality of the Holy Land in the early 50s was harsh. There was barely any food, and materially, life was a struggle for survival. Rav Brum fell into great distress. Brokenhearted and unsure of his future, he entered the inner sanctum—the Kodesh Pnima—of the Beis Yisrael. Although the Gerer Rebbe was younger than him, Rav Brum stood before him like a servant before his master (eved bifnei rabo), asking for a blessing to return to America.
The Beis Yisrael looked at him and said simply, in Yiddish, "Fahr nisht tzurik Avrumele. Unz velen voinen do tzuzamen." ("Don’t go back, Avrumele. We will live here together.")
And so he stayed. For the next twenty-five years, Rav Brum took refuge in the shadow of the Beis Yisrael. Remarkably, their connection transcended even death; Rav Brum passed away on the 17th of Shevat, 1977, just two weeks before the Beis Yisrael left this world on the 2nd of Adar.
But their bond was forged in the details of daily life. During his first Shabbos meals at the Rebbe’s table (the tish), the soup was served. Rav Avraham sat without touching it.
The Rebbe noticed and asked with affection, "Is nish kusher by mir, Avrumele?" ("Is my food not kosher enough for you, Avrumele?")
Rav Avraham remained silent. When pressed, he admitted that years prior, he had taken upon himself a stringency not to eat meat. Without a moment's hesitation, the Beis Yisrael commanded his attendants to bring pareve (non-meat) food. From that day on, whenever there was a tish, there was a special pot of pareve soup and pareve cholent prepared specifically for Rav Avraham Shlomo Brum.
II. Planting Joy
A Purim Story
On one of the days of Purim, just before the tish began, the Beis Yisrael was pacing back and forth in the Beis Medrash of Yeshivas Sfas Emes. He was scanning the room, looking for people worthy of being seated near him.
Rav Avraham Shlomo Brum stood there, humble as always, amongst the crowd. The Rebbe stopped, looked at him, and said, "Avrum! Today is Purim! Men darf zayn b’simcha! (We have to be happy!)"
Rav Avraham whispered back with total humility and subordination, quoting the Gemara: "Rebbi, nata netia shel simcha b’Purim." (Rebbi planted a planting of joy on Purim). He looked at the Beis Yisrael and added, "Ich vart az der Rebbe zol plantzen in mir." ("I am waiting for the Rebbe to plant that joy within me.")
The Rebbe looked at him and replied, "Bist gerecht." ("You are correct.") And with that, he signaled for him to sit by the head table.
[Rabbi Avraham, may his memory be a blessing, used to tell about the first time he entered the inner sanctum as a young man to receive guidance from the Sfas Emes. The Rebbe asked him, "Du villst zein a Yid?" (Do you want to be a Jew?) Rabbi Avraham answered, "Yes." He asked him again, "Du villst takke zein a Yid?" (Do you really want to be a Jew?) Rabbi Avraham answered, "Yes," in a louder voice. He asked him a third time, "Du villst zein a Yid un a Chassid?" (Do you want to be a Jew and a Chassid?) "Yes, yes, yes," he answered with a great cry. The Rebbe told him, "Zalst hiten dein ma'ahl, hiten dein oigen, hiten dein oiren, un be'ikar hit dein machshava" (Guard your mouth, guard your eyes, guard your ears, and especially guard your thoughts).]
III. The Dream of the Dowry
A Story of the World of Truth
There is an extraordinary story related by Rav Shlomo Zalmina Weinberg regarding a dream dreamt by Rav Yaakov Yitzchak Pick.
In this dream [which apparently repeated itself], Rav Pick saw a very distinguished Jew—a chashuve Yid—who had passed away. This man appeared to him in great distress, saying, "I have no rest (menucha) in the World of Truth."
The soul explained: "I came to Los Angeles from my home in Poland. Back in Poland, I had a daughter of marriageable age. I traveled to America specifically to collect money for her wedding (Hachnasas Kallah). While I was there, the war broke out in Europe. The terrible Holocaust descended, and there was nowhere to go back to. I was stranded.
"Years passed. Six million Jews were murdered, my daughter among them. There was no wedding. I was left with the money I had collected. So, I decided that since the wedding could not happen, I would set aside that money to buy a burial plot for myself in Eretz Yisrael. I lived out my years, died, and was buried there.
"But now," the soul cried, "I have no rest! Because I took money collected for the mitzvah of the living (Hachnasas Kallah) and used it for the needs of the dead (levayas hameis)."
Rav Yaakov Yitzchak Pick woke up shaken. He knew the story was true; he knew the man had gone to Los Angeles and had indeed used the money for his burial. He immediately sent a letter to the Beis Yisrael describing the dream.
The Beis Yisrael sent back a letter that would make anyone tremble. He wrote:
"I was at the cemetery—the Beis HaChaim. I stood by this man’s grave. There is already a tombstone there. He is buried next to the grave of the great Rav Meir Shapiro of Lublin. I mentioned this matter while standing at his grave. The merit of resting in the Holy Land, and the merit of his neighbor (Rav Meir Shapiro), should stand for him. For us, this is a great mitzvah."
From the moment Rav Pick received the Rebbe’s letter, the dreams stopped. The man never appeared to him again.
IV. The Trick with the Tea
A Lesson in Mussar
Rav Chaim Mandel, who was very close to the Beis Yisrael, related a story involving the Rebbe’s personal attendant, a man named Zeligel.
Zeligel had a routine: early in the morning, he would bring the Rebbe a cup of tea. One night, a wealthy man (gvir) came to Ger. He was desperate to see the Rebbe to mention a sick relative (choleh) who needed a blessing.
The gabbaim told him, "It’s impossible. You can’t go in now. You must wait until tomorrow. The Rebbe is a human being; he cannot be bothered 24 hours a day."
The gvir, impatient and worried, pulled Zeligel aside. He handed him a "shina matbeya"—a nice sum of money—and said, "Do me a favor. Let me bring the Rebbe his tea tomorrow morning. I’ll be the first one in."
Zeligel agreed. The next morning, the wealthy man walked in with the tea, placed it down, and quickly mentioned the name of the sick person. The Rebbe gave him a blessing for a refuah sheleimah. The man left, pleased that his plan had worked.
However, when Zeligel entered the room later, the Beis Yisrael reprimanded him severely for allowing the intrusion. Zeligel tried to make excuses, trying to justify his actions.
The Beis Yisrael cut him off with a sharp lesson for life: "It is better that you know you did something wrong and don't do it again. But if you try to justify yourself, you will remain a fool—a kaliker—your whole life. Be a mensch. Admit you made a mistake, internalize it, and don't repeat it. Justification is for losers."
V. The Uncashed Check
A Story of Teshuva
There were two friends who survived the death camps together. They went through the Gehinnom of the Holocaust side-by-side. After the war, their paths diverged. One remained a devout Gerer Chassid and moved to Israel. The other abandoned his religious observance, moved to London, and became very wealthy, though he maintained a warm connection with his friend in Israel.
Years later, the wealthy man from London came to visit his friend in Israel. The Chassid said, "You are here in Israel! You must come with me to get a Shalom (greeting) from the Rebbe!"
The Londoner refused. "Look at me! I look like a goy. The Rebbe won't want to see me." The Chassid pressed him, "Don't worry, the Rebbe isn't afraid of someone like you."
Finally, on the condition that his friend would introduce him, the wealthy man agreed. They stood in line. When they entered, the Rebbe gave the man a quick, perfunctory handshake, and within a second, they found themselves back outside.
The man from London was furious. "I told you! He treated me like a stranger. My father was a Gerer Chassid, my grandfather was a Gerer Chassid. I survived the camps! And this is the welcome I get?"
He insisted on going back in to properly say goodbye before returning to London. He felt he needed closure. When he re-entered, the Beis Yisrael looked at him and said, "I need 10,000 pounds."
The man was taken aback. He had no connection to the Rebbe, felt rejected by him, and now the Rebbe was asking for a fortune. But, remembering his roots and unable to refuse a Rebbe's direct request, he half-heartedly wrote a check for 10,000 pounds—a massive sum in those days.
He left, returned to London, and continued his business.
Years passed. His business began to crumble. He was being sued, he owed back taxes, creditors were knocking, and his lawyers advised him to declare bankruptcy. In despair, he remembered his friend in Jerusalem and the Rebbe. He called his friend: "Maybe, after all, I gave that huge donation... maybe you can go ask the Rebbe for a blessing?"
The friend went to the Beis Yisrael. The Rebbe’s response was shocking: "Tell him nothing is going to happen. He should not declare bankruptcy. He should continue business as usual."
The Londoner listened. Miraculously, things turned around. The business recovered and flourished even more than before. Overwhelmed with gratitude (and perhaps guilt), he flew to Israel to thank the Rebbe. He walked in, took out his checkbook, and with a smile of satisfaction said, "Rebbe, you saved me. I want to give you five times what I gave last time."
The Beis Yisrael looked at the checkbook on the table. He grabbed it and threw it toward the door. He stood up and roared like a lion:
"Ich darf dein gelt?!" ("Do I need your money?!")
The Rebbe opened his drawer and pulled out the original check for 10,000 pounds from years ago. It was yellowed with age, uncashed.
"I didn't touch this check either!" the Rebbe shouted. "A posuk gedenkstu yoh?" ("Do you still remember a verse from the Torah?") He quoted the King of Sodom to Avraham Avinu: "'Ten li hanefesh v'harchush kach lach'—Give me the souls, and take the money for yourself! I want you to be a Yid! I don't want your money!"
The words pounded on the man's heart. It stirred a powerful teshuva within him. He went home, koshered his kitchen, and slowly returned to his roots. Today, his children and grandchildren are Yireim v’Shleimim (G-d fearing and whole) Gerer Chassidim.
VI. The Yemenite and the Falafel
Hidden Kindness
The Mashgiach of the Tchebiner Yeshiva, Rav Mordechai Rimer, once noticed the Beis Yisrael walking down a side street in Mea Shearim every day at the same time. Curious, he asked his son to check which house the Rebbe was visiting.
After watching for a few days, the son reported back: "The Rebbe doesn't go into a house. He stands by a falafel stand and watches an old Yemenite Jew eat."
Rav Rimer approached the old man. "Tell me," he asked, "What does the Gerer Rebbe do for you every day?"
The old man looked confused. "Who? I am a widower," he said. "I am missing a leg. Since my wife died, I have no one to care for me. Every day, a man comes and brings me food to eat. I don't even know who he is."
It was the Beis Yisrael, the leader of thousands, personally ensuring a lonely, disabled widower had lunch.
VII. The Two Things You Didn't Write
Ruach HaKodesh
A prominent Litvishe Rosh Yeshiva once found himself in a complex medical crisis. He sat for hours composing a kvitel (note) to the Beis Yisrael, trying to explain all the intricacies of the situation.
He handed the note to the Rebbe. The Rebbe glanced at it and gave an answer immediately.
The Rosh Yeshiva was baffled. "Rebbe," he asked, "I spent hours writing this. How could you answer so quickly?"
The Beis Yisrael smiled and said, "I can tell you the two things you wanted to write, but in the end, decided not to."
VIII. The Other Groom
Sensitivity to the Outsider
Before a Sheva Brachos tisch, the Beis Yisrael was speaking to his gabbaim. He asked about the groom. "How is he dressed?"
They told him, "He is dressed like a Litvak. A bent hat, a short jacket."
The Rebbe grew concerned. "Tonight," he said, "we have a Sheva Brachos for one of my relatives as well. He is Chassidish; he wears a spodik and a kapote (long coat). Everyone will be looking at him, and this Litvishe groom will feel out of place. He might feel ignored or uncomfortable."
The Rebbe commanded: "Make a separate Sheva Brachos for the Litvishe groom in my private house. I will send fish and meat from my own table. I will come in at the end to bless them both."
In a split second, the Rebbe's concern was not for the glory of the event, but for the feelings of a stranger, ensuring he wouldn't feel second-best.
Nu, sweetest friends, we have learned a little more about the life of this wondrous Tzaddik. May the merit of the Beis Yisrael—his kindness, his insight, and his love for every Jew—protect us all. May we try to walk in their ways and live lives of righteousness.
Shalom, Shalom.
