One More Time - Monthly Gedolim Stories
I begin to write this on Monday night, Lag Beomer, a day when we celebrate the fact that Rabbi Akiva's 24,00 students stopped dying. We had been mourning their deaths ever since the start of Sefiras Haomer, and now we celebrate that they stopped dying on this day.
We all know the famed teaching which states the reason for their deaths being that they did not treat their colleagues with true respect, but how many of us wonder why even after so long, why do we mourn for them?
The answer is that we mourn the loss of all the Torah that they learned. The Torah that they never got to teach. The Torah teachings that died with them. That is what we mourn.
So, then, if I may, let me share a wonderful, heartwarming story about a young bochur and his Rebbi. A story about the beauty of learning the Heilige Torah, a tale of love, emotion, and encouragement.
I hope you enjoy this story, which appeared originally in Rabbi Yechiel Spero's recent book, "The Story Begins..."
Wishing you a glorious week
All the best,
Yitzy Schweitzer
There is a wonderful Yeshiva in Eretz Yisrael called "Lev Shomea" or in English, "The Heart That Listens", which is for boys who need something extra, more than just a regular learning program. In this Yeshiva, they will find a Rebbi who will really listen, really hear them out, without judgment. A Rebbi who truly cares.
Take, as just an example, Reb Yisrael Iram, the mashgiach, who is known for his warmth, patience, and for the way he makes every boy feel valued. His office is always open, and many boys, even those from outside the Yeshiva, come to him to talk.
Well, one afternoon, a sixteen-year-old boy named Menashe came to speak with Reb Iram. Though he was not a talmid of the Yeshiva, Menashe was privy to the secret that is Reb Iram.
Reb Iram welcomed him in warmly, and Menashe began to share the question that had been building inside him for years.
"I am a bright boy," he began, "I do well in Halachah , Chumash, Navi, and Mishnah. But there is one subject I can not manage, and that is Gemara. I can not understand it; I just can't get it. I have tried repeatedly, but it does not go.
"Until recently, my father spent thousands of shekels on tutors and chavrusas for me. He is not a wealthy man, and every time that I would see him paying for just yet another chavrusa, my heart would feel like it was sinking. No matter how much money he seemed to spend, it felt as though nothing helped. At one point, I could not bear it any longer. I asked him to stop. I did not want him to throw away more money on me.
"Instead, I went to a pizza shop and asked for a job. They gave me flyers to hand out, like those 'buy one, get one free' papers. I earned money, and with that, I paid on my own for a chavrusa. I thought maybe it would help if I was the one paying for it. But it didn't. Nothing changed. I gave it everything I had and failed again and again
I am sp worn out and beyond frustrated, to the point that I am now here. I am here to ask you one thing: can I quit? Can u leave Gemara behind for good? I will still daven three times a day and learn other subjects, but Gemara is too much for me. I can't do it anymore."
The words hung in the air, and a pressure of sorts filled the room. Menashe waited for a response. Reb Iram sat quietly, letting the boys' pain settle. Finally, he said, "Yes. Yes, you can quit."
Menashe had not expected that answer. For a fleeting moment, he felt lighter, almost relieved. But before he could respond, Reb Iram continued, "There is one condition. If you are finished with learning Gemara, you can't just walk away from it. You have to make a siyum. Just as someone who finishes a mesechta makes a siyum, if you are finished all of your Gemara learning, you must make one too.
"I will buy the best bottle of wine I can find. Tomorrow, at eleven o'clock, bring two Gemaros. We will learn for fifteen minutes together, and then, after that, you will close the Gemara, stand up, and declare, "Lo hadran alach, velo hadrach alan, Talmud Bavli. We will not return to you, and you will not return to us, Talmud Bavli. Then you will say the same thing for Bava Kamma and Bava Metziah, along with any other mesechta you worked on without success."
Though more than a bit shaken, Menashe agreed.
The next morning, at eleven o'clock sharp, Menashe arrived with two Gemaros. Reb Iram, along with the young man, opened to the same place where he had first tried years earlier, that being the second perek of Bava Metzia (21a): Eilu Metzios. Reb Iram read the words, and Menashe repeated them: "Eilu metzios shell, v'eilu chayab l'Hachriz - Which found item belongs to him and for which found item is one obligated to proclaim." To Menashe's pleasant surprise and delight, something, just a little something, began to click. Slowly, those words made sense. Slowly the learning began to move.
After some time, Reb Iram closed his Gemara. "Time is up," he said.
Menashe glanced at the clock, "That was fifteen minutes already?"
"No," Reb Iram responded, "That was an hour."
Menashe blinked, "An hour? But I understood it. I enjoyed it. The time went by so quickly!"
That siyum never took place that day. Not that day or the next. Each passing day saw Menashe in Gemara dreamland. He learnt more. He followed along more. He enjoyed it all, more.
A few weeks later, Reb Iram got a phone call from Menashe, his voice chocked with deep emotion.
Rebbi, I just finished learning three hours straight with my chavrusa. Three hours! I never thought I could do it! I am not quitting. I am not giving up!"
Reb Iram felt so much pride swell inside his heart. Then Menashe asked one request. "Rebbi," ye asked, "Please keep that bottle of wine. Because one day, if Hashem wills it to be, I will need it. For a siyum on all of Shas!"
We can learn so much from this story. We can learn that we must never give up, never lose belief in ourselves, and never believe we cannot do something that feels right.
Because we just give it a try, an honest try and He Who is Above will help us achieve. He will give us that strength, that resolve, that energy, that fire. He will be so proud of us. So, so proud.
We all know the famed teaching which states the reason for their deaths being that they did not treat their colleagues with true respect, but how many of us wonder why even after so long, why do we mourn for them?
The answer is that we mourn the loss of all the Torah that they learned. The Torah that they never got to teach. The Torah teachings that died with them. That is what we mourn.
So, then, if I may, let me share a wonderful, heartwarming story about a young bochur and his Rebbi. A story about the beauty of learning the Heilige Torah, a tale of love, emotion, and encouragement.
I hope you enjoy this story, which appeared originally in Rabbi Yechiel Spero's recent book, "The Story Begins..."
Wishing you a glorious week
All the best,
Yitzy Schweitzer
One More Time - Monthly Gedolim Stories
Take, as just an example, Reb Yisrael Iram, the mashgiach, who is known for his warmth, patience, and for the way he makes every boy feel valued. His office is always open, and many boys, even those from outside the Yeshiva, come to him to talk.
Well, one afternoon, a sixteen-year-old boy named Menashe came to speak with Reb Iram. Though he was not a talmid of the Yeshiva, Menashe was privy to the secret that is Reb Iram.
Reb Iram welcomed him in warmly, and Menashe began to share the question that had been building inside him for years.
"I am a bright boy," he began, "I do well in Halachah , Chumash, Navi, and Mishnah. But there is one subject I can not manage, and that is Gemara. I can not understand it; I just can't get it. I have tried repeatedly, but it does not go.
"Until recently, my father spent thousands of shekels on tutors and chavrusas for me. He is not a wealthy man, and every time that I would see him paying for just yet another chavrusa, my heart would feel like it was sinking. No matter how much money he seemed to spend, it felt as though nothing helped. At one point, I could not bear it any longer. I asked him to stop. I did not want him to throw away more money on me.
"Instead, I went to a pizza shop and asked for a job. They gave me flyers to hand out, like those 'buy one, get one free' papers. I earned money, and with that, I paid on my own for a chavrusa. I thought maybe it would help if I was the one paying for it. But it didn't. Nothing changed. I gave it everything I had and failed again and again
I am sp worn out and beyond frustrated, to the point that I am now here. I am here to ask you one thing: can I quit? Can u leave Gemara behind for good? I will still daven three times a day and learn other subjects, but Gemara is too much for me. I can't do it anymore."
The words hung in the air, and a pressure of sorts filled the room. Menashe waited for a response. Reb Iram sat quietly, letting the boys' pain settle. Finally, he said, "Yes. Yes, you can quit."
Menashe had not expected that answer. For a fleeting moment, he felt lighter, almost relieved. But before he could respond, Reb Iram continued, "There is one condition. If you are finished with learning Gemara, you can't just walk away from it. You have to make a siyum. Just as someone who finishes a mesechta makes a siyum, if you are finished all of your Gemara learning, you must make one too.
"I will buy the best bottle of wine I can find. Tomorrow, at eleven o'clock, bring two Gemaros. We will learn for fifteen minutes together, and then, after that, you will close the Gemara, stand up, and declare, "Lo hadran alach, velo hadrach alan, Talmud Bavli. We will not return to you, and you will not return to us, Talmud Bavli. Then you will say the same thing for Bava Kamma and Bava Metziah, along with any other mesechta you worked on without success."
Though more than a bit shaken, Menashe agreed.
The next morning, at eleven o'clock sharp, Menashe arrived with two Gemaros. Reb Iram, along with the young man, opened to the same place where he had first tried years earlier, that being the second perek of Bava Metzia (21a): Eilu Metzios. Reb Iram read the words, and Menashe repeated them: "Eilu metzios shell, v'eilu chayab l'Hachriz - Which found item belongs to him and for which found item is one obligated to proclaim." To Menashe's pleasant surprise and delight, something, just a little something, began to click. Slowly, those words made sense. Slowly the learning began to move.
After some time, Reb Iram closed his Gemara. "Time is up," he said.
Menashe glanced at the clock, "That was fifteen minutes already?"
"No," Reb Iram responded, "That was an hour."
Menashe blinked, "An hour? But I understood it. I enjoyed it. The time went by so quickly!"
That siyum never took place that day. Not that day or the next. Each passing day saw Menashe in Gemara dreamland. He learnt more. He followed along more. He enjoyed it all, more.
A few weeks later, Reb Iram got a phone call from Menashe, his voice chocked with deep emotion.
Rebbi, I just finished learning three hours straight with my chavrusa. Three hours! I never thought I could do it! I am not quitting. I am not giving up!"
Reb Iram felt so much pride swell inside his heart. Then Menashe asked one request. "Rebbi," ye asked, "Please keep that bottle of wine. Because one day, if Hashem wills it to be, I will need it. For a siyum on all of Shas!"
We can learn so much from this story. We can learn that we must never give up, never lose belief in ourselves, and never believe we cannot do something that feels right.
Because we just give it a try, an honest try and He Who is Above will help us achieve. He will give us that strength, that resolve, that energy, that fire. He will be so proud of us. So, so proud.
And as we learn, we will hear his soft, loving whisper in the words, "My child, keep going! I'm right here, helping you. I am so proud of you!"
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