One of the primary disciples of Rav Chaim Brisker, Reb Boruch Ber Leibovitz, was a talmud genius of renown and one of the great progenitors of his rebbe’s methodology and path. The author of Birkas Shmuel and rosh yeshiva of Kaminetz, Reb Baruch Ber was respected for his scholarship and beloved for his middos tovos and elevated personality.
One day, there was a handyman working in the rosh yeshiva’s home, repairing the oven. Reb Baruch Ber returned from Shacharis and when entering the kitchen, saw the man kneeled over busy fixing the pipes. “Dzień dobry, good morning,” he said warmly in Polish. The fellow immediately rose to his feet and turned around to face Reb Baruch Ber, “Shalom aleichem rebbe, a gut morgen (good morning)!” Removing his cap, he revealed the yarmulke on his head. “It’s me, Avreimel!”
Reb Boruch Ber was taken aback and profusely apologized to the simple Jew for mistaking him for a Polish repairman. Avreimel smiled shyly. “Rebbe, it was an innocent mistake! Really, it is fine, the rosh yeshiva has nothing to feel bad about!”
“Please,” pleaded Reb Boruch Ber, “Please forgive me. Could I ask you, would you mind sitting down with me for a few moments?”
Then and there, the rosh yeshiva delivered a veritable “shiur klali” explaining the greatness of a Yid, the exalted nature and purity of the soul, the essential differences between Jews and gentiles, as well as the nachas that the Ribbono shel Olam has in our fulfillment of Torah and mitzvos. Avreimel was amazed, as step by step, the great lamdan and maggid shiur dissected the deepest philosophical ideas and sources in a most understandable and relatable way—with a clarity and simplicity that Avreimel could understand.
“My dear Avreimel,” the rosh yeshiva concluded, “you are a shining Yid, a direct descendant of our Avos—named after Avraham Avinu! I hope you now realize how special you are, and how grave an error I made. Oy, did I wrong you. All I saw was a person laying on the ground covered in soot, working on the oven. Now, you and I both are aware that I was looking at a ben Melech, splendorous royalty, a prince!”
A big smile stretched across the handyman’s face as Reb Boruch Ber clasped his hands and shook them with holy passion; his booming voice filled with joyful love and respect: “Shalom aleichem, Reb Avreimel! A gut morgen to you, my dearest brother!’’
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This Shabbos, we begin reading sefer Shemos: Klal Yisrael is deep in exile, surrounded by idolatry, stuck in impurity and the spiritual filth of Mitzrayim. Our Sages relate the mournful condemnation of the angels upon seeing the Jews at their lowest, מה נשתנו אלו מאלו? הללו עובדי עבודה זרה והללו עובדי עבודה זרה—“What distinguishes these from the Egyptians? Both serve idols!” Indeed, Reb Tzadok haKohen of Lublin, zt”l, taught (Pri Tzaddik, Pesach, no. 24): “It is known that at the time of the Exodus of the Jewish people from Egypt, there was not one distinction between them and the Egyptians, as the verse states: ‘A nation from within a nation,’” (Devarim, 4:34). Yet even there, mired within the darkness of exile, the Ribbono shel Olam revealed and even “celebrated” our true identity as, “Bni bechori Yisrael—Yisrael, My firstborn child.”
Ze’ev Jabotinsky was a Russian Jewish Revisionist Zionist leader, author, activist and poet. Passionate about his people, Jabotinsky helped spearhead a struggle to recover a sense of Jewish national pride, self-esteem, freedom and nobility, and actively participated in the struggle to reclaim our Homeland. “Shir Beitar”—an anthem penned by Jabotinsky, expresses the attributes of self-respect, integrity, loyalty and pride, as well as “hadar,” a term not easily translated.
This hymn inspired the Beitar fighters in the Warsaw Ghetto uprising and in the revolt against British occupation in Eretz Yisrael: “Hadar, ‘Splendor’ / Even in poverty a Jew is a prince / Whether slave or tramp, You have been created as ‘ben Melech,’ the child of kings / Crowned with the diadem of David. Whether in light or in darkness / Always remember your crown / The crown of pride.”
It is true—at the time of our redemption from Mitzrayim, we, Am Yisrael, lacked both merit and righteous deeds, and we were extricated from amid the Egyptians as a “goy m’kerev goy—a nation from within a nation,” barely distinct from our captors. We were saved not because of our deservedness, but as a result of Hashem’s kindness and love—as a result of who we are.
Reb Tzadok continues: “It is only that the Ribbono Shel Olam desired them and swore to redeem them, and in His great mercy He appeared from within the depth of their hearts in all His holiness, without any preparation on their part, until he took them out of Egypt.”
While we certainly must do our best to fulfil our obligations and strive to be worthy of the great covenant and inheritance of a “chosen nation,” the parshiyos in which we relive our lowest moments are invitations to remember that our salvation depends on how we see ourselves. Even when, on the surface, we seem indistinguishable from our Egyptian oppressors or the local Polish handyman, we Yidden are bnei Melachim, and יוֹרֵשׁ כַּרְעֵיהּ דַּאֲבוּהּ הוּא—“an inheritor is (inseparable) like a limb of his father,” (Eruvin 70b).
May the Ribbono shel Olam bless us to recognize who we really are, and who others really are—and יֵירָאֶה אֶל עֲבָדֶיךָ פָּעֳלֶיךָ וַהֲדָרְךָ עַל בְּנֵיהֶם—“May Your deeds be revealed upon your servants, and Your ‘Hadar’ upon Your children!” (Tehillim, 90:16).
Rabbi Judah Mischel is executive director of Camp HASC, the Hebrew Academy for Special Children. He is the mashpiah of OU-NCSY, founder of Tzama Nafshi and the author of “Baderech: Along the Path of Teshuva.” Rabbi Judah lives in Ramat Beit Shemesh with his wife Ora and their family.
