Something Further
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Something Further
Harav Y. Reuven Rubin Shlita
Yiddish is a special language. Its words, idioms, expressions and thoughts – no matter how hard you try, you will never be able to translate them and capture the essence of their message. This is because Yiddish is the language of the Yidden. It is not Lashon Hakodesh, which is the language of Hashem. But it is the language of His people and as such, it is hard to take something that comes from the inner heart of this holy nation and put it into simple words.
One unique expression of this holy language is “a gutte Yid,” used to describe a person that is extremely spiritual and close to Hashem’s. It was used in describing Rebbes and other holy personages in Poland and fell into disuse after the churban in Europe. The title may have been forgotten by many, but never the concept, for throughout our history, the Jewish nation has survived only because such souls existed. If one reads the stories of those past times, one will find gutte Yidden throughout and by their actions, learn how holiness is meant to be lived in this mortal and material place.
Some sceptics of our times might ask, “How does one apply for this particular position?” The answer is that you cannot; it comes to those who least seek it.
Instead of trying to figure out how one ascends to such a high level, it would be wiser to discuss what such souls are capable of.
In the times of the Maggid of Chernobyl there broke out a plague in a nearby Jewish community. The Rebbe could not rest until he found someone who would take him to that wretched place so that he could bring some kind of comfort. A secular journalist of those times wrote about what he saw and I share some of his words with you.
“The reader will well know that I am a proud secularist and that I have little time for these antique remnants, the Chassidim and their old-fashioned ideas. However, last night I saw the Rebbe from Chernobyl and the experience has shocked me to the core. The Rebbe is a short, thin man with a white beard. He has the saddest yet sweetest eyes I have ever seen and there seems to be a smile on his lips that never cease praying quietly. He came to our stricken town with a mission; he would offer strength and dignity to the many sick and dying and somehow strengthen everyone at their own level. Did he succeed? I’m not sure, but one thing I can say, I never thought I would ever say I believe in human angels! But to have seen this little old man sit with the weary and broken, to have watched as he took their pain and made it his own, to have seen his total connection with every broken heart, is to have witnessed a truly angelic act!”
The gutte Yid takes the pain and makes it his, and in this way, he allows the stricken to gain comfort. We have seen this in our generation as well. Imagine the manner in which our tzaddikim renewed the horror-stricken Yidden that had survived the death camps? They were able not only to help but also to actually reshape broken souls, and they did this by becoming one with their pain. I remember seeing the Bobover Rebbe, Rebbe Shlomo, zy”a, on Kol Nidrei night many years ago. A Yid who had survived the camps had become stricken with a deadly disease and had to have his voice box removed. This sickly Jew came to daven in the Rav’s beis midrash that holy night. And as the Rav went around the shul holding a sefer Torah, chanting Ohr Zaru’a Latzaddik … he came upon this weeping soul. The Rav embraced him whilst still holding the sefer, creating a trio of kedusha – the tzaddik, the broken Yid and Hashem’s holy Word. We then witnessed what can only be considered the opening of all the gates of tears and anguish as the Rav cried and sobbed with the sighing man who had no voice. This was the stuff of a gutte Yid. The Rav was absorbing the man’s fear and pain and giving voice to them.
In this week’s Haftora, Elisha gives us the template of what it is that a tzaddik or a gutte Yid does. He is there for a destitute widow that others have seemingly turned their backs on. Later, we are told of his giving a bracha to an infertile woman and how she is soon blessed with a child. However, the poor woman faces greater sorrow when the very same child dies. She runs to the one light that has been constant in her world, the gutte Yid, the man of G-d. She lays the dead body on his bed and leaves. We then learn how Elisha brings the child back to life. He physically gives of his own energy into the child, expending his own life force for the sake of this youngster.
The man of G-d is ready to go beyond the natural forces of this world; he accepts no borders when it comes to helping his fellow man.
Elisha bonds with the dead child with such selflessness that he, in fact, does the impossible and soon is able to return the child to his mother, alive and thriving.
Where does such a powerful ability come from? How is it that a tzaddik can so overturn the natural world?
The Torah tells us of the first Jew, in fact, the first gutte Yid as well. Avraham shows us the blueprint to all that would follow. This first Jew shines forth in the darkness with his overwhelming compassion for others. In this week’s parasha, we see him sitting at the doorway of his tent. He has just undergone a traumatic operation, his own bris, at such an advanced age. Hashem is visiting him, being mevaker choleh, if you will. In the middle of this conversation, Avraham gets up and runs out to extend hospitality to some dusty nomads. This is awesome! Here, the man is speaking to Hashem, yet he breaks off his conversation to help some unknown shleppers!
Chazal teach us that in fact Avraham’s physical body was so attuned to others’ needs that it lifted itself up towards these strangers even before Avraham could consider if such was in fact the right course to take. Avraham’s ability to care for others, to the extent that his very body worked accordingly, was ingrained into the future generations. It was this that Elisha possessed and it is this that makes it possible for our Sages to act in the way they do. Our Torah history is replete with such huge loving and giving neshamos, souls that would give their own essence away for another soul in need.
Our world today little understands such things. In a place where success is measured by the money in one’s bank or the size of one’s house, it is hard to accept that the man of G-d still exists. But we Torah Yidden do know and we should realise how blessed we are that we have in this darkness such sources of illumination.