הִלֵּל וְשַׁמַּאי קִבְּלוּ מֵהֶם. הִלֵּל אוֹמֵר, הֱוֵי מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַהֲרֹן, אוֹהֵב שָׁלוֹם וְרוֹדֵף שָׁלוֹם, אוֹהֵב אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת וּמְקָרְבָן לַתּוֹרָה:
The Scourge of Machklokes: Fights, Divorces, and the Pursuit of Shalom, A Conversation with Dayan Aharon Dovid Dunner
Debrecener Rov 5:55 mark
Rav Elyashiv 10:00 mark
Rav Salanter 12:45 mark
Rav Shmuelevitz 15:00
Baal Shem Tov 15:40
Rav Genachofsky
https://agudah.org/torah-perspectives
About 30 years ago, an American rabbi visiting Miami, Florida gave a lecture on the life and accomplishments of the famed "Chafetz Chaim" (Rabbi Israel Meir HaCohen Kagan, 1838-1933). He described the life of the great sage who lived a humble life as a shopkeeper in the village of Radin, in Poland, yet was recognized throughout the Jewish world as a great scholar, tzaddik (righteous person) and leader.
There was another story the rabbi wanted to tell, but he hesitated, for he only knew part of it. As he stood at the lectern, he thought for a moment and then decided that he would tell it anyway. He rationalized that even an unfinished story about the Chafetz Chaim would have a meaningful message.
He began to relate an incident about a teenage boy in the Chafetz Chaim's yeshiva who was found smoking a cigarette on Shabbat — the sacred day of rest. The faculty and student body were shocked, and some of the faculty felt that the boy should be expelled. However, when the Chafetz Chaim heard the story, he asked that the boy be brought to his home.
At this point, the rabbi interrupted the narrative and said, "I don't know what the Chafetz Chaim said to the boy. I only know that they were together for a few minutes. I would give anything to know what he said to this student, for I am told that the boy never desecrated the Shabbat again. How wonderful it would be if we could relay that message — whatever it was — to others, in order to encourage them in their observance of Shabbat." The rabbi then continued with his lecture.
After his talk, the hall emptied of everyone except for one elderly man, who remained in his seat, alone with his thoughts. From the distance, it seemed he was trembling, as if he was either crying or suffering from chills. The rabbi walked over to the elderly man and asked him, "Is anything wrong?"
The man responded, "Where did you hear that story of the cigarette on Shabbat?" He did not look up and was still shaken. "I really don't know," answered the rabbi. "I heard it a while ago and I don't even remember who told it to me." The man looked up at the rabbi and said softly, "I was that boy." He then asked the rabbi to go outside, and as the two walked together, he told the rabbi the following story:
"This incident occurred in the 1920's when the Chafetz Chaim was in his eighties. I was terrified to have to go into his house and face him. But when I did go into his home, I looked around with disbelief at the poverty in which he lived. It was unimaginable to me that a man of his stature would be satisfied to live in such surroundings.
"Suddenly he was in the room where I was waiting. He was remarkably short. At that time I was a teenager and he only came up to my shoulders. He took my hand and clasped it tenderly in both of his. He brought my hand in his own clasped hands up to his face, and when I looked into his soft face, his eyes were closed for a moment.
"When he opened them, they were filled with tears. He then said to me in a hushed voice full of pain and astonishment, 'Shabbat!' And he started to cry. He was still holding both my hands in his, and while he was crying he repeated with astonishment, 'Shabbat, the holy Shabbat!'
"My heart started pounding and I became more frightened than I had been before. Tears streamed down his face and one of them rolled onto my hand. I thought it would bore a hole right through my skin. When I think of that tear today, I can still feel its heat. I can't describe how awful it felt to know that I had made the great tzaddik weep. But in his rebuke — which consisted only of those few words — I felt that he was not angry, but rather sad and fearful. He seemed frightened at the consequences of my actions."
The elderly man then caressed the hand that bore the invisible scar of a precious tear. It had become his permanent reminder to observe the "holy Shabbat" for the rest of his
The third story was told by Rav Mordechai Shapira in 1986 at the Agudah convention. Rav Shapira said that there was a bachur who wasn’t keeping Shabbos properly. He was sent to speak to the Chofetz Chaim. He only spent five minutes with the Chofetz Chaim, but it changed his life. He became motivated to keep Shabbos meticulously and eventually this young man became a talmid chacham.
Rav Shapira asked, “What could he have said in five minutes to change that boy’s life?” Later, a man with a long white beard, who was attending the convention, approached Rav Shapira and told him, “I was that bachur. I will tell you what he said.” The Chofetz Chaim was sitting there and he was crying. He took this young man’s hand and a tear fell from the Chofetz Chaim and landed on the young man’s hand. Then the Chofetz Chaim repeated, “Shabbos! Shabbos! Shabbos!” The man with the long white beard concluded, “I can still feel the tear of the Chofetz Chaim on my hand. After that, I said I have to keep Shabbos.” This love from the Chofetz Chaim changed his life forever.
"the words of the wise are heard when they are spoken gently" - Koheles, 9:17
The Chafetz Chaim, zl, would travel from village to village selling his seforim. He was once in Vilna where he noticed a man enter a restaurant and in a gruff, insolent voice demand a piece of roast duck and a glass of whiskey. When the waitress served him, he quickly grabbed the portion.Without reciting a berachah, he gulped down his food and washed it down with his glass of whiskey. No thank you, no berachah, no menshlichkeit - whatsoever. The Chafetz Chaim was shocked at this display of uncouth, beastly behavior.
The innkeeper, seeing the Chafetz Chaim's shock, dissuaded him from saying anything to the man, claiming that he was a veteran of Czar Nikolai's Army. He had been taken from his home as a child and conscripted to Siberia and other miserable outposts for forty years. It was no wonder that he acted like such an untamed animal. He had not been in a civilized environment for most of his life. He never saw a Jew, let alone a tzaddik, such as the Chafetz Chaim. "Please Rebbe," the innkeeper begged, "ignore him. It is not befitting the Rebbe's dignity to speak to him. He will only act with disrespect and impudence towards the Rebbe."
"Do not worry about me," the Chafetz Chaim smiled. "I know how to speak to such a Jew. Trust me, good will yet emerge from our encounter."
The Chafetz Chaim approached the soldier, stuck out his hand and - in a friendly voice - said, "Shalom Aleichem, Is it true what I just heard about you: that as a young boy you were forcibly taken from your home and sent together with other youngsters to Siberia? You were raised among the gentiles, who many times had sought to estrange you from your religion. You never had the opportunity to study one word of Torah. You underwent many painful trials and tribulations. You were forced to eat non-kosher food. Indeed, you suffered the vicissitudes of Gehinom, Purgatory, on this world. Yet, you did not renege your religion. Despite all of your sufferings, you still remained a Jew. You are indeed fortunate. If I could only be worthy of your portion in Olam Habah, the World to Come. Your mesiras nefesh, self-sacrifice, for Judaism is unparalleled. To have suffered for almost forty years and to still identify with the religion of your ancestors is nothing short of incredible."
The Chafetz Chaim finished speaking. He looked into the eyes of the soldier who was shedding bitter tears - tears that emanated from a pure heart. When he was notified who it was that was speaking to him, he grabbed hold of the saintly Chafetz Chaim and kissed him, as he wailed bitterly for forgiveness for a life that was empty of religion, ethics and morals.
The Chafetz Chaim turned to him and said, "Someone such as you, who has sustained so much and remained a Jew - if you would only accept upon yourself from here on to observe the Torah and mitzvos, your eternal reward would be boundless." Needless to say, the Chafetz Chaim's unique approach to rebuke proved effective and the soldier became an observant Jew, fully committed to the Torah way of life.
As the Chofetz Chaim traveled around Poland and Russia to sell his works, he entered an inn in Vilna and beheld a disturbing sight. A burly young man was about to devour a hen that lay on his plate roasted and stuffed. A tall stein stood next to the succulent fowl, its rim flowing with cold brew. All of a sudden the man picked up the entire hen and stuffed it into his mouth. He washed down his meal with a giant gulp of beer, leaving the stein nearly empty. The Chofetz Chaim had never seen a Jewish person eat like that, let alone with out a bracha (blessing before food)!
He turned to the innkeeper and inquired, “Tell me a little about this man, I’d like to talk to him.”
“Oh!” smirked the host while waving his hand in disgust. “There’s nobody to talk to. This young man never learned a day in his life. The cantonists captured him when he was eleven and he served in the Russian army for 15 years. He hardly observes any mitzvos. It’s amazing that he even eats kosher!” Then he smiled. “But I’m sure I can count on him for a three-course meal every Thursday night!”
The Chofetz Chaim was neither shocked nor amused. He simply walked over to the former soldier and shook, his greasy hand warmly. After a warm greeting the Chofetz Chaim introduced himself and spoke. “I heard that you actually survived the cruel Russian army of Czar Nikolai and you never were raised amongst your people. I am sure that many times the terrible officers tried to convert you or at least force you to eat non-kosher. Yet you remained a steadfast Jew!” Tears welled in the Chofetz Chaim’s eyes as he continued talking.
“I only wish that I that I would be guaranteed a place in the World-to-Come as you will be. What strength! What fortitude! You have withstood harsher tests than sages of old.”
The soldier looked up from his plate and tears welled in his eyes too. He leaned over and kissed the hand of the elderly sage. Then the Chofetz Chaim continued. “I am sure that if you get yourself a teacher and continue your life as a true Torah-observant Jew, there will be no one in this world who is as fortunate as you!”
According to the biographer of the Chofetz Chaim, Rabbi M. M. Yasher, the soldier became a pupil of the Chofetz Chaim, and eventually became an outstanding tzadik (righteous Jew).