The Apter Rav, Rav Avraham Yehoshua Hershel, was one of the greatest tzaddikim who lived in his generation. He was a gadol with a warm and generous heart, and he sincerely felt along with other Jews who were experiencing pain or challenges. He always had a kind word to say about another, and was famed for his ahavas Yisrael.
While he became known as the Apter Rav later on in life, he served as a rav even as a young man. At the time, he was in his low twenties and newly married to a very special woman. His young rebbetzin possessed a strong love of Torah, and she wanted nothing more than to allow her husband to toil in his avodas Hashem without any other cares on his mind. She accepted full responsibility for the running of their household while he immersed himself completely in Torah and leading the community.
The rav was an outstanding masmid who would learn day and night without interruption, sustaining on the barest minimum of food. While to the general public, he appeared to be living a regular life, in truth, he went to great lengths to refrain from materialistic enjoyment. Even things that were necessities to others – like feeling full and being warm – were luxuries that he avoided.
Shabbos, however, was different.
Shabbos was the spiritual highpoint of the rav’s week, one that he would prepare for from almost the moment he made Havdalah. In honor of Shabbos, the Apter Rav would partake fully in the Shabbos seudos, while spending the rest of the holy day immersed in the higher realms. He would stay up the entire Friday night, learning or leading a tisch for his students, and the entire Shabbos day was spent in a similar fashion.
And while Shabbos was a day saturated with tremendous holiness, it was also the only time when the rav, despite his asceticism, would nurture his body with filling meals. This wasn’t Olam Hazeh, but spirituality – food likavod Shabbos! The rebbetzin would prepare beautiful seudos for Shabbos, replete with delicious meat and fish, fresh challah and wine, giving her husband the energy for the intense spiritual exercises he participated in all Shabbos.
Every Thursday, the rebbetzin would go down to the marketplace to purchase the ingredients she needed to cook for Shabbos, a task she fulfilled with love and joy. Loaded with packages, she would return home and spend the afternoon mixing and measuring. The home would be filled with delicious smells heralding the approaching Shabbos.
One wet and blustery Thursday, the rebbetzin was in the marketplace doing her weekly shopping when she noticed that the fishmongers’ stalls were all empty. Normally, they were bustling with activity on Thursday, but now, the fishermen were chatting quietly behind their bare booths.
“Excuse me?” the rebbetzin called gently, approaching their table.
“Ah, rebbetzin,” one of the gentile fishermen greeted her, recognizing her. “I’m so sorry, but there is no fish today.” He made an apologetic gesture at the sky. “The weather is bad, and none of us were comfortable venturing out into the water in this kind of storm.”
“No fish?” her face registered disbelief. How could it be there was no fish on Thursday afternoon? What would be with Shabbos?
“Sorry, rebbetzin. Hopefully next week,” he replied, trying to sound helpful.
The rebbetzin looked around the marketplace. The fisherman had been telling the truth. People were hurrying through the rain, purchasing other items, but there was no fish being sold in the market that day.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted Shachna, a poor Jewish fisherman, on the other side of the square. Shachna, too, appeared empty handed, but she hoped that he would be able to help her anyway. Perhaps, if he knew that the rav wanted fish in honor of Shabbos, he would be willing to assist her in procuring some.
“I’m so sorry, rebbetzin, but there is no fish this week,” Shachna told her when she neared, even before she had time to ask.
“Please?” she tried pleading. “Fish for Shabbos means so much to the rav. I’m willing to pay anything. Would you be willing to go down to the river to catch a fish or two for the rav? Please?”
Shachna pursed his lips. “Rebbetzin, I don’t think you understand what you are asking. The weather is really bad. It’s hazardous to go fishing in such weather. I would love to help the rav, but it’s not really feasible.”
“Maybe you can find people to help you?” the rebbetzin suggested. “A few young, strong gentiles who wouldn’t mind a dangerous challenge? I’ll make it worth it for you. I’ll pay you a month’s worth of wages. Please, just do me this favor.” She took out a pile of bills and handed it to the fishmonger.
Shachna fingered the money, somewhat hesitant. He greatly desired to help the rav, even without such a large incentive, and the extra money would be very welcome in his cash-strapped household. On the other hand, he was reluctant to take so much money from the rebbetzin for a few fish, and it really was bad weather…
“Please, you are doing me a huge favor,” the rebbetzin reminded him. “Take the money and enjoy it fully. It’s what a fish is worth on a stormy day like today.”
“Wait here, and I will see what I can do for you,” Shachna told her. He rounded up a few young gentiles loitering in the square, paying them each a few cents to join him in the venture. While it would not be easy to fish with wind gusts like the ones they were experiencing, he would merit to help the rav and earn a nice bonus on the side.
Indeed, the fishing expedition was extremely challenging. It was not before three hours that Shachna and the other men returned, their hair windswept, their clothing completely drenched. But they were carrying two large fish aloft like trophies as they went to show the rebbetzin what they managed to procure for her.
“Thank you so much!” the rebbetzin cried gratefully as she saw what the men were carrying. It was nearly dark. They had been gone the entire afternoon.
“It was not easy, but it was worth it, for the rav,” Shachna said, preparing his knife to clean the fish for her. She stood by the stall and watched as he deftly sliced the fish and removed the bones.
At that moment, a horse and carriage pulled up, and Baila, the wife of the town’s wealthiest man, descended from within the closed carriage. “I’m here to buy fish,” she announced to Shachna, who was in the midst of wrapping up the rebbetzin’s two fish.
“I’m so sorry, but there are no fish,” Shachna said regretfully. “It was too stormy today to fish. Take a look around, the fishmongers are all empty. We don’t have fish to sell.”
Baila looked accusingly at the wrapped parcels in his hands. “But you do have fish,” she pointed out.
“These fish belong to this woman here,” Shachna explained, handing the packages to the rebbetzin. “She paid a lot of money for them.”
“And who are you?” Baila sniffed at the rebbetzin, pulling her fur scarf tighter around her shoulders haughtily. “Why do you get to have the only fish in the market?”
“Excuse me, but that’s the rebbetzin you are talking to,” Shachna interrupted. “You can’t just talk to her like that. She’s the wife of the rav of the town!”
“Well, do you know who I am?” Baila demanded. “I am the wife of R’ Asher, the richest man in town. We have a lot of guests coming this Shabbos, and we need fish.”
The rebbetzin just stood there silently, listening to the wealthy woman’s rant and allowing the fishmonger to cover for her. “You can’t talk like this to the rav’s wife!” he hissed furiously at Baila. “She paid a tremendous amount of money and she hired fishermen to personally fish for her so that the rav can have fish for Shabbos. She waited for a few hours in this terrible wind for the fish. I understand that you also want fish, but the fish is hers, not yours.”
“Not my fish, huh?” Baila snorted, marching over to where the rebbetzin was standing. With one yank, she grabbed the packages out of the rebbetzin’s hands. “My husband supports this entire town. We own ninety-percent of the businesses in this town. Everything belongs to me! And you say that I can’t have fish!”
The rebbetzin was too shocked to respond. Her face, which had paled as she listened to the entire exchange, turned even whiter.
“I hope you realize the difference between my husband and hers,” Baila announced to the fishmonger as she stalked toward her waiting carriage with the rebbetzin’s fish. “We are distinguished people, and they are nothing but peasants. She married a rav, but what kind of home did she come from? And do you know just how wealthy of a home I came from? Just realize who you are dealing with before you make decisions on who deserves the fish.”
She reached into her purse and took out a handful of coins, which she flung at the floor near the rebbetzin. “This is for you, payment for the fish,” she said before climbing into her carriage and riding off.
The people around Shachna’s stall were utterly still. No one knew what to say. The rebbetzin was still rooted to the same spot, weeping softly, and they all looked away uncomfortably. They all knew that Baila was wrong, and that she had committed a terrible misdeed against the rebbetzin, but they had all been to cowardly to try to stop her.
It was with empty hands that the rebbetzin returned home from the marketplace after being there the entire afternoon. Her cheeks were damp, and she could not stop crying. The rav, swaying in front of a sefer, looked up in alarm when she entered the house. “What happened?”
“I rather not talk about it,” the rebbetzin said stiffly. She desperately wanted to tell him everything that happened, to pour out her heart and describe what she’d endured, but she didn’t want to speak lashon hara.
“Did you get what you needed for Shabbos?” he asked gently.
That did it. The dam burst again, and a torrent of tears flooded from her eyes. The rebbetzin tried to speak, but found that she couldn’t. She sobbed and sobbed while her husband stood there, looking at her compassionately.
“I waited for hours in the marketplace,” she finally managed to say. “There was no fish, and I paid an exorbitant sum for the fishermen to go to the river in this weather just for me. I had to wait for hours until they returned, and finally, when I had the wrapped fish in my hands and was about to leave, a woman came and grabbed it away from me.”
“I don’t understand,” the rav said. “She just walked over to you and took away the fish?”
“She’s the wife of the richest man in town, and she couldn’t handle not having fish,” the rebbetzin explained, wiping her eyes. “In her own words, she and her husband are distinguished people deserving of fish, and everything in this town belongs to them. We, in her opinion, are just peasants. She came over to me and pulled the fish away. Oh, and she threw me some coins to cover the cost.”
The rav, hearing his wife’s report, was very disturbed. He was not a man who desired honor, but shaming a talmid chacham is akin to shaming the Torah itself, and one may not be mochel on the kavod of the Torah. “Tomorrow, I will take care of it,” he promised her.
The next morning, after davening, the rav’s trusted assistant came over as he did daily. “Is there anything I can do for the rav today?” he inquired.
“Thank you, Leib,” the rav responded. He briefly recounted the previous day’s fish episode and then gave his assistant instructions on how to proceed. “I would like you to go to the home of the wealthy R’ Asher. I want you to speak to R’ Asher himself, not his wife. Tell him the story, and that you would like him to return the fish. If he obeys, take the fish and leave.”
“And if he refuses to give it back to me?” Leib wanted to know.
“If he refuses, then you should tell him that his wife’s neshama is rotten to the core, and she does many aveiros,” the rav said. “I don’t care who is in the room when you break him this news. If he doesn’t want to give back the fish, that is what you have to tell him.”
Leib took a step back, gaping at the rav. “I can’t!” he squeaked. “How can I tell R’ Asher, to his face, such terrible things about his wife? He’ll ruin me for sure! Rebbe, I can’t undertake this mission.”
“I am using my authority as rav and commanding you to go,” the rav said firmly. “You may say it in my name if it makes it easier, but I insist that you go now.”
Leib swallowed the protests rising in his throat and nodded slowly. He was not the confrontational sort, but he realized that he did not have a choice. Squaring his shoulders resolutely, he made his way by foot to the stately residence of R’ Asher.
As he neared the large mansion, he saw a row of wagons and carriages parked outside the house. Leib’s heart sunk. Not only would R’ Asher’s many servants be around, but it appeared that the house was full of many guests. There would be a lot of ears around to witness what could become a very embarrassing exchange between himself and the wealthy man. He began davening desperately for the courage to fulfill the mission he’d received from the rav.
A servant answered the door on his first knock, a polite expression on his face. “How can I help you?”
“I need to speak with R’ Asher,” Leib replied, stepping inside.
“I’m sorry, sir, but he’s in middle of an important meeting now with fifteen askanim from the community,” the servant apologized. “He cannot be disturbed now.”
“But I need to meet with him urgently,” Leib said, locking gazes with the servant. “I have a very important message from the Apter Rav.”
“I understand that you have business with R’ Asher, but you will need to return later,” the servant said, still in that same polite tone. “He’s unavailable at the moment.”
Leib realized that the only way he would manage to speak to R’ Asher would be if he took matter into his own hands. It was totally against his nature, but it was what he needed to do. Sidestepping the well-mannered servant, he marched straight down the hallway on his volition, following the sounds to the room where the meeting was taking place.
“Sir, sir, you can’t just barge in!” the servant called frantically after him, but Leib just ignored him. He turned the doorknob and walked in on the meeting.
Fifteen pairs of eyes glanced up at him when he entered, but they were in middle of discussing something heatedly, and no one deemed his presence important enough to stop the meeting. As the men around the table continued their vigorous discussion, Leib made his way to the head of the table where R’ Asher was sitting and quietly asked to speak to him.
R’ Asher scraped back his chair in surprise. “Who are you?” he asked. “What do you want?”
“I’m the assistant of the rav,” Leib said, keeping his voice low. He hoped that he would be able to complete his mission with as little fanfare as possible.
R’ Asher stood up, his facing showing extreme displeasure. “I’m in middle of a meeting now, in case you can’t tell. How dare you barge in here and interrupt!” His hand reached out and slapped Leib across the cheek.
The room hushed instantly. All fifteen men around the table observed the pair curiously, wondering what was going on.
Leib sighed. The curious attention of the entire meeting would not make things easier. “I’m here on a mission from the rav, who sent me to request that you return the fish that your wife took away from the rebbetzin yesterday,” he said carefully.
“You came because of fish?!” the wealthy man bellowed, his voice a mix of anger and incredulity.
Hearing the word “fish”, the woman of the house poked her head into the room. “What’s this all about?” she inquired sharply.
Leib turned to her. “I’m here on a mission from the rav. He wants you to return his fish.”
“Are you crazy?” Baila hissed. “Get out of here while you still can! How dare you barge in here on Friday morning and demand our Shabbos fish!”
R’ Asher’s face was a deep crimson, and he seemed ready to pounce. Leib began trembling, realizing that he had no choice but continue on to the next part of his mission. “Please, forgive me, it’s not me,” he said in a very small voice. “I’m here on behalf of the rav, and he instructed that this is what I must do. If you aren’t willing to return the fish, I will have to say something else.”
Both Baila and R’ Asher began to yell angrily, incensed at his brazen threat. But they were not ready to return the fish, so Leib was compelled to continue. “The rav says that I must tell you that while your wife might appear righteous, in truth she does terrible aveiros,” he told R’ Asher, in front of his wife and the fifteen members of the meeting.
Baila’s face turned red when she heard the accusation against her, and she began cursing the rav’s assistant with every possible bad thing she could think of. Her husband stood there, his face rapidly changing colors as shame, shock, and anger rolled over him. The men around the conference table lowered their eyes in discomfort, unable to look at their host.
When Baila was done with her tirade, she whirled on her husband. “Are you going to let him get away with it?” she demanded. “He barges in here and spews libels about me, and you’re just letting him get away with it?!”
Leib, realizing that he was in real danger, bolted from the room and ran out of the house before anything could happen to him. A few minutes later, he was back in the rav’s home, still shaking from the experience, but the mission was behind him.
Back in R’ Asher’s home, the wealthy man soon regained his equilibrium. “We can’t allow such talk,” he declared to the other members of the meeting. “I insist that we dismiss the rav and hire someone else. How can he defame someone just because he wants fish? Is such a person even worthy of being a rav? There’s no way he can remain in his position.”
The askanim were in a quandary. They understood that the rav was truly a great tzaddik and a mekubal, and that the fish wasn’t the heart of the story, but a minute detail. At the same time, R’ Asher was the most influential man in town, and they were afraid to stand up to his wishes.
“It’s decided then,” R’ Asher declared. “He’s no longer the rav of the town. When he comes to shul, we will not stand up for him. I will sit in his seat for now. After Shabbos, we’ll figure out who to appoint as the new rav.”
Word of the incident spread quickly throughout the village. Most people who knew Baila and her difficult personality were not shocked by the accusations, but they were powerless to stop the powerful R’ Asher from having his way.
The rav never davened in the main bais medrash on Friday nights. Instead, he held a small minyan in his home. On Shabbos morning, his personal minyan would convene again until krias haTorah, and then they would join the crowd in shul for the rest of the davening.
That week, as he walked into shul, the people remained tethered to their seats, terrified to defy R’ Asher. However, when they saw the steely look in the rav’s eyes, they became afraid of disrespecting him. Despite R’ Asher’s threats, they all stood up for the rav’s honor.
The rav walked to the front of the room and found R’ Asher sitting in his seat. R’ Asher, too, grew frightened by the look in the rav’s eyes, and he quickly moved over to let the rav reclaim his seat.
It only took a minute for him to reclaim his senses. “Excuse me,” he called loudly. “I insist that we protest right here and now for the sake of my wife’s honor. The rav defamed my wife, and if he doesn’t’ ask us forgiveness, we will have no recourse but to send him away from town.”
Seven other community leaders stood up to side with R’ Asher. “The rav can’t spread false rumors about someone,” they stated firmly. “We can’t have a rav that takes revenge on people by ruining their good name. Either the rav takes back his words, or he is no longer welcome as rav.”
The rav stood up. “Don’t you know that I would never lie?” he asked quietly. “If I said something, it was true.”
“If it’s true, then the rav should prove it,” someone called out from within the crowd.
“I will prove it,” the rav agreed. “But not today, not on Shabbos. After Shabbos, I will bring witnesses to prove that I am telling the truth. Whoever would like to come and see for himself is welcome.”
From the woman’s section above, Baila began screaming angrily in protest. It got so loud that she had to be physically carried out of the shul so that they could continue davening.
The rest of Shabbos proceeded normally.
On Sunday morning, after davening, the rav left his house wearing his tallis and tefillin. He walked with a cane, a sign of distinction in those days, his eyes closed, his trusted assistant guiding him along the streets. When they reached the beis din, the room was packed from wall to wall with spectators. Everyone wanted to see the rav’s proof with their own eyes.
The only one who was not present was Baila herself. While she arrogantly assumed that the rav would have no way of proving his words, she did not want to subject herself to humiliation on the small chance that he would manage to do so. However, the rav did not give her a choice. He sent someone to call her and waited for her to arrive before beginning.
Once Baila arrived, the rav asked for a volunteer to curtain off a small corner of the room. In the meantime, he sent his gabbai to the cemetery, ordering him to bang on graves and call neshamos to the beis din. Everyone in the room sucked in their breaths, waiting to see what would happen next.
A few minutes later, Leib returned. As far as everyone could see, he was alone. There were no dead figures or otherworldly characters accompanying him.
But then the rav stood up and began to speak in the direction of the curtain. In a thundering voice, he called on the neshamos to bear witness to Baila’s deeds. “Testify before the crowd, here and now, exactly what you saw this woman do,” he commanded.
To the shock of all those present, real voices began to speak from behind the curtain. They were voices that many of them even recognized. The voices belonged to people who had already passed away, and one by one, they testified about sins they had personally witnessed Baila committing.
The accused had nothing to say to defend herself. Having been pushed against the wall by the testimonies of souls who had already passed away, Baila had no choice but to admit to her guilt. In a tearful voice, she admitted that they were correct.
Her husband, hearing her admission, felt faint. It was difficult for him to digest that his wife, whom he had always thought possessed yiras shamayim, was guilty of harsh sins. In addition, he himself was guilty of trampling on the honor of the rav, or accusing him of libel, or refusing to show him the respect he deserved. Devastated by these realizations, he began to weep, begging the rav to forgive him and to help him atone for his wrongdoings.
The rav agreed to give both Baila and her husband a path to atonement, which involved exile. The most powerful couple in town, the wealthy R’ Asher and his wife left the village in shame. It was a very painful fall from the high place where they’d once stood, yet they knew that they deserved it and were eager to work on themselves while there was still time in This World to do so.
Later, the Apter Rav was asked how he knew that Baila was not the righteous woman she tried to portray herself to be.
“She intentionally and publicly shamed another person,” the Apter Rav responded simply. “And it is clear to me that someone who has no problem spilling another Jew’s blood like that simply must be rotten to the core.”
Have a Wonderful Shabbos!
This story is taken from tape # A412