This story is from the Midrash.
There was Taana in the times of the Gemara named Reb Reuven who was blessed with the ability to overturn heavenly decrees with his tefillos. His powerful prayers, laced with tears and genuine feeling, carried extraordinary weight in Shamayim, and no bitter decree could remain standing in the face of them.
How was it that Reb Reuven’s tefillos were so powerful?
Reb Reuven was a very likeable man, and all those he came in contact with were immediately drawn to him. He knew how to make others feel good, and he went out of his way to do so, even when it meant sacrificing his own comforts and desires. And because he was mevater on his own desires to please others, Hashem in return would give up His desires to please Reb Reuven.
Young and old, the erudite and the ignorant all appreciated Reb Reuven’s personality and wisdom. Even the Angel of Death himself liked Reb Reuven, and the two spent a lot of time together exchanging explanations on Tanach.
One day, the Malach Hamaves informed Reb Reuven that there was a heavenly decree against his son, a young boy with a very special soul. “I have a mission to take him away,” he told the distraught father.
Reb Reuven immediately tried to daven, hoping to save his son, but he found himself getting tongue-tied. Apparently, Hashem didn’t want the tzaddik’s tefillos interfering with His plans, and Reb Reuven was unable to daven.
The Malach Hamaves appeared a while later, an angel on a mission. “I am here to take your son,” he explained.
“Please, do me a favor,” Reb Reuven pleaded. “Give me thirty days. Push off the decree for another thirty days, so that my young son can first get married.”
The Angel of Death agreed, and Reb Reuven hastened to arrange a shidduch for the child. He did not tell his wife or son about his conversation with the Malach Hamaves, and did not disclose the reason for his sudden decision to marry off his son.
A kallah was found, a wedding date was arranged, and a home was built from scratch for the young couple to live in after their marriage. It was a joyous time for the young chassan and his family, who were completely unaware of the terrible threat hanging over his head.
On the day of the wedding, Reb Reuven handed his son a basket of fragrant hadassim. In those days, people were invited to a wedding with a sweet-smelling hadas, which they then used to dance around the chassan. “Take this basket of hadassim and go invite the people of the city, including the elders,” he instructed his son.
The child swung the basket onto his arm and skipped from home to home, inviting all their friends and relatives, along with the city’s elders and tzaddikim, to participate in the simchah they would be celebrating that evening. The pile of hadassim in his basket slowly dwindled as more and more people were invited.
As he capered across an empty field in the direction of more homes, he encountered Eliyahu Hanavi, who had something important to tell him. “Tonight, you are supposed to die.”
The shocked child gaped at the figure before him wordlessly.
“I want to give you some advice,” Eliyahu Hanavi continued. “At your wedding, you will see a man dressed in torn and tattered garments. Don’t be misled; it’s no pauper, but the Malach Hamaves. Make sure to welcome him kindly and ensure that he has what to eat. Seat him with the distinguished elders at the meal; honor him and respect him. And also, very important- don’t eat anything by the wedding.”
Reb Reuven’s son nodded, still shell-shocked, and Eliyahu Hanavi disappeared.
The chassan who left his home on the way to his wedding that evening was a different child than the carefree one who’d left his home that morning to deliver the hadassim. He was worried and withdrawn, although he tried to hide his anxiety from his parents.
The atmosphere at the chasunah was joyous and exciting, and people danced merrily before the chassan, but he could not bring himself to join fully in the festivities. He smiled half-heartedly in response to the greetings of his guests as his eyes feverishly scanned the courtyard in search of the beggar whom Eliyahu Hanavi had described.
In the middle of the wedding meal, of which the chassan was careful not to take a single bite, he saw a pauper standing at the entranceway, looking in. The chassan shot out of his seat like a bullet from a cannon, and was at the pauper’s side seconds later. “Please, come inside, have a seat.”
The pauper shook his head. “No, that’s alright.”
“Really, please come inside,” the chassan pleaded. “You are an honored guest, and it would make me so happy if you would grace my simchah with your presence.”
The beggar continued to decline, but the young chassan persisted, knowing that his very life depended on his treatment of the pauper. Eventually, the beggar agreed to come in, and the chassan led him to the head table, seating him with the distinguished elders of the city.
For the remainder of the wedding, the chassan kept his eye on his dangerous guest, treating him with utmost honor and respect. He didn’t taste a morsel of the food, conscious of Eliyahu Hanavi’s warning. Nervously, he waited to see how the night would play out.
The wedding wound down, and the guests began to trickle out. Soon, the large room had mostly emptied of people, leaving a colorful mess behind. The pauper beckoned to the chassan to join him outside, and anxiously, the chassan obeyed.
“You have cement for your house,” the pauper stated. “Where did you get the cement from?”
“I bought it from someone,” the chassan replied.
“Well, the owner of the cement wants it back,” the pauper told him.
“I’ll give him other cement,” the chassan countered.
The beggar looked at him. “Let me level with you and talk to you straight, without any metaphors,” he finally said. “I am the Angel of Death, and I have come to take your soul.”
The chassan, having known this was coming, didn’t seem shocked. “If it is my time, then I am ready to go,” he said bravely. “But please allow me to go say goodbye to my father and my kallah.”
“No problem,” the Malach Hamaves agreed.
The chassan ran back inside and headed straight to his father. “Father, a pauper came to me and told me that now is my time to leave this world. What should I do?”
Reb Reuven did not respond. Turning away from his son, he donned his tallis and began to sob, begging Hashem to overturn the decree against his son’s life. With tears flowing freely down his beard, he prayed intently, completely oblivious to his surroundings.
“Father, Father!” the chassan cried, hugging his father. “Father, daven for me! Please pray for the decree to be annulled!”
Reb Reuven, engrossed in his prayers, did not respond, so his son gave him a parting hug and kiss and went to find his kallah of just a few hours.
They had not even been married a single night, and already it was time for the chassan to part from his kallah forever. As her chassan approached, the kallah saw his face and knew immediately that something was wrong. “What’s the matter?” she asked worriedly.
“The Malach Hamaves has come for me,” the chassan explained, as gently as he could. “He is dressed as a pauper, and he told me that my time has come to leave the world.”
“And what did you respond?” she asked breathlessly.
The young chassan sighed at her pain. “What do you think I told him? Am I greater than Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov? Even our holy avos left this world when their time came. I told him that if my time was here, I would go with him.”
The kallah shook her head. “Where is he? Outside? You stay here; I will go speak to him.”
With a courageous look on her face, the kallah went outside to meet the Angel of Death. “It says in the Torah that when a couple gets married, the husband is to remain at home for a full year,” she told the pauper. “A wife has the right to demand of her husband to remain home during that year. So although you might have a mission to take my husband, I have a directive from the Torah allowing me to demand that he live with me for a full year. Please go back to Hashem and tell Him my response. I want my husband to be with me for a year.”
The Malach Hamaves heard her argument, and he agreed to bring her claim before Hashem. He flew up to Shamayim to determine his next course of action. There, he found Hashem sitting on His Throne of Judgment, surrounded by the angels Gavriel, Michoel, and others.
The angels seemed to be pleading with Hashem to save the life of the very chassan whom the Malach Hamaves had gone to take. “Reb Reuven is always mevater on his own desires and feelings to make others feel good,” the angels were saying. “Just as he gave up his desires for others, he is now asking that You give up Your decree.”
Hakadosh Baruch Hu turned to the Malach Hamaves, who had been sent on a mission to take the boy’s life. “The kallah argued that she has the right to demand he live with her for a year, as it says in the Torah,” the Angel of Death explained.
Hashem got up from His Throne of Judgment and went onto the Throne of Mercy. All of the malachim, the seraphim, the chayos hakodesh, and even the Malach Hamaves himself were arguing in favor of allowing Reb Reuven’s son to live.
Indeed, Reb Reuven himself had a firm case in Heaven, an argument that enabled all of his prayers to be answered positively. For as the angels had said, he was mevater on his own desires to do the will of others, and for that he would merit that Hashem would give up His desires to please Reb Reuven.
At that moment, Hakadosh Baruch Hu made an announcement. The son of Reb Reuven would be allowed to live, not just for one year, but for seventy years longer.
And so it was. For the next seventy years, Reb Reuven’s son and his wife had a happy life and marriage, devoted to Torah and the service of Hashem.
Have a Wonderful Shabbos!
This story is taken from tape #A99