A Meeting with President Trump
While this week’s column will be mostly lighthearted in honor of Purim, I will briefly mention some of the many serious stories that deserve attention as well. For one thing, a group of former hostages visited President Trump in the White House. I mentioned the planned visit last week as part of a chain of events that exhibited clear hashgocha pratis. Idit Ohel, the mother of Alon Ohel, who is still in Hamas captivity, was visiting Washington and hoping to meet with President Trump to tell him about her son, who is languishing in the dungeons of Gaza with untreated shrapnel wounds in his eyes. Unfortunately, she did not succeed in meeting with the president, but four days later Eli Sharabi, the last person to see Alon in Gaza, was invited to tell his story to Trump. When I wrote about this last week, the meeting hadn’t taken place yet. As you are surely aware, it has already occurred.
There is also much to say about the question of whether there will be a hostage deal with Hamas and about the anxiety holding multiple families in its grip. Netanyahu is threatening to ramp up the war, and the Israeli government has cut off electricity to Gaza. What will happen to the Israeli hostages still being held there? As of now, that remains an open question. May Hashem protect us all!
This Shabbos is Rav Chaim Kanievsky’s yahrtzeit, and it would certainly have made sense to write about him. Several prominent rabbonim also passed away this week, such as Rav Zev Berlin and Rav Nota Schiller, and they deserve much attention in these pages as well. There is also a good deal of political news, including the latest developments regarding the draft law and the budget, as well as the ongoing conflict with Attorney General Gali Baharav-Miara and the justice minister’s decision to begin the process of impeaching her. To make a long story short, I have no shortage of topics to write about, as usual.
But I think you will agree with me that these subjects can be briefly put aside in favor of Purim, especially a Purim meshulash such as we have this year. For me, as a resident of Yerushalayim, it is an extraordinary experience. We will read the megillah on Thursday night and Friday morning, and matanos l’evyonim will be given on Friday as well. We recite Al Hanissim on Shabbos and will enjoy enhanced seudos, and then on Sunday we will experience the Purim seudah, mishloach manos, and the usual rounds of bochurim knocking on our doors. The average home is visited by dozens of bochurim on Purim, and we must honor them all, as well as making sure that there is something to drink, or at least some cake, available for them. This column will be dedicated to some lighthearted stories and reflections on Purim.
The Righteous Drunks
I always find myself marveling at the yeshiva bochurim who come to our doors on Purim to collect for the Tat (“Tomchei Torah”) organizations in their yeshivos. In their inebriated state, their pure souls are on full display. Many of the bochurim are obviously unfamiliar with alcohol; they take a cup of whiskey and discover too late that it is too much for them. And in their uninhibited, drunken states, it is incredible to hear what they have to say.
I am sometimes reminded of the old joke about the young lady who complained to her rov that her new husband did not know how to drink. “Isn’t that a good thing?” the rov asked in puzzlement. “Shouldn’t you be happy that he doesn’t know how to drink?”
“That might be true, but he drinks anyway!” the distraught wife replied.
Parenthetically, there is a similar joke told about a group of mispallelim in a shul who complained to the rov that one of the congregants did not know how to daven at the amud. “What’s wrong with that?” the rov asked. “Plenty of people don’t know how to be a shaliach tzibbur.”
“Yes, but he does it anyway!” they replied.
And there is a third version of this joke, in which the woman complained to the rov that her husband did not know how to gamble … and then revealed, of course, that he gambles anyway.
But let’s go back to our yeshiva bochurim: The wine goes in, and what comes out is a series of beautiful divrei Torah on the megillah or an intricate lomdish discourse on the subjects they are learning in yeshiva. These are the “drunks” of our community, and that should give us good reason to take pride!
Supporting the Torah
As I mentioned, the bochurim go from door to door on Purim to collect for the Tomchei Torah organizations, which should give us further reason to be impressed. A Tat is an independent organization within a yeshiva that is not part of the yeshiva’s financial system; it is designated solely for providing for the bochurim. If a bochur needs a new suit, a new pair of shoes, or even dental treatment, he can ask the Tat to finance it. His request will be examined to make sure that the need is genuine and that he doesn’t have another source of funding, and then the funds will be provided for him. The Tat also provides a basic package including a new hat and jacket for bochurim who become engaged. For some chassanim, the Tat will cover additional expenses, such as the music at the wedding. And for some bochurim who are particularly needy, the Tat will sponsor an entire wedding. I know of a number of yeshivos where a few older bochurim are responsible for keeping tabs on the student body and reporting to the Tat if any of their peers are wearing torn shoes or have other obvious needs. Even the bochurim who do not ask for help can therefore have their needs met. This is yet another reason that Purim fills me with pride in the bnei yeshivos who visit my home, along with numerous other homes throughout the country.
But just as the bochurim make a powerful impression on me, I am always amazed by the people who give to them as well. These are ordinary, average people who simply open their wallets and give repeatedly. Chazal tell us that we must give tzedokah to anyone who requests it on Purim, and these righteous Jews readily fulfill the mitzvah, as well as inviting guests to join them at their seudos. Such is the nature of the Jewish people: They will use the meager amount of resources they possess to share with others and fulfill mitzvos.
The Unwilling Patient
Rav Yitzchok Zilberstein tells an interesting story about a monetary shailah that arose on Purim: “I was once asked about an American bochur who became drunk on Purim and collapsed in the middle of a sidewalk on a Yerushalayim street. People tried to wake him up as they passed by, but their efforts were in vain. The passersby were unsure if he had reached the level of Lot’s drunkenness and was therefore completely unaware of his surroundings, or if he was suffering the ill effects of alcohol poisoning. They tried poking and prodding him, but they were unable to elicit a response. Finally, they decided to summon an ambulance, which took him to the hospital, where he underwent a battery of tests. The next morning, the effects of the alcohol faded and he awoke and was surprised to find himself in the hospital. He asked how he had gotten there, and the staff replied that an anonymous benefactor had called an ambulance for him. As the bochur prepared to leave, the hospital staff asked for his identifying details. They explained that since he was a foreign citizen, he did not have government-sponsored health insurance and he was required to pay the cost of his brief hospital stay. The bochur argued that he hadn’t asked to be brought to the hospital, and if anyone had to foot the bill, it was the person who had brought him there.”
Perhaps I should add that for a person who does not have health insurance, Israeli emergency rooms charge an exorbitant fee. The bottom line, according to Rav Zilberstein, is that the psak in this case is essentially based on common sense. If the bochur’s condition was truly concerning enough to warrant calling an ambulance, then the passersby were correct to do so and the bochur would be required to pay the bill.
A Presumption of Death
Rav Avigdor Miller told the story of a memorable Taanis Esther: “I remember serving as a gabbai in the yeshiva when I was a young man. It was erev Purim, after Mincha on Taanis Esther, and I approached the aron kodesh to open it for Avinu Malkeinu, as I did on every fast day; I forgot that we do not recite Avinu Malkeinu on Taanis Esther. There was an elderly rosh yeshiva there who rebuked me, ‘What are you doing? You are opening the aron kodesh for no reason! It is a lack of respect for the congregation and the Torah.’ I will never forget that moment!” Rav Miller declared. “This was almost sixty years ago, but I always remember on the day before Purim that we do not say Avinu Malkeinu at Mincha. On Shiva Asar B’Tammuz and on Asarah B’Teves, we recite it, but not on Taanis Esther!”
A Falling Vessel
Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel once delivered a shiur before Purim dealing with a question that appears in the Gemara: If an item is thrown off a roof, is it considered to be broken only when it hits the ground and shatters, or is it viewed as broken from the moment it is dropped since its destruction is inevitable? A bochur at the shiur spoke up and commented that someone had remarked in Rav Shmuel Rozovsky’s shiur that if an object is considered broken as soon as it begins its descent, a question concerning Megillas Esther can be resolved.
“What is that?” Rav Nosson Tzvi asked.
“After Haman led Mordechai through the streets, the posuk says that he returned home ‘mourning and with his head covered,’” the talmid explained. “This seems to be out of order. His head was covered because his daughter had poured waste on him, and he became a mourner only after that occurred, when she saw what she had done and jumped off the roof to her death. But if a vessel is considered broken as soon as it is dropped, then Haman’s daughter might have been viewed as having died as soon as she leapt off the roof, even before his head was covered with the waste that she spilled on him. That is how he was ‘mourning’ even before his head was covered.”
Rav Nosson Tzvi found this thought entertaining.
Personally, however, I am somewhat puzzled by the idea. If that argument holds true, then why wasn’t the waste material also viewed as having landed on Haman’s head as soon as it was spilled?
Royal Standards
Here is another story concerning Rav Nosson Tzvi. At a dinner in honor of Yeshivas Mir, Rav Nosson Tzvi once shared a powerful moshol with the assembled supporters of the yeshiva.
“There was once a king who had an only son,” the rosh yeshiva began. “The king wanted to teach his son how to behave like royalty, and he searched for an appropriate tutor to train him in the ways of the aristocracy. Several people applied for the position, and the king ultimately chose a man with three areas of special expertise: He was an expert on horses, diamonds, and human psychology. The tutor began teaching the prince and proved to be an extremely adept teacher.
“One day, the news was received that a horse fair would be taking place in the kingdom. The prince wanted very much to purchase a quality thoroughbred horse, and he asked his tutor to accompany him and help him choose an excellent specimen. The two of them made their way to the market, where a merchant offered them a horse with a fine pedigree. The prince looked at his mentor, and the man signaled to him not to buy the horse. He explained that the horse would be dangerous to its rider; the horse showed signs of a tendency to throw the rider off its back, potentially endangering his life. The prince asked the merchant to show them how the horse acted when it had a rider. The seller mounted the horse and gave it a few kicks to get it to move, and the horse immediately galloped forward, throwing the seller off its back and nearly trampling him to death. The prince thanked his tutor for saving his life and handed him a ten-dollar bill as his reward.
Three days later, the tutor had another chance to prove himself. This time, the prince asked the tutor to accompany him to a diamond fair, where the merchants vied for the opportunity to offer their precious wares to the king’s son. The prince picked up a beautiful stone and told his tutor that he intended to purchase it. “This stone is a fake,” the tutor informed him.
“How do you know?” the prince asked.
The tutor produced a small bottle and sprayed some of its contents on the stone. “Now try to scrape it,” he said to the prince. The young man complied, and the surface of the stone peeled off easily, revealing that it was indeed a fake. Once again, the prince rewarded his mentor with a ten-dollar bill.
As they headed back to the palace, the prince remarked, “You have already that you are indeed highly knowledgeable about horses and diamonds. Now all that remains is for you to demonstrate your understanding of psychology. Tell me something about myself!”
The tutor leaned toward him and whispered, “You are adopted!”
The shocked prince raced back to his father and asked if the tutor had been correct. The king turned pale, but under pressure from his beloved son, he admitted that it was true. The prince returned to his tutor and demanded, “How did you know?”
“The son of a king wouldn’t give ten dollars as a reward to someone who saved his life,” the tutor replied. “Someone with royal blood would have a different concept of giving.”
This was the story that Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel shared with the attendees at that dinner. And the generous audience seemed to appreciate his message.
A Brocha from a Layman
Someone once requested a brocha from an elderly man who davened in our local bais medrash and who had a reputation for working miracles. “The brocha you are requesting will cost 1800 dollars,” the elderly man replied.
The younger man was startled. “But the kohanim bless us every day for free!” he exclaimed.
The tzaddik nodded. “That is correct,” he said. “And that is why they go barefoot.”
A Grandmother’s Answering Machine
“Good morning,” an elderly woman’s crisp voice echoed from the other side of the phone line. “We aren’t home right now, so please leave a message after the tone. If you are one of our children, press one and listen to the rest of the menu. If this is Shoshi, press one. If it’s Zevi, press two. If It’s Yitzchok, press three. If it’s Srulik, press four. If it’s Shaya, press five. If it’s Yaffa, press six. Now, if you want us to watch your children, press two. If you want to borrow the car, press three. If you need us to wash or iron your clothes, press four. If you need one of your children to stay in our home tonight, press five. If you want us to pick up one of your children from school, press six. If you need food for Shabbos, press seven. If you want to come to our house for a meal, press eight. If you need to borrow money, press nine. And if you want to invite us to your home for a meal, then start talking, because we’re listening!”
A Mysterious Gift
I heard the following story from a visitor to Rav Shach’s home: “I was at Rav Shach’s home when there was a din Torah of sorts between two of his close associates. One of them wanted Rav Shach to speak out against a technological innovation that had been introduced in hotels, which he considered a violation of the laws of Shabbos, while the other defended the new technology. A large crowd of people had gathered in the room, and when I arrived with my question for the rosh yeshiva, I found them in the middle of an animated debate. They began analyzing the topic, and the man who was opposed to the innovation said, ‘The day will yet come when every father-in-law will have to promise his son-in-law a refrigerator and gas system that work on grama!’ His point was that if the hotels were permitted to use the new technology, it would eventually be offered to the general public, and every homeowner would decide to use it in his own home as well. Rav Shach was disturbed by this idea.
“A few minutes later, someone pointed out, ‘The hotels are the ones who funded the research into this technology!’
“Rav Shach grew tense and began telling a long story. ‘A butcher once sent a fat cow to the Bais Halevi for mishloach manos,’ he related. ‘The rov’s family did not know who the butcher was or why he had sent that gift. After a period of time, they discovered that this butcher lived in a different city and was the subject of a controversy there. The shailah at the heart of that controversy was ultimately brought to the Bais Halevi, and he instructed his family members to determine whether the butcher involved in the matter was the same person who had sent him the cow.’ Rav Shach finished his story and dismissed the gathering in his home. He did not reveal his decision, but his position was quite clear.”
Purim in Radin
After Reb Avrohom Wolfson passed away, Rav Mordechai Altusky said to me, “Avrohom Wolfson excelled in his avoidance of loshon hora and his adherence to the relevant halachos. He attained the level of a tzaddik in that respect. He was an expert on the Chofetz Chaim’s seforim, and he had a collection of his own comments and chiddushim that could easily be compiled into an entire sefer on their own. He organized shiurim on the laws of loshon hora and delivered shiurim as well. He asked me to arrange such a shiur in our yeshiva, and he cited examples of other yeshivos where similar shiurim had been organized on his recommendation. He also was in the habit of delivering shiurim in yeshivos and kollelim when he visited Eretz Yisroel; he delivered a shiur in our yeshiva, and the bochurim were amazed.
“There is a famous story about Purim in Radin,” he continued. “An inebriated bochur once asked the Chofetz Chaim to promise that he would be in his company in Gan Eden. The Chofetz Chaim replied, ‘If you commit never to speak loshon hora throughout your life, you will be in my company there.’ The Chofetz Chaim reportedly added that he would be interested in having good neighbors in Olam Haba. The bochur thought about it for a while and then said that he wasn’t able to live up to the ideal. Rav Naftoli Tropp remarked, ‘That bochur was standing at the entrance to the Chofetz Chaim’s sanctum in Gan Eden and ran away from it!’
“I am convinced that Reb Avrohom Wolfson spent his entire life on a trajectory toward the Chofetz Chaim’s presence in Gan Eden,” Rav Altusky concluded. “I am confident that the Chofetz Chaim greeted him when he arrived in Shomayim and ushered him into his inner sanctum. After all, the Chofetz Chaim said that he was looking for good neighbors.”
Rav Elyashiv’s Concern
One year, Rav Elyashiv returned from the megillah reading on Purim and found a white donkey waiting in the courtyard below his home. The donkey had been brought there in the hope that it would elicit a smile from Rav Elyashiv, who was known for his perpetually solemn mien. Rav Elyashiv indeed chuckled at the sight, but he immediately turned to the people who had brought the donkey and asked, “Did you feed it?”
A Promise for Purim
Rav Yitzchok Zemel, a close talmid of Rav Yaakov Edelstein, told the following story: “On the last Purim before Rav Edelstein passed away, in the year 2016, he had to undergo a complex surgery on his throat on Purim morning. He asked to read the megillah at neitz that morning, and he had given me a sum of money the day before to donate for matanos l’evyonim on Purim. When he was on his way to the operating room, he motioned that he wanted to tell me something, and he was given a paper and pen, with which he wrote, ‘I haven’t yet fulfilled the mitzvah of mishloach manos.’ I quickly brought a bottle of wine that had been left in his room, and he instructed me to deliver the wine and something else to a recipient. Even when he was headed into surgery, he was concerned about fulfilling the mitzvah.”
Purim was considered an especially auspicious time, when Rav Yaakov seemed to perform miracles. Rav Zemel related that a man once came to Rav Yaakov and showed him a set of medical documents that indicated that his wife was going to give birth to a sick baby. Rav Yaakov said dismissively, “This baby is not sick; it just a small problem with the baby’s feet, and it will be resolved.” Sure enough, the child was born with the problem that Rav Yaakov had predicted, and it was soon treated and resolved. On another occasion, a young lady came to Rav Yaakov’s home with a list of the names of five of her friends and asked the rov for a brocha for all five, as well as for herself, to find shidduchim. Rav Yaakov read the list and gave a brocha for each one; however, he pointed to one of the names and said, “This one is already a kallah.” The young lady subsequently found out that the friend had become engaged the night before, and she hadn’t been informed.
“One year, a man from America came on Purim and asked for a brocha for his thirty-year-old son to find his zivug,” Rav Zemel related. “The rov said, ‘He will be married by Elul.’ I turned to the rov and said, ‘He is thirty years old,’ and the rov replied, ‘I said that he will be married by Elul.’ Upon hearing that, I turned back to the father and said, ‘You can book a hall now!’ The rov sometimes promised single men and women that they would get engaged by a specific date, and I am aware of cases in which he pinpointed the exact day,” Rav Zemel concluded.
Rav Shteinman’s Lesson for the Wealthy
Rav Moshe Sechayak, a famous talmid of Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman, once related, “Many wealthy men used to visit Rav Shteinman to ask questions and seek his advice. They typically arrived together with roshei kollelim who were certain that a visit to Rav Shteinman would induce their affluent companions to be even more generous in their donations. Indeed, this was often the case. Rav Shteinman famously felt a sense of personal responsibility to sustain the kollelim, and he sought to persuade philanthropists to donate as much as possible. Sometimes, he would respond to his visitors with a lighthearted comment that gently conveyed rebuke. For instance, an affluent man once said to him, ‘Why do we need so many yungeleit? There are thousands of yungeleit in the kollelim in Eretz Yisroel. Why do we need so many people learning Torah?’
“Rav Shteinman replied, ‘For my part, I do not understand why we need so many wealthy people. After all, Hashem can manage even with just a few wealthy philanthropists.’
“On another occasion, Rav Shteinman spoke to a group of philanthropists about the importance of supporting Torah learners. ‘How is that done?’ one of them asked.
“‘Like this,’ Rav Shteinman replied, placing his hand in his own pocket. ‘You put your hand into your pocket. There are some wealthy people who are not familiar with this action.’
“Rav Shteinman frequently cautioned donors against receiving honor from the institutions they supported,” Rav Sechayak added. “He told them, ‘It would be a shame for you to lose reward that you could receive in Olam Haba.’”
Mordechai’s Motives
On Taanis Esther of the year 5779/2019, I drove Rav Moshe Yehuda Schlesinger, the rosh yeshiva of Kol Torah, from a funeral in Shaarei Chessed to his home in Bayit Vegan. Rav Schlesinger explained why he had chosen to attend the funeral on such a busy day: “The niftar learned in Kol Torah, and it was a matter of hakaras hatov as well. He was a good man.”
During the drive, I asked if he could share a vort on the megillah with me. The rosh yeshiva replied, “We know that Mordechai exposed the conspiracy of Bigson and Seresh, who were plotting to assassinate Achashverosh. But why did he do that? Why didn’t he let them kill Achashverosh, which would have freed Esther from her maariage to him?”
The rosh yeshiva proceeded to answer his question: “Mordechai felt that if he had been exposed to the conspiracy and he was in a position to save the king, there must have been a reason for it, and it was probably part of a sequence of events that would be pivotal for Klal Yisroel.”
“If that’s true, then we could decide that many prohibitions should be violated because the circumstances must have arisen for a reason,” I pointed out.
Rav Schlesinger smiled. “A person must use his intellect to make that decision, and it requires the wisdom of daas Torah.” But he wasn’t finished yet. “Now, you might be wondering why there was a need for all the fasting and davening, if it was clear that Klal Yisroel’s salvation was on the way.”
“Perhaps it is forbidden to sit idly and wait for a miracle to happen,” I said.
“That might be true,” the rosh yeshiva replied. “But I think that we must always be concerned that our aveiros might have detracted from our zechuyos, just as Yaakov Avinu feared that his aveiros might have caused Hashem’s promises to him to be voided.”
In honor of Purim, I had the temerity to share a story concerning Rav Shlomo Wolbe. “You certainly knew him,” I asked.
“Of course!” Rav Schlesinger replied. “He was in Kol Torah for decades.”
“Rav Wolbe once needed to go to Hadassah Hospital for an appointment with a doctor, and he was very tense about it,” I related. “Rebbetzin Wolbe asked me to drive them both to the hospital and to try to calm him down on the way by telling some jokes. It was very difficult, since Rav Wolbe’s hearing was very poor and he was a very serious man; he was also a Yekke, and they do not tend to appreciate my style of humor.”
Rav Schlesinger listened in amused silence as I spoke.
“I managed to get a couple of small laughs out of him,” I said. “I think that he was a bit less tense when we arrived at the hospital. But the rebbetzin, who was sitting in the back seat, laughed loudly throughout the drive. I turned to her and said, ‘At least I managed to entertain you.’ Rebbetzin Wolbe replied, ‘Tzvika, I want you to know something. I have never really laughed since I was sixteen years old, and this was no exception. If you look at the pictures of family simchos and I appear to be laughing or smiling, I want you to know that it was just a show.’”
Rav Schlesinger was astounded. “That’s what she said?” he exclaimed. “How frightful!”
“That wasn’t all that she said,” I replied. “She told me, ‘If someone asked me to put my pekel [burden] on a table along with the burdens of others, and then I had to choose one to take, I would choose my own.’”
Once again, the rosh yeshiva was awed.
When The Steipler Laughed
This story was told by an eyewitness: “I once went to visit the Steipler at his home on Purim along with a bochur who was a prodigious iluy. The Steipler was in a cheerful mood, and the bochur seized the opportunity to ask the Steipler if it was true that he had fallen asleep during his first meeting with his rebbetzin. The famous story has it that the Steipler had to travel a great distance by train from his yeshiva in Bialystok to meet his future rebbetzin, and that he had learned for 24 consecutive hours before the trip, with the intent of sleeping on the train. However, when he discovered that the seats on the train were upholstered with fabric, the Steipler feared that they might contain shaatnez and he remained standing throughout the journey, so he was unable to sleep. When he arrived for his meeting with his future rebbetzin near Vilna after two days without sleep, he dozed off. On that Purim, the Steipler confirmed that the story was true.
“The bochur remarked to the Steipler that he wasn’t the first person in history to fall asleep on a date with his future wife. ‘Who else did that?’ the Steipler asked.
“‘Adam Harishon,’ the bochur replied.
“The Steipler’s laughter is still echoing in my mind today!”
Purim in Lakewood
A talmid of Rav Aharon Kotler named Rav Rosenhan once told me, “When the rosh yeshiva first came to Lakewood, he did not allow the bochurim to record his shiurim; however, someone hid a tape recorder inside his shtender and recorded him anyway. On Purim, the bochurim told Rav Aharon that a rosh yeshiva from Eretz Yisroel had come to deliver a shiur. A bochur then dressed up as an elderly rov and stood at Rav Aharon’s shtender, and the other talmidim gathered in the bais medrash together with the rosh yeshiva. The tape of the rosh yeshiva’s shiur began playing, and the bochur pretended to be delivering it. At first, Rav Aharon enjoyed the kashya with which the shiur began, although he realized that he had posed the same question himself. When he heard the teirutz, he noted that he had also offered the same answer to the question. The next step was a proof of the teirutz, and when Rav Aharon realized that it was once again echoing his own chiddush, he caught on to the ruse and began laughing. He was so amused that he grabbed a spoon from a table and placed it in his mouth to stifle his laughter. After that, Rav Aharon allowed his talmidim to tape his shiurim.”
Parenthetically, the bochur who pretended to be a visiting rov was Rav Moshe Hirsch, later one of the leaders of the Neturei Karta in Yerushalayim.
No Noisemaking
Rav Yaakov Shealtiel, a longtime talmid of Rav Ovadiah Yosef, related, “On Rosh Hashanah, the rov used to blow the shofar personally. He simply picked it up from the table and began sounding the blasts; he never needed to make any preliminary sounds with it. At Tashlich, which was conducted at a pit in the Boruchov courtyard, we used to bend forward to catch the rov’s aveiros. The rov was always the last person there; he made sure that the pit was properly covered and sealed. On Purim, the rov used to read the megillah, which was an amazing experience. He would first announce that all the children should place their noisemakers on the table next to him; he did not allow them to make loud noises during the megillah. The table quickly became filled with all sorts of noisemaking devices that the children surrendered to the rov.”
Purim with Rav Elya
Rav Gad Menachem Zeidenfeld, who was a talmid in Yeshivas Kfar Chassidim in his youth, related, “On Purim, I decided to be somewhat brazen and I approached Rav Elya Lopian in his private room. I knocked on the door and went inside, and since I was approaching the age of shidduchim, I asked him for a brocha to find my zivug. Rav Elya replied in Yiddish, ‘When I was young, I had a very good memory. But while my memory was powerful in those days, I tend to forget things today. Please give me a brocha to remember what I learn, and I will give you the brocha you have requested.’ I was completely flustered, and I began stammering, ‘May the rebbi greet Moshiach.’ Rav Elya said, ‘I asked for a brocha for the ability to remember my learning.’ I gave him the brocha he had requested, and then he gave me a brocha as well.”
Tears at a Funeral
Here is one last little joke, in honor of Purim: A man was once seen weeping bitterly at a billionaire’s funeral. Someone else approached the man, who seemed inconsolable, and asked him, “Were you a family member of the deceased?”
“No,” he replied through his tears.
“Then why are you crying so hard?” the other man asked.
“Precisely for that reason!” he replied.
