I did learn what it means to love mitzvos to such a degree that your entire body transforms itself

Almost a half a century ago, as a young yeshivah bochur learning in Yerushalayim, I often traveled to Bnei Brak to visit my paternal grandparents, who had moved to Eretz Yisrael several years earlier. Those trips to the famed city of Torah allowed me to spend time with many of the gedolim who resided there, in particular the Steipler Gaon ztz”l.

That year, Yom Kippur fell out on Shabbos. As my father was concerned about how his parents would feel after the long fast, on Motzaei Shabbos I traveled to Bnei Brak to see them. After checking in with them, I went to the Steipler’s home. I assumed he would be busy building his succah, and I hoped I would be able to observe him.

Even before I knocked, though, his daughter stepped out. She recognized me from my past visits and wished me a warm brachah for the new year. But when I asked if I could watch her father putting up the succah, she told me that the Steipler was very weak from the fast and had already retired for the night. However, she said, he had instructed her son not to start putting up the succah until he could join him, the next morning. I asked if I could come in the morning to help, and she graciously responded that I could.

The next morning, I was directed to the mirpesset where the Steipler and his grandson were preparing to start building the succah. While I’ve always had two left hands when it comes to any type of maintenance (even today, decades later, my wife is still in charge of building our succah), it really wasn’t much of a problem.

The Steipler, who was already elderly, was himself very handy (I once witnessed him with a hammer in hand, fixing a nail protruding from a bookcase in Rav Chaim’s study). And while he was terribly weak, from his chair he directed his grandson where to set up the boards and the beams for the sechach. I assisted his grandson in lifting and maneuvering the boards.

Still, while I was thrilled to be there to help the Steipler Gaon with his succah, I confess I was waiting for the moment when I would learn something new. Perhaps a chiddush in hilchos Succah from the Chazon Ish ztz”l, or maybe some special kavanos one should have while putting up the succah? But that never happened. What did transpire, though, offered me a much greater life lesson, one that I can picture in my mind’s eye even today.

After his grandson finished putting all of the boards in place, he picked up the hammer to pound in the first nail. All of a sudden, the Steipler literally jumped out of his chair with a swiftness that belied his age, and tugged at his grandson’s leg, motioning for him to step off the ladder. Then the aged Steipler Gaon quickly began to climb the ladder. Instinctively, I ran over to the ladder to hold it steady for him, but he motioned for me to step back.

He took hold of the hammer and began to pound in the first nail himself, then the second, until every nail was in place. I stood there watching in absolute awe as the aged Steipler, who was sitting in his chair just a few moments ago with barely enough strength to stand up, was now working like a person half his age.

His daughter, who was watching from the other room, came out and told me not to worry. She said her father always insisted on knocking every nail into the succah himself. Only after the nails were all in place did the Steipler sit down again, in a state of complete exhaustion.

I may have not increased my knowledge of hilchos Succah, but I did learn what it means to love mitzvos to such a degree that your entire body transforms itself, finding incredible energy and youthful vigor to use in the performance of a mitzvah.

In truth, this was probably the greatest lesson of all.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1033)