Rabbi Shloime Spielman’s story

The Background

Rabbi Shloime Spielman from England came with his wife and daughter to my office when they were in Israel, and he shared this story with me.

All other names in the story have been changed.

W

hen I was 18 years old and learning in Gateshead Yeshivah, I led a Shabbos afternoon Pirchim group for two years. Before I left Gateshead, I was called to speak with the Mashgiach, Rav Mattisyahu Salomon ztz”l.

The Mashgiach asked me what I was planning to do after yeshivah. I replied that I had no plans. But I assumed I’d find some sort of job.

“No,” Rav Mattisyahu said. “I want you to become a teacher.”

I protested that I knew nothing about teaching. I asked why he was advising me to do this.

“My son Yaakov Yehuda was in your Pirchim group,” he said. “When it was our turn to host the group at our house, I listened outside the door. That’s how I know you can teach.”

I returned home to Manchester, where I got married and began working for my father in his printing business and stationery store. For some reason, I had forgotten about the Mashgiach’s advice.

But after I was asked to lead a new Pirchim group in the neighborhood, history repeated itself. The menahel of a local school offered me a job after hearing me lead a group on Shabbos afternoon. Soon I was teaching limudei kodesh at two schools.

So I had ended up doing what Rav Mattisyahu had advised me to do. I ended up teaching for quite a while before becoming a mashgiach for the Manchester Beis Din.

AT one point my schedule led me to daven Maariv at a particular local shul, where I ran into Uri, a talmid of mine I hadn’t seen for a good 20 years. One night, he asked me on the way out of shul if I had time to learn with him. The way he asked made me stop.

“Can we carry on where we left off?”

When I asked what he meant, he explained that he had had a very good year when he was in my class, at age nine, but after that, things kind of fell apart. He didn’t connect to his rebbi the following year, missed an entire year’s worth of material, and eventually ended up checking out.

“That’s why I’m asking you if we can carry on from where we left off,” he summed up.

We made up that we would learn every day after Shacharis, like real chavrusas. What started as a half-hour session turned into an hour and then two. By the end of the year, we were learning together four hours every day. That continued for years, and it was heartwarming to see Uri turning into a talmid chacham.

I got to know Uri’s family, and became familiar with all his children’s personalities. Uri’s son Benzy had a very hard time sitting still. Uri eventually confided in me that Benzy was dyslexic, and none of the schools in Manchester were equipped to deal with his needs. I sympathized, but there was little I could do.

The solution would come about in a completely unexpected way. Uri was in the habit of taking his family for summer vacations all over the world. They went to Australia, to Eretz Yisrael — but when they traveled to Las Vegas, they encountered a beautiful twist of siyata d’Shmaya.

Uri happened to run into the principal of the local day school, and when he described his son to the menahel, he was told that if he moved his family to Vegas and enrolled his son in the school, he could get the help they needed.

After a long period of careful consideration and consultation, Uri decided to make the move. He let me know that he was leaving with his family for Las Vegas. Although we were now very far apart geographically, Uri stayed in touch.

One day in 2016, Uri called to invite me to Benzy’s bar mitzvah. Flying to Vegas from Manchester was quite a trip, but I wasn’t going to miss it.

I landed in Vegas a few days before the simchah, and after spending some time with the bar mitzvah boy, it became clear to me that he was a changed child. (Today that young man is learning in Eretz Yisrael, shteiging in the beis medrash until 12 every night.)

At one of the gatherings for the simchah, a husband and wife approached me and asked if they could speak with me. I motioned them to please sit at my table, and asked what I could do for them.

“We heard that you learned with Uri for many years, and we wanted to know if you would learn with us as well.”

“But I live in Manchester,” I replied.

“So do we.”

It emerged that they lived around the corner from my house. Hashgachah had arranged that we would come all the way from Manchester to Vegas to set up a time to learn together. Which we’ve been doing for the last eight years.

Looking back, I guess Rav Mattisyahu Salomon takkeh knew what he was talking about….

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1042)