I

t’s never too late in life for someone who thinks he really understood to come to the realization that he never really had a clue.

Many (if not most) of us feel that while working on our level of avodah in bein adam l’Makom is sorely lacking, the effort we put into our avodah in bein adam l’chaveiro is not. After all, a community that boasts Hatzolah, Bikur Cholim, Tomchei Shabbos, gemachim of all shapes and sizes, and much more, should rightfully be able to claim that we are succeeding in bein adam l’chaveiro.

However, recent introspection has made me realize that I still have a long way to go.

The self-awareness came about after I uttered a statement to a friend that manifested, at least for a brief moment, a complete lack of sensitivity to others. This, despite having received my “girsa d’yankusa” from my father, Rav Avrohom Ginzberg ztz”l, and from my great rebbi, Rav Henoch Leibowitz ztz”l, whose level of caring and sensitivity for others was the stuff of legends.

A few weeks back, I heard the terrible news that a young child from a wonderful and prominent Torah home had passed away. When I heard the name of the child’s father, I was shocked and saddened. That was the very name of an incredible Yid I had befriended in the hospital a while back when similar circumstances caused us to spend several Shabbosim and Yamim Tovim in the hospital together. Several hours later I walked into a store and met a relative of this person. I told him how upset I was to hear the terrible news about his relative. “It’s not him,” he responded. “It’s a distant cousin with the same name.”

My immediate reaction was to say, “Baruch Hashem, it’s not this family, I am so relieved.” I thanked him for sharing this with me and with an extra bounce in my step I returned to my car.

And then it hit me: How could I have been so indifferent and so insensitive to a mother and father in our community who just today buried their young son, and are suffering pain that no one can comprehend unless they have, chas v’shalom, experienced it themselves? Somehow, instead of feeling their pain, I had just expressed relief that it was not the family I had thought it was. And despite the assurances from the cousin I met, who claimed he understood that I had no intention whatsoever of being insensitive, the fact remains that I was. Just when you think you’re there, you discover that you’re not even close.

I became even more aware of how much we are lacking in true and genuine bein adam l’chaveiro as a result of a comment made by a dear rabbinic colleague. I had the great zechus and responsibility to give hespedim in various venues for the gadol hador, Maran Rav Aharon Leib Steinman ztz”l. In one of those venues in the Five Towns, I focused a bit on the great sensitivity that the Rosh Yeshivah exhibited.

A rav who is renowned in the community for his many acts of chesed approached me after the hesped and made the following comment. “You know, Rabbi Ginzberg, while your hesped was inspiring, for me personally it was also a little depressing. You see, I always knew that I had no shaychus [connection] to the depth of learning, the prishus and the kedushah of Rav Aharon Leib, but somehow I had thought that in matters of bein adam l’chaveiro, we can at least relate. However, after hearing some of the stories about the Rosh Yeshivah’s level of bein adam l’chaveiro, I realize that even in this area, we were just not in the same orbit.”

My friend’s insightful and very honest words were thought provoking to me as well. What makes the bein adam l’chaveiro of our gedolei Yisrael so much deeper and more genuine than that of the rest of us? Why are we so inferior to gedolei Torah even in this realm?

The answer is simple: Their outstanding bein adam l’chaveiro is a result of the Torah that permeates their entire being.

How does this work?

I would like to suggest that their deep immersion in Torah allows them to feel the depth of someone else’s needs and feelings even though they never had any connection to them or to their experiences.

Case in point: Not long ago, a lengthy article about the Chazon Ish ztz”l was published, and it contained an incredible story about his bein adam l’chaveiro.

The Chazon Ish was very close to the Ponevezher Rav ztz”l and loved him deeply. The Ponevezher Rav was constantly traveling overseas to collect funds for his yeshivah. Once, his daughter-in-law gave birth to a baby boy while he was abroad, and he was not able to return to Eretz Yisrael in time for the bris. The Chazon Ish served as sandek, and after the bris he went to speak to the baby’s mother. He asked her to return to the hospital with the baby, explaining that the Ponevezher Rav had suffered so much loss in his life, and finally, baruch Hashem, he had been zocheh to a new grandchild. Yet even that joy was somewhat diminished by the fact that he couldn’t participate in the simchah. Since he would now be returning home, let him experience some extra simchah by being able to visit the mother and baby in the hospital and be present when she brings the baby home.

This incredible suggestion came from the Chazon Ish, a person who was not zocheh to have any of his own children, yet empathized with the feelings of the Ponevezher Rav in such a deep way.

In contrast, the average Reb Yisroel, who does care about helping and doing for others, might somehow have a little bit of “zich [self]” mixed in as well. Years ago, in prewar Mir, the talmidim came to the rosh yeshivah, Rav Leizer Yudel Finkel ztz”l, and complained about the paltry chalukah they received.

“While I know that you deserve more, I have to save some for future distributions,” the Rosh Yeshivah answered.

“But we are the rov [majority], and the Rosh Yeshivah is the yachid [minority],” the talmidim responded. “And we know that halachah is like the rabbim.”

“In this case, I am the rov and you are yechidim,” corrected the Rosh Yeshivah, offering an eye-opening explanation that served as a lasting lesson for his talmidim. “I am worrying about all of you, but each of you is only worried about yourselves.” (This story is found in Sefer Hegyonei Halachah volume II, page 20, who quoted it in the name of his father, who was in the Mir at the time.)

Here’s another incredible story about the Chazon Ish that depicts his deep empathy for others. After World War II, a large girls’ orphanage was opened in Bnei Brak to house the hundreds of young women who had survived the war but had no parents to care for them.

Once, a few neighbors of the orphanage came to the Chazon Ish to complain. “On Shabbos, the girls sing zemiros together, and you can hear their voices outside the building. It’s kol ishah and an outrage.”

The Chazon Ish’s face lit up and he responded, “You don’t know how happy you just made me. Yiddishe maidelach, torn away from their parents who were murdered in the camps, with hardly any memories of what the Shabbos table looked like back in Europe, feel so at home in the orphanage and are so happy that they sing on Shabbos? I cannot thank you enough for bringing me this wonderful besurah!”

The Rosh Yeshivah Rav Aharon Leib needed absolutely nothing from anyone; he was a porush from Olam Hazeh in the fullest sense. Yet despite his own worldview and lifestyle, he cared for countless almanos and yesomim, making sure that they had all their needs met, on their own level.

If, my dear reader, you still have not seen a difference between the level of bein adam l’chaveiro of the gedolei hador and that of the rest of us, then consider these insightful words of one of the premier baalei chesed in our day, a man named Chaim Silber, whose first yahrtzeit was a short while ago. Chaim was not recognized as one of the gedolei hador, yet he was able to perfect his love and concern for others and was known for helping anyone and everyone in whatever they needed — an incredible feat for a layperson who didn’t have the opportunity to spend his days and nights in the beis medrash.?One of his close friends shared a conversation that he had with Chaim sometime after Chaim was diagnosed with the illness that eventually claimed his life. “You know what bothers me most?” Chaim said to his friend. “I thought I really empathized with the people I was helping. I thought that I felt their tzaar as much as they did. But now that I have gotten sick, my tzaar is bothering me more than theirs did, and that hurts me. I thought that I felt their tzaar as if it were my own, but I’m sorry to say that my own bothers me more.”

An incredible admission from a paragon of chesed as to the exquisite difficulty of completely feeling another person’s pain, despite the depth of his chesed to everyone in his orbit.

We see, then, that just as the avodah of bein adam l’Makom is never ending, and continues up until the very last breath we take in This World, the same is true of our avodah of bein adam l’chaveiro. Whenever we think we have reached the peak of concern and doing for others, we realize that our journey has only begun.

This article was written l’illui nishmas Sara Chaya z”l bas Aryeh Zev Halevi.

 Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 707. Rabbi Aryeh Z. Ginzberg is the rav of the Chofetz Chaim Torah Center of Cedarhurst and the founding rav of Ohr Moshe Institute in Hillcrest, Queens. He is a published author of several sifrei halachah, and a frequent contributor to many magazines and newspapers, where he writes the Torah hashkafah on timely issues of the day. He is also a sought-after lecturer on Torah hashkafah at a variety of venues around the country.