We are different not only in soul but in body as well. But simply recognizing this serves no purpose. We have to act upon it

N

ot long after I joined the prestigious Chicago Community Kollel in 1985, I headed to the beis medrash for second seder. I hadn’t gone far when an elderly woman stopped her car in the middle of the one-way street and approached me.

“Do you know how to drive a car in reverse?” she asked.

Apparently, a moving truck was parked further down the street and making it impossible to reach Devon Avenue, the woman’s planned destination. The only way out for her was to back up the entire length of the block and try a different street, but she was uncomfortable doing so, and thus turned to me for help.

I was happy to oblige and offered for her to join me as the passenger. She told me that she preferred walking and meeting up at the corner.

Given that this was in Chicago, I asked her how she knew I wasn’t going to simply drive off with her vehicle, never to be seen or heard from again.

Her answer remains with me to this day. “Oh, I know that you fellows in the black hats and coats would never do that.”

If I had ever wondered why my rebbeim brainwashed us (to quote Rav Mendel Kaplan ztz”l, “Yes, we wash your brains”) to always wear our yeshivah “uniforms” outside, all questions were out the window.

It was for this reason: The world should always be able to easily identify the one denomination that can be trusted — even in one of the most crime-ridden cities in America — to act with honesty and integrity.

Rav Yaakov Galinsky once shared one of his many personal experiences from his days interned in a Siberian labor camp that brings this idea to life. One day, the young teenage Yaakov Galinsky, a talmid of the Novardok yeshivah system (Yankel Kriniker to those that knew him) was approached by two fellow inmates who had previously held positions as ministers of justice and education in the Polish government.

The justice minister had stolen the education minister’s pants in order to barter them for food, which was in high demand and short supply. The victim was understandably not happy and demanded restitution. The two decided to approach the teenage Talmudic student and have him pasken the sh’eilah.

“I don’t know what the law is,” he said, “but I want to show you the difference between my people and yours.”

The future world-renowned maggid shared the following story.

“One morning here, I woke up to find an extra ration of food under my pillow, a piece of fish and a biscuit. I couldn’t believe it had gotten there, but the next morning, I awoke to the same incredible surprise. I assumed somebody was putting it there on purpose, at his own expense. I was very curious to discover who it was.

“The next night, I feigned sleep, and sure enough — out of the corner of my eye, I saw an elderly gentleman placing this treasure under my pillow. I couldn’t resist asking the man who he was and why he was doing this for me.

“He told me that since he was already old and frail, he knew he would not survive much longer in Siberia. But noticing that I, a yeshivah bochur, was incarcerated nearby, he decided to give his ration to me so I could have a chance to live and perhaps spread Torah one day.”

Yankel Kriniker then told the two litigants, “Look at the difference between your people and mine! While you — a justice minister, no less — stole someone’s desperately needed clothing for your own benefit, my people give their only chance of survival away for the sake of another.”

It’s not that we’re better. We are completely different.

There is a well-known responsum from the Chasam Sofer that medical statistics gleaned from studies conducted with the umos ha’olam do not dictate reality as it pertains to us.

We are different not only in soul but in body as well. But simply recognizing this serves no purpose. We have to act upon it.

The Mishnah in Pirkei Avos (3:14) teaches us that we are beloved to Hashem, as we were created in His image. As an extra demonstration of that love, we were told that we were made in His image, as the pasuk says in parshas Noach, “Ki b’tzelem Elokim asah es ha’adam — for in the image of G-d man was made.”

The Mishnah’s citation of this pasuk in Noach sparks an immediate question. Why go to parshas Noach? The very same idea is expressed earlier in the Torah, in parshas Bereishis. There, Hashem declares, “Naaseh adam b’tzalmeinu kidmuseinu — Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.”

In Novardok, they answered this question with an important yesod. In parshas Bereishis, this statement was made as a declaration. In parshas Noach, it was in the context of a mandate. It is there that the Torah prohibits murder, “Shofeich dam ha’adam, ba’adam damo yishafeich — one who spills blood, his blood shall be spilled.” The pasuk then concludes, “Ki b’tzelem Elokim asah es ha’adam — For in the image of G-d man was made.”

The same idea would explain the next lesson taught in that mishnah. “Chavivin Yisrael shenikra’u banim laMakom — cherished are Yisrael, who are called ‘children to Hashem.’ ” The mishnah then cites the pasuk “Banim atem l’Hashem Elokeichem — You are children to Hashem your G-d” (Devarim 14:1).

The mefarshim question the citation of this pasuk. There are numerous other references to Klal Yisrael as Hashem’s “children,” and they appear much earlier in the Torah. Why then does the Mishnah choose this specific pasuk?

The answer is that, in context, this pasuk is issuing a mandate. “Banim atem l’Hashem Elokeichem,” the pasuk says, and then, “lo sisgodedu v’lo sasimu karchah bein eineichem lameis — You shall not gash yourselves or shave the front of your heads because of the dead.”

It is the messages that come with a commandment that bear the most relevance. We are different. We are holy. But that’s not enough. We can’t just know it. We must act upon it. We must accept the marching order of “Torasi al taazovu! — Do not leave my Torah!”

As we prepare for Shavuos, our focus should be that accepting the Torah allows us to live up to the transcendent identity that is our reality.

And to demonstrate just how different we are, allow me to share a story that I heard from Rav Daniel Asher Kleinman, a prime talmid of Rav Shmuel Kamenetsky.

Back in the early days of the Waze app, Rav Kleinman was driving the Rosh Yeshivah on the Staten Island Expressway in very heavy traffic. Waze recommended they exit and navigate the side streets of Staten Island instead. As Rav Kleinman was exiting, the Rosh Yeshivah asked what he was doing, and he gave the obvious answer.

Rav Shmuel told Rav Kleinman not to obey the Waze and to instead remain on the crowded expressway. His reason was the distillation of being mandated to go in the ways of a tzelem Elokim, being Hashem’s child and emulating His middos, and not abandoning the values of the Torah, even in cases that don’t violate halachah.

The Rosh Yeshivah reasoned that Staten Island residents should not be treated unfairly by being forced to accommodate spillover expressway traffic. They are used to allowing their children to play in the streets and going about their neighborhood business without dealing with congestion from hundreds of cars. Better for us to stay put in traffic.

It is classic Rav Shmuel, to be sure (may Hashem grant him arichus yamim with health), as any talmid would recognize. But it is a perfect illustration of everything the Torah wants from us. It's not that we are better; we are completely different. And our prestigious title of tzelem Elokim mandates that we follow in a unique path, befitting our calling as banim laMakom. Our Torah mandates us to live a life dictated by not just its black-and-white laws, but by the nuances and kleinekeiten.

As Rav Shmuel himself always says, a groise mensch is measured by his adherence to kleine zachen — the little things. Great people appreciate these mandates and fulfill them to the maximum. It is our calling to emulate them and become great as well.

We should not be content with just being better than the rest. Let’s be the best as we can, and merit that holy calling as a mamleches Kohanim v’goy kadosh, nobody else is. We are indeed different.

Rabbi Henoch Plotnik, a talmid of the yeshivos of Philadelphia and Ponevezh, has been active in rabbanus and chinuch for 25 years and currently serves as ram in Yeshivas Me’or HaTorah in Chicago.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1062)