The book begins with a classic Rabbi Schacter-style diatribe targeting the parking imbroglio that plagues his neighborhood in Boro Park:

A friend of mine told me that in his neighborhood it is almost impossible to park in the evenings. “How is it on your side of town?” he asked. I told him that for me it’s not like that at all — it’s impossible to park mornings and afternoons as well.

It’s a humorous response to an annoying reality, and that’s fully intentional. Within the snarled entanglements lining the curbs of Boro Park’s avenues, Rabbi Shachter insists there is a message, laden with enough positivity that it’s well worth the laughter:

But you can train yourself to see the Hashgachah in parking the same way we ought to see the Hashgachah in everything. If I may borrow an analogy from the famous mashpia Rav Meilech Biderman: If you are nervous about eating something, you check the wrapper. If you see it has a reliable hashgachah, you enjoy your food. Likewise, before you “eat your heart out” about challenges in your life, check the hashgachah — Hashgachah Pratis — and remind yourself that nothing happens by chance. Where you are, when you are, and with whom you are, along with the associated challenges, is all part of the Divine Hashgachah that directs every aspect of your life. Check out your belief in that Hashgachah before you eat your heart out. Then you won’t.

As present as it is, the humor was never a defining character in Rabbi Schachter’s life. Rather, he sees it as a useful means to a valuable end.

“I’m a serious person,” Rabbi Schachter qualifies, “but sometimes, I focus on the humor of life just to help me get through. It resonates with others as well and is an amazing tool to help bring your audience in.” The technique is well precedented, and as always, he demonstrates this with a story.

“Toward the beginning of his career, Rav Sholom Schwadron once delivered a shmuess where he included multiple jokes and comical anecdotes. The crowd in attendance laughed in appreciation, but when he finished, someone approached and chastised him, criticizing his style as being ‘laitzanus.’ Together, the two went to the Chazon Ish to present him with the question. ‘Perform your best routine,’ the Chazon Ish instructed the young Rav Sholom. ‘Don’t leave anything out.’ Rav Sholom began delivering one of his classic shmuessen, in all its grandeur. When he finished, the Chazon Ish had one comment. ‘If the maggidim in the heim would have spoken that way, it would have saved half the spiritual casualties to outside influences.’”

Underground Opportunities

There are stories and there is humor and often they merge. One chapter of the book, entitled “A Guest Forever,” begins with a scene of the Ahavas Yisrael of Vizhnitz in conversation with a young man who was inspired to enter the world of askanus. “Listen to this story,” the Rebbe told him. “If you are willing to overcome even this response from people, then you are ready for askanus.”

Shmelke was walking down the street in his village and was startled to see a man crying on a rooftop. “Woe is me!” he cried. “My daughter was supposed to get married tomorrow night and the boy’s father is threatening to call it off. I promised a dowry of 400 rubles and I wasn’t able to come up with a single kopek! Hashem! I feel like my life is not worth a single kopek! Hashem! Please, I cannot bear it! I can’t go home. I can’t go on. Hashem! Please, I beg You, send me 400 rubles now, or else…” Shmelke was overwhelmed with pity for the poor man. He happened to have 300 rubles in his pocket that he had been saving toward purchasing a new cow. He decided that in the zechus of this mitzvah his old cow would be granted a new lease on life. He called out to the man to come down from the roof (via the stairs only). “Listen,” Shmelke said to the desperate man. “Hashem has heard your prayers! He sent me to pass your home at this time. Here, take my 300 rubles.” The man counted the money with tears flowing down his cheeks. Suddenly the look on his face went from surprise to deep anger. He looked up at Shmelke and began to yell at the top of his lungs, “THIEF! Give me the other hundred!”

It’s one of thousands, a story that has children laughing and adults shaking their heads at the deep insight lurking beneath the satirical facade. But even deeper, there’s a figure who plays a central role in the book’s creation, although his doesn’t appear anywhere.

Rav Moshe Wolfson.

“Rav Moshe Wolfson is my rebbi,” says Rabbi Schachter. “I daven in his shul, Emunas Yisroel, and he was my mashgiach when I learned in Torah Vodaath.” Rav Moshe Wolfson speaks often, his Torah markedly brilliant and the mussar within it demanding. But it’s always positive.

“The Mashgiach doesn’t point to a challenge and decry how terrible it is,” Rabbi Schachter explains. “Rather, he’ll point to a challenge and say, ‘Look at how much opportunity there is to overcome this nisayon!’”

Finding the significance in life’s smaller details is an art that Rabbi Schachter has mastered, and, using this skill, he sees how his entire life’s trajectory can be credited to a single incident he had with Rav Wolfson nearly 43 years ago. He was a counselor in Camp Torah Vodaath and the camp play, a summer highlight, was upcoming. The play was traditionally a campers-only production, but the energetic and very creative Fishel Schachter wanted very much to take part. The administration hesitated in allowing this breach of protocol and would agree only if the mashgiach, Rav Moshe Wolfson, would give his blessing.

“I approached the Mashgiach with a list of reasons why I should join the play,” says Rabbi Schachter. “I told him that I would make sure it would revolve around a story of the Baal Shem Tov or one of the other great tzaddikim. It would raise the standard of the performance.” Rav Wolfson listened and issued his direction.

“I don’t think you should do it,” he said simply. “You’re entering shidduchim soon. It’s not tzugepast for you.”

“B-b-but,” Fishel protested. “I could really make it so much better, it could become much more Torahdik!”

“You can do what you want,” Rav Wolfson said softly, “but I think you shouldn’t do it.”

“He didn’t impose his opinion,” Rabbi Schachter reflects today. “He just told me what he thought was right.”

Meanwhile, a deflated Fishel sulked off and, shoulders sagging, headed to the beis medrash.

“I sat down at a table,” Rabbi Schachter remembers, “and, right there in front of me, was a Mishnayos Bava Kama.” On a whim, Fishel opened the mishnayos and began to learn. “The sefer opened to the fifth perek, Shor Shenagach es Haparah. I don’t know what happened but all of a sudden, my mind seemed to open up. I was suddenly learning with a fervor and a clarity that I had never experienced before.”

Fishel went through one mishnah, then moved on to another. He traversed through the entire perek with every Tosfos Yom Tov and Rabi Akiva Eiger. Even today, Rabbi Schachter doesn’t take this experience lightly. “I think that I needed to do one act of mesirus nefesh in order to merit this hashpa’ah of Torah. Listening to the Mashgiach’s advice was my key into a new world of opportunity.”

And, as his life’s direction would continue to unfold, it became increasingly apparent that this was indeed the case. Because a few months later, he was approached by one of the rebbeim on the hanhalah of Torah Vodaath.

“He wanted someone to teach the younger bochurim Mishnayos between supper and night seder and asked if I’d be willing,” Rabbi Schachter says. “So I asked him, ‘Can I teach Shor Shenagach es Haparah?’ The rebbi told me, ‘Sure. Teach them whatever you want.’”

Rabbi Schachter began teaching a group of boys, and, as it was a perek he knew fluently, the shiur was especially cogent. But one of the boys was struggling and asked if Rabbi Schachter would be willing to record the shiur so that he could review later.

And so it was that the very first tape by Rabbi Fishel Schachter came into being.

Taped Up

Some years passed and Rabbi Schachter was now married, beginning what would become quite a large family. Having settled in Boro Park, he had developed something of a relationship with legendary mechanech / record producer / choir leader / camp director Rabbi Eli Teitelbaum a”h. At that point, Reb Eli, a forward-thinking jack-of-all-trades in the chinuch world, had just launched his latest invention which came in the form of a contraption of wires and machinery piled up in his basement. Using cutting-edge technology at the time, this machine would allow for people to dial in and hear that day’s Daf Yomi.

While Dial-A-Daf was scorned as unrealistic at first, the initiative enjoyed rapid popularity and many coveted the opportunity to serve as one of the maggidei shiur on the roster. Deep down, Rabbi Schachter harbored the same desire. Because he had recorded so many tapes from the Mishnayos shiur days, he had an abundance of readily available samples that would demonstrate his skill.

“One night, I was with Reb Eli in his basement and just ‘happened’ to drop one of my tapes on the table,” Rabbi Schachter remembers. As it turned out, the crafty hint had no immediate effect; Reb Eli had no available slots open. But, like a seed left to germinate, Rabbi Schachter’s little ploy ultimately proved fruitful.

“I was visiting Reb Eli one night when a last-minute fiasco occurred. The maggid shiur for the next day’s Daf was unable to complete the recording, and since no one else was around, Reb Eli had no choice. He offered me to do it.”

Rabbi Schachter stayed up all night preparing and then recording the shiur. The following day, regular callers into Dial-A-Daf were surprised to hear an unfamiliar voice coming through the speaker. Surprised, but not unhappy. There was something alluring about this newcomer’s style, something that inspired but also stirred something internal.

This new maggid shiur had chein.

Within weeks, Rabbi Fishel Schachter was a name synonymous with Daf Yomi, the popularity of his shiurim growing with each passing day.

The Blessings are Here

As his recognition as a world-class maggid shiur continued to spread, so did his acclaim as an excellent storyteller. In various venues, children would flock to hear the hilarious, spellbinding tales of Rabbi Fishel Schachter.

“Some people were trying to convince me to stop with the stories,” Rabbi Schachter recalls. “They felt that it wasn’t proper kavod for a maggid shiur.” Rabbi Schachter took this concern seriously and presented it, once again, to Rav Moshe Wolfson.

“Is it beneath my kavod to be telling children stories?” he asked.

“It is,” responded Rav Wolfson.

“So, I should stop?” Rabbi Schachter asked.

“No,” Rav Wolfson replied.

He noted Rabbi Schachter’s confusion and smiled.

“Well, whose kavod are you concerned about?” he asked rhetorically. “If you’re worried about your own kavod, then you certainly should stop. But if it’s the Ribbono Shel Olam’s kavod that you’re concerned about, then I’d say, continue.”

Rabbi Schachter continued telling stories. His newfound affinity with recordings allowed him to combine talent with prowess as he began creating children’s story tapes. The Tzaddik’s Promise, The Tzaddik’s Secret, and then the five-volume World of Middos series are the result of years of dedicated effort and a lifetime’s repository of stories.

In addition to his tapes, he was also asked to post shiurim on another hotline, this one called Dial-A-Shiur. The hotline has been running for some 30 years now, and lists over one thousand shiurim, both in English and Hebrew, on Ein Yaakov and the weekly parshah as well as so many stories. Another digital venue is the Chazak hotline, where, for many years, Rabbi Schachter has been sharing a Friday afternoon message. Aside from the shiurim geared toward adults, he also has recorded the entirety of Shisha Sidrei Mishnah for a program called Mishnah Rishonah. Some two thousand children call in every day to hear his mishnayos, and they recently celebrated an enormous siyum on all of Shas Mishnayos.

The development of his career is a story that spans years and could be interpreted as a random consociation of numerous parts, but Rabbi Schachter knows better than that. “It all gets traced back to the fact that I listened to Rav Wolfson’s initial advice.”

But other than the shiurim and storytelling, Rabbi Schachter has a daytime job as well. He served as the eighth-grade rebbi in Torah Vodaath for some forty years and has recently moved on to become the in-house consultant for the Mivakshei Hashem school in Boro Park. He still keeps up a working relationship with Torah Vodaath, visiting often to share stories with the children and imparting divrei chizuk to the bochurim.

Emphasis on positivity notwithstanding, Rabbi Schachter understands the overwhelmingly negative influence that prevails in today’s society, and he’s quick to identify what that is. He states emphatically that technology is the nisayon of our time, and while that’s not exactly groundbreaking news, his take on it is a creative one.

“I tell my talmidim, ‘do you think Hashem was taken by surprise at the advancements in technology? You think it shocked Him? Of course not. These nisyonos are sent from Shamayim and they’re here for us to grow.’” Rabbi Schachter sees this as a lesson to be learned from the Torah itself. Yosef Hatzaddik was faced with a paramount nisayon that he successfully overcame. Later in life, he came to become the most powerful leader in the world.

“There’s so much brachah waiting for us,” Rabbi Schachter tells his students. “Our ability to withstand the nisayon of technology is precisely our mechanism to accessing that brachah.”

Every Day a Miracle

Today, Rabbi Schachter’s influence is more widespread than ever. This, too, has a story.

It was the night after he got up from shivah following his mother’s passing. As a chiyuv, he was davening for the amud, his heart panging from the void that his mother once filled. Suddenly, he was approached by Reb Shmuel and Reb Pinchos Wallerstein, two members of the Wallerstein family who founded and oversaw Yeshiva Ohr Yitzchak.

“Would you be willing to give a shiur in the yeshivah?” they asked. Emotionally drained, Rabbi Schachter sighed.

“Why not?” he said.

The shiur was given with Rabbi Schachter seated at a table with a handful of boys crowding around him. One of those boys held a recorder. As it happened, this boy’s father operated Kol Halashon, a platform that hosts thousands of shiurim. Rabbi Schachter completed the shiur and headed home, not realizing that the shiur given to a small informal group of bochurim was now available to thousands worldwide. The shiur continued to be given on a regular basis and then, one day, someone showed up holding a video camera.

“What’s that for?” Rabbi Schachter asked, genuinely perplexed.

“We’re here from TorahAnytime,” the fellow explained.

And so it was that Rabbi Fishel Schachter became a regular feature on the TorahAnytime website. According to their most recent stats, he has over 1,200 shiurim posted with over seven million views.

That this rapid chain of events should begin the night after his mother’s shivah is perhaps the legacy she left behind, which would grow exponentially.

It ain’t gonna help to sleep in the bus station. Get off the bus and get on with your life….

She would continue getting on with her life.

The topics of the shiurim vary but they generally share certain common characteristics. They all have a message, usually about Hashgachah Pratis, emunah, Hashem’s love for Klal Yisrael and how we must always be on the lookout for His Divine signals. But, intensive as these themes might seem, their delivery is informal in nature, always couched in his trademark humor and heavily laden with self-depreciation. The delivery seems easy, almost nonchalant, but don’t let the optics fool you. Rabbi Schachter works tirelessly in preparing these classes; he spends all week on them and, in all these years, has never missed.

“I’ve been in Eretz Yisrael, I’ve been to Australia, but I never missed a shiur,” Rabbi Schachter says. And for this, he gives the credit to his eishes chayil, who has given up so much to allow for her husband’s continued harbatzas haTorah.

In his chassidishe garb, with a little mic attached to the lapel of his rekel, he’ll begin by greeting the attendees individually, calling them out by name. This modus operandi runs throughout the shiur — he’ll constantly select people in the crowd, asking them to explain certain concepts in politics or trends in current events. He speaks in English, but the Yiddish always slips in, particularly when sharing a story — which is more than fairly often. He’ll frequently add anecdotes from his personal life, usually depicting some form of disaster which somehow managed to turn out for the good.

“I’ve been asked, ‘Reb Fishel, how is it that so many stories happen to you?’ And I answer, ‘they happen to you too, you just have to watch out for them.’”

This, too, is backed up with a story. “Someone once came to the Manchester Tzaddik, Rav Yehudah Zev Segal, to discuss a certain personal issue,” Rabbi Schachter relates. “Rav Segal recommended that, when saying the words from Shemoneh Esreh, “v’al nisecha sheb’chol yom imanu,” he should have in mind a particular miracle that happened that day. ‘But what if I can’t think of any miracles that happened to me that day?’ the fellow asked. ‘Then you’re not thinking hard enough,’ was the Manchester Rav’s reply.”

More Than the Message

So obvious it is to Rabbi Schachter that his life’s experiences hold valuable lessons, that he has taken to carrying a small notebook with him wherever he goes. “This way, whenever a thought crosses my mind, or something of interest happens to me, I immediately write it down.” Many listeners also share their own stories with him, which then become incorporated into the shiurim as well.

And there’s a vintage Rabbi Schachter story for this one as well.

“I was once in a beis medrash, holding a cup of coffee,” he says. “I bumped into someone and spilled the coffee all over him. The fellow was on the way to a meeting — he didn’t seem too happy. I apologized profusely for spilling the coffee and soiling his shirt, but the fellow shook his head. ‘It’s not the coffee or the shirt. It’s that now I’m going to be the subject of another one of your stories!’”

Rabbi Schachter laughs. “His fears were justified.”

But for Rabbi Schachter, it’s not just about the takeaway message: He sees value in the experience as well.

“The Kotzker Rebbe once said, ‘I don’t just want that my chassidim shouldn’t do aveiros. I want them not to have time to do aveiros.’”

It’s just another one of his stories, dropped casually to demonstrate an important element behind his motivation. “In addition to the inspiration, I want Yidden to be able to spend time in a heilige environment, enjoying an elevated, while still amusing, experience.”

Rabbi Schachter’s new book is a gateway into that world of uplift, an escape from the derogation imposed by a culture that defies the joys of the spirit.

It’s a book that will touch that almost forgotten chord within you; suddenly, you’ll be that little boy again, ensuring the candy-man that you’ll make a shehakol, or the little girl holding off on her Bissli crunch.

And with that recaptured spark of purity, the question “Did This Ever Happen to You?” will become easy for all of us to answer.

Of course it did. And we couldn’t be more grateful.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 949)