True tales from the corners of our world

The Background: My old friend Rabbi Yanky Kuperwasser told me a fascinating story he picked up on the basketball court

The Setting: My office

Rabbi Kuperwasser’s Story

I

learn in kollel full-time, but I get my exercise by playing basketball a few hours a week. One night as I was waiting at courtside for my turn to play, I was learning Rav Chaim Kanievsky’s sefer, Ta’ama D’kra. A guy who I’ll call Rafael (all names are changed to protect privacy) approached me. I saw him glance at the sefer in my hand.

“That’s Rav Chaim’s sefer, right?”

I nodded in the affirmative.

“Rav Chaim made my shidduch.”

If he was trying to shock me, he succeeded, because Rav Chaim wasn’t a shadchan.

Rafael told me he was living in Bnei Brak and had gone out three times with a girl named Chen. After things went well on the fourth date, he called his mother that night to tell her things were starting to look serious. His mother was excited, but then she said something that threw him for a loop.

“If you’re serious about this girl,” she said, “you need to go get a brachah from Rav Chaim.”

It was already very late. Visiting hours were long over. Rafael assured his mother he would go the next day. But his mother was implacable.

“Go now.”

Rafael saw that arguing was pointless and set off for Rechov Rashbam, despite the hour.

“I was thinking it was a complete waste of time, but at least I was fulfilling the mitzvah of kibbud eim,” he recalled.

Rafael trudged through the darkened streets of Bnei Brak, certain his errand would be in vain. The only place he wanted to go was to bed. But as he turned onto Rechov Rashbam and approached one of the most famous addresses in the Jewish world, he saw something that made his jaw drop.

The front door opened, and Rav Chaim Kanievsky emerged, surrounded by his gabbaim. He began descending the stairs down to the street, and the few people around launched themselves in his direction, hoping for brachos.

Rafael realized that his mother’s directive and Rav Chaim’s appearance meant this was all orchestrated for him. He thrust himself to the front of the small crowd.

“As the gabbaim tried their best to protect Rav Chaim from the clamoring people, I began calling out at the top of my lungs that I was in the middle of a shidduch situation and desperately needed a brachah,” Rafael said.

Something about Rafael’s urgency made an impression on one of the gabbaim, who told Rav Chaim.

Rav Chaim stopped in his tracks.

“Tell me the names.”

“My name is Rafael,” he replied, “and the girl’s name is Chen.”

“Tell the girl she needs to change her name.”

Rafael was flabbergasted. Before he could formulate a response, Rav Chaim was speaking again.

“She should change her name to Batya.”

The gabbaim escorted Rav Chaim away, and the conversation was over.

Rafael was reeling as he made his way home. Things had been going so well with Chen. How would he tell her? What would she say? But first, he had to report to his mother.

“Nu, did you get a brachah?” she asked.

“Not exactly.”

Rafael recounted the brief encounter with Rav Chaim. His mother took it all very seriously.

“I will call the shadchan tomorrow and tell her to relay to Chen’s mother what Rav Chaim said,” she replied. “Now you can go to sleep. I’ll call you when I hear back.”

“This was not the typical shidduch wrinkle,” Rafael said, but the shadchan called Chen’s mother and faithfully related the entire report, along with Rav Chaim’s instruction.

Chen’s father discussed it with their rav, who ruled that since they hadn’t been the ones to consult Rav Chaim, she didn’t have to change her name. The shadchan relayed this to Rafael’s mother.

“I went to Rav Chaim the next day during normal visiting hours,” Rafael said. “I told him my mother relayed his directive to the other side, and Chen refused to change her name.”

Rav Chaim’s response was immediate: “Break off the shidduch.”

Once again, Rafael couldn’t have been more shocked, but he did as he was told.

“Five weeks later, I got engaged to my wife,” Rafael concluded. “Her name is Batya. And that’s why I’m telling you that Rav Chaim made my shidduch.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1022)