“No!” Leibel banged his fist on the table. “This is getting ridiculous. Do you know what a batlan is? It’s someone who sits around all day doing nothing!”

“So, youngster, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re all sitting around here doing nothing! I’ve been listening to you since you started learning here. Everyone has a different role in life, we all have our strengths. And you know what? Yours isn’t learning most of the day in the beis medrash. You need to be doing what you did before, not playing around like actors, fulfilling roles that don’t belong to you! My ten-year-old son can understand and ask better questions in Mishnayos than any one of you! Enough is enough!”

Now the entire chaburah was on their feet, all except Yankel and Hirsch Leib who sat watching in shock.

“You need a good potch!” Someone yelled.

“This upstart has some chutzpah to talk to us like that!”

“Just give me my gemara!”

“Fine, take it!”

Leibel snatched the gemara from the older man’s outstretched hands.

Livid, and breathing deeply, he turned to Hirsch Leib.

“And you! You’re the one who started all this! There are barely enough resources for the few learners that sacrifice to stay here learning all day, and now we’ve been left with nothing!”

Hirsch Leib tried to respond, but Leibel’s terrible temper was getting out of control.

“Since you all arrived, even the small biscuits that people donate to the Kollel have been gobbled up before we get any! It’s the only food we get until evening!”

An older man sitting at the corner of the table hastily brushed biscuit crumbs off his sweater.

“I understand your frustration, but the Torah is the inheritance of all of Klal Yisrael, not just the brightest and cleverest. The sweet Gan Eden of limud haTorah does not belong to you, Leibel, it belongs to all who sacrifice to dwell in it.” Hirsch Leib spoke softly, but his eyes seemed to flash fire. Even Leibel seemed to shrivel underneath his gaze, and he felt his knees grow week.

Leibel slid the gemara back onto the table and slunk away. But he wasn’t finished. Later that evening he spoke to the rav of Sharayeh, who pledged to visit the new chaburah of older, working men and see firsthand if the group was sincere.

When the Rav visited the shul, he stood and watched the men with long white beards struggling to decipher a page of Gemara, and he burst out crying. How could Leibel talk negatively about such people? Had his wisdom (or lack thereof) so much outpaced his character traits? Apparently….

The Rav sought out Leibel and asked him to listen in as he spoke to the men.

“What is your trade?”

“Carpenter.”

“How are you getting by, sitting here learning instead of working?”

“My wife and I agreed to live with less so that we could gain more Olam Haba.”

“What have you given up on?”

“We sold our horse and eat only one proper meal daily.”

“Are you surviving?”

“No, we are thriving! Every day I come home, and we discuss everything that I learned that day. We’ve never been happier. My wife never thought in a million years she would be zocheh to be married to an aspiring talmid chacham.”

And so, the dialogue went, each man offering his own inspiring story of sacrifice for the sake of Torah. Hirsh Leib looked on, beaming with pride.

“Look what you’ve started, Yankel.” Hirsch Leib whispered to him as Leibel broke down crying, begging the group to be moichel him. “Not only have you changed your life, dedicating yourself to Torah, but you’ve also changed the lives of others for the better. You’ve started a Torah revolution here in the small town of Sharayeh!”

“And you!” Yankel wiped a tear from his eye. “You’re our selfless Rebbi.”

Hirsch Leib smiled softly.

Yankel suspected, and he was indeed correct, that Hirsch Leib was one of the lamed-vuv tzaddikim. Kindling the fire of dveikus to Hashem around the region was what Hirsch Leib did, following in the footsteps of the chassidic master Rav Yisroel Baal Shem Tov.

But there is a special yetzer hara for those seeking to come closer to Hashem. First their own fellow Yid had turned against them, but the group had weathered that storm and Leibel had come full circle, even offering them an apology. But now… now, the stakes were raised. When the next, real villain entered the picture, it was not only a matter of spiritual survival, but physical as well…

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 885)