L’CHAIM TO HASHEM

The sun was setting in the west, leaving in its wake reddish-purplish hues. The candles lit by the women added to the aura of the day. You could feel the awe and holiness of the holy day, Yom Kippur.

The streets teemed with people dressed in white and wearing non-leather shoes, machzorim in their hands and a serious look on their faces. They were all headed for the shul. Each person was pensive as he contemplated the holiness of the day and hoped for a good new year to come, for his family and all the Jewish people.

R’ Levi Yitzchok of Berditchev’s beis midrash was full. Hardly anyone conversed, for the final moments that remained until Maariv were devoted to the tearful recitation of T’hillim.

Then R’ Levi Yitzchok entered the room. A tremor passed through the worshipers and they all gazed at him. The tzaddik’s face shone like an angel’s and he walked quickly to the lectern. R’ Levi Yitzchok was the chazan on the Yomim Nora’im and this year, when our story took place, was no different.

Machzorim were opened to Kol Nidrei but for some reason the davening did not begin. The tzaddik stood there with his machzor opened but did not say anything. He seemed to be waiting for something or someone.

The congregants exchanged surprised looks. Nobody had a satisfying answer for the delay. An hour went by, then two, night fell, and the tzaddik did not move on. He just stood there but did not begin davening. Nobody dared to approach him and ask what the delay was about. They all waited silently and anxiously.

Suddenly, a door opened and in walked a peasant-looking Jew. The tzaddik noticed him, his face lit up, and he began a heart stirring Kol Nidrei.

As soon as the davening was over, the people surrounded the simple Jew. They could tell that the tzaddik had waited for him to start the davening and surely then, he must be a great man himself.

“Who are you? Tell us about yourself,” they asked curiously.

But the simple man just shrugged and did not understand why they were questioning him. “I am a simple tailor who lives in a nearby village,” he said.

The people did not accept this answer. It could not be that the tzaddik had waited all that time for the sake of a simple villager.

“We will not leave you alone until you tell us,” they urged him and physically blocked the door to the shul.

The villager insisted, “I have no idea what you want from me. I said what I said because it’s the truth. I am a simple tailor who lives in a village. I have no special knowledge of the Torah. I am not a tzaddik and am not even close to being one. Please, let me be.”

But the people did not give up. Finally, one of them asked, “Then tell us why you were late for the davening and what you did today.”

The man sighed deeply and replied softly, “It is no great honor to tell you what happened to me today, but I see that until I tell you I won’t get out of here. So here goes.

“This morning, as I sat down to eat breakfast on Erev Yom Kippur, I drank a cup of whiskey which was followed by another cup and another cup. Not surprisingly, I felt very tired and I put my head down to rest a little. I intended on only taking a nap but … oy, I woke up later and looked at the clock and was horrified to see that in a little while it would be Yom Kippur. I still hadn’t eaten the final meal and I had a long walk until I reached the shul.

“I decided to forgo the meal and I just poured another small cup of whiskey in order to say l’chaim. Since I had no one to whom to say l’chaim, I thought of saying l’chaim to Hashem. So I looked upward and said, ‘L’chaim, Master of the universe. L’chaim. If we sum up the previous year, we will see that over the year You did some deplorable things. How many widows did you leave, how many orphans, how many parents did You take from their children and how many children from their parents, how many people suffered, how many tzaros were there …

“‘Not only that – if we take a look we will see that You also informed on people. How else did my poritz (squire) know that I had a little bit of money left over that I didn’t tell him about? You had to have done that. You arranged things so that he knew about it. And yet, Master of the universe, despite all these negative things that You did, we are willing to forgive You, but on condition that You forgive us too.’

“That is what I said to Hashem. After that I drank the cup and walked to the shul in town to daven Maariv. I was sorry I showed up late but to my surprise I saw that you had not yet begun davening. I was very happy that I was able to daven the important t’filla of Kol Nidrei with the congregation.”

***

The people listened and believed him and he was free to leave.

Yom Kippur passed and the feeling of fear made way for the joyous atmosphere of Yom Tov, with faith that Hashem had sealed them all in the book of tzaddikim for a good year.

R’ Levi Yitzchok, who had realized that the congregants were wondering about the mysterious delay of Kol Nidrei, told them the following when the day was over:

“You should know that the l’chaim of that simple Jew aroused a tumult in heaven and rent all the heavens. Being that this was so, it was fitting to wait for him for the t’filla of Kol Nidrei.”