Being a yeshiva student in Jerusalem is a wonderful experience. Aside from the learning, obviously, the people, places, and things to do never end. Indeed, I’ve fallen in love with it. Specifically, I’ve fallen in love with the people. As in the days of the prophets, Eretz Yisroel continues to produce some of the most amazing Torah personalities in the world. Some hidden, some revealed, but the greatness is on every corner; sometimes stuffed in the beautiful squalor that is Meah Shearim, other times leading a nation from a third story cubbyhole that passes for an apartmen on Rechov Chanan (Maran HaRav Elyashiv lives there). Walk down a street in Eretz Yisroel, any street, and you’ll likely pass a few…or many of these great men and women. The single trait they all posses, their common uniting denominator, is their humility. Like Moshe Rabbeinu, their humility is belied only by their greatness. Recently, I was privileged to meet one of them…

When my mother’s friend first recommended that I spend a Shabbos in Haifa at her parents’, R’ Hershel and Reb’ Mindel, I answered with a vintage teenage noncommital shrug of my shoulders, and mentally, shrugged off the idea as well- after all, I can’t possibly count the tens of possible-maybe-we’d love to have for Shabbos sometime-call us anytime-halfhearted invitations I’ve received over the course of my stay in Israel. The second invitation that was proffered during a Bein Hazmanim Shabbos in the States sounded sincere, however, and I followed up on it upon my return to Israel.

After an initial brief phone call to the couple Thursday evening for bus route information, my friend from Lakewood and I were headed to Haifa on a Mehadrin segregated bus early Friday afternoon. Neither of us expected too much. At most, perhaps a relaxed weekend in the scenic port city, decent food, and perhaps a bit of sightseeing.

Well, the weekend was relaxed, and the food was better than decent, but boy, did we see the sights.

Upon arrival in the couple’s modest dira (apartment), we were whisked off to the kitchen, where the wonderful Rebbetzin Mindel, a classic Yiddishe Bubby, served up a Paul Bunyon sized portion of potato kugel to each of us, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee. After it, and not a few repeated denials of further nourishment, our octogenarian host with the white beard and windowshade spectacles insisted on driving us around town to show us the sights. Feeling badly about troubling our host, but feeling worse saying no, we set off on a mini-tour of Haifa.

R’ Hershel proceeded to run around for the next two hours straight. We’d drive around, jump out, do or see the relevant tourist attraction (the B’Hai gardens are absolutely stunning, by the way), and race back to the car, off to the next attraction. By the time we got back from our two hour interlude, we were thoroughly winded. Not so our host, however. Turns out R’ Hershel was the shtetl version of Mark Spitz- he swims over two miles religiously-…every week, so a couple hours running around in the Haifa heat was nothing for him. Further questioning yielded the fascinating fact that this was peanuts- he’d served in the IDF for Israel’s wars. Wars, plural. Triral, actually. Yes, R’ Hershel had fought for his land and people in the artillery division in ‘48, ‘56, and ‘67. He joked with us that when people got on his case about his many religious offspring not serving in the army, he’d answer that he’d served enough for all of them put together.

By the time Shabbos rolled around, my friend and I had become quite intrigued by this Shalom Aleichem stereotype who was masquerading as a war hero-cum-Talmid Chacham. So intrigued, in fact, that we’d become determined enough to converse with the couple in our hodgepodge yeshivishe Yiddish and grammatically incorrect Biblical Ivrit and try to have their “story” out of them. We may have gotten some of it, but…that’s a story for a different time. This particular tale concerns a specific line of conversation that took place midway between the fish and Sefardi style cholent on that special Shabbos afternoon.

In the beginning of the meal, at our host’s invitation “tzu machen bakvempt” (to make ourselves comfortable), we’d repaired to our room for the hats and jackets removal ceremony- a procedure familiar to anyone who’s spent Shabbosim with bochurim of Bar Mitzvah age and older. My friend made use of the opportunity to beg me to ask R’ Hershel a question that had been nagging at him ever since we’d heard he was a war veteran. “Didn’t most of the men who fought in the IDF wars lose their faith? And more to the point, how did he survive with his faith so completely whole, and him so holy?” Back at the challah, chummous, and fish and dips laden table, I gingerly posed the above question to R’ Hershel. At first, our unassuming protagonist refused to acknowledge the greatness of his feat. A few minutes of persistent prodding, however, coaxed the secret out of him.

Before answering us, he repeated an idea he’d once heard from a traveling Rav regarding the “dmus dyookno shel Yaakov Avinu” (the image Yosef saw of his father Yacov Avinu in the window that enabled him to pass the test of Potiphar). The Gemara in Sotah (36b) explains that in this time of Yosef’s great trial, for which successfully passing he was later termed “Yosef HaTzaddik”, Yosef saw something that enabled him to overcome his temptation. What did he see? Yosef saw a vision of his father in the window. And that vision reminded Yosef that he was destined to be inscribed upon the stones of the choshen, and Yosef was able to successfully overcome his Yetzer Hara.

But what, exactly, about his father’s vision was so powerful as to succeed in preventing this sin where all else had failed? According to our sources, when one is faced with a great test, a tried and true method of overpowering one’s desire is to envision someone great, and ask yourself what that individual would do given your situation. And so when Yosef HaTzaddik saw his father in the window, he channeled that vision, used it, to ask himself- what would his father, the great Yacov Avinu, do given this situation.

This was Yosef’s secret weapon, and this, explained R’ Heshel, was what enabled him to stay true to his father’s faith throughout the many trials he faced in the IDF. He would place before himself, in his mind’s eye, a clear vision of the great sage under his tutelage he’d studied as a yeshiva bachur, and ask himself- what would my Rebbe do if he would find himself in my shoes?

Indeed, a wonderful device for overcoming ones’ Yetzer. Unfortunately, not all of us are blessed with the opportunity to be close with such esteemed people. Whom should we keep in our mind’s eye? Whose image should we place before ourselves, asking, what would he do in this situation? But on that special Shabbos afternoon in Haifa, I didn’t need to ask R’ Heshel this question. The reason being that I’d already discovered someone great to keep in mind’s eye. Someone worthy of asking of, what would he have done in my shoes? And at the time, his image was indeed before me…you see, I was looking at him.

Note: According to our sources, one can utilize the image of any great man. That is, a Rebbe or someone with whom a personal relationship has been formed is not required for this device to work.

(Photo credit to asiacamera)