When the Bobover Rebbe, Rav Shlomo Halberstam, arrived in America after surviving the Holocaust, he came with his son, Reb Naftolche, and a few close followers. At the time, he lived on the Upper West Side and struggled to gather a minyan.
One Friday, as Shabbos approached, it was late, and they still didn’t have a minyan. The Rebbe turned to Reb Naftolche and said, “Go to the street and find a Yid.”
Reb Naftolche went out, searching for a familiar Jewish face. He came across an older man, someone who had clearly endured the same horrors they had. In Yiddish, he asked, “Can you join us for a minyan?” The man hesitated and resisted, but Reb Naftolche pleaded, “Please, we need you.” Finally, the man agreed and joined them.
When they arrived at the shul, the man said, “If I’m here, I’d like to daven for the amud.” The Bobover Rebbe agreed, and the man led the davening beautifully. Over time, he became a regular at the minyan.
As the minyan grew, one Friday night, the man — Moshe, the ba’al tefillah — didn’t show up. The Rebbe told his son, “I don’t want to start davening without Moshe. Go find him.”
Reb Naftolche went out to look for him, and to his disbelief, he found Moshe sitting in a nearby park, smoking a cigarette. Shocked, Reb Naftolche returned to the Rebbe and said, “Tatte, he’s smoking on Shabbos!”
The Rebbe replied firmly, “He’s not smoking.” Reb Naftolche, confused, said, “But Tatte, I saw him with my own eyes. He is smoking.” The Rebbe fired back, “Moshe isn’t smoking — the German is smoking.”
Seeing his son’s confusion, the Rebbe explained, “Moshe, like so many survivors, has been deeply broken and traumatized. Inside, he’s a holy Jew—a Shabbos Jew. It’s not him smoking—it’s the German, the tormentor who invaded his life. Go back and bring Moshe.”
Years later, the Bobover Rebbe was sitting with his Chassidim when an older man with a long white beard and a streimel walked in. The man said, “Rebbe, do you remember me?”
The Rebbe stood up with a smile and exclaimed, “Moshe, the ba’al tefillah!” He embraced him warmly and turned to Reb Naftolche, saying, “Didn’t I tell you? It wasn’t Moshe who was smoking — it was the German inside him.”
Story heard from Rav Moshe Weinberger
Take it to go!
Next time you see someone who looks like he is doing something wrong, look deeper, and see the neshamah tehorah, a tzelem Elokim aflame with holiness. See a soul that needs time to heal. Even when, on the surface, it seemed he had strayed, when a Yid looks at another Yid, we look for the pure essence beneath the scars.
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Nekuda Tova Listing.
