As long as there is a breath within us, we must aspire to be great.
In the outskirts of the town of Izbica, Poland, in the 1800s, there was a small river. To cross from one side to the other, you had two options: walk all the way around, or take a narrow little footbridge. In this town of Izbica lived a young boy named Gershon Henich. This wasn’t just any child; he was the grandson of the Rebbe of Izbica, Reb Mordechai Yosef of Izbica, the holy Mei HaShiloach. That little boy would one day grow up to become a great tzadik himself — the Radziner Rebbe. But this story takes place when he was still a lively, energetic, and somewhat rambunctious kid.
One day, young Gershon Henich wanted to cross the river. He ran toward the footbridge, but as his mazel would have it, there was an elderly chassid walking slowly ahead of him. The boy, getting impatient, gave the old man a little nudge, trying to push past him.
The old chassid turned around, taken aback. “How could you push me?” he said. “Do you know who I am?” Gershon Henich, bold and confident, replied, “No… who are you?” With pride, the old man said, “I saw the Chozeh of Lublin! And you are going to try to push someone who saw the Chozeh?! Without missing a beat, young Gershon Henich shot back, “You saw the Chozeh of Lublin? Who cares? The Chozeh is dead! My grandfather is the Rebbe — and he’s alive!”
The old chassid was shocked by what he heard. What a chutzpah this boy had to just coldly say about the Chozeh, “Who cares, the Chozeh is dead.” So the elderly chossid went straight to the Rebbe, Reb Mordechai Yosef, and told him what the boy had said.
The Rebbe called his grandson in. “Is it true? Did you really speak in such a casual and cold way about the holy Chozeh of Lublin? The boy nodded. “Yes, that’s what I said.” Reb Mordechai Yosef began to tremble. “The Chozeh is dead — but I’m alive? Who am I compared to the Chozeh? If only I could be the dust under the feet of the Chozeh! How could you even compare me to the Chozeh?” He went on and on in this way, until little Gershon Henich began to feel uncomfortable, starting to regret what he said.
But then the Rebbe stopped, looked at his grandson, and said, “But the truth is, you are right. The Chozeh is no longer alive, and I am alive. And as long as a Jew is alive, they can dream and aspire to be as great as Reb Akiva, as Reb Shimon bar Yochai, as Moshe Rabbeinu himself.”
The Rambam writes this in Hilchos Teshuvah — that every Jew has the potential (and must have the aspiration!) to become as great as Moshe Rabbeinu. Does that mean we will become as great of a prophet as Moshe Rabbeinu? No. Was the Izbitzer Rebbe saying that he can have the same ‘eyes’ as the Chozeh of Lublin? No.
But Hashem created every neshama with their own ‘corner ’: their own mission that they are tasked with. In your particular mission, a Jew must aspire for himself, or herself, to be as great as Moshe Rabbeinu in their avodah.
As long as there is a breath within us, as long as our neshama is pulsating within our bodies, we must aspire to be as great, and even greater, than the Chozeh of Lublin and the giants of the earlier generations.
Adapted from a ‘Vayimaen’ video
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 57.
