Rabbi Spiegel was very pleased with himself. He had secured
the most sought after darshan, Rabbi Leib, to come
speak to his errant flock. If anyone could make them mend
their ways, it was he. When Rabbi Leib spoke, sparks flew
that could ignite the embers of the coldest heart. And the
best part was that it was a surprise. Everyone in the village
knew there was to be a drasha on Shabbos Shuva in the
main synagogue and with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on
his lips, Rabbi Spiegel had promised that this would be a
drasha to remember, but the Rav wouldn't tell anyone
who was scheduled to speak. He was hoping that the added
mystery would tempt even the most recalcitrant among them to
attend the syagogue, and then Rabbi Spiegel was sure, the
rest would be easy.
Rabbi Spiegel was in the beis medrash studying alone,
which unfortunately was indicative of the priorities of his
congregation, when a message arrived from Rabbi Leib that his
daughter-in-law had just given birth to his first grandson
and he was expected to be the mohel. He was sorry he
couldn't come and hoped it wasn't too late to get someone
else.
"Get someone else!" Rabbi Spiegel shouted when he had read
the letter. His shout woke the only other person in the
beis medrash. Shimi the Schnorer, an itinerant beggar
who had wandered into town a day earlier, was snoozing near
the stove which had been lit to dispel the chill of the
autumn night. He was saving up his strength before hitting
the town for tzedoka.
"Wha... what happened?" Shimi jumped up. "I didn't do it, ask
anyone. I didn't do a thing!"
The rabbi ignored him. "What am I going to do?" he wailed.
"Tomorrow is Shabbos Shuva!"
"Don't worry, rabbi. Hashem forgives everyone his sins if
they repent with a sincere heart." The beggar put his torn
gloved hand on the rabbi's shoulder and tried to comfort
him.
"What?" the rabbi turned as if noticing Shimi for the first
time. Which he did.
"I'll tell you," said Shimi. "I've been wandering from town
to town for years. Every Shabbos Shuva I hear one of the
biggest darshanim speak about tshuva. I know
their speeches backwards and forwards and they all say the
same thing: just repent with a full heart and change your
ways and everything will be alright."
While Rabbi Spiegel was trying to comprehend who this vagrant
was exactly and what he wanted from him, Shimi's words
penetrated his subconscious and slowly seeped into his
consciousness and an idea slowly and painfully took shape in
his mind. It was an idea born of desperation but with just a
few days before Yom Kippur, he couldn't afford to have the
whole town mad at him.
"You know their drashas backwards and forwards, you
say?"
"Yeah," said Shimi. "And like I was telling you..."
"Could you repeat them?" asked the rabbi hesitantly.
"Like I said, I know them backwards and forwards," repeated
Shimi.
*
And so, that is how before mussaf on Shabbos Shuva an
expectant crowd of villagers sat in the beis knesset
and watched how Shimi, dressed in a modest suit, cleaned up
not so badly, ascended the bima to speak. To tell the
truth, Shimi hadn't liked the idea at first but when he saw
what a terrible quandary the rabbi was in and after being
promised great reward in this world and the next and having
seen first for himself the reward of this world, he
acquiesced.
Reb Shimshon looked out at his audience. Everyone waited with
bated breath. Not least of all the rabbi who stood in a
corner murmuring Tehillim with a passion befitting Shabbos
Shuva. Shimi spoke, the congregation listened and Rabbi
Spiegel prayed for a miracle. And he got it!
Perhaps because the congregants were really looking to be
inspired to do tshuva or perhaps because Shimi had
literally sat at the feet of some of Europe's greatest
darshanim, he delivered a speech fired with the desire
to give Rabbi Spiegel his money's worth. Rabbi Spiegel was
ebullient, his congregaton was cheering and crying and
hugging each other and clamoring to get near R' Shimshon. And
Shimi, he basked in the glory and felt warmer and more
satisfied than he had since someone had given him a whole
bottle of his favorite shnapps the previous Purim.
That would have been it for Shimi's illustrious but short-
lived career as a darshan but it so happened that
Gittel's cousin's husband Mottel was visiting Gittel and her
husband on his way back from some business in a neighboring
town. Mottel lived with his family in a village some thirty
miles away. He begged his honor R' Shimshon the
darshan to please come back with him in his carriage
to his town and give the Yom Kippur drasha. After all,
he was the gabbai of the shul and had the complete
trust of the rabbi in these matters. He begged and cajoled
and Rabbi Spiegel couldn't run interference because he
couldn't get near enough to be heard. Since logic dictated to
Shimi that if he had been a world-renowned darshan in
this town, he couldn't very well go back to being Shimi the
Shnorer anywhere near here, he graciously accepted the
offer.
To the delight of Mottel and the distress of Rabbi Spiegel
who was hoping to secrete Shimi out of town, and everyone
else in town, who were hoping that R' Shimshon could stay,
Shimi, alias the darshan R' Shimshon, and Mottel, set
out the next morning. The day dawned cool but sunny and the
whole town turned out to see them off.
Word spread quickly in Glicksberg that Mottel had brought
home the world famous `Tzaddik, Talmid Chochom and
darshan Rabbi Shimshon' and to their great fortune,
this holy man would be addressing them on Yom Kippur, the
holiest of days.
Though the large synagogue was filled to capacity, you could
hear a pin drop as Shimi, wearing a kittel that the
Rabbi had insisted on providing him with (since he had
expected to be home for Yom Kippur and had not brought his
along) ascended the bima to speak. Again, he spoke
with passion, with yearning, with inspiration and with
confidence. Shimi might not have been able to do more than
follow the prayers in his machzor. He had never even
seen a blatt gemora really close up, let alone studied
one, but he did have a phenomenal memory. And every speech he
had ever heard in his life, every sermon, every exhortation
to repent before it was too late, replayed itself in his
efficient memory and his memory fed him his lines with
remarkable speed and precision. Even Shimi couldn't believe
what a good job he was doing.
"He sounds just like Reb Fish, the famous Maggid from..."
"What are you talking about? He's like Reb Dov, the
darshan from..."
The congregants argued back and forth which great preacher
Shimi most sounded like, but all of them agreed that he was
the best one they had ever heard.
Reb Shimshon's fame spread quickly and he didn't have time to
take his leave from one town when he received an invitation
from another. In each town he was treated like royalty and he
began to like it. In fact, he began to demand it.
Now it's one thing to play the part of a righteous man on
stage, but it's another to live the role. It puzzled people
in the town he stayed in how so righteous and pious an
individual could on the one hand quote gemora page and
phrase and on the other, spend no time learning or discussing
anything but the most mundane subjects; how on the one hand
he could espouse a life of austerity and on the other, eat
and drink with such relish, not to mention a lack of table
manners. But the good townspeople chalked it up to the
idiosyncrasies of greatness.
Until Shimi arrived in Melk. Melk was a town not too big, not
too small. Their rabbi was an unassuming man who did his job
quietly and well and was very happy when news reached him of
a great darshan named Reb Shimshon who would be
speaking Shabbos Hagodol in their synagogue.
Shimshon insisted he be given the finest accommodations so
that he be properly rested before his speech. The months of
fine dining had put a few pounds on Shimi and the unassuming
ways that are part and parcel of being a beggar were replaced
by a rude high-handedness not befitting anyone, least of all
a beggar turned fraudulent darshan. The Rabbi's
representatives were quite displeased with the way they were
treated. When the Rav tried to point out to his guest that of
course he must be tired from the long trip but could he
perhaps be a little gentler with his requests, Shimi look
brazenly at the Rav and said, "Do you know who I am?"
The Rav looked at him a minute trying to find the right words
that would enter this rather unconventional darshan's
ear without offending him any further. Then his gaze turned
puzzled. Suddenly, his face cleared and with a smile, he
answered, "Of course I know who you are, Reb Shimshon."
You see, Shimi wasn't the only one with a sharp memory. The
Rav of this particular town had a very keen mind, honed by
years of study. He was sure he had seen Shimi before. For the
life of him, though, he couldn't explain how a beggar he had
helped a year ago collect alms from some of his less generous
but wealthy congregants had become a world famous
darshan. He decided to make sure, and asked Reb
Shimshon if he wanted to learn a little with him before
getting ready for Shabbos. When Shimshon demurred none too
politely, he asked him if he followed the school of Hillel or
Shammai in preparing for Shabbos Hagodol. Shimi, who hadn't
had any schooling beyond reading, said that he did what was
customary in every town. Satisfied, the Rav left him
alone.
On Shabbos Hagodol, the Rav ascended the bima. He said
he wished to say a few words before introducing their
distinguished guest. He paused for effect. "I don't know what
our honored guest plans to speak about today, but I wanted to
ensure that this subject does not go ignored.
"There is one trait that is repulsive to Hashem and that is
arrogance. What defeated Egypt was not their cruelty to Bnei
Yisroel, nor their immorality; it was their arrogance, both
towards Hashem and towards their fellowmen, in thinking that
they could treat people like dirt, the very people who had
helped make Egypt great. It was their ingratitude and their
stubborn haughtiness that drove the Egyptian army into being
drowned at sea.
"The Torah was given from the top of the humblest of
mountains by the humblest of men to a nation subdued by
slavery. It is humility, not arrogance, that makes a man
great. And one is most likely to find that the most arrogant
of men have the most to feel humble about.
"And now," announced the rabbi, "we will hear from our
distinguished guest, the world renowned darshan Reb
Shimshon."
The shul fell silent. Everyone waited expectantly. Expectancy
turned to bewilderment and then impatience as everyone turned
to look for Reb Shimshon. But Reb Shimshon was gone. They
waited a few minutes longer and then, with no other choice,
on a cue from the rabbi, the service continued.
The next morning the town was still talking about the
mysterious disappearance of Reb Shimshon and speculation
ranged from him having suddenly taken ill to his being
spirited away by Eliyahu Hanavi on some Divine mission.
Amid the whispers and the final preparations for Pesach, no
one noticed a humbled and dejected beggar quietly slip out of
town.
