At the Gates of Glory
He threw away the chance of a lifetime.
One of the most prominent bachurim in the Chofetz Chayim’s yeshivah in Radin was a young man who displayed tremendous stamina and often remained in the bais medrash well past midnight.
One Purim, this bachur had more than a bit to drink. He entered the Chofetz Chayim’s home in his drunken state and jostled his way through the crowd until he reached the place where the Chofetz Chayim was sitting. When he stood before his holy teacher, he began to plead, “Rebbi, Rebbi, promise me that I can sit next to you in Gan Eden!” The other guests smiled at the bachur. They knew that one who drinks excessively reveals his innermost secrets (Eruvin 65a); clearly, this request was a reflection of what lay in the recesses of his heart.
The Chofetz Chayim responded by shrugging his shoulders and telling the young man, “Who knows if I will even have any Gan Eden? How can I promise that you will sit next to me?”
The bachur was embarrassingly persistent. Every few minutes he resumed his pleading, “Rebbi, please grant me just this request, that I will sit next you in Gan Eden!” Each time, the Chofetz Chayim brushed aside his words. After a while, those present tried to push the bachur away to stop him from pestering the elderly sage, but the Chofetz Chayim told them to leave the young man alone.
As the day waned, the Chofetz Chayim prepared to leave the room to eat his Purim seudah. At this, the aforementioned bachur grew agitated. “I am not allowing the Rebbi to leave until he assures me that I can sit next to him in Gan Eden,” he declared.
Suddenly, the Chofetz Chayim became very serious. “I don’t know how big a portion of Gan Eden I’ll get,” he said earnestly. “But one thing I do know. I will probably have some share in Gan Eden because from the day I was old enough to understand, I have not listened to or spoken lashon hora. Therefore, if you promise me that as of today you will not listen to or speak lashon hora, I can assure you that you will be with me in Gan Eden.”
The bachur seemed to sober up immediately. It was obvious that he understood the ramifications of the Chofetz Chayim’s startling words.
The many bystanders waited to hear what the bachur would reply. His formerly unfocused eyes had cleared. He paused to think, but remained silent, evidently afraid to commit himself to an undertaking that he felt was beyond him.
After a time, the Chofetz Chayim exclaimed, “Imagine! A man standing at the gates of glory, and he doesn’t go in. Take him away from me at once!”
A group of boys quickly hustled the fellow away, and the Chofetz Chayim left the room to go to his Purim seudah.
I believe there is more than one takeaway from this story.
While we might feel disappointed with the bachur’s response to the Chofetz Chayim’s offer, do we appreciate what his deepest desire was, as evidenced by his drunken request? What would we ask for if we would have a chance to articulate our most heartfelt wish before the gadol hador?
Another point: The holy Chofetz Chayim, author of the Mishnah Berurah, could not at first guarantee that he even had a place in Gan Eden. Yet he knew clearly that his commitment to shemiras halashon would grant him eternal life. Do we truly understand the value of guarding our tongues? Whether or not it means sitting next to the Chofetz Chayim for eternity, clearly, adhering carefully to the laws of proper speech is a surefire way to gain admittance to Gan Eden.
And finally, to the Chofetz Chayim, the reality of the next world was so clear that when someone threw away an opportunity for eternal bliss, he could not bear it.
Do we just say we want Gan Eden – or do we really want it? And if we do, are we ready to take action to pave our way there?
(Rabbi Paysach Krohn, The Maggid Speaks. Artscroll Mesorah, page 166)
Take This Home
The next time you’re faced with a shemiras halashon test, remind yourself that it’s so worth it to do the right thing. Don’t say those questionable words. Walk away from a gossipy conversation. It’s your gateway to Gan Eden!
In Short
In response to those who questioned why he arose so early, often before dawn, to prepare for his Shacharis prayers, Rav Elya Lopian replied:
After 120 years, when I arrive in the eternal world and stand before the Heavenly Court, they will surely ask me whether I lived by all the laws of the Shulchan Aruch. They will take out the Shulchan Aruch and start questioning me from the beginning.
The very first words of the Shulchan Aruch are: “A man should strengthen himself like a lion to arise in the morning to serve his Master and herald the dawn.” And I certainly don’t want them to find me wanting on the very first paragraph!”
(Rabbi Paysach Krohn, The Maggid Speaks. Artscroll Mesorah, page 158)
It Happened to Me!
My Olam Haba Moment
We try to host guests for Shabbos as often as we can. These are people who would otherwise be eating alone on Shabbos. They are very appreciative every time we host them, and I usually respond to their thanks by telling them, “It’s our pleasure. Our meals are so much more pleasant when you come.”
The thing is, I’m not just saying that to be nice. It’s true. Aside from enjoying the guests’ company, the whole family behaves much better when we have other people at the table. There’s less fighting, more cooperation, and more participation. So we really like to have guests for our own good. Even if there’s extra effort involved to make it work, it is so worthwhile.
It would be great if I could realize this every time I have to invest extra effort to accommodate others (especially family members or those who are inconsiderate of my time, money, energy…). I might not see the dividends for a long time, but I am the one who stands to benefit the most by going out of my way for the sake of someone else.
D.P.
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