Parshas Naso 5786
- Torah Tavlin
- May 28
- 4 min read
כל ימי נדר נזרו תער לא יעבר על ראשו עד מלאת הימם אשר יזיר לה' קדש יהיה גדל פרע שער ראשו ... (ו-ה)
In the city of Pozna, long before his greatness became known to the world, lived the holy Maharsha, R’ Shmuel Eliezer Halevi Eidels zt”l. In those early years, he was not recognized as a towering Torah scholar. In fact, many people regarded him with suspicion and even degradation. The reason was simple and, to them, inexplicable: he looked like a nazir and grew his hair long. His unusual appearance made him seem strange in the eyes of the townspeople, and they whispered about him, wondering why a man who appeared so ordinary - and perhaps even odd - would choose to look that way.
Only his wife knew the truth, and she guarded the secret faithfully. The Maharsha’s diligence in Torah study knew no limits. Night after night, he sat alone, writing his commentary on the entire Shas. He feared that sleep might steal precious moments from his learning, and so he devised a method to keep himself awake. He tied his long hair to a rope fastened to the ceiling. If exhaustion overcame him and his head began to fall toward the table, the sudden pull of the rope would wake him instantly. In this way, he ensured that he would not sleep through the night until his work was complete. Only during the day would he allow himself a brief rest - no more than three hours at a time - before returning to his sacred labor.
In the same shul where the Maharsha davened, another hidden tzaddik served quietly as the shamash. No one suspected the depth of his devotion. Every midnight, he would enter the shul, lock the door behind him, and begin to recite the entire Sefer Tehillim. When he finished one of the five sections, he would walk in a circle, making a hakafah around the bimah and then continue on, until he had completed the entire Tehillim. This was his nightly practice, carried out in silence and secrecy.
One night, fatigue overtook him and he fell asleep inside the locked synagogue. Suddenly, he felt a hand shaking him awake. Standing before him was a tall man dressed in royal garments, his bearing noble and imposing. “Excuse me,” the stranger asked, “where does the Maharsha live?” Still groggy, the shamash rose and led him through the quiet streets to the Maharsha’s home. When he returned to the synagogue, he discovered that the door was still locked exactly as he had left it. Confused, he told himself he must have imagined the whole thing, for he was still tired, and resumed his recitation.
But again he fell asleep. And again he was awakened - this time by a handsome man with red hair, also dressed in royal clothing. The stranger asked him the same question: “Where does the Maharsha live?” The shamash, bewildered but obedient, led him as well. Returning once more, he locked the door tightly, checked the windows, and continued saying Tehillim.
A third time he drifted into sleep. And a third time he was awakened, now by a man dressed in leather garments and a breastplate. The stranger repeated the same question. This time the shamash could not contain his astonishment. “Who are you?” he demanded. “And how did you enter the synagogue when the door was locked?” The stranger looked at him gravely. “I will tell you who we are,” he said, “but know that if you reveal this before the proper time, you will die.”
The shamash nodded, trembling. “The first man you saw,” the stranger said, “the tall one in royal clothing, was Shaul Hamelech, as it is written, ‘From his shoulders and upward he was taller than all people.’ The second, handsome and ruddy, was Dovid Hamelech. And I,” he continued, placing a hand upon his breastplate, “am Eliyahu Hanavi. We are going to the Maharsha because in the heavenly court they did not know how to rule in the matter of Shaul persecuting Dovid. I come as a witness, and they come as the litigants. In Heaven it was decided that only the Maharsha can judge between them.” And then, he vanished.
The next day, the shamash gathered the sages of the community and told them everything he had seen. When he finished, he added, “Know that the Maharsha is a hidden Tzaddik. And know also that, as Eliyahu told me, I will die. But I die with joy - for the holiness of Hashem and for the sake of the Tzaddik, so that no one will ever again cause him pain or despise him.”
Within moments, the shamash passed away. From that day forward, the Maharsha was no longer regarded as strange. Word spread of the heavenly visitors who had sought his judgment, and his greatness became known throughout the land. Students flocked to him, eager to learn from the man whose Torah was cherished not only on earth, but in the courts of Heaven. (לחזות בנועם ה')