Rosh Hashana 5770/2009 - Jewish Infertility

Chizuk
“Every year, during my Shabbos teshuva drasha, I asked mechila from
the entire congregation, in case I’d made a wrong ruling in halacha
SHAAREI TIKVAH/ FALL 2009
portunity to appease him. As Rav was walking to the
butcher, he met Rav Huna. “Where are you going” Rav
Huna asked him. ‘I’m going to make peace with the
butcher,” Rav answered. Rav Huna replied, “You’re really
going to kill him” (because Rav Huna knew that the
butcher probably wouldn’t ask forgiveness, and that because
of this, the butcher would be punished with
death).
Rav stood near the butcher as he was opening the
head of an animal. The butcher raised his eyes, saw Rav
and said, “Go away! I have nothing to say to you!” Then
the butcher took one more hack at the head of the animal
with his hammer. A bone broke off and hit the
butcher in the throat, and he died.
The Aderes (Rav Aryeh
Eliyahu David Rabinowitz-
Teumim, ztz”l), in his sefer Nefesh
David, writes: “Once, I
got into a dispute with my
friend Reb Shlomo Aryeh
Gurwitz, and we didn’t speak
with each other for quite
some time. Then, on the
night of Yom Kippur, I reminded
myself that I must
make shalom with him, to receive
his forgiveness, if I want
to have forgiveness on Yom Kippur. So I went to his beis
medrash and, in front of the entire community, I asked
his forgiveness. It was very embarrassing for me. But in
my heart, I felt an immense, endless happiness.”
The Aderes also writes there, “Every year, during my
Shabbos teshuva drasha, I asked mechila from the entire
congregation, in case I’d made a wrong ruling in halacha
(for example, if I said that a chicken wasn’t kosher, when
it really was), or if I caused people to wait too long in
line before I was able to answer their questions, or for
any other misdeed or mistake. I likewise forgive everyone
in the congregation. No one has to come to me especially
to ask mechila, because I’m mochel everyone
already right now.”
SEEKING FORGIVENESS
The gaon Rabbi Shmuel Shtrashun of Vilna, the
Rashash (1794-1872), had a very organized gemach that
lent money to the poor. The details of every loan were
carefully recorded. One time he lent a sum of money to
someone, an ordinary person. They agreed on a day of
payment, which was recorded in his ledger. On the day
the debt was due, the man went to the home of the
Rashash to return the money, but the Rashash wasn’t
there. So he went to the beis medrash and found the
Rashash deeply engrossed in his learning. He gave him
the money and told him that the money was to pay his
debt. The Rashash nodded, took the money, told him
that it was fine, and immediately
returned to his studies. As
soon as the man left, the
Rashash forgot the entire
episode; the money remained
tucked inside the Gemara. The
Rashash went home and returned
his Gemara to the shelf.
Checking through his
gemach ledger, the Rashash saw
that the man was overdue to
repay his debt, so he called him
to come to his house. When he
asked for the money, the man replied, “I returned it to
you, while you were learning in the beis medrash!”
“You’re lying!” the Rashash rebuked him. “Admit your
crime and pay your debt!” But the man insisted that he
had paid the debt.
Soon the entire city of Vilna heard the story. Naturally,
everyone assumed that the Rashash was correct, and that
the man was a thief. People refused to do business with
him. Impoverished and embarrassed about the entire
episode, he ran away to a small village nearby.
Some time later, the Rashash once again took out that
Gemara and, upon opening it, discovered the money inside.
He understood what had happened. His entire body
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