In the Hebrew year 5183 (1423), the birth of a long awaited son was a momentous event in the life of R’ Nissen Zuckermandel, an elderly chassid. The bris milah was scheduled to take place in the bais medrash of R’ Moshe Sofer, known the world over as the Chasam Sofer, the rav of the yeshiva of Pressburg.
The newborn’s circumcision was celebrated on Purim day, the Chasam Sofer presiding as mohel. In an exalted mood on this uplifting holiday, he was overheard singing to himself, “L’yehudim haisah orah v’simcha v’sasson v’ikor” (The Jews had light and gladness and joy and treasure – light alluding toTorah; happiness toyom tov; joy to milah; and treasure totefillin.)
Upon placing the traditional wine-dipped finger between the baby’s lips, the Chassam Sofer mystified his audience by uttering the Purim maxim “Nichnas yayin yotzah sod” (In goes the wine, out comes the secret).
The child, appropriately named Baruch Mordechai, grew to be a great yerei shamayim – a fine, God-fearing soul who spent nearly all his time in diligent study. Nothing of what he learned, however, seemed to penetrate his intellect. And so he became an object of pity to all who made his acquaintance. Serious and earnest as he was, he’d forget everything he learned; though it must be said that his kavanah when it came to prayer was a lesson to all in unparalleled piety. What a sorry plight for the poor fellow.
Paradoxically, Baruch Mordechai’s physique was at odds with his state of mind. He was of tall and powerful build. Once, following a torrential rainstorm that left the streets hopelessly swamped, he hoisted the Chasam Sofer over his shoulder and carried him all the way to the yeshiva.
“What can I bless you with, my son?” asked the grateful rav – to which Baruch Mordechai replied, “The rebbe should bless me that I should not have any gaaveh (conceit).”
When he reached the age of eighteen with no viable shidduch prospect in sight, he was advised by his mentors to leave Pressburg and relocate to the Holy Land, where it was hoped he’d stand a better chance at meeting up with his zivug.
Armed with a letter of reference extolling his virtues, Baruch Mordechai found himself wandering the narrow streets of Yerushalayim on a quiet dusky eve before finally arriving at a brightly lit home. The tzaddik R’ Yeshaya Bardaki welcomed him warmly.
In no time, the rabbi assessed both the young man’s incredible spirituality as well as his pathetic incompetence in mastering a blatt Gemara or Chumash. Sympathetic o the predicament of the hapless bochur, the rebbe offered him the position of shamesh in his shul, in return for providing the young man’s needs.
The local inhabitants soon came to know Baruch Mordechai as the one perpetually engaged in perusing the holy books and grasping little of what his eyes beheld. No one passed judgment or teased or derided him, and when he turned twenty, his mentor the tzaddik actively sought a shidduch for him.
