“You shall not see the ox of your brother or his sheep or goat cast off and hide yourself from them; you shall surely return them to your brother” (Devarim 22:1)
Our sages tell us that one of the most effective ways for man to gain Heaven’s favorable judgment is to grant merit to the community, by helping, contributing, and empathizing with those who are in need.
This is the fundamental doctrine of the pasuk. The Chofetz Chaim comments that the laws of returning a lost object apply even if its value is nominal, and one must return it even one hundred times. If this is the law for a trifling, how much more meaningful it is to return a human being who has strayed from the proper path of Torah and mitzvos.
The Medrash relates that Moshe Rabbeinu asked Hashem, “Master of the world, how will the person who killed another individual unintentionally find his way to the city of refuge [the fate of the person who has committed an unintended murder]?” Hashem instructed Moshe to prepare the way for the unintentional murderer, so that he should not be accosted by the “avenger of blood,” by putting up signs that direct the person to the cities of refuge. We learn from here that just as Hashem is good and just to ensure the safety of the individual who killed unintentionally, He is certainly compassionate towards the ordinary people, as it says (Tehillim 25:9), “Hashem leads the humble with justice.”
HaGaon Rav Shalom Elyashiv expounds that the signage was in order to assure that the involuntary murderer could access the city of refuge without delay. Despite the fact that the individual took the life of another person, it is nevertheless a mitzvah to assist him. How much more so must one help an innocent individual who needs guidance to walk in the ways of Hashem. Even if the person thinks he is conducting himself properly, but you know he is wrong, you must correct him.
We are commanded to emulate Hashem, as it says (Shabbos 133b), “Be similar to Him.” That is to say, just as Hashem helps us through life, as we say in our daily morning prayers, “… He prepares the footsteps of man,” so too we have an obligation to help others spiritually and in material ways.
Rav Dovid Braverman notes that we say in the Selichos, “we shudder and tremble before the day of Your coming.” We are fearful of standing before Hashem on the Day of Judgment, when we ask Him for blessing, success, health and livelihood for the coming year. We then add in our requests, “l’maancha Elokim chayim – for Your sake, living G-d.” We are not, in fact, entreating for all this beneficence for ourselves. For when one is concerned about the members of his community, to return those souls who are lost, then he demonstrates that he is indeed working for Hashem’s sake.
The great Rav Moshe Mordechai Epstein, rosh yeshiva of Chevron, remarks that there are two types of lost items. One is an object, lost by its owner, that is lying abandoned somewhere. The other is, as Dovid HaMelech describes (Tehillim 119:176), “I have strayed like a lost sheep, seek out Your servant …” It doesn’t matter how far the sheep has wandered from the flock. When the sheep hears the shepherd’s flute, he will be found. Dovid HaMelech says to Hashem: I am like a lost sheep that can’t find its way back, but You, Hashem, know where I am. Seek out Your servant and show me the way to return to You.
A young Torah scholar had been living in Yerushalayim before his marriage where he learned with a young man who needed personal and spiritual inspiration. After his marriage, the Torah scholar moved to Haifa, and he was only able to maintain intermittent contact with the young man. When it became apparent after a few months that the young man needed a closer relationship with his mentor, the kollel yungerman invited him to come to Haifa immediately.
They walked the empty and desolate streets of Haifa immersed in deep conversation, but the young man remained despondent and unmotivated.
Finally, the kollel yungerman said to him: I am a Karliner chassid and Rav Aharon HaGadol M’Karlin composed a niggun in honor of Shabbos, called Kah Echsof. The song has a number of stanzas, and its underlying theme expresses the soul’s desire to be close to Hashem. “Come let us sing together. Let us call out to Hashem, Ribbono Shel Olam, that our neshamos long for Him.”
As the kollel yungerman began to sing, the young man’s eyes lit up. The song opened his heart, and the two sang with great feeling and emotion. Suddenly, they noticed someone watching them. Crying, the man approached them and begged, with tears in his eyes, “Can I record you? I would very much like to have this song recorded.”
“Why?” they asked, and he began to tell his story.
“My mother was born in the city of Karlin, and in her home they sang this wondrous niggun, Kah Echsof, with great feeling and joy every Shabbos. However, when she moved to Haifa, she abandoned Yiddishkeit. The only connection she preserved was this niggun which she would sing to my brother and me when we were young. My mother passed away many years ago, but the niggun is engraved in my bones, and I am very moved to hear it.”
“So why do you want to record it?” they asked.
“Right now,” said the man, “my brother is in the bais refuah Rambam in Haifa. He is terminally ill and has only days left to live. I know without a doubt that hearing this niggun from my mother will give him extraordinary happiness before he leaves this world.”
“There is no need to record it,” said the kollel yungerman. “We will go together with you and also be able to fulfill the mitzvah of bikur cholim.”
The three proceeded to the bais refuah, where they began to sing the soulful tune of Kah Echsof. They sang with deep emotion, and suddenly the patient opened his eyes and tears trickled down his face.
When the duo finished singing, they left and began to walk towards the bus station, when they heard the brother of the ill patient in pursuit, calling out to them.
“My brother died,” he notified them, “but thankfully he was escorted by a song that is filled with longing and desire for the Ribbono Shel Olam.”
It’s amazing to think about it. Although the mother had abandoned Yiddishkeit and had given her children a totally secular education, the song of Shabbos that she had heard in her father’s home and transmitted to her children made an impression. Such is the power of a holy niggun.
