It was an unusually hot and sticky summer night. The small
fans in the dingy dining hall only seemed capable of cooling
off the hovering flies. The Bar Mitzva boy sitting next to
the Rabbonim was totally encased in his new suit with his hat
perched stiffly on his head. The guests were still busy with
the complicated task of drinking and eating while wiping
their brows when Shalom-to-you-Moshe came walking in. He
quickly went over to the head table, greeting everyone on the
way over with a hearty "Mazal Tov." His overall appearance
caused quite an upheaval -- not because of his exuberant
manner which people were quite used to, but because of his
attire. On a hot stifling night like this, in Bnei Brak, no
less, he was dressed in a heavy overcoat, a sweater and a
woolen scarf wound several times around his throat. On his
feet he wore a pair of heavy boots. Shalom-to-you-Moshe
washed for bread and sat down to eat with gusto.
Actually Moshe had started his life as Moshe Bernstein or
some similar family name. Had you seen him in his younger
years, you wouldn't have noticed anything special about him --
he was a quiet, timid, not particularly sociable child, who
would rather die of thirst than ask for permission to leave
class.
Somehow, young Moshe reached Bar Mitzva age and the reception
changed his life forever. His father's cousin, a very famous
rov and mussar personality by the name of R' Shalom,
attended and at the end of the evening turned to Moshe and
said to him, "Since you are now Bar Mitzva, you probably want
to advance in your spiritual endeavors. Well, I have an idea
as to how you can do this."
Moshe stood there wondering and worrying about the heavy task
about to befall him, but to his surprise, R' Shalom said to
him, "At this point in life, you should take upon yourself
some small custom, practice or good deed, even something
easy, and stick to it throughout your life, no matter what."
Moshe pondered but, as usual, couldn't think of a suitable
answer. Suddenly he glanced up at R' Shalom and an idea
entered his head. "I take it upon myself to be the first one
to say `Shalom' to each person I meet," he piped up. "Just
like the tana in Pirkei Ovos." R' Shalom was
thoughtful for a moment, and then declared, "Very good, from
this moment on you must be the first to greet each person.
But don't take it lightly -- it's a serious undertaking."
If Moshe thought that the last words were made in jest, he
saw soon enough that he was mistaken. He came to class and
quietly started saying `Shalom' to all his friends. Having
just enjoyed themselves at Moshe's Bar Mitzva the day before,
they answered him in a friendly tone. It was harder though
with those outside his class and with neighbors to whom he
had never spoken a word. To everyone he whispered `Shalom.'
To his brother's friends, to his relatives, to members of the
Shul where he davened.
Everyone felt the difference. What a surprise to see the
young introverted boy greeting them first! But it seems that
people are never annoyed to hear the word `Shalom' addressed
to them; on the contrary, they all found it pleasant -- all
except for Moshe who was still a bit ill at ease with his
newfound custom.
By the year's end, when the older boys left to go their
separate ways, each boy in the cheder somehow felt a
pang of sorrow at parting from Moshe. In yeshiva he
strengthened his practice and greeted everyone first,
including the older boys. And if they, in the beginning, were
annoyed at the young boy who spoke to them in such a familiar
manner, they soon became used to his friendly greetings and
took it as a personal compliment.
In shiur beis and shiur gimmel, Moshe was the
most popular and sociable boy in the yeshiva -- he was
everyone's friend. The younger boys saw in him an older buddy
who was ready to lend them support, while the older boys
considered him as a peer who had mistakenly landed in a lower
shiur. His fellow classmates regularly confided in him
and asked his advice concerning personal problems.
That's also when the appellation `Shalom-to-you' began to
stick. The amazing thing is that it took so long for the
nickname to come into use. Ever since his Bar-Mitzva, Moshe
had been greeting people with "Shalom to you -- how are you
feeling today -- is everything OK?" coupled with a wave of
the hand, the wink of an eye or the famous `V' sign, in an
effort to distinguish himself from those who offered a plain
`Shalom.' A new boy who came from another Yeshiva was so
impressed by the theatrics involved in Moshe's greetings that
he named him `Shalom-to-you,' a title which was immediately
adopted by the rest of the boys.
In Yeshiva Gedola, Moshe was considered the best loved
student. He earned great affection among the rabbonim and the
other boys who appreciated his beaming countenance and caring
personality. Suffice it to say that he was offered a
wonderful shidduch. The only difficulty involved was
in `checking him out' since practically no one had heard of
Moshe Bernstein a.k.a. Shalom-to-you-Moshe.
For about 20 years Moshe learned in Kollel, after
which he studied shechita and subsequently spent about
two months a year abroad as a Kashrus supervisor. This
earned him a respectable living and allowed him to continue
learning Torah during the rest of the year.
The Bar Mitzva we find him attending at the beginning of our
story takes place during a period when he was supposed to be
in Europe. His appearance causes much speculation and
amazement - all the more so since, as we mentioned, he is
wrapped up in a warm overcoat together with scarf and gloves.
Unperturbed, without taking off his outer clothing, Moshe
waves, winks and smiles `Shalom' to all present and proceeds
to eat his meal with relish. Suddenly, the father of the Bar
Mitzva calls out jocularly, "It's hot enough as it is, and
you're making us even hotter." Moshe, seeing the look of
amazement on everyone's face, stands up and begins to
explain.
"My get-up makes you all uncomfortable, I see. Let me, then,
tell you a story which will explain exactly why I'm wearing
all this clothing:
*
It all started about two months ago when one of my friends
invited me to Norway. He had rented the premises of a big
factory for the purpose of slaughtering and processing large
amounts of meat. Several shochtim had already been
hired and I was engaged as Chief Mashgiach.
We land in Norway and I realize soon enough that they speak a
different language here -- my greetings of `Shalom' are met
by looks of surprise and embarrassment. We arrive at the
factory to examine the premises. I am awed by our assembly
line, which is brand new and so long that it takes nearly an
hour and a half to go from one end to the other! It is manned
by about 10,000 workers and the whole work area is
tremendous. Our group includes 250 shochtim and ten
mashgichim. I gather all the shochtim to give
them their instructions, give them a blessing and wish them
success. I then divide them into groups of ten, each headed
by one of them. My friend who rented the assembly line warns
us not to become too friendly with the workers who don't like
Jews in general, and who feel that we are encroaching on
their jobs. I realize this must be true when, the next
morning, I greet the guard at the gate and he averts his
gaze.
The work starts. Anyone who has never seen an assembly line
of this size, never saw anything awesome or frightening in
his life. The first step is shechita al pi halocha.
After that the cow is hauled onto the line and from then on
everything is done automatically. All parts are cut, numbered
and washed thoroughly and then sent through a tunnel where
they are quick-frozen. After that they pass through a longer
tunnel where they are deep-frozen. There, thousands of frozen
pieces wait to be sent to Jewish communities around the
world.
Two months of busy activity go by. We arrive early every
morning and leave late in the evening. One day I look at my
notebook and see that I have to check a certain animal on
which there was a question. I call up one of the
mashgichim and together with one of the non-Jewish
workers, we enter the special `cold tunnel' of the factory.
After punching the computer code, the racks start to move and
together we wait for the animal in question to arrive.
In the background we hear an announcement being made in
Norwegian which we, of course, don't understand. We look
questioningly at the worker with us who, it seems, hasn't
heard it. Without giving it another thought, we continue
waiting for some time in the frigid room. Although we've been
here before for shorter spells, the intense frost seems to
reach now into our very bones. Suddenly the lights go out and
we're enveloped in total darkness. The Norwegian worker
starts to shout and scream and feel his way towards the door.
We ask him in broken Norwegian what happened. He tells us
that everything is closed down and that we are stuck in the
room until morning. Immediately we understand the seriousness
of the situation and join him in trying to find the way out.
When we finally reach the door we realize with a shock that
it is automatically shut and that there is no way to open it
from the inside. Our only hope is the alarm button which must
be somewhere on one of the walls. Seized by panic, our bodies
gradually freezing, we quickly start to explore the walls for
the button.
After an hour we still haven't found it and I feel I'm about
to pass out and die of the intense cold. I glance at the
Norwegian worker who is covered with a layer of frost and who
is still searching for the button... This reminds me that our
salvation lies with our Creator and I begin to pray with
feeling. I ask the mashgiach to join me but he doesn't
react -- his eyes are glazed and he is totally apathetic. In
the meantime the racks of meat are slowly moving by and I'm
afraid that we might get hit by one of them and end up on the
hooks like one of the animals. My prayers intensify and as my
body hardens from frost I start to say the vidui and
the Shema. The mashgiach suddenly falls and
lies there inert and I realize in anguish that before long I
will be joining him. I glance at my watch and can make out
that four hours have already passed. The Norwegian worker is
sitting on a crate, head in hands, without moving, a pitiful
expression on his face.
Another hour passes by and suddenly the light goes on. Barely
conscious, I crawl slowly to the door and bang feebly - as if
this could help! But in a few seconds, I hear the sounds of a
large lock being turned and the heavy steel door is pushed
open. I don't remember anything after that, because I lost
consciousness. It seems that someone opened the door, pulled
out the three of us, and turned on the heater to revive us
while calling for help.
We were all brought to the nearest hospital, suffering from
severe cold burns and other medical problems, but alive. It
takes several days for us to regain consciousness, and after
gratefully thanking Hashem for saving us, I ask the doctors
how someone managed to find us five hours after the factory
had closed! The doctors themselves don't know but tell me
that every day a certain person comes by to see how we're
faring; perhaps he has something to do with it. Several hours
later, who comes by if not the guard who turned his head away
the first time I said `Shalom' to him. Together with him is
the Jewish man who rented the factory and the managers of the
factory. When I ask them how they reached us, they speak to
the guard in Norwegian and he points to me while
explaining.
My Jewish friend then translates for me: For the past 35
years the guard has been working at the factory during the
morning and evening shifts. In the afternoon, between shifts,
he rests. Throughout the years, not one among the thousands
of workers ever spoke to him in a personal manner. Only
occasionally did anyone address him concerning a technical
problem or a dispute with other employees. For the past two
months, he says, a man dressed like a Jewish rabbi has been
greeting him every day, morning and evening, with a friendly
smile and a word that sounds like `hello.' That fateful
morning, the Jewish man said `hello' as usual. But in the
evening, after the thousands of workers had left and the
guard locked the gate, something bothered him. The Jewish man
had not greeted him on the way out. At first he dismissed the
thought -- the man didn't owe him even a half a greeting! But
an hour later, the thought came back to haunt him. Another
hour passed and he couldn't put it out of his mind - maybe
something had happened!
As fast as possible, he ran to the factory to call the Jew
whose name he didn't even know. `Jew', `Jew', he called at
the top of his voice, hoping that this wouldn't insult the
rabbi. Suddenly the thought entered his mind that the man
might be stuck in the cold room. He hurriedly rushed there,
turned on the light, listened and heard a noise. With one
hand he opened the door while pressing the alarm button with
the other. `And that's how you arrived here,' my friend
said.
*
Moshe-Shalom-to-you glances at the audience -- they are
rooted to their chairs and it seems that the story made them
forget the intense heat in the room. But then as the message
of the story slowly sinks in, their hearts are warmed once
again, and they perspire freely. Moshe finishes his tale: "I
glanced at the guard and hesitated a moment, wondering what
to do, and then I smiled at him warmly and said `Shalom to
you!'"
Moshe took a deep breath and concluded, "I am deeply grateful
to the Creator for saving me and sending me, throughout my
life, messengers to help me. My life was saved in the merit
of the special practice that the great tzaddik R'
Shalom encouraged me to take on at the time of my Bar
Mitzva!"
