What Is Holiness?

Yaakov Astor

Many years ago, I was at a summer camp where Rav Shimon Schwab, zt”l, was invited for Shabbos. After the seudah, we crowded into a room to hear him speak. It was my first time hearing him and the impression was everlasting.

A Vision by the Chofetz Chaim

He told us of his now famous encounter with Chofetz Chaim in March 1930 and the permanent mark it made on him. It’s impossible to convey the aura of the moment. Here was a gadol hador who actually saw the Chofetz Chaim. Rav Schwab’s voice was powerful yet gentle, and the whole world seemed to melt away as he spoke.

He told us that as he and other guests sat around a table someone asked the Chofetz Chaim about a tragedy that had just happened — a train crash killing 100 people. With a distant other-worldly stare, the Chofetz Chaim responded, “In 10 years, 100 times 100 will be nothing.”

The great sage saw the Holocaust before it happened.

He Fooled You Too!

Rav Schwab continued and told us that after that Shabbos he returned to Vilna where Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzinsky, zt”l, asked him his impressions.

“What can I say about the tzaddik hador?” the 22-year-old Shimon Schwab responded.

“He fooled you too,” Rav Chaim Ozer replied. “He’s also the gadol hador.”

A Nervous Question

After Shabbos I had strong desire to ask Rav Schwab a question — the problem was that I couldn’t think of anything to ask!

Undaunted, after Shacharis I approached him and a question came to mind. “What is holiness?”

I look back now I can’t remember why I worded it that way or what brought me to ask that question — and frankly I’m a little embarrassed about it — but I was expecting an answer along mystical lines, maybe a quote from the Zohar, etc.

Instead, Rav Schwab answered as follows. “Holiness is a couple I knew who divorced and later remarried after he admitted he was wrong and asked his wife to remarry him. She agreed. That’s holiness.”

His answer took me completely by surprise. That’s greatness, I thought to myself, but is that holiness?

For years I struggled with his answer. Then it struck me. The man had to humble himself to admit he was wrong and ask his wife to remarry him, and she had to humble herself to forgive him. Rav Schwab was saying that holiness is kovesh hamiddos.

The Purpose of Life

It’s a famous teaching said by the Vilna Gaon. The very first line in his sefer Evven Shleimah (1:1) states: “Kall avodas Hashem taluyah b’tikkun hamiddos — all avodas Hashem depends upon the breaking of [our] middos.” Otherwise, the G’ra says, “Lamah lo chaim — what’s the purpose of living?” The most important function of a Jew is to break his middos — shviras hamiddos.

Someone asked Rav Avigdor Miller, “If we were created to exercise our free will, our bechirah chafshis, doesn’t marriage curtail free will because you have to agree with your mate?

He answered, “That’s the best form of exercising your free will. When you can use your free will to curtail your free will, that’s the biggest success.”

Then he gave some examples.

“Let’s say you use your free will to smash people’s windows, to kick people, to call them names. No! Exercising free will by self-control is the highest form of free will. Let’s say your spouse insults you, but you make up your mind you won’t fight, you won’t argue. You’ll be diplomatic, kindly, careful, polite. If you do that, you’ll be achieving the highest success in free will. You want to talk back and say, ‘Do it my way or else.’ No! Say, ‘Your way, dear.’ Try to be diplomatic. Break your middos. Try to get along with everybody.”

Then Rav Miller added an important point that connects to Rav Schwab’s idea:

“The Shechinah dwells among people who force themselves to get along with each other. That’s the job of a husband and wife — to get along with each other. That’s how the Shechinah comes to dwell among them. When there’s shalom because each one is breaking their middos to cooperate with the other, then the Shechinah dwells among them” (see Sotah 17a).

That explains why the G’ra’s great principle that we’re here to break out middos isn’t only about good middos — it’s about kedushah! It’s holiness because it brings down the Shechinah into our otherwise mundane lives.

A Davar B’kedushah

Rav Yisrael Reisman makes the same point that a Jewish marriage isn’t just about a relationship. It’s a davar b’kedushah. “When it says Shechinah shrua beineihem (the Shechinah dwells between them),” Rav Reisman says, “it means physically. When husband and wife have shalom the Shechinah is physically there.”

He then tells the story of R’ Nachum of Chernobyl who was extremely poor. In those days, poor didn’t mean a beat up car, no air conditioning, no long distant vacations, etc. It meant no food. One Sukkos, Reb Nachum traded the only valuable thing he owned, his tefillin from the Baal Shem Tov, for an esrog. His wife was distraught — so distraught that she bit off the pitom!

Reb Nachum was non-plussed. When asked how he could be so calm, he responded, “The Baal Shem Tov’s tefillin I don’t have. The esrog I don’t have. Shalom bayis I also shouldn’t have?”

“That’s a high level,” Rav Reisman concludes, “but the lesson is that shalom bayis is certainly no less a davar b’kedusha than tefillin.”

Rav Reisman also cites an example from Rav Pam, who said that when a husband sees his wife spend money they can’t afford, he should look at it like hiddur mitzvah. For hiddur mitzvah a person spends a little extra money — sometimes a lot of extra money. So too with marriage: the husband should look at it that he’s spending money for the hiddur mitzvah of shalom bayis.

Here too, shalom bayis isn’t just about getting along. It’s a davar b’kedushah.

Zeh Lo Chashuv

A contemporary story is told of a couple who had a good marriage but they were very different from each other. He was always on time while she was always late. He was neat while she didn’t mind if things were messy. Part of their dynamics was that she would always say, “Zeh lo chashuv — it’s not that important.” The house is messy? “Zeh lo chashuv.” We’re late? “Zeh lo chashuv.“

She didn’t use the quip for the very important things in life, just for small matters. And, indeed, many times this saying helped defused the tense moment.

One summer while she was in their bungalow, she called him in the city and told him to bring her checkbook to pay some important bills. Ever-efficient, he immediately put the checkbook in a shopping bag so he wouldn’t forget to bring it. The first thing he did when he arrived erev Shabbos was to give her the bag.

Shabbos morning, he woke up and noticed the bag hanging on the baby’s crib. He was very upset. She had made a big deal how important it was to have the checkbook, yet there it was still in the bag! She didn’t even take it out! Nevertheless, he said nothing because why make a scene and spoil Shabbos. Besides, if he said anything she’d reply, “Zeh lo chashuv. It’s not so important. I’ll get to the checks motza’ei Shabbos.”

He went back to the city on Sunday. The next Friday he returned to the bungalow, walked into bedroom and saw the bag still on the crib! He was livid. But, again, he didn’t say anything. What was he going to do? Make a big deal and ruin Shabbos? Besides, she’d just say, “Zeh lo chashuv.” So he kept quiet and went back to the city on Sunday.

On Tuesday he got a frantic call. His wife had to be rushed to the hospital. He got in his car, but it took him two and a half hours to drive from Manhattan to the hospital. When he entered the lobby and saw the numerous relatives and friends, he knew something was wrong. Then they told him — his wife had died of complications during premature childbirth.

Stunned, he returned to the bungalow colony with his friends and relatives. He went into the bedroom and the first thing he saw was that bag with the checkbook in it. It was still there hanging on the crib. He took out the checkbook and the first check he wrote was to the chevra kadisha. The second check was used to pay for the funeral. Back in his room alone he took the bag and hung it up in his closet. On the outside of the bag he wrote three words, “Zeh lo chashuv.” He kept it there for months.

The lesson which he learned in death is something we have to learn in life — most of the arguments we get into are really lo chashuv, not so important. At the same time, one negative, nasty comment leads to another and sets in motion a volcano of emotions that can’t help but bubble to the surface someday. If we would realize that most arguments are about things that really aren’t that important — that are lo chashuv — then the conflict and dissention would dissipate.

Every home is a mini Beis Hamikdash. By making sure that our miniature Beis Hamikdash is built with shalom, we make ourselves zocheh to have the Shechinah dwell among us.

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