A Story for Shabbat: The Gates of Wisdom Were Opened

Moses knew it was wrong. He knew it was cruel and completely against both human decency and Torah values. But still, he couldn’t stop the bitter jealousy growing inside him.

He watched with envy as his fellow student, Rabbi Chaim Medini, slowly rose through the ranks of the kollel not because he was naturally brilliant, but because of his steady diligence and deep respect for Hashem. Chaim’s dedication inspired others, but Moses didn’t feel inspired. He felt small. And instead of turning that jealousy into motivation, as our Sages teach in the phrase kinat sofrim tarbeh chochmah (jealousy among scholars increases wisdom), Moses let it fester.

Instead of celebrating his friend’s growth, he began plotting ways to bring him down.

The kollel in question had been founded in Hebron by a wealthy Jewish philanthropist who loved Torah and wanted to see true Torah scholars grow into future poskim (halachic authorities). He funded the kollel generously, but with firm expectations: those accepted had to be genuinely G-d-respecting, diligent, and refined in their character. Anyone who didn’t live up to those values could be asked to leave.

And that’s exactly what Moses wanted, to have Rabbi Chaim Medini thrown out.

So he came up with a terrible plan. He approached the non-Jewish woman who worked as a cleaner in the study hall during the late hours and offered her money to lie. He convinced her to say that Rabbi Chaim had remained alone in the building late at night and had tried to lead her to sin.

It wasn’t unusual for Rabbi Chaim to study deep into the night. He would often be found hunched over a Talmud, lost in thought, absorbed in the depths of halachah. Moses used that devotion against him.

The woman, whose values were tied only to money, agreed to Moses’s offer without hesitation. Moses was satisfied. He didn’t think for a moment about the terrible chillul Hashem (desecration of G-d’s name) he had caused or the pain it would inflict on a completely innocent man.

The lie spread quickly. The philanthropist who funded the kollel was horrified. “He pretended to be so righteous? A true Torah scholar? This is how far someone can fall?” he cried.

Within days, two people were expelled from the kollel: Rabbi Chaim Medini, and the woman who had made the accusation.

Three months passed.

Rabbi Chaim continued learning. He didn’t try to defend himself. He didn’t lash out. He bore the humiliation in silence, understanding that this, too, was from Heaven. A test. And he accepted it with love.

Meanwhile, the money that Moses had given the woman ran out. Hungry and ashamed, she came to Rabbi Chaim one night.

“I’m willing to tell the truth,” she said quietly. “I’ll go to the patron and admit that it was all a lie and that Moses paid me to say it. But in return, I ask that you speak up for me and help me get my cleaning job back.”

Rabbi Chaim didn’t hesitate. He bore no grudge. With genuine humility, he agreed. He put on his coat and walked with her to the philanthropist’s home.

The patron was shocked to see the two of them together again. “You’re with her?!” he asked, eyes wide.

Rabbi Chaim gently replied, “Please listen to what she has to say.”

She told the truth, and the philanthropist’s anger was ignited again. “Tell me! Who was the one who put you up to this?!”

But Rabbi Chaim shook his head. “I made an agreement with her. I would only speak on her behalf if she promised never to reveal the identity of the person who hired her. I won’t ask her to break that promise.”

The philanthropist was stunned. He saw now the true greatness of the man he had wrongfully expelled.

He immediately welcomed Rabbi Chaim back into the kollel and gave the woman her job back, too.

Years later, Rabbi Chaim Medini would become world-renowned as Rabbi Chaim Chizkiyahu Medini, the author of Sdei Chemed, one of the greatest halachic encyclopedias of modern times. His memory is honored on the 24th of Kislev, the day of his yahrzeit.

Reflecting on the story years later, Rabbi Chaim shared something he had never told anyone before.

“The moment I let go of the need to prove my innocence,” he said, “I felt a shift inside me. It was like the gates of wisdom opened in my mind. From that moment on, I felt a new clarity in learning Torah and I began to rise.”

Sometimes, when we let go of the need to be understood, and choose humility over revenge, Hashem answers us in ways more powerful than we ever imagined.