A Shabbat Story: When a Broken Leg Became a Blessing in Disguise

The quiet footsteps echoed gently through the narrow stone paths of the Old City. It was after midnight, and a group of righteous men from Jerusalem, men steeped in holiness, walked slowly and silently, each deep in personal reflection. They were on their way to the Kotel (Western Wall), the last remnant of our Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple), to daven the midnight Tikkun Chatzot prayer, a heartfelt outpouring of longing for the rebuilding of the Temple.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a groan of pain. The group halted. The attendant at the front, holding a candle to light the way, quickly turned around to see what had happened.

There on the ground lay Rabbi Ben-Zion Shapira, one of the city’s most admired tzaddikim (righteous individuals). His leg was bent at an unnatural and frightening angle. But to everyone’s amazement, his face wasn’t contorted in pain. Instead, it radiated joy, a deep, glowing, otherworldly joy that made no sense to the others.

The attendant, who had some basic medical knowledge, was confused. He bent down and whispered urgently, “Rabbi, your leg is broken… Why are you smiling like that?”

Rabbi Ben-Zion, a man known not only for his Torah knowledge but for his deep yirat Shamayim, awe and reverence of Heaven, responded with a peaceful smile and said:

“Tomorrow, a foreign king is scheduled to visit Jerusalem. The rabbanim (rabbis) of the city have ruled that we must attend the welcome ceremony to maintain peaceful relations with the ruling authorities. But I’ve struggled deeply with this. I don’t want to look at the face of a gentile, even a king. At the same time, if I do go and avert my gaze, I’ll miss the opportunity to make the beracha (blessing), ‘Baruch… shenatan mikvodo levasar vadam’, ‘Blessed is the One Who has given of His glory to flesh and blood.’ That blessing is made upon seeing a non-Jewish king and reflects our belief that Hashem grants even earthly rulers their honor and power.

“So I found myself in an impossible situation. I had no way out, I didn’t want to disobey the ruling of the rabbis, but I didn’t want to see the king either. I davened in my heart for Hashem to help me out of this bind.

“And look what happened. Hashem answered me with such kindness. I can no longer go. With my leg broken, I am halachically exempt, because the Merciful One does not obligate someone who is unable. I’ve been released from both burdens at once.”

And with that, Rabbi Ben-Zion smiled again. He wasn’t upset about his broken leg. He saw it as a personal answer from Heaven, a private, divine response to his inner turmoil.

This was the kind of man he was. Someone whose connection to Hashem was so real, so deep, that even a painful injury could be seen as a loving reply from the One above.