How One Man's Love for Shabbat Protected All He Owned

n the Talmud (Shabbat 33b), we read about Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, who hid in a cave with his son Rabbi Elazar for twelve years. When they finally emerged, they were disturbed to see people farming and working. “They’re abandoning eternal life for temporary life,” they said and everywhere they looked, the world burned. A heavenly voice sent them back into the cave. Only after another year were they ready to see the world through eyes of compassion and understanding.

What changed Rabbi Shimon’s heart was one simple act: he saw a Jew holding two bundles of myrtle branches in honor of Shabbat. The man explained, “One is for ‘Zachor’ (Remember the Shabbat), and one is for ‘Shamor’ (Guard the Shabbat).” Rabbi Shimon was moved to his core. Of all the mitzvot, it was a Jew’s love for Shabbat that brought him peace.

This deep love for Shabbat lived in the heart of Rabbi Yaakov Yosef Herman, one of the early Torah pioneers in America. His daughter, Rebbetzin Ruchama Shain, shared a powerful story in her book “All for the Boss.”

In the summer of 1939, Rabbi Herman and his wife traveled to Eretz Yisrael. They were supposed to arrive in Haifa on a Wednesday and had plans to stay with Rabbi Alpha and his wife. But a war was about to begin. Just before their arrival, Germany invaded Poland. The ship detoured for safety, and instead of arriving midweek, it docked at Haifa one hour before sunset on Friday.

Loudspeakers boomed throughout the port: “Evacuate the ship! All passengers must take their luggage and disembark immediately!” Chaos erupted on the dock. Rabbi Herman and his wife were filled with concern. How would they leave the port, carry their suitcases, and reach their hosts before Shabbat began?

Then Rabbi Herman made a decision. “To arrive in the Holy Land and break Shabbat? Out of the question!” he said, tears rolling down his cheeks. He searched only for his suitcase that held his sefer Torah, tallit, and tefillin. His wife took her handbag. They approached the officer in charge.

The tall English officer tried to explain: “Rabbi, war has broken out. We’re clearing the ship and the dock. If you leave now, your luggage will be left behind and by tomorrow night, there will be nothing left. The Arabs will take everything.”

“I understand,” Rabbi Herman answered calmly. “But I will not break Shabbat. Please, just stamp our passports.”

The officer looked at him in amazement. “How many pieces of luggage do you have?”

“Sixteen crates and nine suitcases,” he replied.

“You’re willing to lose everything for the sake of your Sabbath?”

“Yes,” said Rabbi Herman. “Shabbat comes first.”

The officer called to his colleague. “Stamp their passports and let them go. This rabbi is willing to lose all he owns to keep Shabbat.”

Rabbi Herman and his wife left the dock with just their sacred essentials. They reached Rabbi Alpha’s house just in time for candle-lighting. All through Shabbat, Rabbi Herman was filled with joy. “Hashem does so much for me,” he said over and over. “What can I do for Him? At last, I have fulfilled ‘b’chol me’odecha’, with all your might, with all your possessions.”

But for his wife, the Shabbat was bittersweet. She was physically and emotionally drained, longing for her children and mourning the loss of all their belongings. Yet she said nothing.

On Motzei Shabbat, after Havdalah, Rabbi Alpha said, “Let’s go to the port. Maybe something remains.” They went, though with little hope. As they neared the gate, a guard’s voice rang out: “Who goes there?”

“Jacob J. Herman,” the rabbi called.

The guard’s eyes widened. “You’re late! My commander swore your things must not be touched. He said he’d have my head if anything went missing. Everything is here, check it and sign. Just please take it quickly I’m exhausted.”

Hashem had arranged a guardian for Rabbi Herman’s suitcases. He had given up everything for Shabbat, and from Heaven, everything was returned.

This is the power of mesirut nefesh, of self-sacrifice for Hashem’s will. When we honor Shabbat with sincerity, when we put Hashem’s mitzvot above our own comfort, Heaven takes care of the rest.