Kindness Above All: Two Stories of Quiet Torah Greatness

In his weekly bulletin, Rabbi Chananya Tzolak shared two powerful and moving stories that remind us just how sacred it is to protect the dignity of others. These true stories about Torah sages show us what it really means to live by the values of the Torah—not just learning it, but feeling it, and honoring every Jew.

The Rabbi Who Chose the Fire

Rabbi Yisrael Yaakov Lubchinsky, the rabbi of Baranovichi and a spiritual supervisor at the 'Ohel Torah' yeshiva (Jewish study academy), made sure that every morning, the synagogue was already warm before the early worshippers arrived. Despite the freezing cold outside, the prayer hall always had a gentle warmth waiting to greet them. Most people assumed it was the loyal caretaker who came early to stoke the stove and light the fire.

But they were all mistaken.

It was actually Rabbi Lubchinsky himself, who would rise before dawn and quietly make his way to the shul. There, he would bend over the freezing stove, fill it with wood chips, ignite the fire, and patiently tend to the growing flames until heat spread through the room. Then, he would quietly slip away, unseen.

One day, however, something unexpected happened. A member of the town woke up unusually early and arrived at the synagogue before anyone else. At that exact moment, Rabbi Lubchinsky was crouched low near the stove, feeding the fire. When he heard the door open, he didn’t lift his head. He didn’t want to be seen—because if people found out he was the one heating the synagogue, they would stop him, and the caretaker would be forced to take over.

The rabbi stayed where he was, hoping the man would leave.

But the man thought it was just the caretaker lingering too long by the fire. He walked over and gave him a friendly but dismissive slap on the back: “What’s taking you so long in there?” he joked loudly.

Now Rabbi Lubchinsky faced a difficult choice. If he stood up and revealed himself, the truth would come out—and the man who had just slapped him would be devastated. He would feel ashamed for having treated the town’s revered rabbi so casually, and probably never forgive himself.

So the rabbi stayed crouched by the fire. The heat grew stronger. His face was burning, and sweat poured down his cheeks. Still, he kept his head inside the stove, waiting for the man to leave.

Only after several long minutes, when he was certain the man had gone, did he quietly rise, his face red and his beard slightly singed, and slip away from the synagogue.

Why did he endure such discomfort and even pain? Because, as our Sages teach in the Talmud (Sotah 10b), “It is better for a person to throw himself into a fiery furnace than to humiliate his fellow in public.”

“Should I Marry Such a Cruel Woman?”

Another moving story is told about Rabbi Heshil, the teacher of the Shach (a great Torah commentator). Rabbi Heshil was a highly sought-after match, and many wealthy families wanted him as a son-in-law. Eventually, he became engaged to the daughter of a respected, well-off man. The groom traveled to his future father-in-law’s town to spend the Shabbat before the wedding—the traditional aufruf—in the family’s home. He was given a beautiful guesthouse next door.

On Friday, while standing by the window, Rabbi Heshil looked over into the neighboring yard—his future father-in-law’s kitchen. The household was busy preparing dough for homemade noodles. After kneading the large dough, they laid it out on a table outside in the yard to dry and harden, making it easier to cut into fine strips.

Suddenly, something caught his eye—and it made his heart sink. One of the chickens wandering around the yard had jumped up onto the dough and started pecking at it. Before he could even process what was happening, the wealthy man’s daughter—his own bride-to-be—came storming out of the kitchen, clearly furious. She rushed over, grabbed the helpless chicken with both hands, and slammed it to the ground with shocking force. The frightened creature barely managed to scramble to its feet and run away.

Rabbi Heshil stood frozen. A painful question struck him: “How can I marry a woman capable of such cruelty?” But he also knew he couldn’t call off the engagement without causing great shame to a Jewish daughter.

What could he do? His heart was torn. And then an idea came to him—a difficult but clever way out. If he couldn’t break the engagement without causing shame, maybe he could behave in a way that would make her want to call it off…

He quickly dressed and went to the beit midrash (study hall). At that time, a few Torah scholars were learning there. Rabbi Heshil quietly slipped in, made his way to the central platform, and spotted the charity box sitting on the lectern.

He reached for the box and began to shake it, pretending he was trying to steal its contents.

Within seconds, alarmed cries rang out: “Thief! Thief!” The scholars rushed over and grabbed him tightly. “Who is this?” they asked, surprised by the stranger’s actions. Then someone recognized him. “That’s the wealthy man’s future son-in-law!”

Very quickly, word got out. People poured into the study hall, shocked that something like this had happened. Rabbi Heshil was taken straight to his future father-in-law’s house. There, he was yelled at and thrown out in disgrace—just as he had hoped.

But as he walked away from the town, he felt no shame at all. His eyes were filled with tears of gratitude. “Thank You, Hashem,” he whispered. “You helped me twice: You saved me from a terrible match, and You helped me avoid embarrassing a Jewish daughter.”