A Scholar’s Late Night Visit—and a Heart of Gold

Rabbi Isser Zalman Meltzer wasn’t only a brilliant Torah scholar—he was also a person whose heart was finely tuned to the feelings of others. This moving story reveals his incredible sensitivity and the deep kindness that guided even his smallest decisions.

Rabbi Israel Liush shares a powerful story that reflects the inner world of Rabbi Isser Zalman Meltzer—one of care, compassion, and awe-inspiring love for Torah.

Rabbi Isser Zalman Meltzer was the uncle of three prominent Roshei Yeshiva (heads of yeshivas) of Hebron Yeshiva: Rabbi Aharon Cohen, Rabbi Yechezkel Sarna, and Rabbi Moshe Chevroni.

At Rabbi Isser Zalman’s funeral, Rabbi Moshe Chevroni shared a remarkable story that he felt captured his uncle’s essence.

At the time, Israel was under British rule, and tensions were high between the British forces and the Jewish underground. The British would occasionally enforce strict curfews: no one was allowed outside from 6 PM to 6 AM. Soldiers patrolled the streets, and anyone found outside could be arrested—or worse.

One night during this period, around 2 AM, Rabbi Moshe Chevroni was alone in the yeshiva, learning Torah. Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door. His heart pounded. Could it be the British soldiers? Were they searching the yeshiva for hidden weapons?

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t speak English, and he was terrified. He whispered a heartfelt prayer to Hashem for help, then approached the door and asked, with a trembling voice, “Who’s there?”

From the other side came a familiar voice in Yiddish: “Der feter” — “Your uncle.”

His uncle?

Relieved, Rabbi Moshe opened the door—and there stood Rabbi Isser Zalman Meltzer.

“Why are you here?” he asked in disbelief. “There’s a curfew—it’s dangerous!”

“I was at home learning a difficult Rambam,” Rabbi Isser Zalman explained. “I needed an answer urgently. Who could I turn to at this hour? I told my wife, ‘Rabbi Moshe is surely still learning in the yeshiva. I’ll go ask him, and we’ll work it out together.’”

“He came out at 2 AM—during a dangerous curfew—because he couldn’t sleep without understanding a piece of Torah!” Rabbi Moshe said in his eulogy. “That’s how deep his love for Torah was.”

Rabbi Isser Zalman shared the complicated question, and Rabbi Moshe—still shaken from the unexpected visit—offered a response. His uncle was delighted.

As Rabbi Isser Zalman prepared to leave, Rabbi Moshe begged him, “Please, Uncle, stay the night! It’s dangerous to go back outside.”

But Rabbi Isser Zalman gently refused. “I need to write down the insight.”

“Fine,” Rabbi Moshe offered. “You can write it here.”

But his uncle shook his head. “I can’t. I have to write it in my own notebook, at home.”

And just like that, he walked back into the night.

“See what love of Torah looks like,” Rabbi Moshe concluded. “Such diligence, such passion!”

That’s the story Rabbi Moshe Chevroni shared at the funeral.

But during the shiva (mourning period), when he came to offer comfort to his aunt—the Rebbetzin—she gently revealed a deeper layer of the story.

“That’s not what happened,” she said softly.

“What do you mean?” Rabbi Moshe asked, surprised. “I was there. I saw him come to me during curfew. I remember everything.”

“You’re right that he came to you,” she said. “But the reason wasn’t what you think. You told the story to highlight his Torah diligence—but we already know about that. The real story shows something else—his kindness.”

She then shared what had truly happened:

For years, Rabbi Isser Zalman had been writing his Torah insights, with the Rebbetzin helping him organize the manuscripts. They both longed to see the sefer (book) published, especially because the Torah world truly needed it. However, printing took a long time, and the printer told them that they’d have to wait five years before their turn would come.

Then one day, the Rebbetzin got a call. A slot had opened up—just one. If the manuscripts were delivered by 8 AM the next day, the book would go straight to press. If not, they’d have to wait another five years.

She was thrilled and shared the news with Rabbi Isser Zalman that evening. Everything was ready to go.

Suddenly, he turned pale.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

“I just realized,” he said slowly. “I included a question and answer from Rabbi Aharon Cohen in the sefer. And one from Rabbi Yechezkel Sarna. But not a single one from Rabbi Moshe Chevroni.”

“But he’s so humble!” she replied. “He won’t take offense.”

“I can’t take that risk,” Rabbi Isser Zalman said quietly. “I cannot print the sefer if there’s even a chance of hurting him.”

The Rebbetzin thought for a moment—and then a bright idea came to her.

“Go to Rabbi Moshe now,” she said. “Present him with a difficult Rambam—even one you already know the answer to. Let him answer. Then erase your answer and use his—word for word. That way, you’ll include something from him.”

And that’s exactly what Rabbi Isser Zalman did.

That “2 AM Rambam question” wasn’t about needing an answer. It was about sparing the feelings of his beloved nephew. And the curfew? It didn’t stop him. Because for Rabbi Isser Zalman, avoiding even the slightest hurt to another person was more important than his own safety.

After hearing Rabbi Moshe’s answer—identical to his own—he rushed back home. He worked through the night editing, just in time to deliver the manuscripts at 8 AM.

Yes, Rabbi Isser Zalman Meltzer was a tremendous Torah scholar. But he was also something just as precious: someone who never wanted to cause pain to another soul.

From the book 'Adrabah,' courtesy of the 'Dirshu' website.