The Rabbi Was Sent Far Away—But Not by Accident

Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski, the great rabbi of Vilna, became ill. Following the doctors’ instructions, he had no choice but to travel to the healing springs in Karlsbad. He was told to stay there for a long period—one that would include the most important days of the Jewish year: the month of Elul, Rosh Hashanah, the Ten Days of Teshuvah (repentance), Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Simchat Torah.

It was extremely painful for Rabbi Chaim Ozer. His heart couldn’t accept being far away from everything that gave him spiritual strength—the yeshivahs, the Torah scholars, the uplifting “Elul atmosphere” that filled the streets of Lithuania. Instead, he found himself in a cold, unfamiliar place, surrounded by people who didn’t share that deep connection to Torah. It weighed on him heavily.

Elul went by. Rosh Hashanah passed. And then it was Shabbat Shuva—the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. On that day, Rabbi Chaim Ozer met a Jewish man and greeted him warmly. “Shalom Aleichem. Where are you from?” he asked with a smile.

“From America,” the man replied. He went on to share why he had come to that part of the world. “I had a brother in Petersburg who passed away not long ago. And I thought—why should his wife marry a stranger? Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to marry her? I could help raise my brother’s children and care for the family.”

He went on to explain that he had already written to the widow with this idea, and she had agreed. “We’re supposed to meet tomorrow in Danzig,” he said. “We’ll get married there, according to the law of Moshe and the people of Israel.”

Rabbi Chaim Ozer listened—and his face grew serious. Something was deeply wrong. He turned to the man and said, with gentle concern, “But if your brother had children, you’re not allowed to marry his wife. It’s not just a stringency—it’s a direct prohibition from the Torah.”

The man didn’t look convinced. So Rabbi Chaim Ozer took out a Chumash (a printed version of the Five Books of Moses) and opened it to the Book of Vayikra (Leviticus), Chapter 20, verse 21:
“If a man takes his brother’s wife, it is disgraceful; he has uncovered his brother’s nakedness. They shall be childless.”

“It’s written explicitly,” the rabbi explained. “This is a severe prohibition. The Torah is very clear.”

But the man still hesitated. “Listen,” he said honestly. “I don’t usually let anyone convince me. No one’s been able to talk me out of it. But… if the Rabbi of Vilna himself tells me not to go through with it—I’ll listen to him.”

Rabbi Chaim Ozer looked him in the eye and replied gently, “I am Chaim Ozer Grodzinski. I am the Rabbi of Vilna.”

The man fell silent. A moment later, he nodded. And just like that, he canceled his plans. A serious sin had been prevented—just in time.

Rabbi Shach, who heard this story directly from Rabbi Chaim Ozer, would repeat it with deep emotion. “Look at how precious a single Jew is in the eyes of Hashem,” he would say. “It was worth it for Heaven to send the leader of an entire generation far away from his home, his community, and everything he loved. It was worth causing him pain, illness—even loneliness. Why? Because Hashem knew that this Jew, at that very moment, in that very place, needed saving. And that salvation came in the form of one tzaddik (righteous man) in exile, willing to suffer—so that another Jew wouldn’t stumble.”