Personal Stories
How a Rabbi’s Forgiveness Saved a Young Man’s Future
A slap, a second chance, and a future filled with Torah—how one rabbi believed when no one else would.
- Naama Green
- פורסם כ"ט תשרי התשפ"ב

#VALUE!
Rabbi G., a beloved Rosh Yeshiva (head of a Torah academy), was known for his warmth and devotion to his students. Each morning, he would gently go room to room, waking them for Shacharit—the early morning prayer—with a soft tap on the shoulder and a few uplifting words of Torah or mussar (moral guidance). His presence was like a father’s—calm, kind, and filled with love.
One morning, as he touched the shoulder of a sleeping student, something completely unexpected happened. The student, startled and not fully awake, reacted instinctively. Without realizing what he was doing, he raised his hand and slapped the Rosh Yeshiva hard across the face—then simply rolled over and went back to sleep.
Rabbi G. was stunned. He quietly walked out of the room and sat down in the Beit Midrash (study hall), unsure how to process what had just happened. But as he reflected, he understood that the student had likely acted unconsciously. People sometimes behave strangely when just waking up, and this seemed like one of those rare, confused moments.
Later that morning, the student came to the Beit Midrash, still unaware of what he’d done. He didn’t apologize—not because he was disrespectful, but because he truly didn’t remember. That confirmed Rabbi G.’s sense that the boy had slapped him in a state of half-sleep.
But as the story quickly spread through the yeshiva, the student soon found out what he had done. He was heartbroken. Crying, he approached Rabbi G. and begged for forgiveness. With deep compassion, the Rabbi told him: “There is nothing to forgive. I know it wasn’t done with intent.”
Unfortunately, the matter didn’t end there. The president of the yeshiva heard about the incident and called an emergency meeting with the staff. His decision was swift and harsh: the student should be expelled immediately. “He’s a rebellious student,” they said. “Such behavior has no place in our yeshiva.”
When Rabbi G. heard this, he stood up and spoke with firmness and emotion. “If you expel this boy,” he said, “I will leave the yeshiva with him.” He reminded the staff of the time, care, and effort they had already poured into this student. “If we throw him out now, he may go down a different path—one we’ll regret forever. I forgave him. I carry no grudge. How can we abandon him now?”
The room fell silent. One of the staff members asked, “So what does the Rabbi suggest we do?”
Rabbi G. responded with a surprising answer. “For the next month, I will personally learn mussar with him every day—lessons in proper behavior for a yeshiva student.” The proposal was accepted.
And it worked. The student grew. He finished his studies in that yeshiva, went on to a higher-level yeshiva, and eventually became a respected Torah scholar. He got engaged to a wonderful young woman from a respected family. Before his wedding, he came to Rabbi G.’s home and once again, with tears in his eyes, asked for forgiveness. Rabbi G. embraced him and gently repeated, “I have never held anything against you.”
Years later, Rabbi G. passed away. During the week of shiva (mourning), many people came to comfort the family. Among them was a dignified man, clearly a Torah scholar. He sat quietly with the mourners until, overcome with emotion, he stood up and asked to speak.
“I want to tell you a story,” he said, his voice shaking. “It’s something I’ve carried with me for years.” And then he told them: “I was the student who slapped Rabbi G. I’m now the head of a Kollel (a center for full-time Torah study) in the north of Israel. All of my children are growing in Torah and yirat shamayim (awe of Heaven). And all of it—all of it—is thanks to him. If he had allowed them to expel me, I wouldn’t be here today.”
This story is more than a lesson in education—it’s a story of chesed (kindness), emunah (faith), and teshuvah (return and growth). Sometimes, one moment of compassion can change not only one life—but an entire future.