Days passed as usual and the town went about its business according to custom. Summer was summer and winter was winter, and as time went on some matches were arranged and some weddings took place. Moshe Pinchas still had not found his intended bride. There are those who say it was because he was so devoted to his studies that his heart wasn’t open to matters of matchmaking. Others say that it was on account of his mother, who hindered every match by consulting with sorceresses. Every time a potential mate was suggested to her son these women would insist that she was not his intended. Afterwards, it became apparent that all of this was simply nonsense and when the spirit moved him to take a wife he would take a wife. And so Moshe Pinchas remained unmarried and did not yet don a tallit.
And we have yet more to tell. That same year, when Reb Shlomo’s elderly father-in-law was called to the Torah as Hatan Bereishit, he offered a certain sum of money to the building fund of the synagogue, in addition to which he also donated the wood for heating, inasmuch as the custom in our town is for the Hatan Bereishit to contribute the wood to heat his study house. And here we must share that the donation was a timely one because the study house was truly in need of repair. And in the manner of God-fearing wealthy men, he did not put off his donation. And the gabbai didn’t even hold onto the dedicated money to use it for trade, but rather immediately hired a craftsman and purchased stones and girders. The craftsman however, dragged his feet, like those craftsmen who chase after work their whole lives and once work is available for them they don’t attend to it and instead go courting after other work. In the meantime the days of snow and extreme cold had arrived. And when the cold comes to our town all builders cease their labors. That winter was a particularly difficult one and many took ill from the cold. And the old man, who was elderly and delicate and whose set place in the study house was in the alcove by the window, was seized by a chill and caught cold and was beset by his illness from the Sabbath of Hanukah until Passover. The old man, knowing full well that he was sick only because they had been negligent in making the building improvements, increased the craftsman’s pay so that he would get going with his work and ordered him to seal off the alcove in front of the window where the drafts gust in, bringing with them the chill. They fixed up the building and closed up the alcove. When the story was told at the Kloyz, one scholar stood up and said, “I’m astonished that they were allowed to do that, because they obviously diminished the amount of holy space.” Reb Shlomo came in. That same scholar said, “Let us hear the opinion of Reb Shlomo.” Moshe Pinchas jumped up and declared, “It is forbidden to alter the interior space of a synagogue by reducing it even by one finger’s length, for this would violate a Biblical prohibition.” Reb Shlomo tried to quiet him gently and tell him, “I also said the same thing, but what’s done is already done.” But when he saw the aging bachelor leaping about and shouting, heaping proof upon proof in defense of his position, he dismissed him with a wave of his hand and said jokingly, “A bukher makht kidesh af a groyp.”
7.
I have no idea where that saying comes from, but in our town it was commonly used to dismissively tease young unmarried men who tried to insinuate themselves into the company of their married elders, as equals. Moshe Pinchas, who had already attained a third of a man’s normal lifespan but remained a bachelor only because he hadn’t yet found a suitable match, recoiled and returned to his place where he sat tugging at the clumps of his beard in distress. From that point on he did not speak to Reb Shlomo, and if Reb Shlomo asked how he was, he would respond reluctantly. At first, no one noticed anything. And when they did begin to notice, they were incredulous. Why would Reb Shlomo, who showed respect even to the lowliest ones, humiliate one of the most erudite scholars? And they were even more critical of Moshe Pinchas for being so vengeful and bearing a grudge. Reb Shlomo went to Moshe Pinchas and said, “I beg you, forgive me for the words that unintentionally escaped from my mouth.” But Moshe Pinchas just glared at him and did not respond.
That very day a bookseller brought the book Ketzot HaHoshen to the Kloyz. The conversation got around to the book’s author, the Ba’al HaKetzot, who had labored in matters of Torah while living in deprivation and poverty. A plank over a barrel served as his table, and in winter he had no wood to light his stove and was forced to stay in bed and write his book there. And sometimes the ink would even freeze from the extreme cold and he would put it under his pillow to thaw out. When he had finished the first part of his book, he went to see the master sage, our Rabbi Meshulam Igra. And when the Ba’al HaKetzot began to present a Talmudic disputation to him, Reb Meshulam interjected, “Sir, you must be intending to say it this way.” And the other responded, “No, not really.” Reb Meshulam looked at him briefly and said, “Then undoubtedly the gentleman must be intending to say it this way or that way,” and this went on until the author had completely run out of innovative ideas, for Reb Meshulam had a knack of understanding each and every sage’s way of analyzing things and had honed in on the Ba’al HaKetzot’s precise thinking on every innovation the latter could present on any given issue. The Ba’al HaKetzot then said to Reb Meshulam, “Look, as we speak I’m already busy composing the second volume, and I am wondering if there is any point in my continuing to toil on it? Tell me, Sir, what could I possibly add now by way of commentary to the Shulhan Arukh’s finance code from chapter 200 on?” At that point Reb Meshulam realized that he had disheartened a very gifted man and was filled with remorse. It is said that when this story was relayed, Reb Shlomo added that from this point on Reb Meshulam had fasted every Monday and Thursday for the rest of his life because of having aggrieved that sage. And people say that when this story was told, Reb Shlomo groaned and said, “I don’t come close to Reb Meshulam’s level of righteousness.” Those around him had a sense of where things were going and said to him, “And Moshe Pinchas doesn’t come close to Ba’al HaKetzot’s level of Torah scholarship!” Reb Shlomo replied, “Reb Moshe Pinchas is a great scholar and learns Torah for its own sake.” When this was relayed to Moshe Pinchas, he just shrugged and said, “Leave me be. I don’t even want to hear that man’s name.” A short while later, Moshe Pinchas arose from his studies, collected his Gemara and left. When a day or two had passed and he still hadn’t come back, people assumed that he’d gone to his mother’s in the village, even though it wasn’t his custom to go there on weekdays. A few days later, a voice was heard emanating from the Tailors’ Synagogue and they recognized it as belonging to Moshe Pinchas.
The Tailors’ Synagogue was located above our old study house, opposite the bathhouse, and it was somewhat similar to the Great Synagogue, resplendent with paintings of the Chariot and of the musical instruments of the Temple and also with depictions of the animals and birds in the teaching of Yehudah ben Teimah in tractate Avot, with the words of the Mishnah underneath each of the illustrations. Under the leopard it said, “Be bold as a leopard,” under the eagle, “Light as an eagle,” under the deer, “swift as a deer” and under the lion, “strong as a lion.” And under all of them it was written, “To do the will of our Father in heaven.” And why do I mention all of this? To demonstrate to you that a wise man learns from everything around him and, by gazing at the drawings he devotes his heart to the Torah. They say that when the women used to go to the mikveh and would hear Reb Moshe Pinchas’s voice, they would bless themselves and say, “May we be worthy to have sons like him.”
8.
Here it should be told that at that time his mother’s income from leasing the mill had run out. And with the end of the mother’s income came the end of the son’s sustenance. However, relief and deliverance came from another place. Residents of the town began bringing him their sons and paying him tutoring fees. It’s been said that Reb Shlomo had dropped a hint that people ought to seek wisdom from such a scholar. Reb Moshe Pinchas selected three or four talented pupils and taught them Talmud and its commentaries, earning enough for his own needs and even enough to give to his mother. From this time on he no longer had to go to the village and didn’t have to waste time on traveling back and forth. And where did his mother hear Kiddush and Havdalah? Thank God, even in villages there are Jews, and a Jew’s door is always open to all who want to hear hallowed words.