The end of a short life filled with so much accomplishment came as a surprise to the students, and even to the family, of the beloved Rav of Lublin, Rav Meir Shapiro zt”l. He was only 46 years young when he developed a throat ailment that caused him to become weak, and he debilitated amazingly quickly. However, the doctors who checked him assured him that it would pass, and thus, no one was prepared on that fateful Thursday night. They barely had time to say T’hilim.
But Rav Meir knew. In his weakened state, he asked to be shown all the prescriptions that the doctors had written for his throat. He leafed through them and selected the one for cleansing his throat and the respiratory organs. Every few minutes he kept washing his hands, while his mind was obviously immersed in distant thoughts. He was having terrible trouble breathing; whatever was in his throat was blocking his passageway. One could feel the frightful, racking agony that he underwent to get a bit of air into his lungs; try as he would, he kept failing because the channels were blocked.
On a piece of paper, he scrawled a request to be carried into another chamber by his alarmed talmidim. Needless to say, his wishes were carried out. But then his rebbetzin noticed a change in his countenance, and she began weeping emotionally. Rav Meir did his best to calm her, as he wrote her a message: “Now...the true simchah begins!”
In a broken, barely legible scrawl, he wrote: “Trinkt aleh a l’chayim (All of you, drink l’chayim!).” Some liquor was poured out into tiny glasses, and all of those present drank and wished him a long life. Then he shook hands with each talmid, holding each one’s hand in his for a very long time. Then, came his final instruction: “Macht a rikud (Make a little dance)” to the words “B’cha batchu avoseinu… (In You our fathers trusted; they trusted, and You rescued them)” (T’hilim 22:5).
His wishes were obeyed: The talmidim put their hands on each other’s shoulders and lifted their feet in rhythm as they sang the holy words to the melody they knew so well, the melody that he himself had composed. How many times they had sung it in the past, when the lively, inspired niggun could bring cheer to their hearts. Now they glanced at their leader, their guide, as they danced past his seat, joined in their circle, and they saw how extinguished his eyes looked, the light gone out of them. How sallow his complexion had become; how the tears kept falling without a stop. And yet they had to dance. Their Rebbe had ordered them. Where are the words to describe the infinite tragedy in that scene...the rhythmic motions of life and death...the last chasidic dance that the tzadik, the holy Lubliner Rav would witness on this earth?
The bachurim of Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin were awakened from their sleep, the great body of students who had gone to bed without any thought of a possible catastrophe looming. The verdict of the doctors had been so reassuring; now the shouts in the air hurtled them from their beds and sent them rushing through the corridors, unable yet to realize just how fateful the present moments were. In the great hall, there was stormy agitation; a heartrending tempest aimed at tearing through the heavens and bringing down Divine mercy. Young bachurim were beating their heads against the wall in anguish. One individual after another began crying out a donation of years to be deducted from his allotted lifespan so that the Rav could go on living. “I give five years,” one voice called out; “I give ten,” exclaimed another, and so on. And a short while later, one mighty declaration sounded and echoed in the beis midrash: “We give away all our remaining years to the Rav!”
An atmosphere of impending tragedy for the Jewish people filled the great hall. A sense of terrible devastation saturated the air. And the frightful wailing and lamentation reached his ears. But Rav Meir didn’t want sadness. Clearly and distinctly, the Rosh Yeshivah pronounced his final two words: “Nor b’simchah! (Only with joy!).” Then he lowered his head and expired. He passed over and away from his body. He was gone: from his students, from the yeshivah, from the world.
“The righteous are called alive even after their death.” Rav Meir Shapiro, founder of the Daf Yomi, is undoubtedly still alive!
Rabbi Dovid Hoffman is the author of the popular “Torah Tavlin” book series, filled with stories, wit and hundreds of divrei Torah, including the brand new “Torah Tavlin Yamim Noraim” in stores everywhere. You’ll love this popular series. Also look for his book, “Heroes of Spirit,” containing one hundred fascinating stories on the Holocaust. They are fantastic gifts, available in all Judaica bookstores and online at http://israelbookshoppublications.com. To receive Rabbi Hoffman’s weekly “Torah Tavlin” sheet on the parsha, e-mail This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
