As Long as a Jew is Alive | Rabbi Yussie Zakutinsky

In the outskirts of the town of Izhbitza in Poland in the 1800s, there was a small little river. And in order to get from one side to the other, you had two options. Either you walked all the way around or there was a narrow footbridge that you were able to go across. Now, in this town of Izhbitza there was a young boy. This young boy, his name was Gershon Henoch. Now this Gershon Henoch’l was not just a regular little kid. He was, in fact, the grandson of the Rebbe. The Rebbe of the town of Izhbitza was none other than R’ Mordechai Yosef of Izhbitza, the Mei Hashiloach. And this little boy would grow up to become a big Tzaddik in his own right, the Radziner Rebbe, but the story goes as follows. This Gershon Henoch’l was a little bit of a rambunctious, energetic kid, and, for whatever reason, he wanted to get to the other side of the river. So he's running to go across with this footbridge. His luck, there was an old Chosid that happened to be in front of him, and this old Chosid is walking at the old Chosid’s pace. So as a kid, you know, he did something which maybe sometimes as an adult, we wish we can do, but we can't, which is he gave the old man a little bit of a nudge, like, you know, Can I pass? And so the old Chosid turns around and sees this little kid trying to sort of push past him, and the old Chosid says: How could you push me? Do you know who I am? So Gershon Henoch’l is a confident little kid, and he says: No, who are you? And he says: Me? I saw the Chozeh of Lublin. That's my Yichus. I saw the Chozeh of Lublin. So you're going to push me, a Jew that saw the great Seer of Lubin? So Gershon Henoch’l, without skipping a beat, he says, You saw the Chozeh of Lublin? Who cares? The Chozeh is dead. My grandfather is the Rav, and he's alive. So the old Chosid was very shaken by that, the Chutzpah, to say about the Chozeh: The Chozeh is dead, you know, to talk like that. So he goes to the Rebbe, the grandfather, and he tells him what the grandson said. So R’ Mordechai Yosef of Izhbitza calls in his grandson. Is this true? Is that what you said? Did you say such a thing, that the Chozeh is dead? So the kid said: Yeah, that's what I said. R’ Mordechai Yosef of Izhbitza begins to shake. It's the Chozeh. You’re saying the Chozeh is dead, but I'm still alive. Who am I compared to the Chozeh? I'm a nothing. הלוואי I should get to be dust under the feet of the Chozeh of Lublin. To compare me to the Chozeh? And he goes on like this, and the kid is becoming a little bit more uncomfortable, and he regrets what he said. But at the end of the conversation, the Izhbitzer turns to his grandson and he said, But למעשה you’re right. The Chozeh is no longer alive, and I am alive. And as long as a Jew’s alive, they can dream and aspire to be as great as Rabbi Akiva, as R’ Shimon Bar Yochai, as Moshe Rabeinu himself. The truth is the Rambam writes this. The Rambam in Hilchos Teshuva famously writes that every single Jew has to dream and has the potential of being like Moshe Rabeinu. Does that mean that we’ll be as great of a Navi as Moshe? No. Was the Izhbitzer saying that he aspires to have as great eyes as the Chozeh of Lublin? No. But what it means is that Hashem Yisborah created each Neshama with their corner, with their potential, with their Avoda, and in your Avoda, in your potential, a Jewish person has to dream and aspire and expect himself and herself to be as great as Moshe Rabeinu, in their field, in their space, in their Avodas Hashem. As long as there's a breath within us, as long as the Neshama is pulsating in our bodies, as long as a person's alive, they have to dream and aspire to be as great and even greater than the Chozeh of Lublin. Hashem should bless us, we should be zoche to actualize all of our potential, to always believe in our potential in the next moment to be even greater than the moment before that, and we should be zoche to experience all the Brachos that come from that, בביאת גואל צדק ברחמים, במהרה בימינו, אמן.