Connected to the Source

Based on a story told over by Rabbi Paysach Krohn

Prepared for print by Daniel

Agalar

In the picturesque town of Gateshead, a revered Rebbe and his devoted talmid embarked on a leisurely walk. The path they traversed was adorned with countless trees, their branches adorned with a vibrant display of autumn leaves. As they strolled along, a solitary leaf gracefully descended from its arboreal perch, catching the Rebbe’s discerning eye. Stooping down, he picked up the delicate leaf and turned to his eager talmid, ready to impart a profound lesson.

With the leaf held gently in his hand, the Rebbe began to explain its transient nature. “You see, my dear talmid,” he began, “this leaf is unaware that its time on this tree is limited. In just a matter of days, it will wither and fade away, detached from its life-sustaining source. The tree is like the Torah, providing nourishment and sustenance to those who are connected to it.”

He continued, quoting the powerful verse from Proverbs: “Eitz chaim hi l’machazikim bah—the Torah is a tree of life for those who hold onto it.” The Rebbe wanted his talmid to understand that just as the leaf depends on the tree for its existence, human beings rely on the Torah for spiritual nourishment and sustenance.

The Rebbe went on to share an important insight that resonated deeply with his talmid. He cautioned, “In your journey through life, my dear talmid, you will encounter individuals who may boast about their freedom to live without adhering to the Torah’s principles. They fail to realize that their choices will have consequences for future generations. Without a connection to the Torah, they, their children, and their grandchildren will drift further away from their spiritual roots.”

Moved by the profoundness of the Rebbe’s message, the talmid cherished and internalized the lesson imparted to him that day. Little did he know that this seemingly simple encounter with a falling leaf would shape his perspective for years to come. That young talmid, whose heart was touched by the Rebbe’s wisdom, would grow up to become the renowned Harav Matisyahu Solomon, a beacon of Torah wisdom and inspiration for countless individuals.

Solomon often recalls the leaf incident as a guiding principle in his life. The Rebbe’s words served as a constant reminder of the importance of embracing the Torah, not just as an intellectual pursuit, but as a deep and meaningful connection to one’s spiritual essence. He realized that by nurturing this connection, not only would he be personally enriched, but the impact would transcend generations, ensuring that his children and grandchildren would also be firmly rooted in the eternal wisdom of the Torah.

Rav Matisyahu Solomon has since dedicated his life to imparting this invaluable lesson to his students and disciples, reminding them of the significance of remaining connected to the Torah’s teachings. His own journey, inspired by a simple leaf and guided by his Rebbe’s wisdom, continues to inspire countless individuals to cultivate a profound and unbreakable bond with the living tree of Torah, nurturing their souls and leaving an indelible mark for generations to come.

Reflecting on his Rebbe’s teachings, Rav Matisyahu

Daniel Agalar is the founder of Stories to Inspire, an organization dedicated to sharing curated inspirational stories from renowned rabbanim. With a widely popular podcast that has surpassed 4 million downloads, Daniel’s passion for spreading positivity shines through. Join the daily WhatsApp broadcast by messaging 310-210-1205 or explore over 4,300 stories on his website at www.storiestoinspire.org. The stories can also be accessed on the hotline at 718-400-7145.

For a son of Holocaust survivors, it is difficult to write about traveling to Germany. Nevertheless, my numerous trips to various German cities beckon me to share my experiences.

My first and foremost encounter with Germany was when I was living there for over a year. This was from my birth in January 1946 until mid-February 1947, when we sailed off to New York. I was born in Landsberg in the hospital of the Saint Ottilien Monastery, but we actually lived in Munich on the Prinzregentenstrasse –not that I remember, but so I was told. My father, a”h, had a brother, Joel, who survived the war in Italy, got married to Miriam, and moved to Munich during the early fifties. Incredibly, he also lived on the Prinzregentenstrasse. They had only one child, a son who was named