Rav Shalom Sofer zt"l
הרב שלום בן ישראל אפרים פישל סופר זצ"ל
Adar II 23 , 5689
Rav Shalom Sofer zt"l
Rabbi Shalom Sofer (1855–1929) was the Chief Rabbi in Berezne, Ukraine. His father Rav Yisrael Ephraim Fischel Sofer was Av Beis DIn in Nanash and died in 1898.
Stories of Rav Shalom Sofer zt"l
“Just look how his hands are shaking,” one shoichet pointed out to his friend, one of the other shoichtim. His friend just shook his head in silent agreement. It wasn’t the elder shoichet’s fault; he had simply reached a venerable old age, and as old age set in, so did rheumatism, and trembling hands. One thing the townsfolk agreed on: they no longer trusted the shoichet’s unsteady hands; they wanted him to retire. But the shoichet had his pride and refused to be forced into retirement. He and the townsfolk reached an impasse, with neither wishing to yield.
In the middle of the dispute, a new rabbi arrived—and with him, new hope for the resolution of the town’s problem. Rav Sholom Sofer (scion of the illustrious family of the Chasam Sofer) was hired to replace their recently retired rabbi. At the time, he was but a yungerman, a young avreich lacking the authority to remove the old shoichet from his position. Yet, as each side became more entrenched in their opinion, machlokes took over the town. Distinct feuding lines were drawn with some supporting the respected, but elderly shoichet, and others opposing him because of his shaky hands.
“How can you dare retire our beloved shoichet who has dedicated his life to ensuring that we eat kosher meat? Have you no shame?” argued one side.
“How can you not retire an old shoichet? It is precisely our dedication to kosher meat that forces us to replace someone whose hands tremble and can no longer serve as a competent shoichet! Have you no yiras shomayim?” argued the other side.
The new Rav, observing the controversy decided to speak with the Shoichet. He advised him as follows: “Look, my good shoichet, you see how bitter this dispute is. I am on your side; I don’t think there is any substance to their complaint. As a new rabbi here however, I lack the authority to take any concrete action to help you keep your position and put an end to the machlokes. My suggestion is that you go to the gaon, Rav Moshe Yosef Teitelbaum of Uhjel and ask him to test your abilities. Once he sees that your abilities as shoichet have not deteriorated, he will surely write you a letter of approbation. He will attest to the fact that the meat is kosher and that will settle the matter!”
The shoichet agreed and left for Uhjel.
When the Uhjler Rav, Rav Moshe Yosef Teitelbaum saw the Shoichet, he saw for himself how unsteady his hands were. Yet, he was unwilling to embarrass the elderly man. The rav suggested the following:
“I don’t have time this minute to sit and write up the letter. I have an idea; you go back home and as soon as I have the time, I shall write up a letter and send it straight to your rabbi, Rav Sofer back in Brezhna where you live.”
The shoichet agreed and returned home.
Some time passed and the yohrzeit of the Yismach Moshe approached. When Rav Sholom Sofer made his way to Uhjel for the yohrzeit, he stopped in to visit Rav Moshe Yosef as well.
“Well, well, I owe you a letter,” apologized the Uhjler Rav to the Brezhner Rav, Rav Sofer. “Please check what has happened to the letter you wished me to compose.” He pointed to a stack of papers on top of which lay letter rendered illegible due to a great blot of ink smeared all over it.
“Let me tell you the story of this letter: When I met your shoichet and I saw firsthand how his hands shook I realized I should write to you. Still, I didn’t want to shame the poor old man so I sent him home and promised to send you the letter. When I finally sat down to write the letter and address it, I fell asleep. As I slept, I had a dream. In my vision I saw my venerable zeide, the holy Yismach Moshe who questioned me in consternation:
“If they are searching high and low across the whole country for a murderer, someone who wishes to harm the livelihood and to shame an old man, spilling his blood, couldn’t they find anyone better than you?”
When the vision ended, I awoke with a start and the ink pot tipped over and ink spilled over the freshly written letter and ruined it, just as you see it here. I took this as a sign that I was not to be the one to send you this letter. Therefore, I haven’t sent you anything until today.” (Teshuas Tzaddikim p. 511)