How Did He Become a Torah Giant? A Yeshiva Head’s Answer Will Surprise You

Rabbi Asher Kovalsky writes in the Pninei Parashat HaShavua bulletin about the renowned Kabbalist Rabbi Raphael Moshe Luria, one of Jerusalem’s greats, known worldwide as a towering scholar and among the heads of the Sha'ar HaShamayimyeshiva. Over 72 years, he authored dozens of books spanning the treasures of the Torah, leaving anyone who studies them awed by his mastery and rare depth.

"Rabbi Raphael Moshe Luria wasn’t born into a famous rabbinic family, so toward the end of his life he wasn’t surprised when his sister, already older herself, asked him: 'Rabbi Raphael Moshe, what did you merit? How did you come to be such a great scholar, such an outstanding talmid chacham?'," Rabbi Kovalsky relates.

"Rabbi Raphael Moshe smiled gently at the question and replied: 'I actuaally know why—because I was awake that night. You were already asleep…'"

"'What?' his sister wondered. 'Which night are you talking about?'"

"Rabbi Luria flashed his famous smile and told this story: 'I grew up in a modest home, where making a living was very hard. My father, Rabbi Mordechai Yechiel Luria, zatzal, did everything he could to support the family, to bring home bread for the children. My parents made do with a single slice of bread a day, and for the sake of the kids my father took on backbreaking day labor and other exhausting jobs. Every evening he’d return home late and hand my mother whatever he had earned that day. Based on that sum, she would buy a few basic staples the next morning to stave off the children’s hunger.'"

"'One day Father came home and, instead of money, a heavy sigh escaped him. He clapped his hands in frustration: "All day I walked around looking for work any way I could. But today there was no work!" The meaning was stark: no money today—no bread in the house tomorrow.'"

"'Father gave up his meager dinner and went to bed hungry. "I’ll leave the single slice of bread for the children; at least in the morning they’ll have a little bread," he thought to himself.'"

"'We woke up in the morning,' Rabbi Raphael Moshe recalled of that day. 'We left for school with the food Father had set aside the night before. At noon we came home—there was no lunch. No food. Father had gone out again to look for work. The afternoon hours passed in hunger. The house was empty. Literally.'"

"'Toward evening I came home from my studies with a note from my teacher. I handed it to Mother, and this is what it said: "Your son Raphael Moshe asked such a serious question today that I myself could not answer it; I will bring it to the sages of the city. The child is simply a genius—his question is astonishing!" The teacher signed the note with obvious admiration…'"

"'Do you remember that day?' Rabbi Raphael Moshe paused to ask his sister. She nodded yes—she remembered. 'Up to this point, that’s the part we all saw. Now I’ll tell you what happened after you had already gone to sleep, when only I stayed awake from excitement…'," he added, tears of emotion glistening in his eyes.

"'Late at night Father came home, and the first question he asked Mother was: "How did you manage with the children? Did they go to sleep hungry?" Mother answered him: "Tonight they actually went to sleep full and happy…" But Father pressed her: "Really? How? I didn’t leave you money for food—how were the children satisfied?"'"

Rabbi Raphael Moshe continues, his voice catching with tears: "'And then I heard Mother tell him: "Do you know what happened today? Raphael Moshe came home with a note from the teacher about a tremendous question he had asked—one with no ready answer… He was so excited, and we were all excited and happy with him. That was our food, and that’s how they went to sleep happy… This evening, we ate Raphael Moshe’s question, we drank that question, and we even made a blessing over it… That’s what we had!" Mother concluded, her eyes sparkling, as Father listened.'"

"'That night I couldn’t close my eyes,' Rabbi Raphael Moshe concluded. 'I told myself: If the Torah can fill life with so much flavor, then this Torah is a gift of life—it’s the very taste of life. That night I discovered a new idea: There is physical food, and there is a higher, loftier nourishment that gives far stronger energy—and that is the Torah. I decided on the spot to devote my entire life to the Torah and give myself over to it, because that is true quality of life, not dependent on material conditions!' Thus the child grew and became great in Torah."

Rabbi Kovalsky adds that he heard this story from Rabbi Luria’s nephew, Rabbi Moshe Boyar, shlita, and sums it up: "'When a child sees that the Torah plays a central role at home—when he senses its power in his life—the taste of Torah opens for him. He can connect to it and embrace it. When a child witnesses his parents’ dedication to the Torah, when he lives the spiritual energy that the Torah brings to life—he connects to the taste of Torah on a whole different level. It becomes part of him, and he’s ready to strive and sacrifice for that connection.'"

"'It’s like someone hosting a celebration: at the height of emotion during the event, he can hardly eat and barely notices what’s happening around him. So it is with someone connected to the Torah and devoted to it—as if he no longer needs to eat, already able to detach from other pleasures of life. The Torah fills him, captivates him with its charm, and passes this amazing feeling to his children after him, just as we were explicitly promised: "They shall not depart from your mouth, nor from the mouth of your children, nor from the mouth of your children’s children!"'"