The Whisper That Nearly Broke an Engagement—Until Rav Shach Showed Up

It was Shabbat, and the brilliant scholar Rabbi Ben Tzion Felman, then a young avreich, was staying at his parents' home in Tel Aviv.

One of the congregants of the Heichal Meir synagogue had just celebrated his daughter's engagement to a yeshiva student, and, as is customary, the groom came the Shabbat after the engagement to stay with his future in-laws and share the Shabbat meals there.

The father-in-law entered the synagogue with his new son-in-law, glowing with happiness over the “diamond” that had come his way. The crowd joined his joy and came to wish them mazal tov.

Among them was a small‑minded man who, for some reason, envied the bride's father. In the middle of the mazal tov he whispered to the bride's father: 'I think you made a mistake. This is a young man who barely prays. I once checked into him and heard that most of his day is spent idly. It was foolish to take him as a son-in-law, but what's done is done...'

The father-in-law heard this in shock. The words seeped in like a snake's venom. By Shabbat afternoon he was already telling one of the congregants, 'Looks like I've fallen into a trap...' The groom himself noticed that, suddenly, his future father-in-law's attitude had soured, and he couldn't understand why. His heart began to dread the worst. The rest of the Shabbat passed in a gloomy, disappointing haze.

R. Ben Tzion Felman was standing near the bride's father on Friday night precisely when the motzi shem ra said what he said, and he was shaken by that horrible moment of spilling the blood of several souls with a few slick words. It was like standing there as someone plunged a knife into a fellow Jew's heart.

He couldn't bring himself to eat the Friday-night meal. His stomach churned. And he also knew the groom well—he knew with certainty that the accusations were baseless.

As was his way, he didn't blurt anything out. He didn't rush to speak to the bride's father. 'Better a few strong words, sharp as arrows, than a thousand that do nothing; sometimes words can harm more than they help. Think before you speak.'

All through Shabbat, R. Ben Tzion was truly pained, more than once holding back tears. It seemed he'd endured something terrible—he had stood within the daled amot of a murderer and his victim...

'What do I do?' — that was the question of questions. How could he act? Who would believe the words of a young avreich over those of a respected, middle‑aged man who had spoken with such unshakable certainty?!

When he returned to his home in Bnei Brak on Motzaei Shabbat, he couldn't sleep all night. Sleep eluded him.

On Sunday morning, as usual, he left home for the Ponevezh kollel. On the way, he met Rabbi David Frankel, zt\"l—one of the students of our great masters, the Chazon Ish and the Griz of Brisk—with whom he shared a close friendship.

With sharp instincts, R. David noticed from afar that his friend R. Ben Tzion looked downcast. He approached him in surprise: 'What happened? Why the long face today?'

R. Ben Tzion told him what had happened, and R. David Frankel advised him to go immediately to consult with Rav Shach.

R. Ben Tzion didn't head, as usual, straight to the kollel. He turned aside, went in, and told MaranRav Shach the painful details of the incident.

Rav Shach listened and responded: 'Alright—and how, in your view, can I help in this matter?' R. Ben Tzion answered: 'In my view, the idea is this: I’ll find out their exact address in Tel Aviv, and the rosh yeshiva will travel with me to Tel Aviv; we’ll go up to their home and speak with them.'

Rav Shach liked the idea. 'But I don’t know the young man. He isn’t one of the students of my yeshiva. How can I praise or recommend him in matters I don’t know to be true?'

R. Ben Tzion said to him, 'True—but I forgot to mention that I know him very well, and I know with certainty that all the slanders are false, and that he’s an outstanding young man, head and shoulders above the rest.'

Rav Shach said: 'If so, I’ll put on my hat and jacket, and now we’ll go together to Tel Aviv.'

R. Ben Tzion offered to order a taxi, but Rav Shach refused: 'We’ll take the bus,' he said.

They boarded the bus. When R. Ben Tzion went to pay the driver for both of them, Rav Shach interjected: 'I’ll pay for you as well.'

Along the way, Rav Shach inquired several times—questions and details—about the young man’s character and nature, and he listened carefully.

When they reached the area near the bride’s parents’ home, they both got off the bus and walked to the exact address. R. Ben Tzion stayed down on the street.

Rav Shach knocked on the door. The father and mother came to the entrance, astonished to find the head of the Ponevezh yeshiva on their threshold.

Without any unnecessary preface he began: 'I’m in the area for a certain matter, and since I heard that your daughter became engaged to so‑and‑so, I told myself I couldn’t pass by without coming up to wish you mazal tov, and to tell you about the great good fortune that’s come your way. This young man could practically be like family to me—a very important young man, full and overflowing with Torah and yirat Shamayim. He toils and labors, and he has a future of great promise. Not everyone merits such a diamond.' He continued until he sensed, from the parents’ eyes, that they were recovering and that joy was returning. He took his leave warmly, with blessings and good wishes.

When Rav Shach later received the wedding invitation from the bride’s parents, he showed it to R. Ben Tzion with great satisfaction.

And R. Ben Tzion would conclude the story: 'Today that young man is already a grandfather, and he doesn’t even imagine what Rav Shach did for him...' In his humility, R. Ben Tzion didn’t feel that he, too, had a not‑insignificant share in that great deed.

Rabbi Shalom Ben Tzion Felman zt\"l (24 Sivan 5694 – 12 Shevat 5775) was a Haredi posek of halacha, the rabbi of the "Nachalat Moshe" community in Bnei Brak, and the author of the halacha series Shalmei Todah. For wonderful stories about him,  click here.

From the recommended book 'Without a Name'.