A monastery. A kidnapping. An oath by a gadol. Could a simple, not-too-pious tailor rescue an innocent Jewish boy from the clutches of the priests?
S olemnity and earnestness permeated the beis din of the holy gaon Rav Aryeh Leib Ginzburg author of the Shaagas Aryeh in the city of Metz.
It was well known that the gaon considered any din Torah to be like a sharp sword placed at his throat and even a case involving a few pennies was treated as a life-or-death matter. This fear and awe was contagious — even the litigants would be filled with trepidation standing reverently as they faced the gaon.
But no one had more awe and devotion than the court’s secretary and the Shaagas Aryeh’s attendant Reb Leizer as he humbly and submissively took care of the elder sage (the Shaagas Aryeh was already 70 when he came to Metz in 1765). He would fulfill every one of the Rav’s instructions with alacrity and he intuitively knew when to stand next to the Rav or when the Rav preferred a private audience with the litigants. He served the Rav his meals and took care of all the Rav’s needs as well as the needs of his family.
And his remuneration? Although the amount he was paid by the community was barely enough to manage his own household Reb Leizer wouldn’t take even half a ruble from the Shaagas Aryeh himself and he would often add “I wish I had some money to pay the Rav for the unique privilege of attending to him.”
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