Reb Naftali Tessler would stroll out of shul with an energy that defied his age, and people gravitated toward him. He would crack a joke, share a tidbit, smile and hand candy to the children.
The more sensitive folks in the crowd would push forward and ask him for a brachah.
“A brachah?” He’d raise his eyebrows, half amused, half perplexed.
“Yes, a brachah,” the petitioner would reiterate.
And Reb Naftali would consent, issuing a heartfelt blessing before continuing on home. Those who made the request were wise indeed — and in good company.
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