21 Mar SAY HIS OR HER NAME

Earlier this month,
the 20th of Adar,
marked the yahrzeit
of the great Rav
Shlomo Zalman
Auerbach zt”l. In a
tribute written shortly
after his passing, Rav Aharon
Lichtenstein, who shared a very close
relationship with Rav Shlomo Zalman,
described him as a “Gentle giant.” He
wrote:
Reb Shlomo Zalman was endowed, as a
lamdan, with a set of qualities which
served him, ideally, as a posek. He had
encyclopedic knowledge — and he had
it, as mechudaddim beficha, at his
fingertips. His temperament was

remarkably judicious, invariably level-
headed, and never pedestrian. He was

deferential to the views of others, and yet
genuinely self-confident. He could be
innovative and even daring.
Rav Shlomo Zalman’s brilliance was
undeniable, and yet it was perhaps
surpassed only by his humility and
sensitivity to all. R’ Chanoch Teller

recounts the following anecdote: “When
Rav Shlomo Zalman passed away, a
beggar in Sha’arei Chesed sobbed in her
anguish: “Now who will say ‘good
morning’ to me every day?” (Mi yagid li
boker tov?)”
While a testament to his
unpretentiousness and accessibility, the
anecdote has the potential to leave the
reader believing that one must be the
gadol ha’dor, the greatest of the
generation, to be friendly, caring and
gracious to all. Indeed, Rav Shlomo
Zalman’s greatness was seeing his
warmth and friendliness as nothing
extraordinary at all, but something that
should come naturally and be instinctive.
The Talmud testifies (Berachos 17a)
about Rabban Yochanan ben Zakai that
no one ever preceded him in a greeting
[of Shalom], even a stranger in the
marketplace.” The Mishna in Pirkei Avos
(4:20) encourages us all, “Hevei makdim
b’shalom kol Adam, be the first to greet
each person.” The Maharal explains that
when you walk by someone without
offering a greeting you make him or her

feel invisible and insignificant. By
making a point of greeting someone you
demonstrate that you don’t see yourself
as superior or better than another. Rather,
by instigating the greeting, you show that
you respect that person as an individual
and thereby you give them dignity and
worth.
In his book, “Reflections of the
Maggid,” Rabbi Paysach Krohn tells the
following story:
In Argentina there was a ritual slaughter
complex, comprised of several buildings.
There was a building where the animals
were fed, a building where they were
slaughtered and the meat packed and
loaded onto trucks, and an office building
with dressing rooms for the shochtim
(ritual slaughterers). The entire area was
surrounded by a tall chain link fence and
everyone entered through a wrought iron
gate in the front, near the parking lot.
The owner, Yisrael (Izzy) Nachmal, was
a workaholic. He was the first one in
every morning and the last one out every
evening. He oversaw every aspect of his
company, Ultimate Meats, and made it a
point to know every worker. The
guard at the front gate, Domingo,
knew that when Izzy left in the
evening, he could lock the gate and
go home.
One evening as Izzy was leaving, he
called out to the guard, “Good night,
Domingo, you can lock up and go.”
“No,” Domingo called back, “not
everyone has left yet.” “What are you
talking about,” Izzy said, “everyone
left two hours ago!” “It is not so,”
Domingo said, “One of the shochtim,
Rabbi Berkowitz, hasn’t left yet.”
“But he goes home every day with
the other shochtim, maybe you just
didn’t see him,” Izzy said. “Believe
me, I am positive he didn’t leave yet,”
the guard insisted. “We better go look
for him.”
Izzy knew that Domingo was
reliable and conscientious. He
decided not to argue, but instead got
out of his car and rushed back to the
office building with Domingo. They
searched the dressing room thinking
that perhaps Rabbi Berkowitz had
fainted and was debilitated. He
wasn’t there.
They ran to where the animals were
slaughtered, but he wasn’t there
either. They searched the truck dock,

the packing house, going from room to
room. Finally they came to the huge
walk-in refrigeration room where the
large slabs of meat were kept frozen.
They opened the door and to their shock
and horror they saw Rabbi Berkowitz
rolling on the floor, trying desperately to
keep himself warm. They ran over to
him, lifted him off the floor and helped
him out of the refrigerated room, past the
thick heavy wooden door that had locked
behind him. They wrapped blankets
around him and made sure he was warm
and comfortable.
Izzy Nachmal was incredulous.
“Domingo,” he asked, “how did you
know Rabbi Berkowitz hadn’t left? There
are over two hundred workers here every
day. Don’t tell me you know the comings
and goings of every one of them?”
The guard’s answer is worth
remembering. “Every morning when that
rabbi comes in, he greets me and says
hello. He makes me feel like a person.
And every single night when he leaves he
tells me, ‘Have a pleasant evening.’ He
never misses a night – and to tell you the
truth, I wait for his kind words. Dozens
and dozens of workers pass me every day
– morning and night, and they don’t say a
word to me. To them I am a nothing. To
him, I am a somebody. “I knew he came
in this morning and I was sure he hadn’t
left yet, because I was waiting for his
friendly good-bye for the evening!”
When you are checking out of a store,
make it a point to look at the person’s
nametag and use his or her name. Instead
of feeling invisible or anonymous, you
will give them a sense of identity and
dignity. We may not have encyclopedic
Torah knowledge, but every one of us
can be extraordinary just by making a
point of greeting everyone with a smile.