Upon completing her period of purification, the yoledes, woman who gave birth, brings two korbanos, offerings, because she seeks atonement for two types of sin. The Korban Olah, Elevation-offering, atones for any resentful thoughts she may have had against her husband or Hashem during the painful moments of childbirth. The Sin-offering atones for the possibility that, in her dire pain, she might have sworn never to have physical relations with her husband. The requisite of two atonements for one activity is rare. The following anecdote reinforces this idea, lending us insight into the character of one of this past century’s most inspiring gedolim, Torah giants.
Fundraising is an art – and a difficult one – to master. I am not sure if anyone really enjoys it, regardless of the degree of his success. One is often subject to some form of demeaning behavior on the part of the would be benefactor. There are, of course, those unique individuals who actually enjoy giving tzedakah, charity. They are truly blessed, and so is the fundraiser who has the good fortune of soliciting them for funds. Horav Meir Shapiro, zl, was a master in so many areas. A prolific talmid chacham, Torah scholar, a brilliant speaker, and intellectual, he was the founder of not only the Daf Yomi, but also the great Yeshivah of Lublin. Unlike any other yeshivah, it catered to the best of the best, providing its students with excellent physical amenities, such as a beautiful bais ha’medrash, dormitory and real food. All of this cost money, which kept its Rosh Yeshivah quite busy, traveling the world to raise money for his beloved yeshivah.
The story goes that, on one of his trips, Rav Meir had occasion to visit a city in Eastern Europe, which was home to a very wealthy Jewish industrialist. There was one problem: This man wrote the book on tightfistedness. He lived well, but he refused to share his wealth with anyone. The Lubliner Rav visited him. The man not only refused to give him anything, he even kept him waiting before he would see him. This was tremendous zilzul b’kavod ha’rav, humiliation of the honor becoming such a distinguished Torah personage.
Rav Meir refused to ignore the man’s snub. He said, “I am not a yoledes; I did not recently give birth that I require two kaparos.” He turned his face to the door and was about to leave, when the man who he was soliciting blocked his exit. “You may not leave until you explain to me the meaning of your statement,” the man said.
Rav Meir replied, “My intentions were simple. There are times when I visit a wealthy man and, while I do not receive my desired sum or sometimes anything at all, at least I am treated royally and given the respect that a man of my position demands. When this occurs, I say ‘A kaparah, the money! The money is an atonement.’ At least I received a little honor. I was not mistreated. In other instances, I meet a philanthropist who gives me a nice check, but does not assuage my ego. I then say ‘A kaparah the kavod. At least I received a nice check.’
“In your case, however, I was mistreated, allowed to cool my heels for one hour in the hall, and – to add insult to injury – I received no check for all my troubles. That is why I declared that I was no yoledes, because only a woman who recently gave birth brings two kaparos.”
When the man heard this explanation, he realized that he was speaking to no ordinary person. He immediately wrote out a nice check to Chachmei Lublin, and he continued to do so every year for quite some time.
