ר' אַייזִיק הַלֵּוִי מִהָאמְלִי סִפֵּר: כְּשֶׁבָּאתִי לְליאָזנאָ מָצָאתִי מִזִּקְנֵי הַחֲסִידִים שֶׁהָיוּ מֵחֲסִידֵי הָרַב הַמַּגִּיד וְהָרַב הַקָּדוֹשׁ הָרַב מְנַחֵם מֶענדְל מֵהָארָאדָאק, וַהֲוָה מַרְגְּלָא בְּפוּמַייהוּ: האָבּ האָלט אַ אִידעֶן, וועֶט הַשֵּׁם יִתְבָּרֵךְ דִיר האָלט האָבּעֶן, טוּ אַ טוֹבָה אַ אִידעֶן, וועֶט הַשֵּׁם יִתְבָּרֵךְ דִיר אַ טוֹבָה טאָן, זַיי מְקָרֵב אַ אִידעֶן וועֶט הַשֵּׁם יִתְבָּרֵךְ דִיר מְקָרֵב זַיין.

R. Aizik HaLevi of Homil related: “When I came to Liozna,1 I met elder chassidim who had been disciples of the Maggid of Mezritch and R. Menachem Mendel of Horodok.2 They would frequently repeat the adage: “Love a fellow Jew, and G‑d will love you. Do a favor for a fellow Jew, and G‑d will do a favor for you. Befriend a fellow Jew, and G‑d will befriend you.”3

A Story with an Echo

An absolute prerequisite to ahavas Yisrael, loving a fellow Jew, is — sensitizing oneself.

A certain tzaddik in the Old Country was once asked: “From whom did you learn how to love your fellow Jew so warmly?”

“From two Russian peasants lying drunk in the gutter,” he said. “Late one night, as I was walking home, I overheard the following hoarse and groggy conversation:

‘Ivan, are you my friend?’

‘Sure!’

‘But are you really and truly my friend?’

‘Of course I’m your friend!’

‘So if you’re really my friend, tell me where I’m in pain…!’

“From them I learned what it takes to love a fellow Jew.”