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Someone else, anyone, come over here, he mentally beseeched. He moved to the side as attendees exited the Cobalt Room, where he’d just given a shiur. “Nice to meet you.” That wasn’t accurate, awkward was more like it. “Yep, that’s me.” She was obviously happy about the recognition Dov felt both uncomfortable and satisfied. I emailed you a few months ago with a shidduch question.” He didn’t know her, but he offered a closed-mouth smile in acknowledgment. “ ‘No’ can empower you more than ‘Yes.’ ” -Rabbi Dov Brianskyĭov turned and found himself facing a single woman, older twenties. Did they see through him while everyone else thought he was an inspiration? He was tempted every day.ĭov looked back at the gedolim hanging on the wall. People were emailing him questions he had no business answering, yet the ravenous darkness wanted to take a bite out of it all, spit back smart, pithy answers. No matter how much he starved it, it didn’t die. The insatiable abyss that always seemed to get in the way, that demanded to be fed. Tziporah didn’t get it, and didn’t care, too maybe it was better that she didn’t see the worst of him. He was relieved and disappointed at her departure.

“Never mind.” Dov waved his wife off, and she trekked upstairs.

“Just share your Torah, that’s what it’s all about.” “And Rabbi Teichman, who’d had plenty to drink himself, looked at me and said, ‘Dov, you’re already great, your nisayon is that you know it.’ ” “I was 22, one of those ‘Rebbi, give me a brachah, Rebbi I want to learn Torah, inspire the world’ kinda drunks.” Maybe he had sounded too casual, and she didn’t realize he was about to show his cards.

“Did I ever tell you what Rabbi Teichman told me one Purim?” Dov said, trying to sound casual. Tziporah started walking toward the stairs with the laundry basket. “Besides, you don’t need semichah to be called rabbi these days.” “Shhhh - don’t tell anyone.” Tziporah laughed she never saw this the way he did. “But you’re not just a speaker, you’re a rabbi.” I don’t think ‘Dear Abby’ is part of the job description of a speaker.” “I’m just someone who gives speeches on the Internet. “She’s reaching out to you because she trusts you, because she feels like she knows you.”ĭov frowned, glancing at the gedolim pictures again. “I totally hear you, this is past your pay grade, but she’s gonna be disappointed,” she said. Tziporah took the folded laundry and placed it back in the basket. Was he doing this for the right reasons - was this about Torah, or about himself? Today Dov strongly felt the tension that always ate at him. “Do they realize I’m in kollel and give a weekly parshah shiur? I can tell them what to think about, but I can’t offer an actual answer.” “Also even if I did know her, I’m not a rebbe, I don’t tell people what to do.” He looked at his wife.

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“Some vague suggestion about how to think about the problem.” Dov gestured toward the screen. “So, what are you going to respond?” Tziporah stopped folding and looked at him expectantly. He was exactly where he wanted to be - and it scared him. He looked to his right, the Chofetz Chaim hung there, and Rav Moshe Feinstein was on his left.

She’s just a name and an email address I can’t give her advice.” “I don’t know her at all - her upbringing, her personality, her hashkafos, nothing. “Maybe, I don’t know!” Dov adjusted his yarmulke. Is it kibbud av v’eim to entertain these ideas?” She wrote that she’s listened to all my shiurim, and it’s strengthened her bitachon like nothing else, but there’s so much pressure from everyone around her. He should tell Tziporah what his rebbi had said one Purim years ago it still made him hesitate. “Aren’t you Rabbi Dov Briansky, sage know-it-all?” she teased, moving on to shirts. “Yeah, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.” “Ouch, that’s rough.” Tziporah frowned, then went back to the three spare socks she was holding. “If she should give up on marrying a long-term learner.” “It’s a girl - or woman - I never know the right term.” He frowned at the screen. “What does this one say?” Tziporah asked, looking up from matching socks. “Got another advice email,” Dov called across the dining room, hoping he was keeping his smugness in check. Often, when we think we’re being humble, that’s when our ego shines brightest.” “The ego is the yetzer hara’s most devoted henchman. And you never tell people the answer - they need to get it themselves. Sometimes you walk away even when you probably should stay. Sometimes you need to play nice, and dumb, and keep your insights to yourself.

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