Rabbi Daniel Glatstein

From Korach to Cairo

The Dramatic Saga of the Shochet and Maran Ovadia Yosef

When we read Parshas Korach, we tend to think of it as an ancient story. Korach challenged Moshe Rabbeinu, the transmitter of Torah from Har Sinai, and of course if someone challenges Moshe Rabbeinu, he is going to meet a bitter end.

But that is a mistake.

This is not merely a story that happened 3,300 years ago. The Torah is teaching us a living reality. It is teaching us what happens when people challenge the Gedolei Yisrael of their generation. History has shown repeatedly that those who wage war against the great leaders of Torah ultimately meet a bitter end. That is not merely the story of Korach; it is the verdict of Jewish history.

There is a remarkable example of this.

In 1947, a young talmid chacham by the name of Rav Ovadia Yosef arrived in Cairo, Egypt, to serve as the community's rabbi. He was only twenty-seven years old.

Even before arriving, Rav Ovadia had heard troubling reports from immigrants who had come to Eretz Yisrael from Egypt. They told him that the kashrus standards, particularly the system of shechitah (ritual slaughter) in Cairo, were highly questionable. There were in fact many G-d-fearing Jews who lived in Cairo who refused to eat meat altogether because they lacked confidence in the shechitah system.

When Rav Ovadia arrived and investigated the matter personally, he discovered that the reports were true. The system had become deeply corrupt. And the source of the problem, surprisingly, was the Beis Din (Jewish court).

Every time a dispute arose regarding shechitah, the Beis Din would automatically side with the veteran shochtim (ritual slaughterers). And whenever a younger individual sought to enter the profession, the Beis Din would invoke the claim of hasagas gevul—infringing upon another's livelihood—and prevent him from becoming a shochet. As a result, the existing shochtim enjoyed an effective monopoly. Nobody wanted to learn shechitah anymore. Why invest years mastering the halachos and practical skills if there was no possibility of ever receiving a position? Even private opportunities were practically nonexistent.

Rav Ovadia discusses this at length in his responsa. In fact, in Yabia Omer (Yoreh Deah 9:2), he writes that the entire system had deteriorated to the point where shechitah had become nothing more than a business enterprise. Again and again in the teshuvos he wrote during his years in Cairo, Rav Ovadia returns to the same theme: the shochtim had come to believe that they possessed ultimate authority over shechitah. Instead of viewing themselves as subordinate to rabbinic authority, they saw themselves as the final arbiters of the system.

And Rav Ovadia chronicles numerous incidents demonstrating how entrenched this attitude had become as it was.

Now, this did not happen overnight. But the mysterious question is: how were the shochtim able to get away with this for so long? They must have possessed significant influence within the Beis Din itself. Otherwise, how could such a system have been maintained? Time after time, the Beis Din validated their position, protected their interests, and reinforced their control over the entire shechitah infrastructure. The result was a system that no longer functioned for the sake of Torah, but for the sake of preserving power.

It was into this environment that a twenty-seven-year-old Rav Ovadia Yosef arrived, determined to restore the integrity of shechitah regardless of the opposition he would inevitably face.

The Case of the Second Witness

The Beis Din itself was in a very difficult position. One of the reasons the Beis Din was often reluctant to confront the shochtim was because many of them were known to be extremely aggressive and, at times, outright violent. They would threaten and intimidate people, and there were numerous bona fide reports of individuals being threatened with physical harm if they interfered with the existing system. As a result, the dayanim (court judges) were often afraid to challenge them directly.

Rav Ovadia records a particularly fascinating case involving one of the shochtim, whom we will simply refer to as Mr. L.

This individual was caught accepting payment for shechitah on Yom Tov. Now, Rav Ovadia writes in several places that one of the fundamental problems with the shechitah system was that many of the shochtim lacked proper yiras Shamayim (Fear of Heaven). Therefore, when he heard that this particular shochet was allegedly accepting money for shechitah on Yom Tov, he decided to investigate the matter carefully. Rav Ovadia secretly arranged for witnesses to observe what was taking place. Sure enough, the witnesses saw Mr. L accepting payment for the shechitah on Yom Tov.

After Yom Tov concluded, Rav Ovadia summoned him before the Beis Din. What happened next was very interesting.

Before presenting the full case, Rav Ovadia first brought in only one witness. The shochet had no idea that a second witness was waiting outside. The first witness proceeded to testify before the Beis Din that he had personally seen Mr. L accept payment on Yom Tov. The shochet immediately denied the accusation. And not only did he deny it, but he went so far as to swear in the name of Hashem that the witness was lying. He emphatically insisted that the testimony was completely false.

At that point, the Beis Din brought in the second witness. Suddenly, the situation changed.

The shochet realized that this was no longer one person's word against his own. There were now two valid witnesses testifying to the same event. Rav Ovadia describes how the man immediately understood that he had been cornered. Whatever explanations he may have been prepared to offer, he was no longer willing to continue swearing falsely in the face of two witnesses. The Beis Din therefore issued a ruling.

They suspended his shechitah license until after Shavuos. However, they did not permanently revoke it. The Beis Din informed him that if he accepted responsibility for his actions, committed himself to genuine teshuvah, and undertook to observe the halachos properly going forward, he would be permitted to resume his work after the suspension period. If, however, he ignored the ruling and returned to shechitah before receiving authorization from the Beis Din, his license would be revoked permanently.

Now, one would think that this should have been the end of the story. After all, there were two witnesses. The facts had been established and the Beis Din had issued its ruling. The matter should have been closed.

But the story was only beginning. As soon as these witnesses left the courtroom, events took a dramatic and dangerous turn.

Of Knives and Excuses

There was a longstanding custom in Egypt that before Shavuos, large numbers of ducks would be shechted for Yom Tov. It was somewhat similar to the way chickens are used for kapparos before Yom Kippur. The slaughterhouses would become extremely busy in the days leading up to Shavuos as people prepared for the Yom Tov. One year, Rav Ovadia decided to personally visit the slaughterhouse and observe what was taking place.

As he walked through the facility, he suddenly noticed Mr. L. standing there with blood all over his apron, actively engaged in shechitah. Rav Ovadia stopped in his tracks. "One minute," he said. "We suspended your shechitah license. What are you doing here?" At first there was nowhere for Mr. L. to go. Faced with the evidence right in front of everyone, he was forced to admit that he had indeed returned to shechitah despite the ruling of the Beis Din.

At that point Rav Ovadia ordered him to stop immediately and leave the premises. The matter would now return to the Beis Din, which would have to decide whether his license should be revoked permanently. You think that would be the end of the story.

It was not.

Rav Ovadia returned home from the slaughterhouse, and when he arrived he found a crowd waiting outside his house. Leading the group was Mr. L. himself, accompanied by several local Arabs. They had come with the intention of attacking Rav Ovadia, and according to Rav Ovadia's own account, they were prepared to kill him.

Rav Ovadia writes that some miracle occurred. He himself could not fully explain how he escaped, but somehow he was able to avoid the danger and emerge unharmed. Later, someone informed him that he had personally witnessed Mr. L. offering money to an Arab in order to murder Rav Ovadia. These are the kinds of people with whom Rav Ovadia was dealing in Cairo.

If you think that was an isolated incident, consider another case.

There was a shochet whom Rav Ovadia discovered did not know how to properly inspect a knife. Now, checking the knife is not some minor detail. It is one of the most basic requirements of shechitah (Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deah 18). If a person cannot properly inspect the blade, he has no business serving as a shochet.

Rav Ovadia sat down with him and carefully reviewed the halachos, showing him exactly how the knife was to be examined. He explained the procedure and went through the details with him. A few days later, the man returned. Once again, Rav Ovadia discovered that he was shechting with a defective knife. "What happened?" Rav Ovadia asked. The answer was always the same. "I forgot." Again he reviewed the halachos with him, but again the man returned. And the knife was found to be defective, just as before, and the excuse was the same: "I forgot."

Eventually the man was caught yet another time shechting with a knife that should never have been used. At that point Rav Ovadia concluded that enough was enough. "You can no longer serve as a shochet," he told him. "You will have to find another profession."

But that decision incited Rav Ovadia to danger.

Just as in the previous incident, this individual hired Arab thugs to intimidate and assault Rav Ovadia. The simple act of enforcing basic halachic standards was placing Rav Ovadia's life at risk. These stories provide only a glimpse into the environment in which he was operating.

People sometimes ask, "Why didn't Rav Ovadia simply shut the whole system down? If the standards were so poor, why not tell the community that nobody should eat meat until the problems were fixed?" But the reality was far more complicated than that.

And now we come to perhaps the most dramatic case of all.

There was a certain shochet whom we will call Mr. Shimon A.

Actually, if you want to know his name, you don't need me to tell you. Rav Ovadia records it openly in his responsa in Yabia Omer (Yoreh Deah 9:2). In fact, Rav Ovadia already mentions him years earlier in the very first teshuvah he ever published in Yoreh De'ah, in Yabia Omer (Yoreh Deah 1:1). The man's name is there in black and white. This was not some obscure individual. He eventually became headline news in Eretz Yisrael. At the time, however, he was living in Egypt, and he was not merely a shochet. He was the chief shochet of the entire country. He stood at the head of the Egyptian shechitah system and wielded enormous influence.

What happened with this individual would become one of the most famous and consequential battles of Rav Ovadia's early rabbinic career.

The Saga of Shimon the Shochet

This particular Shimon A. had been the subject of rumors for years.

The allegations were very serious, people claiming that when questionable animals were brought for shechitah, Shimon would arrange for non-Jews to remove the suspicious organs or questionable sections before the animal was inspected by the bodek (ritual examiner). As a result, by the time the animal reached the person responsible for determining whether it was a treifah (mortally defective and thereby unkosher), all of the problematic evidence had already disappeared.

The non-Jews were only too happy to cooperate. After all, if the animal was declared a treifah, they would lose business. They had every incentive to help ensure that the animal passed inspection. In fact, there were reports that they would actually pay Shimon to receive those questionable parts. It became a mutually beneficial arrangement.

For years these were merely rumors. But eventually the rumors became so widespread and so persistent that many yirei Shamayim (G-d fearing individuals) in Egypt simply stopped eating meat shechted under his supervision.

Then came Tammuz of 1948. Less than a year after Rav Ovadia had arrived in Cairo, the allegations reached a boiling point.

There was a mashgiach by the name of Yichya Levy. Rav Ovadia mentions him by name. Mr. Levy reported that Shimon had instructed him to place the official kosher seal—the plumba—on meat that should never have received certification.

Naturally, Shimon was summoned and confronted with the accusation.

"Did you instruct the mashgiach to place the seal on that meat?" He denied everything completely. But although he denied this particular allegation, there were numerous other witnesses who came forward with troubling reports regarding his conduct. They could not necessarily testify regarding this specific incident, but they testified to a broader pattern of behavior that demonstrated a serious disregard for halachah.

Some witnesses stated that he regularly traveled to work by train on Shabbos and paid for the fare. Others testified to additional conduct that raised significant concerns regarding his reliability and fear of Heaven. Taken together, the evidence was becoming overwhelming.

There was only one problem. None of the witnesses were willing to testify in Shimon's presence. Why? Because they were terrified of him. They genuinely feared for their lives. In fact, Shimon openly threatened people who considered testifying against him and made it known that anyone who cooperated with the Beis Din would face consequences.

Now this created an enormous halachic problem. Ordinarily, testimony must be given in the presence of the person against whom it is being offered (Shulchan Aruch, Choshen Mishpat 28:15; see Sema, ad loc., §48). You cannot simply gather witnesses privately and issue a ruling. The halachic process requires that testimony be presented bifanav (in front of the person). So what was Rav Ovadia supposed to do? On the one hand, the witnesses were afraid to appear. On the other hand, the normal procedures of Beis Din could not be followed without their appearance.

There was, however, one exception. Yichya Levy himself was not afraid. He was prepared to testify openly.

At this point Rav Ovadia introduced a remarkable halachic innovation. In his very first responsum in Yabia Omer (Yoreh Deah 1:1), he argues that under circumstances such as these, where witnesses face genuine threats and intimidation, testimony may be accepted even when it is not delivered in the defendant's presence. It was a major chidush (novelty). And Rav Ovadia relied upon it. What is particularly fascinating is the way he concludes that teshuvah. At the end, Rav Ovadia writes a cryptic sentence.

He says that subsequent events demonstrated just how dangerous Shimon truly was. However, "U'chevod Elokim haster davar—It is the honor of Hashem to conceal a matter” (Mishlei 25:2). In other words, Rav Ovadia hints that Shimon later proved beyond any doubt that he was a dangerous individual, but Rav Ovadia refuses to record the details in writing. Whatever happened was apparently so severe that he felt it was better left unsaid.

Years later, in Yabia Omer (Yoreh Deah 9:2), Rav Ovadia revisited the entire affair and provided additional details. Eventually, Shimon was offered severance compensation and was persuaded to resign from his position. At that point one would imagine that the crisis had finally come to an end.

It had not.

After Shimon's removal, a G-d-fearing shochet named Rav Musaad Elbaz was brought from Alexandria to assume the position. Rav Musaad was known as a serious talmid chacham and a man of impeccable integrity, and he relocated to Cairo in order to rebuild confidence in the shechitah system.

Shimon was furious. Absolutely furious. At first he threatened Rav Musaad directly. Then, he threatened to beat him and intimidate him into leaving the position. But eventually Shimon's anger became focused on someone else. He blamed Rav Ovadia Yosef. In his eyes, Rav Ovadia was responsible for everything that had happened.

And so Shimon decided to retaliate.

He went to Egyptian government officials and accused Rav Ovadia of being a spy for the State of Israel. Now, consider the timing. This was 1948 and the newly established State of Israel was at war with the surrounding Arab countries. Distrust toward Jews was already running extraordinarily high. Even before this accusation, Rav Ovadia was constantly viewed with suspicion because of his connections to Eretz Yisrael. Suddenly, a formal accusation of espionage could have had catastrophic consequences.

Baruch Hashem, Rav Ovadia was able to defend himself and convince the authorities that the allegations were completely false. But Shimon was not satisfied. People pleaded with him, telling him, "Find another profession and become a merchant, an accountant or a lawyer. Do something else." But he refused. He wanted to remain involved in the meat industry. Finally, a compromise was reached. He agreed to leave shechitah entirely.

Instead of serving as a shochet, he would become a butcher. Rather than slaughtering animals himself, he would simply sell meat that had been shechted by others. At least, that was the arrangement.

But the story was far from over.

Suspicion at the Store

A woman walked into Shimon's butcher shop and purchased a piece of meat. Sometime afterward, she happened to encounter Rav Musaad Elbaz, the G-d-fearing shochet who had been brought from Alexandria to replace Shimon as the chief shochet of Cairo. Rav Musaad took one look at the piece of meat she was carrying and immediately became suspicious. Something did not look right.

The meat did not resemble any of the animals that had recently passed through the slaughterhouse under his supervision. The color looked different as did the texture. It simply did not appear to be the type of meat he was accustomed to seeing. So he asked her, "Where did you buy that meat?" The woman replied, "I bought it from Shimon's store."

Now, ostensibly, there was nothing unusual about that. Shimon had a kosher butcher shop. He displayed signs indicating that the meat was kosher, and customers assumed they could rely on what was being sold there. Nevertheless, Rav Musaad remained uneasy. The woman could sense his concern and noticed the expression on his face, becoming nervous herself. Finally, she said, "You know what? I'm not comfortable anymore. I'll just take it back to the store and ask for a refund." Rav Musaad replied, "Don't worry about the money. I'll reimburse you myself. Just leave the meat with me and let me look into it."

He took possession of the meat and brought it to a veterinarian for professional examination. The veterinarian inspected it and delivered a shocking verdict. "This is not beef," he said. "It's camel meat." Camel meat. Not improperly shechted meat. Not questionable meat. Not meat with a kashrus concern. Camel meat. An animal that is entirely non-kosher. Rav Musaad was stunned.

He immediately took the meat and went to confront Shimon. "What is going on here?" he demanded. "Do you realize what you are selling? This isn't merely a problem of shechitah. This isn't a question of whether an animal is a treifah. This isn't even the meat of a kosher species. You're selling camel meat!" Shimon immediately denied any intentional wrongdoing. "No, no," he insisted. "It must have been a mistake. One of the Arab workers must have accidentally mixed it in with the rest of the meat." That was his explanation.

But it soon became clear that Shimon understood the seriousness of the situation. When he realized that Rav Musaad had uncovered the truth, his tone suddenly changed. "Please," he begged him, "don't tell Rav Ovadia. If Rav Ovadia hears about this, he'll shut me down completely."

But Rav Musaad had no choice. The matter was far too serious to conceal. He went directly to Rav Ovadia and reported everything that had happened. At that stage, however, Rav Ovadia was not in a position simply to close the business entirely. The communal and political realities were far more complicated than that.

Instead, Rav Ovadia enacted a new decree.

If Shimon wished to continue operating as a butcher, he would no longer be allowed to function without supervision. A mashgiach temidi—a full-time supervisor—would have to be present and oversee the operation continuously. From that point forward, every aspect of the business would be subject to ongoing rabbinic supervision.

But even that would not be enough.

Guns and Acid

When Shimon heard about Rav Ovadia's new decree requiring a mashgiach temidi, he was furious. He marched straight to Rav Ovadia and confronted him personally. In the middle of the confrontation, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a gun, and pointed it directly at Rav Ovadia's head.

Most people would have panicked. Rav Ovadia did not.

Calmly, without flinching, he looked Shimon straight in the eye and said, "You think I'm afraid of your gun? Throughout our history, countless Jews have given their lives al kiddush Hashem." That was Rav Ovadia's response. Shimon left.

But the story did not end there.

Shimon had a brother-in-law named Araf, and together they arranged for several Arabs to attack Rav Ovadia. They would wait for Rav Ovadia to leave the shul and then throw acid on him. That was the plan.

But Hashem had other plans.

For whatever reason, Rav Ovadia did not leave the shul at his usual time that evening. The attackers became confused and in the darkness, they mistook Rav Musaad Elbaz for Rav Ovadia. But at that very moment, in what can only be described as a remarkable act of Divine providence, a woman approached Rav Musaad. "Rabbi," she said, "I have a shailah." As Rav Musaad turned toward her and stepped aside, the acid missed its intended target. Instead of striking him in the face and blinding him, it struck him on the neck. He was seriously injured and required hospitalization, but he survived and, remarkably, did not suffer permanent damage. It was an extraordinary miracle.

Eventually, witnesses who knew what had happened reported the incident to the Egyptian authorities. They testified regarding the role that Shimon had played in arranging the attack, and as a result Shimon was sentenced to prison, where he remained for approximately six months. In the meantime, Rav Ovadia eventually left Egypt and returned to Eretz Yisrael.

One would think that would be the end of the story. It wasn't.

Nearly ten years later, Rav Ovadia was serving on the Beis Din of Petach Tikvah under Rav Reuven Katz zt”l.

One day, Rabanit Margalit Yosef happened to look out the window of their home. To her astonishment, she saw a familiar figure pacing back and forth outside the house. It was Shimon. Can you imagine? The man had followed Rav Ovadia from Cairo all the way to Eretz Yisrael and was now standing outside his home. When Rav Ovadia heard about it, he was not entirely surprised. Only a few days earlier, Rav Nissim Azran, who was responsible for certifying shochtim in Eretz Yisrael, had contacted him regarding a peculiar incident.

A man had appeared before him seeking authorization to work as a shochet. He presented credentials and produced recommendations. He claimed to have experience working in the Jerusalem area and seemed, at least on the surface, to possess the necessary qualifications. Rav Azran began reviewing the paperwork. As he looked over the documents, his eyes fell upon the applicant's name. Shimon so-and-so. The name sounded familiar. Very familiar. He stared at it for a moment. "Where do I know that name from? Shimon so-and-so… Shimon so-and-so…”

And then suddenly it clicked. He remembered. That was the very individual whose story appeared in one of Rav Ovadia's most famous teshuvos. That was the Shimon discussed in the first teshuvah of Yabia Omer, the very case that had shaken the Jewish community in Egypt years earlier.

At that moment, Rav Azran understood exactly who was standing before him.

Incidentally, this may explain something else. People often ask why Rav Ovadia chose to publish the man's name so openly in his responsa. Usually rabbinic authorities are careful to conceal identities whenever possible. But in this case, perhaps it was a blessing that Rav Ovadia recorded the name explicitly and preserved the details for posterity. Because years later, when that same individual attempted to re-enter the world of shechitah, there was a written record that made it impossible for history to be forgotten.

The Man Without the Yarmulke

Rav Nissim Azran now understood exactly who he was dealing with.

When you read these teshuvos today, they almost read like a suspense novel. You keep turning the pages wondering what is going to happen next. And, in fact, there was another chapter to the story.

Years later, Rav Ovadia was attending a rabbinic conference in Yerushalayim when one of his talmidim approached him with a practical question. "Rabbi," the talmid asked, "are you allowed to eat meat slaughtered by a shochet who performs shechitah without wearing a yarmulke?" Rav Ovadia looked at him in astonishment. "What kind of shochet performs shechitah without a yarmulke?" he asked. The talmid replied, "You should know, I recently moved to Mevaseret Yerushalayim, and there is a shochet there who is slaughtering animals without covering his head." Rav Ovadia asked a simple question. "What is his name?" The talmid answered: "Shimon."

Rav Ovadia could hardly believe what he was hearing. Shimon again. After everything that had happened in Egypt, after all the battles, all the investigations, all the rulings, somehow this man had once again found his way back into the world of shechitah.

Rav Ovadia immediately contacted Rav Nissim Azran. "You have to remove him," he said. "This individual cannot be functioning as a shochet. We have already been through this story before."

A few days later, another dramatic episode unfolded. Rav Ovadia was sitting in his study learning Torah. His young daughter, Yaffa, who was only six years old at the time, was playing outside the house. A man approached her. "Are you Rav Ovadia Yosef's daughter?" he asked. "Yes." "Is your father home?" "Yes, he's inside," she said. The innocent child had no idea who was standing before her. She accompanied him toward the house.

As they entered, Rabanit Margalit Yosef immediately recognized him. It was Shimon. She understood instantly that this could not possibly lead to anything good. She tried to stop him from entering, but he pushed her aside and continued walking toward Rav Ovadia's study. At that moment Rav Ovadia was learning with his father-in-law, Rav Avraham Fattal. Without hesitation, Shimon entered the room. And then he reached into his pocket.

And once again he pulled out a loaded gun. He pointed it directly at Rav Ovadia. According to the account, he declared, "It's time to get rid of you. First you removed me from my position in Egypt, and now you're trying to take away my livelihood here as well. Every place I go, you follow me. Every opportunity I get, you take away."

The room fell silent. Shimon was holding a loaded weapon and threatening to murder Rav Ovadia Yosef. At that moment Rav Avraham Fattal did something extraordinary. He stepped directly in front of Rav Ovadia. "If you are going to shoot someone," he said, "shoot me instead." He explained that Rav Ovadia had young children who depended on him. Shimon responded emotionally. "Young children? I have young children too! I have a family to support! I need a livelihood!"

Even in that tense moment, Rav Ovadia remained remarkably calm. He looked at Shimon and said, "If you need a livelihood, then become a doctor, a lawyer, a plumber or an electrician. There are many honorable professions in this world. But you cannot be a shochet." Those were his words.

Somehow, almost inexplicably, the situation de-escalated. Shimon stood there for a few moments. Then he slowly lowered the gun and placed it back into his pocket. And then he turned around and left. No one could fully explain why he changed his mind. But once again, Rav Ovadia had been spared.

But even then the story was not entirely over.

For years afterward, whenever Rav Ovadia entered or exited the Beis Din in Petach Tikvah, Shimon would often appear and threaten him. The harassment became so persistent that Rav Ovadia eventually required police escorts for protection. On more than one occasion, even secular neighbors who lived nearby stepped forward to shield him from Shimon's threats and intimidation.

Think about that for a moment. A rabbi whose entire "crime" was insisting that shechitah be conducted according to halachah spent years being threatened, stalked, and intimidated by a man whose position he had removed for the sake of kashrus. And yet through it all, Rav Ovadia never backed down and never compromised. He never said, "It's not worth the trouble."

For Rav Ovadia, this was never a personal dispute. It was never about winning an argument or defeating an opponent. It was about protecting the integrity of Torah.

Wanted And Found

Eventually, Shimon disappeared.

For years, nobody seemed to know what had become of him. After all the confrontations, all the threats, all the court cases, and all the drama that had followed him from Egypt to Eretz Yisrael, he simply vanished from public view. In fact, Rav Ovadia used to joke with his children about it. He would say, "Whoever can tell me where Shimon is, I'll give him ten grushim (a small unit of currency)." That was the reward. Ten grushim.

Years passed.

The family eventually settled in Yerushalayim, and one day Rav Ovadia's oldest son, Rav Yaakov Yosef, came to collect the prize. "Abba," he said, "you owe me ten grushim."

"What for?" "I found Shimon," he said. "What happened to him?" asked Rav Ovadia. Rav Yaakov had been reading the newspapers and discovered the rest of the story. After abandoning the world of shechitah, Shimon had entered an entirely different line of work.

He became a smuggler. One thing led to another and he became involved with criminals, fell into the underworld, and eventually became entangled in disputes with the very people with whom he was associating.

And then it happened. Shimon was murdered. Not by a rabbi. Not by a dayan. Not by a shochet. He was murdered by a fellow criminal.

That was the end of the story.

When you step back and look at the entire picture, it is difficult not to think of Korach. We often read Parshas Korach as though it were an isolated event that took place thousands of years ago. Korach challenged Moshe Rabbeinu, the earth swallowed him, and that was that. But, in truth, the story is much larger than one historical episode.

There is a recurring pattern throughout Jewish history. Individuals who set themselves against the Torah and against its authentic leaders may enjoy temporary victories. They may appear powerful and they may intimidate others. They may even succeed for a period of time.

But in the end, they inevitably drink a bitter cup. That was true of Korach and his congregation. And, in many ways, it was true here as well. This is the meaning of the Mishnah in Pirkei Avos: "V’hevei mischamem k'neged uran shel chachamim—Warm yourself by the fire of the Sages” (Avos 2:15). Benefit from their wisdom, and learn from them and grow from them. But at the same time, continues the Mishnah, "Hevei zahir b'gachaltan—Be careful with their coals.”

Why? Because, says the Mishnah, "She'ne’shichasan neshichas shu'al—Their bite is like the bite of a fox. "Va'akitatzan akitzas akrav—Their sting is like the sting of a scorpion. "U'le’chishasan lechishas saraf—Their whisper is like the whisper of a fiery serpent. "V'chol divreihem k'gachalei eish—And all of their words are like fiery coals.”

The Mishnah is teaching us that a talmid chacham is not merely an individual. He represents Torah itself. When a person attaches himself to Torah, he receives its warmth, its illumination, and its blessing. But when a person wages war against Torah and its bearers, he ultimately discovers that he is not fighting flesh and blood alone.

And that battle never ends well. That is the lesson of Korach. That is the lesson of history.

And that is the lesson Rav Ovadia Yosef zt”l witnessed with his own eyes, and we learn from his life for the ages.