Rabbi Elijah, the great Gaon of Vilna, once posed an unusual request to the Maggid of Dubno.
“Please, rebuke me for my faults,” the renowned scholar said. “I wish to be wise, and it is written, ‘Reprove a wise man, and he will love you’ (Proverbs 9:8).”
This was no simple request. Rabbi Elijah, a titan of Torah, was as renowned for his piety as for his dedication to Torah study. The preeminent Talmudic scholar of his day, he spent every waking moment immersed in Torah study in his private house of study.
The Gaon was no easy target for the Maggid’s sharp wit. What, after all, could he possibly find to criticize in the Gaon of Vilna? The Maggid felt uneasy about the task at hand.
But after a long pause, the Maggid agreed, with one stipulation: “I beg you, revered Rabbi, do not take offense. I am merely a humble servant of truth, and I must speak honestly, though I know it may seem bold.”
The Righteous of Sodom
“The phrase ‘in the midst of the city,’” the Maggid continued, “is repeated several times in this account. Now, the Torah is always precise; there’s no such thing as a superfluous letter in the holy text. Why, then, does the Torah speak of the righteous ‘in the midst of the city,’ rather than simply saying ‘the righteous of the city’?”
The Gaon’s eyes lit with interest as he waited for the Maggid to answer his own question.
“I will tell you what I think,” the Maggid said, his voice taking on a contemplative tone. “This phrase is important and is mentioned for a specific reason. Abraham wasn’t speaking of just any righteous men. He was speaking of righteous who are ‘in the midst of the city’—who are concerned with the town’s daily affairs, guiding its communal life.”
He let the words sink in before continuing.
“There may very well have been fifty righteous men in the Beit Midrash of Sodom,” the Maggid continued, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Men who studied Torah all day long and thought, ‘I have saved my own soul. I am righteous. What more can the world ask of me?’ But those scholars, with all their learning and piety, would not have saved Sodom.”
“No,” the Maggid went on, “Abraham understood that to save a city from destruction, there must be righteous people who are ‘in the midst of the city.’ Individuals who are actively involved in the moral and spiritual affairs of the town, who care for the people around them and watch over their neighbors’ welfare.”
The Maggid paused, letting the weight of his words linger in the air. The Gaon, who had always refused to accept any communal position, shifted uncomfortably.
“Scholars who bury themselves in their books, who isolate themselves from the world outside their study rooms—scholars who avoid engaging with their communities—these are not the righteous Abraham had in mind,” the Maggid said, his voice soft yet firm. “These are not the ones who can save a city—or a nation.”
