We had a relative who was a well known businessman in Morocco. As a young man, I wanted to meet with him on several occasions, but it never worked out. When I needed funds in order to publish a book about my grandfather, Rabbi Chaim Pinto Hagadol, zy”a, I wanted to enlist his help, but he kept eluding me.
When I matured, I undertook my father’s instruction to conduct a yearly hilula in the memory of the tzaddik, Rabbi Chaim Pinto, zy”a, in Morocco. I always invited this relative, but he never participated. Over the course of the years, we lost contact.
The man aged. He was close to ninety. He made a complete turnaround in his relationship with me. He would spend hours in my presence, kissing my hand often and taking pride in our common ancestry.
I spent some time contemplating this man’s paradoxical attitude toward me. I came to the following conclusion: When I was young, I was not famous and had nothing to offer this successful businessman. He therefore did not acknowledge me. But now that I have gained public acclaim, he seeks my presence, basking in the honor I receive.
This is only in the merit of the Torah that I studied from my youth until today. But I learned another lesson as well. How critical it is to beware of the honor of even young children! How careful we must be not to make light of them! David Hamelech states in Tehillim (119:99), “From all those who teach me I grew wise, for Your testimonies are a conversation for me.”
