Zelig Landsman knocked on the door to Meshulam Reich’s office. In one hand he held a walking cane, in the other an envelope.
“Zelig, is it that time of year again?” Mr. Reich said as he stood up from behind his desk to greet Zelig.
“Yes, Mr. Reich, it’s time to pay this year’s rent,” replied Zelig. “And just like every year, here’s an envelope with two nine thousand dollar checks in it; one check from my son Norman and one from my son Jerry. You know, my sons think I’m crazy for not paying you by the month like everyone else, but this way I know it’s taken care of until next year.”
“It’s not every man that has sons who are generous enough to pay eighteen thousand dollars for their father’s rent,” commented Mr. Reich as he inspected the checks.
“I know. My sons are very good to me. But to tell you the truth, Mr. Reich, they are the ones that want me to live in this expensive neighborhood. When my wife died, they insisted that I move here to be close to them. They even volunteered to pay the rent since I don’t really have much of an income. What was I going to do, argue with them? Personally, I would be just as happy if we all lived in my old neighborhood like we did when my wife was alive. ”
****
A few weeks after that meeting with Mr. Reich, Zelig collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. The doctors determined that it was congestive heart failure. And now, a week after entering the hospital, Zelig was close to death.
“Okay, just make sure you have the papers for me in the morning. Talk to you later,” said Norman Landsman, speaking into his cell phone as he walked down the hall to his father’s hospital room. Flipping the phone closed, Norman straightened his suit and tie before he entered.
Norman’s brother, Jerry, was sitting in a chair next to Zelig’s bed. He was saying Tehillim. When Zelig saw that both of his sons were at his side, he whispered, “I want to talk to both of you.”
“What is it, Dad?” asked Jerry.
“It’s about the rent money for my apartment. A month ago I gave Mr. Reich rent for the whole year. Eighteen thousand dollars. I don’t know if he’ll give it back to you after I’m gone,” Zelig explained.
“Don’t talk that way, Dad. You’re not going anywhere,” Jerry insisted.
Norman leaned back, cracked his knuckles, and said, “Yeah, Dad. And if you do go, we’ll just take Reich to court. If we get a good lawyer, we’ll probably win. The courts always favor tenants over landlords.”
“You will do no such thing,” Zelig commanded. “This is exactly what I want to talk to you about. In all my years, I never took another Jew to a secular court, and I’m not about to lose that z’chus now! Why should Jews go to a court that follows man-made laws? We’re forgetting about our own G-d-given Torah! Ask a bais din and find out what the Torah says. Oy! It’s such a Chilul Hashem when Jews don’t take their disputes to a bais din! No, if Mr. Reich doesn’t give you back the extra rent money, then you should take him to a bais din. And listen to me carefully, both of you. If you go to a bais din and not to the courts, in the long run you won’t lose because of it!”
Norman looked down at his shoes. Though he had plenty to say, he kept quiet.
Jerry quickly broke the momentary silence, “Don’t worry, Dad. We would never take Mr. Reich to a secular court. Right, Norman?”
“Uhm. Right, Jerry. Uhh. I’d never do that,” Norman replied with as much conviction as he could muster.
****
Zelig passed away with his two sons at his side. After shivah for their father was over, Jerry and Norman approached Mr. Reich about the eighteen thousand dollars in rent money that Zelig had pre-paid. The two brothers explained their position to Mr. Reich that the rental of the apartment ceased when their father died, and they were entitled to a refund for the unused portion of the rental money.
Not surprisingly, Mr. Reich did not agree with that view. Rather, he suggested that since it was their apartment for the remainder of the year, they should try to find a new tenant who would take over the lease. When Jerry suggested to Mr. Reich that they go to a bais din to resolve the matter, Mr. Reich readily agreed. However, Norman did not go along with them.
“Mr. Reich, tell me why should I go to a bais din? You never can tell what a bais din will decide. No, the only sure way for me to get my money back is to take you to court. I will see you there,” huffed Norman.
A few days after their meeting with Mr. Reich, Jerry and Norman met to clean out Zelig’s apartment. They filled a few cardboard boxes with items that had some sentimental value. Most of the stuff they threw out. It seemed that Zelig had not left much in the way of an inheritance for his two sons. As far as they knew, their father never wrote a will, nor did he need to.
“Why don’t you think it over again, Norman,” Jerry said as he stuffed some old pillows into a big plastic bag. “You know how adamant Dad was about not taking another yid to court.”
“Listen, Jerry, as far as I’m concerned, Dad had no right to tell us anything about the eighteen thousand dollars. He should not have given the whole year’s rent to Reich in the first place. I mean, the entire world pays by the month! You know what I think? I think Dad was always poor because he never did business the way it’s done in America. And in America, when someone has your money, you go to court, not to a bais din. Maybe if Dad would have played the game by the American rules, he would have left us something more than an apartment full of junk.”
“Norman, did you ever think that maybe we aren’t right about our claim against Mr. Reich. Personally, I’m interested in going to a bais din to find out if the Torah agrees with us or not. You realize that there is a possibility that according to the Torah we are wrong and Mr. Reich is right. If that would be the case and you succeed in making Mr. Reich pay by suing him in court, then in the eyes of the Torah you basically stole his money.”
“Listen, Jerry, I don’t need a bais din to tell me that Mr. Reich has our money. It’s as plain as day that he’s wrong and we’re right,” argued Norman.
****
Jerry received the p’sak from the bais din in the mail about the same time that the State Circuit Court ruled on N. Landsman vs. M. Reich. The p’sak quoted the Rema in Choshen Mishpat 334:1 and the Shach, s.k. 2. They rule that when a tenant pre-pays the rent and then dies, the landlord is not required to refund the unused portion of the rent. Jerry had lost the din Torah.
On the other hand, the State Circuit Court ruled that Meshulam Reich was required to refund to Norman Landsman the sum total of sixteen thousand one hundred and thirteen dollars. It seemed that Norman had won.
****
Some time later, both Jerry and Norman were contacted by the law firm of Cohen, Birnham , and Smith. It seemed that Zelig had left a will after all, and had instructed his lawyer, Jacob Cohen, not to reveal its existence until three months after Zelig’s death. A meeting was arranged between Mr. Cohen, Jerry, and Norman.
“Gentleman, thank you for coming to my office today,” Mr. Cohen opened. “Let’s get right down to it. I suppose both of you thought your father was a poor old man. Well, basically, you were right. He never had much of an income. However, he did make one good investment a long time ago. In 1961, your father bought 500 shares of a relatively unknown foreign automaker called Toyota. He paid 80 cents a share. It cost him $400. Today, those shares have split numerous times. When your father died, he owned 10,000 shares, worth roughly $500,000.”
Jerry and Norman looked at each other in total disbelief.
Mr. Cohen continued, “Your father told me that many times he was tempted to cash in the shares when he needed some money, but somehow, every time, he succeeded in coming up with the money some other way. He saved that investment for a rainy day, and the rainy day never came.
“Your father’s will basically states that ownership of those shares should pass to both of you equally. However, he did write an interesting paragraph which I would like to read to you, and I quote, ‘All my life I tried to honor and uphold the laws of the Torah regarding my monetary matters. Often, it wasn’t easy, but I know that in the long run I never lost out by playing by the rules. This attitude is my true gift to my sons and is more valuable than the money that I am leaving them. In truth I wanted to write in this will that this money should be given to my sons only if they show that they, too, have this attitude. I wanted to stipulate that if a son of mine has shown a basic disrespect and disregard for the monetary laws of the Torah by suing a fellow Jew in a secular court, I do not want my ownership of stock in Toyota to pass to him. However, in Choshen Mishpat 282:1, it states that one is not allowed to do this. According to the halacha, a father should not deny an unworthy son his inheritance because maybe he will improve his ways, or maybe his children will be worthy. All my life I have followed the halacha with regard to my money, and I will not stop now. ’”
Norman turned to Jerry with an ashamed look on his face. “Jerry, I’m so embarrassed!” Norman cried. “Now I see. Those rules didn’t stop Dad from becoming rich; they just stopped him from becoming corrupt. I don’t really deserve this money. Dad kept me in his will only because the rules that he lived by told him he must, but I wrongly condemned him for living by those rules.”
Jerry put his arm on his brother’s shoulder and said, “Norman, if you feel that way, then Dad would want you to have that money after all. You know, maybe it would be a good idea for you to call Mr. Reich and set up a meeting at the bais din.”
“Jerry,” Norman said as he wiped away a tear. “That would be a very good idea.”