Reb Shlomo Zalman and The Bees
An angry bee keeper confronts the rabbi who is ruining his business
This is a story I heard from my 10th Grade rebbe, Rabbi Reichman. I obviously can’t confirm all the details, but there is corroborating circumstantial evidence (see photograph above).
In 1983, Shlomo Zalman Auerbach was sitting in his study when his wife Chaya Rivka announced a visitor. Rabbi Auerbach told him to come right in. The man was gripping a large wooden frame. The frame was crawling with bees.
Reb Shlomo Zalman greeted him, and told him he could put his bees on the table. The man was relieved.
To understand what happened next, you need to know that Reb Shlomo Zalman was a legendarily kind and patient person. He was unpretentious and level-headed. Maybe even too kind, unwilling to fight when a fight was really called for…obviously not my place to say. The point is that beyond his legal genius and commitment to Torah, he had an famously tender personality.
The thing is, this wasn’t his first encounter with the Bee Guy.
The Bee Guy, whose name I do not know, was in the “royal jelly” business. Royal jelly is a secretion with supposed health benefits. It’s used by bees to feed their larvae; it’s used by humans as a homeopathic treatment for everything from asthma to collagen enhancement. Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach had decided that he could not declare royal jelly kosher.
When Rabbi Auerbach made his decision, the Bee Guy was devastated. His entire parnassah was threatened by the ruling. His own position, long considered, was that royal jelly was as kosher as honey. Auerbach clearly disagreed.
Bee Guy was determined to correct this.
He davened wherever Auerbach was davening and peppered him with basic questions about bees and their habits on his way out. He asserted that Auerbach could not answer the questions because he was ignorant on their biology. He did the same outside the shuk where Auerbach purchased treats for Chaya Rivka.
The man even went so far as to put out an advertisement in Ha-Sulam for his products, announcing that they had been declared kosher by a rabbi in America—the rabbi did not exist, this was a total fabrication.
And now he had shown up in Shlomo Zalman Auerbach’s own home with a hive.
Reb Shlomo Zalman told the Bee Guy to sit down. The Bee Guy immediately launched into his argument, the same one he’d already made a dozen times. He pointed to a bee, and modestly suggested that Reb Shlomo Zalman did not even know where the mandibles or pollen basket were. If the Rabbi simply understood the conditions under which royal jelly and honey were produced, he’d immediately correct his erroneous ruling.
Reb Shlomo Zalman nodded.
“Let me ask you a simple question,” he said to the Bee Guy. He pointed to the hive frame. “Who is in charge in there? How does everyone know what to do?”
The Bee Guy was flattered. He felt Rabbi Auerbach had finally admitted his ignorance and now deferred to his own superior expertise.
“It is in fact very interesting. They all serve the queen, but otherwise work in castes,” he said.
“And what happens if a bee disobeys the queen?”
“The other bees will keep him in line. They’ll even kill him. Though there is another scenario.”
“Yes?” Reb Shlomo Zalman raised an eyebrow.
“They can try to replace her. This happens at times, usually because the hivekeeper is a dummy and tries to seed a queen in a new hive where they don’t know her. They see her as an invader. The workers will swarm. They make a ball and sting her till she’s dead. Then, they don’t have a queen.”
Reb Shlomo Zalman leaned in. “And what then?”
He shrugged. “They pick a new one. The hive always needs a queen.”
Reb Shlomo Zalman shook the Bee Guy’s hand. He told him that he had found this very interesting and he appreciated him bringing the hive in. He now understood that he had thinking to do. He thanked him, and showed him the door.
The Bee Guy left, feeling like a million bucks.
The very next day, Bee Guy woke up to the sound of pounding at his door. He opened, and in walked two large men in large black overcoats. They pushed the Bee Guy down at his own kitchen table. He tried to stand up but they pushed him down again. The two men, they explained that he wasn’t allowed to go to shul anymore. He wasn’t allowed to talk to Rabbi Auerbach anymore. And if he even tried, they knew where to find him.
Maybe, they suggested, this would be good for him. A new start. A new line of work. In a new city. Maybe in America.
And though nobody told me this part, I bet that when they left, and the Bee Guy was alone in his home, it was absolutely silent except for the sound of the workers buzzing in their frame, standing upright by his dripping sink, still serving their queen.