Rabbi Yisrael Salanter was traveling by train from Kovno to Vilna. As was his custom, he traveled alone, and was dressed like a prosperous merchant. Not far from him sat a young man who had evidently just gotten married. As it was a smoking car, Rabbi Yisrael took out a cigarette and smoked. (Those were the days before the dangers of smoking were known.)

"Disgusting!" called out the young man in the direction of Rabbi Yisrael. "What a stink there is from the cigarette smoke!"

"I'm sorry," said Rabbi Yisrael mildly. "I didn't know that you can't stand smoke. I'll put out my cigarette," and as he spoke he extinguished the cigarette.

The other passengers looked at one another. "What audacity [of the young man]! Whoever cannot stand smoke should go to a non-smoking compartment," said one man, furiously.

A few minutes later, the angry voice of the young man again pierced the silence. "I can't stand sitting next to that man. The window is open and I'm freezing!"

"I'm sorry, sir," said Rabbi Yisrael. "I wasn't the one who opened the window, but if you're uncomfortable I'll close it." And so he did.

Those in the railroad carriage were amazed at the forbearance of the old, impressive-looking man, who indulged the young man as if he were an only son.

When the train arrived in Viina, the platform was packed with people who had come to welcome Rabbi Yisrael. As soon as he got off the train, he was surrounded by the throng: "Shalom Aleichem, Rebbe! Shalom Aleichem, Rebbe!" could be heard from all sides.

The young man saw the reception and asked weakly, "Who is that?"

"Don't you know? That's Rabbi Yisrael Salanter."

The young man felt sick and slunk away, but not before he had asked, "Do you know where he's staying?"

"With his son-in-law, Rabbi Elye Lazar," he was told.

The young man went to the inn where he was to lodge. He tried to eat, but the food caught in his throat. He went to his room to lie down, but he couldn't find rest. That entire night he lay sleepless. What had he done?

Early in the morning, he arrived at the home where Rabbi Yisrael was staying. Rabbi Yisrael greeted him graciously, "Have a seat. How are you? Have you rested from the trip? What do you think of Vilna?"

The young man remained standing, and suddenly burst into tears. "Rebbe, forgive me ... I didn't know!"

"Sit down and relax," Rabbi Yisrael told him. He assured the young man that he had nothing against him, that a young man is liable to let his emotions get away from him, that we are only human, that a person learns from his mistakes.

The young man's eyes lit up. He drank in eagerly everything that Rabbi Yisrael told him, and promised that from then on he would be considerate of everyone.

He got up to leave, and Rabbi Yisrael stopped him. "Would you mind telling me why you came to Vilna? Do you have any relatives here?" he asked.

"I have no one here," answered the young man. "I came here to receive rabbinic certification to act as a shochet (a ritual slaughterer)."

"If that's so," said Rabbi Yisrael, "I can help you. My son-in-law can give you certification. Let's ask him right now."

Rabbi Yisrael took the young man by the hand and entered Rabbi Elye Lazar's study. Rabbi Elye Lazar tested the young man, and found that he was ignorant of the laws involved.

"I presume," said Rabbi Yisrael, "that it must be because of the tiring journey. Why don't you rest up at your inn? Come back in a few days. I'm sure you will receive certification."

Only with difficulty did the young man find the front door.

A few days passed, and the young man did not return. Rabbi Yisrael went to the inn, found him, and asked, "Why haven't we seen you?"

"I am grateful to you, Rebbe," the young man replied. "You have caused me to open my eyes and see things as they are. Now I know my place and I will be going home."

"Don't rush," said Rabbi Yisrael. "Stay in Vilna for a time, go over the laws, and you will surely receive certification."

Rabbi Yisrael arranged for an experienced shochet to teach the young man the laws, and while he was learning, Rabbi Yisrael paid all his expenses.

Soon the young man became a proficient shochet, and received certification from a number of eminent Rabbis. Finally, Rabbi Yisrael arranged a position for him in a suitable town.

Before the young man left Vilna, he came to Rabbi Yisrael to thank him for everything he had done for him. In the course of their conversation, he said, "Rebbe, excuse me if I ask you one question. Why did you do so much for me?"

"When you first came to me and asked for forgiveness, I told you that I forgave you completely, and I bore you no grudge whatsoever," replied Rabbi Yisrael. "And, indeed, I said that in all sincerity. However, a person cannot control his feelings, and I was afraid that deep down I might still bear you somewhat of a grudge. Now there is a general rule that by taking an action, one can undo one's thoughts. I therefore sought to do you a favor, so as to remove from my heart any possible grudge. It is part of man's nature that if he helps another, he grows to love the one he has helped."

The Torah says: "Do not bear a grudge" (Leviticus 19:18). Rabbi Yisrael Salanter was committed to fulfilling that directive in an absolute way.