The Rambam’s Visitor

The Rambam was once under serious suspicion. Among the great seforim that he had written, were certain seforim that were considered dangerous to talmidim who were not yet mature thinkers and scholars.

All the talmidei chachomim of the Rambam's period—and later—recognized his seforim as truly outstanding. The Rambam was also a great doctor and scientist. He wrote the “Moreh Nevuchim—The Guide for the Perplexed,” which he hoped would also be favorably received.

Indeed, those who were perplexed about the true beliefs of yiddishkeit, found in this book a guide to the true way of Jewish life. On the other hand, some people were afraid that if the book would be read by students who were not confused, it would cause them to be confused, and lead them off the right path. Some even doubted whether the same person wrote both the Mishneh Torah and the Moreh Nevuchim!

So, the Rabbonim in Germany decided to send someone to Cordova, Spain—where the Rambam was born and lived—to find out for themselves what sort of person was this great Rambam.

The Rabbonim sent Rabbi Meir. Rabbi Meir was accompanied by one of his older talmidim and made the long and difficult journey to Spain. Coming to the outskirts of Cordova, Rabbi Meir and his talmid decided to take a rest on the banks of the river and refresh themselves with the river’s clear water. Having satisfied his thirst, Rabbi Meir took out a sefer from his bundle, and began to study. After a while, the travelers continued on their journey. Neither of them noticed that Rabbi Meir had left the sefer on the bank of the river.

Arriving at the home of the Rambam, Rabbi Meir knocked on the door. A servant opened the door and let him in.

“The Rambam is having lunch. Who, should I say, wants to see him?” the servant asked.

“Just tell Rambam that the visitor sends his compliments, and wishes him to enjoy the eggs he is eating,” Rabbi Meir replied.

A few minutes later the servant returned, bringing the message: “The Rambam bids you welcome. He also wants to remind you that you left a book on the bank of the river.”

Rabbi Meir checked his bag. Indeed, the book was missing. He sent his talmid to retrieve it.

Soon, the Rambam came into the front room and heartily welcomed the Rabbi from Germany. He invited the visitor to eat with him. A strange dish was served. It looked like a human hand. Rabbi Meir thought: “Can it be that the Rambam is a cannibal, eating human flesh?” He declined the dish, saying that he was not very hungry.

“Well, then maybe you will have some good wine to drink?” the Rambam suggested, and he called out: “Petrus, get us some wine from the cellar.”

Again, Rabbi Meir was surprised. Is it possible that the Rambam drinks wine that is touched by a goy, which is against Halacha? Rabbi Meir politely refused the wine, asking for water instead.

Feeling tired and somewhat upset, Rabbi Meir excused himself and accepted the suggestion of the Rambam to retire to bed. “We will postpone our meal for tomorrow,” the Rambam said. Turning to his servant, he said: “Petrus, tomorrow you will kill the calf for the meal in honor of our guest.”

For the third time, Rabbi Meir was shocked. “Why did the Rambam not call a shochet?” he thought. “Does he not believe in shechita anymore? Has he really strayed so far from the Jewish way of life?”

Rabbi Meir paced the floor of his room all night. Even though he was tired from his long journey, he could not sleep. He was greatly disturbed and upset. Who would have thought that such things were possible from such a great man? He decided that he would speak quite frankly with the Rambam in the morning. He would tell him the purpose of his visit and demand an explanation.

***

Early the following morning, the servant knocked on Rabbi Meir’s door and said that the Rambam wishes to see him.

Again the Rambam greeted him with a gracious smile, and without giving Rabbi Meir a chance to ask any questions, he said to his visitor:

“My good friend, I know why you have come all the way from Germany to visit me. You have been sent to see with your own eyes what sort of a man I am, and whether I am still a believing and practicing Jew. I also know why you refused to eat last night, and why you refused to drink my wine. I am also aware that you did not sleep a wink last night and that you were haunted by the terrible thought that I seemed to have offered you human flesh, forbidden wine, and finally treifah meat. Now, my friend, let me explain all these strange things, and you will see how easily one can fall into error and suspicion if one lets one’s imagination get out of hand; how little one can rely on one’s own eyes and ears, much less hearsay.”

“You see,” continued the Rambam, “the strange dish that looked to you like a human hand, was nothing else but a special vegetable that grows in this country, but not in yours. It is a very wholesome food. You know, I am a doctor, and I attach great importance to a balanced diet.”

Rabbi Meir now felt ashamed that he should have suspected the Rambam of such a dreadful thing. “But how come you ordered your non-Jewish servant to bring the wine from the cellar?” Rabbi Meir asked.

“G-d forbid that I should do such a thing. You see, my servant Petrus is a Jew from birth, a very observant Jew. Don’t let the name mislead you. Petrus was the name of one of our chachomim, Rabbi Yosef bar Petrus, and according to the gemora in Yerushalmi, Moed Kattan, Rabbi Yose bar Petrus was the father-in-law of the great talmud chochom, Rabbi Yoshua ben Levi.”

Again, Rabbi Meir felt ashamed that he should have suspected the Rambam of such a thing. He was now eagerly waiting for the explanation of the “killing” of the calf, instead of shechting it according to halacha.

“The explanation of that is also simple enough,” the Rambam said, as if reading his mind. “You know, of course, that when a calf is removed from its mother after the mother had been shechted, such a calf does not require shecita, having the benefit of its mother’s shechita. I have been raising such a calf for a distinguished visitor.”

Tears welled up in Rabbi Meir’s eyes. He embraced the Rambam and begged him for forgiveness. The Rambam readily forgave him, of course. The two scholars spent the next few days in study and discussion, to the great delight of both, but especially Rabbi Meir.

On his journey back home, Rabbi Meir spoke glowingly of the Rambam in every Jewish community where he stopped. “From Moshe (Rabbeinu) to Moshe (ben Maimon) there was none like Moshe ben Maimon,” was the reputation which the Rambam gained. This was also the report which Rabbi Meir brought back to the Rabbonim of Germany, who had sent him to become acquainted with the Rambam.

Breem!

There was once a chosid of the Alter Rebbe whose name we do not know, but we will call him Reb Berel. Reb Berel was a businessman who traveled a lot.

Once, Reb Berel went to the Alter Rebbe to request a bracha. One of the things that the Alter Rebbe told Reb Berel seemed very strange. The Alter Rebbe said: “Reb Berel, whenever you go on a business trip, take with you lechem mishneh.”

This was strange, because most of the time when Reb Berel went on a business trip, he did not stay over Shabbos. Why then, did the Alter Rebbe tell him that whenever he went on a business trip, he should take along lechem mishneh?

Reb Berel also thought that what the Alter Rebbe had said was strange, but of course he listened to the Alter Rebbe. On the first trip that Reb Berel took after the yechidus, he brought with him lechem mishneh, even though he left on Sunday and planned to return on Tuesday of that week.

Reb Berel did the same thing on his next business trip, too. Reb Berel would take lechem mishneh with him on all of his business trips, and this went on for five years.

One Friday morning, Reb Berel happened to be returning from a business trip. Of course, he still had his lechem mishneh with him, because he had not used it.

As Reb Berel was travelling in the forest, suddenly someone jumped out in front of him. It was a big, strong robber. The robber said: “Give me your money or you will die (ch”v).” Reb Berel had a large sum of money, which he planned to bring back to his family.

Reb Berel did not want to give up all his money, but if it would save his life, that is what Reb Berel would do. So Reb Berel gave the robber all the earnings from his journey. Reb Berel said to the robber: “Take my money, but now let me go back to my family.”

“No, no, no!” the robber said with a smirk. “You are coming with me. I have your money, and now I have you!” Reb Berel tried unsuccessfully to get away from the robber. The robber took Reb Berel deep into the forest, to his hideout.

At the hideout, which was underground, Reb Berel saw many items that the robber had stolen. But the robber did not expect Reb Berel to see them for long. No, the robber would not release Reb Berel. Just the opposite, Reb Berel would never leave.

The robber said to Reb Berel: “Prepare for your last minute on earth!” Reb Berel started to daven from the depths of his heart. He hoped that Hashem would have rachmones on him, but he prepared for the worst.

Reb Berel then said to the robber: “I know that I am in the middle of the forest, and I will never be able to get out of here. But, I would like to ask that you grant me my last wish.”

“Oh,” the robber said. “Why would you want to have a last wish? You will be finished soon anyway! Heh, heh.

“You know what,” the robber continued, after a short pause, “let me hear your last wish. Maybe, I will be kind enough to grant it to you.”

“Well,” Reb Berel said, “tonight and tomorrow is Shabbos. My wish is to spend one last Shabbos here.”

“Oh!” the robber said, laughingly. “That is such a strange wish—to stay here for ‘Shabbos.’ Okay, I will let you stay here for Shabbos, but I will be out in the forest.

“Even though I will be in the forest, I will leave my dog here to guard you, so that you will not escape. I warn you! Do not even try to escape, because then you will be finished off even before ‘Shabbos’ is over by my nice friend here,” the robber concluded.

The robber then left the hideout, leaving Reb Berel behind to be guarded by the robber’s dog. That dog was no ordinary dog. It was a very, very scary dog. Reb Berel had no chance of escaping with the dog around.

So, Reb Berel just davened. He davened to Hashem to help him. Reb Berel had his siddur with him, so he was also able to daven the three daily tefillos.

When Shabbos came and it was time for the meal, Reb Berel had… his challos! Now he finally understood why the Alter Rebbe told him to take lechem mishneh with him wherever he went. The Alter Rebbe knew what would happen.

Reb Berel was able to use his challos to make kiddush, (which you are allowed to do when you do not have wine,) and his meal consisted of just challah.

Since Reb Berel was not feeling too good, he was not able to eat a lot, so he just had a little bit of his challah.

Reb Berel looked at the dog that was in the hideout. Reb Berel thought: “Let me give that dog a piece of my challah.” So, Reb Berel took a piece of the challah and gave it to the dog.

The dog consumed the challah so quickly, that Reb Berel thought: “That dog must like my challah, but I have to save some for tomorrow.”

So, Reb Berel bentched, said shema and went to sleep. The next morning, he davened shachris, and it was almost like Yom Kippur! Later, he made kiddush on the challah, and had a small meal. (It appears that Reb Berel had with him at least three challos.)

As Reb Berel was eating, he remembered how much the dog had liked the challah the night before, and he decided to feed some to the dog again. The dog of course loved the challah, and started to become Reb Berel’s friend.

Later on, at the third meal, Reb Berel had some more of his challah. He almost automatically gave some to the dog. Boy, did the dog like it!

Soon Reb Berel’s last Shabbos was over. Of course, it was a Shabbos where davening was all that Reb Berel was occupied with.

Not long after Shabbos had ended, the robber came back to the hideout. He saw Reb Berel, and said: “Oh, you’re still here. That’s great! Well now I will finish you off.”

Reb Berel was silently davening to Hashem. The robber continued: “Actually, why should I have to work so hard? I will let my dog do the hard work!”

Then, the robber told his dog to get to work. He said in Russian: “Breem!” That meant that the dog should attack. But, the dog did not move. The robber tried it again. “Breem,” he shouted.

The dog still did not move. He just looked at the robber, and then at Reb Berel, and back again at the robber, but he did not move.

The robber did not understand. The dog always listened to what he was told to do. Why the sudden change? The robber was trying to figure out what was going on.

Meanwhile, Reb Berel was getting a little bored. He decided to help the robber out a little, so he shouted: “Breem!” Suddenly, the dog took action! He ran over to the robber, and…

The End of

(the robber, and)

This Story

Dabash’s Gang

One of the things that the Ba’al Shem Tov used to do was take walks in the forest. While the Ba’al Shem Tov would take his walks, he would concentrate on Torah matters.

Although there were no regular people in the forest, it was known that there was a gang of robbers hanging around. The robbers would hide behind trees and jump out on their victims, or they would trap them by a cliff or at a river. The leader of the robbers was a man named Dabash, and just hearing his name would cause people to become scared.

But the Ba’al Shem Tov did not seem to be one bit worried about the band of robbers or their leader Dabash. He would just take his walks in the forest, while, of course, thinking about Torah, because “a tzaddik does not walk four amos without thinking about Torah.”

Our story starts when one day the robbers were “on guard,” looking out for someone who “dared” to enter their territory. Of course, Dabash was sitting at home, waiting for his friends to bring him their loot of the day. As usual, the Ba’al Shem Tov was taking his walk.

When the robbers saw the Ba’al Shem Tov walking alone, they were excited. They had found someone at last! They were having a hard time finding anybody on that particular day.

One of the robbers said very quietly: “Hey! Look there, guys. There’s a Jew. That’s great—he might have one of those pushkes with all the money in his pocket.” Another robber said: “Yeah. This guy will be an easy catch. He is walking alone—and he doesn’t even look like he knows where he is going!”

“Let’s go for this person,” one robber declared, quietly. “Dabash will be pleased with us if we come back with money so early in the day! Come on, let’s get ready! We’ll go behind that tree, and when the man reaches the curve in the road, we’ll jump out and get him.”

The robbers did as they had planned. They went behind a tree, and when the Ba’al Shem Tov was just about to turn by a curve in the road, they jumped out at him. “Okay, we got you,” one robber shouted. But he did not “get him.” “Hey, where did that guy go?” the robbers wondered. “He was just here a few seconds ago.”

The robbers looked all around but they could not find the Ba’al Shem Tov. They thought that he had turned around, but they looked back and could not find him. “Where could that Jew have possibly gone so quickly?” they wondered. “Oh, we will just have to forget him and look for someone else to rob.”

So, the robbers continued walking on the side of the road behind the trees, so that they could move about unseen.

As they were walking, someone noticed the Ba’al Shem Tov, again! He said to his friends: “Look, I see someone there. Hey, it looks like that Jew that we tried to get before. He’s right over there. Let’s go and try to get him again! He is walking rather slowly, so we should be able to get him this time.

“Let’s do it like this: Since the road is straight here, we will just run ahead, and hide behind that big tree. Then, when that Jew passes us, we will just jump out and catch him. It will be easy.”

The robbers all agreed to the plan and they tip-toed to the big tree ahead of were the Ba’al Shem Tov was. They estimated exactly when the Ba’al Shem Tov would pass them, and they then jumped from behind the tree. But… they did not see the Ba’al Shem Tov anywhere!

They wondered, how could this be? They knew that the Ba’al Shem Tov would be in exactly that place at that second—but where was he? They thought: “This is a straight road. Where could he have run to that we would not see him—and then, so fast?” They ran down the road, but could not find the Ba’al Shem Tov. They checked behind some trees, but the Ba’al Shem Tov was nowhere to be found.

The robbers started to get nervous, for two reasons. Number one, they had never seen something like that before—they jump out to get a person and he disappears! Number two, the day was soon ending, and they did not have anything to bring back to Dabash yet, so they had to find something quickly!

Since they did not really have much of a choice, the robbers went on their way, looking for someone to rob. As they were walking, they approached a big river. The robbers knew the scenery all to well. One thing that was unusual though, was… “that Jew… he is right there!” The Ba’al Shem Tov was walking on the road that went straight up to the river and then split.

One robber said: “We have to get this Jew—we must! I see an easy way to trap him. Let’s split up into two groups—Group 1 and Group 2. Group 1 will go to the right branch of the road, and hide behind the bushes that are along the river. The Group 2 will do the same, but on the left branch of the road. That way we are guaranteed to trap the Jew! Then after we get him, we’ll meet back at the split.”

So, the robbers split up, ran ahead of the Ba’al Shem Tov, and got ready to trap him from behind the bushes that went along the river. Both groups waited a while, and then, after a few minutes, Group 1 assumed Group 2 had caught the Ba’al Shem Tov, so they went back to the split. There, they met Group 2.

Someone from Group 1 asked Group 2: “So what did you get from that Jew? I hope Dabash will be happy with it.” “What are you talking about?” a robber from Group 2 asked. “I thought that your group trapped him? You did not?”

“Nope,” the other robber replied. “We thought you got him, and that’s why we came here.” The two robbers could not figure out where the Ba’al Shem Tov had gone. “If you did not get him, and we did not get him, then where did he go?” Neither of them knew.

After discussing it for just a few minutes, the robbers decided to give up on robbing the Ba’al Shem Tov, because he was wasting their time, and the day was ending. They decided to go back to Dabash, even though he would be very upset with them.

Just as the robbers were about to get moving, one of them noticed that across the river, which was quite large, was the Ba’al Shem Tov. He exclaimed: “Hey! Look over there! It’s that Jew. How did he get there? We know that he didn’t go on either one of the two roads. This is ridiculous!”

“Oh, that Jew! Let’s just forget about him. Come on, we are going back to Dabash,” was another robber’s reply.

So, off the robbers went to return to Dabash…

***

The robbers arrived back at Dabash’s hideout. “Ohhhh,” Dabash greeted them. “Show me what you have gotten! You were out a whole day. You must have a lot of nice things for me! I want to see your bag. Where is it?”

“Well, Dabash,” one robber replied, “I am afraid we do not have anything for you.”

“What do you mean,” asked Dabash. “You know I am your friend, and you do not have to be afraid. Show me what you have gotten.”

“No Dabash. I mean what I said. I am afraid we do not have anything for you. You see, we were out a whole day, but we could not find anyone in the forest. That is, except for this one person, who were we trying to rob, but we could not. He disappeared from us three times in a row! So, um, a, eh, I’m-I’m-I’m af-afraid we-e-e d-d-don’t have anything for you.”

“Are you trying to say that you were out a whole day and did not bring anything back?!” asked Dabash angrily.

“Y-y-es Dabash,” the robber replied. “We were out a whole day, but could not find anyone except for this one person I told you about. But you see, I am not sure if that guy was on the road or not. Maybe he was even somewhere in between. Why do I say that? Because every time we tried to jump out on him, he disappeared!”

“Stop playing jokes on me. They are not funny.” Dabash demanded. “Otherwise, I will start playing jokes on you, and they will not be funny either.”

“Okay Dabash,” the robber said calmly. “We saw a rabbi on the road.”

“Did you rob him?” asked Dabash, more than just a little annoyed. “Rabbis are very easy to rob. You know, they’re usually praying or something, so did you rob him?”

“Well, we tried, but we did not actually catch him,” the robber replied.

“How could you not catch the Rabbi?” Dabash wanted to know. “Rabbis are very easy to rob, and I told you that already. Now, you say that he was walking on the road, but you could not catch him. Wasn’t he right there?”

“He was but he was not,” was the robber's reply. ”We saw him—he was walking on the road. But then, as soon as we jumped out from behind the trees to get him, he disappeared. Another time, he went across the river without using the roads. We didn’t see how he did that.”

“Your story sounds phony to me. Do you know who I am? I am Dabash. Nobody plays tricks on me! Tell me the whole story, and tell me the truth.”

The robbers repeated the story to Dabash, but at first he did not believe them and he was just screaming at them. Then he said: “You were playing a trick on me the whole time, and now I will play a trick on you. You will all come with me, out into the forest. If I find this man, I will rob him personally, and you will all be in big trouble. If I cannot find this man, you will still be in trouble, for lying to me.”

So, Dabash went together with his gang, out into the forest. They were walking, and soon found the Ba’al Shem Tov, who was still taking his walk. One robber said to Dabash: “There he his. That’s the rabbi that we couldn’t catch. He’s right there.”

All the robbers planned to hide behind a tree again, and surprise the Ba’al Shem Tov by jumping out at him. Dabash said: “Hey, I’m not hiding. You can hide, but I am going straight out on the road.”

Dabash did as he had said, and the Ba’al Shem Tov came right up to him. The robbers did not need to surprise the Ba’al Shem Tov or attack him. The Ba’al Shem Tov just came right up to Dabash!

The Ba’al Shem Tov said to Dabash: “Hi there!” Dabash was surprised. He asked the Ba’al Shem Tov: “Are you the rabbi that walks in the forest here?” The Ba’al Shem Tov responded in the affirmative.

“Do you know who I am?” Dabash asked. “Yes,” the Ba’al Shem Tov replied. “I know who you are. You are Dabash.” Dabash was surprised that this Rabbi knew his name.

Dabash asked the Ba’al Shem Tov: “Aren’t you afraid of me?” The Ba’al Shem Tov answered: “Well, no. I am not afraid of you. You see, before my father passed away he told me not to be afraid of anyone or anything besides Hashem. Since you are only a person, I am not afraid of you.”

Dabash was really startled by the Ba’al Shem Tov. He had never met anyone before—not even from his own robbers—who was not afraid of him. He asked the Ba’al Shem Tov: “Don’t you know that you are now walking in my forest, and on my roads and hills?! Do you know what happens to people who come here?!”

The Ba’al Shem Tov responded very calmly. He said: “First of all, this forest is not yours. Everything belongs to Hashem. Secondly, isn’t there enough space for both of us to walk here at the same time? Aren’t there enough roads to walk on and trees to look at? Why do you have to be upset if I walk here? Oh, and one more thing. Not only do I know who you are, but I also know something about you that no one else knows.”

“Really,” asked Dabash. “Quite interesting. Tell me about it.”

“Well,” the Ba’al Shem Tov said, “after you robbers complete a day of successful robbing, you make a big party and get drunk—“

“Right,” Dabash said. “That’s no secret. Everybody knows that.”

“Listen,” continued the Ba’al Shem Tov. “Most of the robbers are happy that they robbed how ever many people that day, etc. You, however, are different. Whenever you get drunk, you start to cry.”

“So, big deal,” said Dabash. “Many people start to cry when they drink. That’s nothing special.”

“Right,” the Ba’al Shem Tov said. “But, I know why you cry. You cry because you—just like me—are Jewish.”

“How do you know that I am Jewish?” asked Dabash. The Ba’al Shem Tov replied: “I know that, because your mother was Jewish, and that makes you Jewish.”

“Do you know what?” Dabash said, surprised. “I never told anyone that, but yes, my mother was Jewish. You say that makes me Jewish, but what does being Jewish have to do with crying after one drinks?”

“You see, inside you is a neshama, a special spark from Hashem. When you do the things a good Jew should, the spark shines brightly. But, when you do things that you should not be doing, the spark gets small and ‘locked into jail.’ Then when you drink, ‘the wine goes in and the secrets come out.’ The small spark—which is hidden inside of you like a secret—comes out of its ‘jail’ and shines brightly. When you realize what bad things you’ve done, and that you have a neshama inside of you, you feel very bad, so you cry.”

Dabash realized that the Ba’al Shem Tov was a very holy tzaddik, so he told the other robbers not to bother him. He said to the Ba’al Shem Tov: “I see that you are a special rabbi. So then, why are you out here in the forest? Don’t rabbis like you sit in the synagogue, learn, and pray? What are you doing in the forest?”

***

“I will tell you,” the Ba’al Shem Tov answered. “You must be wondering, since I told you that we are both Jews, we must be pretty much the same. But here, you see how different we are. The truth is that we are both similar as well as dissimilar at the same time! I will tell you how, and then you will understand the answer to your question. But first I would like to tell you a story.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Dabash, surprised. “You are going to tell me a story? That’s nice. I haven’t heard a good story since I became the leader of the robbers here.”

This is the story that the Ba’al Shem Tov told Dabash:

There once was a king who wanted to do something special for his kingdom. He decided that he would send out messengers throughout the kingdom, to inquire of his subjects what was their greatest wish. The king would later try to fulfill his subjects’ wishes.

Messengers were sent to every corner of the kingdom, and they recorded the wishes of all the residents in the country. Later, after they returned to the palace, they turned their notes over to the king.

As the king was looking over some of the notes, he noticed that two of them were exactly alike. The two notes were both from people who wanted to visit the palace. This caught the king’s attention, and he decided to grant the wishes of those two people.

The king ordered his servants and officers to make all the necessary arrangements, and before long, the first man arrived at the palace, his wish being granted. The king told the him that he could do anything that he pleased while he was in the palace, but that was only for one hour. After one hour, he would have to leave the palace.

So, the man found a giant sack somewhere in the palace, and he started running around, collecting valuables that were in the palace and putting them in the sack.

Of course, the king had given this man permission to do whatever he pleased, so he was allowed to empty the palace, according to his thinking. He took gold, silver, paintings, rugs, and almost anything else you can imagine. When the first sack became full, the man went to fetch another one, and then another and another!

Some time had passed and then the hour was up, so the man had to leave the palace. He did not forget to take with him all the sacks that he collected, of course.

Soon the second man arrived at the palace. The king did not know what to expect. Would this man behave in the same manner as the first man had, and try to empty the palace?

In the end, no, the man did not empty the palace. He came in, and passed by the beautiful things that were still there—the paintings, the rugs, the lamps, and everything else. He was not planning to take anything. He just went straight to the king’s chamber, and stood there, right next to the king. The man was very happy. He looked at the king and smiled.

The king was a little nervous. What was this man doing, standing right next to him? Did he want to steal the crown? The king tried to ignore him, and went to take a walk in the gardens. The man still followed the king around. By the end of the hour, the man had observed all the poeple that had visited the king, and everything that the king did.

Before the king let the man go, he asked him a question. Why? Because he was so curious to know why the man was just following him around a whole day. It was rather strange.

So, the king asked the man: “Mister, can I know why you were following me around this whole hour? Another person was also allowed into the palace for an hour, but he literally packed up the whole palace and took it with him! You, however, were just following me around, watching me. Can you explain this to me?”

The man answered: “Your Majesty, the only reason why I wanted to come to the palace, was to be with the king. I wanted to see what he does and where he goes. I wanted to be close to the king.”

The Ba’al Shem Tov concluded the story by saying: “This story explains the difference between you and me, and it also explains why you are in the forest and why I am in the forest.

“The forest,” the Ba’al Shem Tov continued, “as well as the entire world, is Hashem’s palace. You are like the first man in the story. You want to take anything that you can with you, so you are stealing and robbing, etc. But that is not the reason why people were put in this world. The reason why people were put in this world was in order to be close to Hashem. That is why I am walking in the forest—to be close to Hashem.”

Dabash was very impressed. His neshama told him that the Ba’al Shem Tov was a special person. The robbers thought that the Ba’al Shem Tov was special, for a different reason. Why? Because they thought that he would be robbed by Dabash himself, because nobody ever got away from Dabash.

The Ba’al Shem Tov then said: “Dabash, please think about what I just told you, because you are also a Jew. Remember what a Jew’s mission in the world is. Not just to steal and rob, but to be close to Hashem, by learning Torah and doing mitzvos.”

Dabash began to cry. He said: “But rabbi, for so many years I have been doing terrible things. I have been robbing and stealing from people. What can I do?”

The Ba’al Shem Tov told Dabash: “True, you may have been doing things that you shouldn’t have, but you can always do teshuvah. Hashem will forgive you if you do teshuvah.” Then, the Ba’al Shem Tov bid him farewell and went on his way.

The robbers thought that everything that had transpired was quite strange. Dabash just stood there in middle of the road. Then, after a few seconds, Dabash started going after the Ba’al Shem Tov. The robbers thought: “Yeah, now Dabash is going to rob the rabbi.” They started to follow Dabash, to watch him rob the Ba’al Shem Tov.

But, Dabash did not “rob the rabbi.” He was still walking after the Ba’al Shem Tov. The robbers thought that maybe Dabash was waiting for the perfect time to catch the Ba’al Shem Tov, so they followed quietly behind him.

The robbers were getting a little bored, so they decided to return to their hideout, and wait for Dabash to return. They would let Dabash take care of his job by himself.

Now, with the robbers on their way to the hideout, Dabash was still following the Ba’al Shem Tov. The robbers soon arrived back at the hideout, and they expected Dabash to be there any minute. They waited, and waited, but Dabash dit not return.

The next morning, Dabash was not back at the hideout either. Dabash did not return to the hideout that whole week, nor that month and nor that year. Where was Dabash? We do not know, but there are some people who saw Dabash with peyos, a yarmulka, tzitzis, and learning Torah.

Music Around the World

The following story took place during the time of the Spanish Inquisition.

During the Spanish Inquisition, many yidden had to be secret yidden. They were called “Marranos.” They had to pretend that they were not yidden, otherwise they would be severely punished. Many times they were publicly burnt at the stake.

They would learn Torah and do all the mitzvos in concealment. They had secret minyanim in special hidden basements. Everything they did was in secret.

Our story begins when it was getting close to Rosh Hashana. Of course, one of the things that we do on Rosh Hashana is hear the shofar sounded, but how were the yidden of Spain going to hear the shofar?

The yidden of Spain could not sound the shofar in their “shul,” otherwise their secret would be discovered, and their lives would be at risk. So where could the yidden get together and blow the shofar without getting caught?

There was one Marrano who realized that this was a problem, and he thought of a solution. What would this Marrano do? Well, he was a conductor of an orchestra. It just so happened, that on Rosh Hashana there would be a concert.

The yid was not able to say: “I cannot come to the concert because I am Jewish.” Any other excuse would not work either, because there were spies everywhere and they were looking out for yidden. So, the man would have to participate in the concert.

But that is exactly where the solution for the shofar problem was. The concert was called “Music Around the World.” The concert would feature musical instruments from places around the world.

The man thought to himself: “I can get someone to blow the shofar as part of the concert. Nobody will know what the shofar is and they will think that it is just another musical instrument—a ram’s horn! That way, everyone will get to hear the shofar on Rosh Hashana, right under the inquisition’s noses!”

So, the man arranged for another yid to blow the shofar as part of the concert. Nobody knew that this man was a yid either.

Soon the word got out to all the yidden thay they should attend the concert, and buy the tickets in advance. This information was passed along in secret, of course.

As Rosh Hashana was approaching, all the yidden had obtained tickets to the concert, “Music Around the World.”

On Rosh Hashana, all the yidden attended the concert. At the concert there were all types of strange instruments. And then… there was a solo… the shofar!

The goyim thought: “What a strange instrument! Oh, but that is what this concert is about—‘Music Around the World.’” Of course, the yidden knew that they were listening to the shofar being blown on Rosh Hashana!

That is how the yidden heard the shofar being sounded on Rosh Hashana during the Spanish Inquisition.

A Box of Candles

There was once a man who came to a tzaddik, Reb Michel Z’lotchiver. Reb Michel Z’lotchiver was a chosid of the Ba’al Shem Tov, but was not yet, at the time that this story took place.

Anyway, the man who came to Reb Michel was crying. He said: “I did something on Shabbos that I am not allowed to do. I was mechalel Shabbos! What should I do?” The man was very upset with himself.

Reb Michel looked at the man and said: “You were mechalel Shabbos? Do you know how serious that is? It is like going against the whole Torah at one time! This is very serious!

“If you were mechalel Shabbos by accident, you would have to bring a korban in the Beis Hamikdash. If you did it on purpose and only Hashem saw you, then Hashem would punish you himself! If others saw you being mechalel Shabbos, and they warned you not to, you would have been thrown off a tower and stoned to death!”

Reb Michel was shouting at the man, telling him what a serious thing he had done—being mechalel Shabbos. “You will have to do teshuva!” Reb Michel said.

The man was very scared and he felt very bad about what he had done. “I’ll do anything!” he said. “I am ready to do teshuva. What should I do?”

Reb Michel said to the man: “You will have to fast all day, and at the end of the day, you will not be able to have good food. You will have to eat black bread and cold water.”

“Okay, okay,” the man said, frightened. “I’ll fast and do as you say.”

“No,” Reb Michel said. “That is not enough. You must fast for more than just a few days.

“That’s not it,” continued Reb Michel. “After you finish fasting and have your meal each day, you will not be able to just go to sleep on your nice bed. Do you think a person who was mechalel Shabbos can sleep on a bed? You will sleep on the floor—without pillows or blankets.”

The man was crying. He felt very bad about what he had done. “I will do everything that you say. I will fast, I will sleep on the floor without any pillows or blankets, and after I finish fasting each day, I will have only black bread and cold water.”

“That is not enough!” Reb Michel said. “You must say Tehillim!”

“I will say Tehillim,” the man said.

“So you think that you can say Tehillim in your house where it is warm when you were mechalel Shabbos?” Reb Michel asked. Without waiting for an answer, he said: “You will have to go outside in the snow where it is cold, without a coat, and say Tehillim there!”

After the man left Reb Michel, he felt very sad. He did not expect such a reaction from Reb Michel. He just wanted to do teshuva and did not know that it entailed so much. The man then went crying to the shul.

That day, there was someone traveling through Z’lotchev. It was the Ba’al Shem Tov. The Ba’al Shem Tov was at the shul, and he saw the man come in crying.

The Ba’al Shem Tov went over to the man and asked him why he was crying. The man said: “I was mechalel Shabbos, and now I want to do teshuva. I feel so terrible.”

“Sure, you have to do teshuva. Hashem accepts teshuva,” the Ba’al Shem Tov said. “Are you doing teshuva?”

“I want to, but I need to say Tehillim in the snow without a coat, fast for many days, and sleep on the floor without pillows,” the man said, crying.

The Ba’al Shem Tov asked the man: “Who told you to do all this?”

“Oh,” the man answered, “Reb Michel Z’lotchever told me to do that.”

“Reb Michel told you to do all these things?” asked the Ba’al Shem Tov. “With all due respect to Reb Michel, there is a better way for you to do teshuva.

“Instead of doing the painful and difficult things that Reb Michel told you to do,” the Ba’al Shem Tov said, “I want you to go home, buy a box of candles, and bring it to the shul, to be used on Shabbos. I see that you regret what you did and that is the main thing when one does teshuva.”

“Yes!” the man said. “I regret what I did, but is that it? Should I fast? Should I sleep on the floor?”

“No,” the Ba’al Shem Tov answered. “That is not for you. All you have to do is buy candles for the shul. So, go home, get the candles and then bring them here. I will have to continue traveling, but I will be back in a few weeks, and hopefully everything will be okay.”

With that, the Ba’al Shem Tov left the shul, and the man followed not far behind him. The man went to buy the candles, while the Ba’al Shem Tov went on his way.

The man soon returned to the shul with the candles. A few hours later, when Shabbos was about to begin, he lit them.

People started coming into the shul to daven. As they were about to start davening, a wind came and blew out the candles!

This wind was not an average wind. Usually, when someone came into the shul, even if it was a very windy day, you could not feel the wind inside the shul. Here, however, every single candle in the shul went out!

Well, the only light the people in the shul had was from the ner tamid and from the moon. Somehow, they managed, but to our friend in our story, this “little” incident meant something to him.

“It must be,” the man thought, “that Hashem doesn’t like my teshuva, so he sent a wind to blow out my candles.” The man now felt very sad because of this, and because he was mechalel Shabbos in the first place.

The next week, the man again brought candles to the shul, and he lit them just as he had done the week before. As the shul was filling up, a dog ran into the shul. The people in the shul tried to send the dog out, but the dog was running around in circles.

The dog then noticed the candles in the shul, and he ran over to them and began to eat them up! Finally, they were able to send the dog out of the shul, but there were no more candles left. Now the man was very sad, once again. It seemed that Hashem was not happy with his teshuva.

“I should be doing what Reb Michel told me to do,” the man thought. “What the Ba’al Shem Tov told me to do is not enough. I should be fasting, saying Tehillim out in the cold, and doing all the other things that Reb Michel told me to do.” The man started to cry. “I am not doing what I should be,” he thought.

Well, the next Shabbos came, and the man brought candles to the shul, as was becoming his practice. This time, nothing extraordinary happened to the candles, except that they burned down right away and did not last for long. This happened to every single one of his candles!

The man noticed that and he once again felt very sad. “Hashem does not accept my teshuva,” he thought. “I shouldn’t be taking the easy way out by listening to the Ba’al Shem Tov, and now Hashem is upset with me.” With that thought in mind, the man started to cry.

People in the shul reminded him that it was Shabbos and that he should not be crying, so he tried to contain himself.

After Shabbos, on Sunday, the man went back to the shul. There, he met someone who he had seen a few weeks ago, the Ba’al Shem Tov. The Ba’al Shem Tov asked him: “Why are you crying? Are you not the person who I told a few weeks back to bring candles to the shul for Shabbos?”

“Hashem doesn’t like my candles,” man replied. “Every Shabbos, something happens so that one way or the other, my candles get ruined or extinguished.”

The Ba’al Shem Tov understood that Reb Michel was upset that the man was not following his instructions, and that is why the man was having trouble with the candles. The Ba’al Shem Tov then told the man: “I have a feeling that next week you will not have a problem with your candles.”

The Ba’al Shem Tov then took a piece of paper out of his pocket and wrote a letter on it. He then gave it to the man and told him: “I would like you to give this letter to Reb Michel Z’lotchiver. It is a very important letter, so please deliver it as soon as possible.”

The man ran off to deliver the letter to Reb Michel, and the Ba’al Shem Tov went on his way. When Reb Michel received the letter, he opened it and read: “…I would like to invite you to spend Shabbos with me…”

Reb Michel was very excited. The Ba’al Shem Tov was inviting him to spend Shabbos with him!

Since the Ba’al Shem Tov lived far from Reb Michel, Reb Michel summoned his assistant so that they would be able to set out immediately, and arrive at the Ba’al Shem Tov before Shabbos.

Well, Reb Michel, accompanied by his assistant and by his wagon driver, began their journey on Wednesday, and it seemed to them that they would have plenty of time to travel.

On their way, the axle of their wagon broke. That did happen sometimes, and it took a few hours to fix. Therefore, Reb Michel just sat off to the side learning, while the wagon driver and Reb Michel’s assistant were fixing the broken axle.

By the time they got back on their way, a few hours had gone by. By now, it was already the afternoon.

Well, a little while later, the other axle broke. It took them a while to fix, but soon they were able to continue their journey.

Soon, something more serious occurred—the weather started turning bad. The sky darkened and it started to rain. That did not bother the travelers, though. They just continued on their way.

It did not take long for the dirt roads to turn into mud. Now the wagon started slowing down a little; it could not go so fast in all that mud. Well, night came and they stopped off on the side of the road to spend the night.

By the next morning, the road conditions worsened and it was almost impossible to see anything, but they continued on their way. Soon, the wagon driver realized that because of the poor visibility, he had made a wrong turn and was traveling in the wrong direction.

What could the wagon driver do? They had no choice but to turn back, of course. They soon realized that they were wasting a lot of time. It was already Thursday night! They found a place to spend the night, and went to sleep.

The next morning, it was already Erev Shabbos. Reb Michel did not like to travel after chatzos on Erev Shabbos, but they still had a long way to go—and in the mud!

They continued, but they encountered even more problems. It was soon after chatzos, but they went on traveling.

Soon they realized that it was getting close to Shabbos, but they had a problem: how would they know when Shabbos started if the clouds were blocking the sun?

Reb Michel was getting worried, because not only was it after chatzos, but also Shabbos might have already begun! He was not sure of the time of day because it was so dark from the clouds.

Reb Michel, his wagon driver and his assistant finally arrived at the Ba’al Shem Tov house, and they rushed in, carrying their luggage. Reb Michel was so worried; did Shabbos start yet, or did they have a long time to go?

Well, Reb Michel saw the Ba’al Shem Tov standing at the table dressed in his Shabbos clothes, making kiddush! The candles were lit, too. When he saw that, he fell on the floor and fainted!

When Reb Michel was revived, he looked around to see where he was. Then, he saw the Ba’al Shem Tov smiling. “Why are you smiling?!” he asked. “Don’t you know that I did a terrible thing? I was mechalel Shabbos!”

“No,” the Ba’al Shem Tov said. “You were not mechalel Shabbos. I brought in Shabbos early, but you came right on time, with a few minutes to spare.”

“We had so many problems on the way,” said Reb Michel. “Our axle broke a few times, and we had a lot of mud. We left Wednesday so that we would arrive here early, but look how long our trip took!”

The Ba’al Shem Tov said: “I see that you are so upset just at the thought of being mechalel Shabbos. Is that correct?

“Yes, that right! It is a terrible thing to be mechalel Shabbos,” Reb Michel replied.

“The main point of teshuva is regretting what you did. You feel very bad that you might have done something against Hashem’s will. Is that not the main point of teshuva?” asked the Ba’al Shem Tov.

“Yes, I feel terrible that I might have done something against Hashem.”

“Now,” the Ba’al Shem Tov said, “do you remember that person who came to you saying that he was mechalel Shabbos, and you told him to fast, etc., but I told him just to bring candles to the shul?”

“Yes,” Reb Michel said. “I was upset about those candles. I did not think that it was enough.”

“I was able to tell that you were upset, because all sorts of strange things were happening,” the Ba’al Shem Tov said. “Now, however, do you think that that man needed to fast, sleep on the floor, and say Tehillim in the snow? Do you not think that it was enough for him to feel bad that he went against Hashem’s will? After all, that is the main point of teshuva!” Reb Michel replied: “Yes, that is true. He felt very bad about what he had done.”

“So now,” the Ba’al Shem Tov continued, “all he needed to do was just something to show Hashem that he wanted to make up. For that, don’t you think that bringing a box of candles to the shul was enough?”

Reb Michel realized the Ba’al Shem Tov’s point and learned a very important lesson from what had happened. He learned that sometimes you have to look into the person, because he may already be doing teshuva.

Three Times

The following story is about Reb Zushe of Anipoli and Reb Elimelech of Lizensk, two brothers who were both great tzaddikim. These two brothers wandered around the countryside as a form of self-imposed exile.

When they were on their wanderings, they did not have a set place to eat. They just relied on Hashem to give them food to eat. They did not have a place to sleep either. They trusted that Hashem would help them, wherever they went.

Usually, the two brothers found someone who was generous enough to offer them a place to sleep and some food. Otherwise, they fasted and slept in a barn or somewhere like that.

Of course, at this time, it was not known that the two brothers were great tzaddikim. People thought that they were just ordinary beggars, and they treated them that way.

Our story begins on a Friday, when Reb Zushe and Reb Elimelech were walking down the street in a small town. “Where are we going to spend Shabbos?” they wondered. “We do not know. Hashem will help, and we will be okay.”

Shabbos was getting closer and closer, but the two brothers still could not find a place to spend Shabbos. There were yidden in the town, but they seemed to be very poor. So poor, that they probably would not be able to afford to have the two brothers for Shabbos and then still have enough food for their families.

When Shabbos came, Reb Zushe and Reb Elimelech went to shul. The shul was such a small, poor-looking shul. The yidden of the town simply did not have enough money to support it.

After davening, it seemed to Reb Zushe and Reb Elimelech that they had no choice but to stay at the shul and spend the night there. There would be no one in this poor town who would be able to have them as a guest, they thought.

As everybody was leaving the shul, the rov noticed that the two brothers were just staying around. He thought that they must be visitors, so he went over to them and said Gut Shabbos.

“Please,” the rov said, “come to my house and be my guest. As you may have noticed, this town is a very poor town, but we would be more than glad to have you two as our guests.”

So, Reb Zushe and Reb Elimelech accompanied the rov to his house. What a poor house it was! The door was falling off, the paint was peeling, and the furniture consisted of simple stumps of wood. The kids’ clothes were falling apart, too.

The rov’s children were happy to see that they had guests. They were so excited, because they did not have guests in a long time, because it was too expensive.

The rov made kiddush, and they started their meal. They washed and made hamotzi, on whatever challah they had. Then they had fish—a tiny piece for each person.

Then they had soup. The rov’s wife served the soup, and each person got a small bowl of the watery soup. As Reb Elimelech was taking his first spoon of soup to his mouth, his spoon accidentally hit the bowl and tipped it over. The soup spilled all over the table! “Oy vey!” the rov thought. “A precious bowl of soup. Doesn’t this man realize that this soup costs us a lot of money?!”

The rov didn’t want to embarrass Reb Elimelech, so he didn’t really say anything. The rov’s wife got Reb Elimelech another bowl of soup, but this time she watered it down even more, so that all the soup should not get used up.

The rov then reminded Reb Elimelech to be a little more careful, after all, he thought: “this soup costs us a lot of money.”

Reb Elimelech tried to be more careful this time. He dipped his spoon into the soup, and carefully brought it up to his mouth. But then, his elbow hit the bowl and it spilled all over a second time! The table was dripping with soup! They tried to wipe it up the best they were able to with everyone around the table.

The rov was quite annoyed at Reb Elimelech. He said to him: “I asked you to please be more careful.” The rov’s wife went to get more soup for Reb Elimelech but there was none, so the rov gave him some of his own.

Now, Reb Elimelech wanted to be very careful. He did not want to tip his bowl again!

Reb Elimelech carefully dipped his spoon into the soup and brought it up to his mouth. Just then, one of the rov’s children asked a question and Reb Elimelech wanted to hear it. So, he turned his head…and there went his soup. His elbow had hit the bowl and tipped it over a third time! There was soup everywhere.

The rov’s wife was very upset, and so was the rov. By this time there was no more soup left, so Reb Elimelech did not get another bowl.

As this was going on, Reb Zushe said: “I see that you are very upset with what my brother did, but I would like to tell you about something that I once learnt a long time ago. I learnt that everything that happens down here, happens first in the shomayim.

“It must be, that if three bowls of soup spilled and caused a big mess, it is a kaporah, so that instead of something even worse happening in the world, something smaller happened. Even though you seem to be very upset, you would probably be more upset if something even worse happened. Hopefully everything will turn out okay,” concluded Reb Zushe.

The rov’s wife realized that this was not an ordinary beggar. She realized that he was more like a tzaddik. Although she really did not understand what Reb Zushe had said, it sounded like Reb Zushe knew what he was talking about.

***

When this story took place, the Czar of Russia was Czar Paul. Now we go to his palace, on Friday night.

The trumpets blew, and officers came into the king’s chamber. There was a new decree, and they wanted the czar’s approval for it.

So, the czar looked it over, and it sounded good to him—all the Jews would be expelled from Russia, and anyone would be free to loot the Jewish homes.

Now, the czar went to his desk to sign the decree and make it official. He took his quill, and dipped it into his inkwell, preparing to sign the decree.

The czar’s quill was about to touch the parchment, when his sleeve—with all the buttons on it—hit the inkwell and tipped it over. The ink spilled all over the desk!

The officers pulled away the parchment so that it would not become ruined and servants were called.

It took the servants a while to clean up the whole desk. They tried to do it as soon as possible, before the ink would spread everywhere. The inkwell was also refilled.

After the servants had left and the mess was cleaned up, the czar was ready to sign the decree. This time, the czar tried to be extra careful. He did not want to spill his inkwell again and cause a big tumult.

So, Czar Paul carefully dipped his quill into the inkwell, and then put the quill down on the parchment, about to sign his name. Then, the czar turned in his seat, and his elbow hit the inkwell and tipped it over, again!

The scene from before repeated itself. Servants were called to clean up the mess, and an officer pulled away the decree so that it would not become ruined.

The czar was sitting at the desk, waiting for the mess to be cleaned up. Finally, the servants left, and the inkwell was refilled. The czar thought: “I better be careful now. I do not want to spill the inkwell another time!”

An officer laid the decree on the desk, and the czar got ready to sign it. He dipped the quill into the inkwell… as cautious as he was, the quill hit the inkwell and tipped it over, for a third time!

Naturally, servants were called, and the whole commotion repeated itself again. After the desk was cleared and the inkwell refilled, the decree was laid in front of the czar, for the fourth time.

Everyone expected the czar to dip the quill into the inkwell and sign the decree, but he did not do that. He just sat there.

One officer was curious to know why the czar just sat there motionless, so he asked the czar: “Czar, will you not sign the decree?”

The Czar answered: “No. I will not sign the decree, nor will I affix my seal to it. The inkwell spilled three times, and there must be a special meaning attached to that, because it is unusual for such a thing to occur.

“It must be that this decree was not meant for me to approve.

Therefore, I will not sign it,” concluded Czar Paul.

***

It just so happened to be, that the Friday night in Part I, was the same Friday night in Part II. The actions of Reb Zushe and Reb Elimelech were not out of simple selfishness. Why would two tzaddikim go to the house of a poor family, whom they knew to be poor?

The tzaddikim knew what would happen through their ruach hakodesh, and it was the three bowls of soup that were spilled, that saved all the yidden in Russia.

The Pomegranate Tree

The following story took place a long time ago in a small town in Eretz Yisroel. In this small town, there were many stone houses.

There was one house that was different. What set this house apart was that it had a big pomegranate tree growing in front of it. This pomegranate tree was not like any other. It had big, beautiful, delicious pomegranates that everyone loved.

This pomegranate tree helped the owner of the house make a living. The owner of the house was Reb Nissim. He and his family lived from the money that they received for the pomegranates that they sold.

Every summer, Reb Nissim and his sons would go and take all the pomegranates off the tree so that they could sell them. People loved the pomegranates. It did not take long for them to be sold and Reb Nissim and his family would have money for the entire year!

It happened one year, that Reb Nissim and his sons went outside to pick the pomegranates from the tree, as they did every year.

However, this time something unusual surprised them: there were no pomegranates on the tree!

“Uh oh,” they thought. “There are no pomegranates. What are we going to do?” Well, Reb Nissim’s sons looked around to see if they were hiding anywhere. They looked inside the tree, and around the yard, in case the pomegranates had fallen off the tree and had been blown away.

Reb Nissim and his sons went back into their house. Now Reb Nissim was worried, because his usual source of livelihood was gone.

Soon people started coming over to Reb Nissim’s house to buy pomegranates, but Reb Nissim’s family had to turn them down. “Sorry, no pomegranates grew this year,” they said.

Reb Nissim realized that he had a serious problem. How was he going to make a parnosa, a living? He definitely would not be able to make a living from the pomegranates.

Before giving up total hope, Reb Nissim decided that he would double check to see if there might be one pomegranate left on the tree. After all, even if it was not enough to live on, a pomegranate would still be a nice treat for his family.

Reb Nissim went outside and climbed up the tree. To his surprise, there were three humongous pomegranates sitting there! These pomegranates were so big, bigger than Reb Nissim had ever seen in his life!

Well, Reb Nissim brought the pomegranates back into his house and told his family the good news. His family was amazed, and so was he!

Now, Reb Nissim was thinking what to do with these pomegranates. Even if he would sell them, the money that he would receive would not be enough for an entire year. So, Reb Nissim decided: “We can have two for Shabbos, and the other one, we will put aside for Tu B’shevat.”

That Shabbos, Reb Nissim’s family enjoyed the pomegranates. Then, after Shabbos, Reb Nissim started thinking how he would make a living that year. Even though Reb Nissim’s family was able to enjoy the pomegranates for Shabbos, and later, on Tu B’shevat, they still needed money for the rest of the year.

Reb Nissim set out to look for a job. He searched “high and low,” but could not find any work that was suitable.

Reb Nissim still did not have a job after quite a while. He decided that he would have to leave Eretz Yisroel and travel to another country to earn money. He might have to even beg for money. Reb Nissim did not want to leave Eretz Yisroel; he had never done so in his life!

Reb Nissim did not want to leave Eretz Yisroel for another reason, too: what would it look like, if a yid had to leave Hashem’s special place, Eretz Yisroel and go ask other people outside of Eretz Yisroel for money? Reb Nissim did not want to suffer that embarrassment, but he had no choice.

Reb Nissim finally decided that he would leave Eretz Yisroel to look for a job, and if he could not find one, he would have to beg for money. Either way, he would not tell anyone where he was from. Then, when Reb Nissim would have enough money, he would return home.

When Reb Nissim was about to set out on his way, his wife said to him: “You don’t know how long you will be away. Why don’t you take the third pomegranate with you, so that way, in case you will still be away on Tu B’shevat, you will have it.”

Reb Nissim wanted his family to have the pomegranate for Tu B’shevat, but his family wanted him to have it. It went back and forth, until Reb Nissim finally took the pomegranate with him.

On Reb Nissim’s journey, he traveled from town to town, from city to city, looking for ways to make some money.

Sometimes Reb Nissim stretched out his hand, and asked people for money. He told them that he had a family and needed money for them. When people asked him: “Where do you come from?” He would reply by saying: “I come from far away.”

This went on for weeks and then months. Reb Nissim was begging for money while looking out for odd jobs.

One day, Reb Nissim arrived at certain city in Turkey. The day was Tu B’shevat, and Reb Nissim was happy and sad at the same time. He was happy because it was Tu B’shevat, a special day, and he had his pomegranate with him. On the other hand, he was sad because he had to go out begging for money, and because he missed his family.

Reb Nissim went to the shul in the city to daven, and there he saw something that surprised him very much. The shul was full of people crying and saying Tehillim. It was not something you would expect to see on Tu B’shevat.

Reb Nissim wanted to find out what was going on, so he asked someone. “I see that you are all saying Tehillim,” he said. “Did anything bad happen?”

“Yes, yes!” the man replied. “Something terrible happened. The Sultan’s son—the prince—is very sick. None of the doctors could help him. The doctors have given up all hope for recovery, and the prince will die very soon.

“The only hope they had, was if a special doctor would come to heal him. The Sultan’s advisors did not know of such a doctor, but they said the best doctors were Jewish. Now, the Sultan decreed that we must send our best doctors to the palace. Otherwise we will be driven out of Turkey, so that is why we are saying Tehillim.”

When Reb Nissim heard what this man said, he immediately took a Tehillim, and began davening with the rest of the people in the shul. As sad as Reb Nissim’s predicament may have been, he knew that the problem that the yidden of Turkey were facing was much more serious.

As everyone was saying Tehillim, suddenly, the rov of the shul stopped, and started smelling the air. He said to his shamesh who was sitting next to him: “There is a guest in this shul from Eretz Yisroel. Please find him, because I would like to meet him.”

The shamesh was taken aback with what the rov had said, but he went around the shul looking for a guest. It did not take long for him to spot Reb Nissim in the crowd, as he was the only guest.

The shamesh approached Reb Nissim and told him that the rov wanted to see him. Reb Nissim was surprised just as the rov’s shamesh was: how did the rov know that he was in the shul, and that he came from Eretz Yisroel?!

Well, Reb Nissim went up to where the rov was sitting and said sholom aleichem to him. The rov said: “I see we have a special guest from Eretz Yisroel.”

Reb Nissim was interested to know how the rov knew that he came from Eretz Yisroel, because, as we know, he did not tell anyone. He asked the rov: “How do you know that I come from Eretz Yisroel? I did not tell anybody.”

“Well,” the rov said, “just in the past few minutes, I smelled an odor that I only smelled when I was in Eretz Yisroel. I thought that there must be a guest from Eretz Yisroel here.”

Reb Nissim then remembered the pomegranate that he had in his bag. He told the rov about it, and said: “This must be what you are smelling.”

When the rov heard that Reb Nissim had a pomegranate, he got excited. In Turkey, they did not have pomegranates, which was one of “the seven kinds” of special fruits of Eretz Yisroel.

The rov then said to Reb Nissim: “It has been years since I have last seen a pomegranate.” Reb Nissim said: “This pomegranate came from a tree that I have in my yard. I would be more than happy to share it with you.”

“No, no,” said the rov. “How can I enjoy a pomegranate when we have this terrible decree upon us. I…”

Suddenly, the rov put his hand on his forehead and gave a big smile. “I just got an amazing idea! Right before the news of the decree reached us, I was learning in a sefer about “the seven kinds,” in honor of Tu B’shevat.

”The sefer spoke about the letters in the names of the seven kinds. Now, as I was learning, I had a very interesting thought:

“The letters of the Hebrew word pomegranates, rimonim, stand for ‘refuah melech u’v’noi Nissim yovi’ah meheirah—healing [for the] king and his son: Nissim will bring it speedily.’

“Maybe,” the rov continued, “the pomegranate that you have, is the cure for the prince!”

Well, there was nothing to lose, so the rov went along with Reb Nissim to the Sultan’s palace, with Reb Nissim carrying the pomegranate in his bag.

When they arrived at the palace, they were let in right away—nobody wanted to waste any time.

The two “doctors” came into the prince’s room. There were many important officers there, and the rov and Reb Nissim were brought to the middle of the room.

They squeezed out the seeds of the pomegranates, and fed them to the prince. Everyone in the room was very excited, not knowing what to expect.

Well, they gave the prince some more pomegranate juice, and slowly, color began to return to his face.

Soon the prince opened up his eyes, and then he sat up in bed! He saw everyone around him, and said: “What are you all doing here? I feel excellent! Why are there doctors here?”

When the people in the room heard that, everyone was happy. The Sultan’s family was happy that the prince was saved, and the yidden, lehavdil, were happy that they themselves were saved.

Of course, Reb Nissim was so happy to have helped the yidden of Turkey, but then he remembered about his family back in Eretz Yisroel and felt a little sad.

However, that sadness did not last for too long. Soon the Sultan said: “Who is this man who saved my son? I want to reward him!”

An officer escorted Reb Nissim to the Sultan, and he introduced him. The Sultan was very happy that Reb Nissim helped save his son’s life, and he wanted to reward him, so he said: “Get many bags of gold for this man, because he has saved my son’s life.”

Reb Nissim knew that he was not the one who saved the prince’s life, but it was only through Hashem’s miracles that the prince’s life was saved. This was, of course, so that later, Reb Nissim would be able to return home to his family, with his mission accomplished.

When Reb Nissim returned to Eretz Yisroel, he gave much tzedaka, spent his money wisely, and lived “happily ever after!”

Yankel the Clay Carrier

Many years ago, in the city of Brod, in Russia, there lived a man whose name was Yankel. People called him Yankel the Clay Carrier because he used to go out of the city to dig sand or clay and bring it into town to sell to the brick-factory.

Although he worked very hard, Yankel barely made enough money to feed his wife and family. Yankel worked hard, even harder than his two weak horses that consisted of just skin and bones! Yankel horses were so weak because he could not feed them properly; hay was the best that he could afford, and that was hardly enough.

Yankel, however, was not the type of person to complain. He was always hopeful and believed that Hashem could always help.

One stormy, rainy day, as Yankel was on his way to the city with a load of clay, he saw a yid standing knee deep in mud, calling for help.

“Please do me a favor—take me into town,” he pleaded. “I’ll pay you whatever you ask.”

“I’m so sorry,” replied Yankel, “but you can see for yourself that my poor horses can hardly manage to move now! They certainly could not handle any more weight.”

“I have a suggestion,” continued the yid. “Tell me how much your load of clay is worth, and I will pay you even more. You can then empty it out and take me instead.”

Yankel agreed. They both tipped out the heavy load of clay and got back into the wagon. The horses, feeling the lighter weight, set off quickly.

On the way, Yankel asked his passenger his name. “Moshe Leib,” was the man’s reply.

“Are you by any chance the tzaddik, Reb Moshe Leib Sassover?” Yankel asked.

“I am Moshe Leib,” repeated the yid quietly.

Yankel now felt sure he was carrying a very important person, and he thanked Hashem for the privilege of being able to help this tzaddik.

When Yankel came home later than usual, his wife asked him: “Why did you come home so late today? Did you do so much business? You must have earned a lot of money!”

Yankel told her what had happened, and how he brought Reb Moshe Leib Sassover into town.

“How much did you get for that?” asked his wife.

“What are you saying?” exclaimed Yankel. “How can you even think I would charge anything for the mitzvah and privilege of helping a tzaddik?”

“Did you at least get a brocho from Reb Moshe Leib? It is already time we be able to live without struggling so much to make ends meet. Maybe Hashem will reward us for the mitzvah you did,” said Yankel’s wife.

Yankel decided it would be a good idea to follow his wife’s suggestion and go to the tzaddik to ask for a brocho—Yankel and his family definitely needed one.

Yankel came to the tzaddik to ask for a brocho, saying his wife had sent him. Reb Moshe Leib Sassover asked Yankel what he had in the house.

“I have nothing in the house,” replied Yankel. “All I own are two skinny horses.”

“So you will have one for Purim and one for Pesach,” said the tzaddik.

Yankel came home and told his wife what the tzaddik had said.

“Some brocha!” she exclaimed sadly. “It sounds like one horse will die before Purim and the other one before Pesach!”

Well, that was what happened, and Yankel sold the hides of the animals. He then had enough money for his family for Purim and Pesach.

After Pesach, Yankel went back to Reb Moshe Leib Sassover, and, with tears in his eyes, told him what had happened.

“Don’t worry, Yankel,” the tzaddik comforted him. “Take a bag and go out like a beggar. You will soon become an innkeeper.”

Yankel was puzzled but did not want to question the tzaddik on the strange meaning of his words.

Yankel went home, wondering how it could be possible for a beggar like him to become an innkeeper. He felt though, that if the tzaddik said so, it could be possible.

***

With a bag over his shoulder, Yankel left the town in middle of the night. He was ashamed to beg for money in his own hometown where everyone knew him. However, leaving home to beg for money was not too exciting either.

Not having much of a choice, though, Yankel set out wandering from town to town and from village to village. He would send as much as he could collect back to his family at home. Many days, he barely had more than a crust of bread just for himself.

One day, tired, cold and hungry, Yankel entered an inn and crawled onto the top of the oven to warm himself up.

As he was lying on the stove, two merchants came in and ordered a big, fancy meal. The innkeeper noticed that these men could afford to pay for service, so he served them himself.

As the innkeeper did so, they got into a conversation with him. They told him they were cattle dealers, buying cattle from ”pritzim” (land-owners). Just that day, they went to visit such a poretz. Unfortunately, they were unable to do business with him this time. The trouble was that this poretz had lost a few of his yiddish innkeepers, and he was now left without one.

“He sounded desperate,” said one of the cattle-dealers. “He must be a little crazy, because he said he would not sell us even one animal unless we come back with some yid who would take on the management of his inn. He didn’t care if the yid would be a poor beggar off the street—he just had to get someone.”

“But why a yiddish innkeeper and, if so, why was it so difficult for him to get one?” asked the innkeeper.

“The truth of the matter is, that each of his fellow landowners keeps on bragging, when they get together at parties, about the great ‘Moshke’ he has,” said one of the merchants.

“Yes, and this poretz is ashamed to admit he that he has no ‘Moshke’—’great’ or ‘not so great’,” said the second merchant.

“You can see how bad he feels about this, that he was even ready to lose doing business unless we could get a yiddish innkeeper for him,” said the first one.

“The trouble is,” he explained, “that this poretz has a name for being a very mean man and hard to get along with.”

“If that’s the case,” said the innkeeper, “which crazy person would want to work for such a poretz? He would have to be very desperate to take on such a job.”

“But we need to do something about it. Even if it would cost us a couple of hundred rubles to get such a man for the job, we would gladly pay that money. Maybe you know of such a person?”

“I think I have the man for you!” said the innkeeper, “I saw a beggar come in a little while ago and crawl onto the oven to warm up. Maybe—let’s see!”

Yankel, who had heard every word of the conversation, felt his heart begin to beat furiously. He remembered the words of the tzaddik, Reb Moshe Leib, that he, Yankel, with his beggar’s bag, would become an innkeeper! Some miracle!

So he immediately got down when he heard himself being called by the innkeeper:

“Hey, you! Come down! Someone wants to talk to you!”

The innkeeper brought him to the table where the two merchants sat. They looked at him, and did not seem to be impressed with his poor appearance, but that would be a problem for the poretz, not for them.

“We want to talk to you,” they began.

“I know. I heard everything you said,” said Yankel, “but before we discuss anything, I must eat.”

“Sure, sure!” they said and ordered a meal that Yankel had not seen in a very long time, if at all.

After the meal, and after they had bentshed with a mezuman, Yankel told them he was ready to take on the job of innkeeper for this difficult poretz.

The two merchants were very happy! They called in the tailor from that town to make Yankel some decent clothes. They paid for a room for him at the inn, to stay until the clothes would be ready. Yankel, meanwhile, enjoyed food and comfort fit for a king!

A few days later, the merchants brought Yankel to the poretz. He was delighted to hire Yankel as his new innkeeper. He immediately wrote out a contract to hand over the inn to Yankel, rent-free for two years. He also gave him money to pay for bringing over his wife and family, and to get them comfortably settled in their new home. The poretz also made the business deal with the two merchants, which he had refused to make earlier.

The two merchants, on their part, were so happy with their business deal that they readily kept their promise and gave Yankel a couple of hundred rubles, because without him, there would have been no business deal!

Now Yankel became an innkeeper. He worked hard and honestly and earned a good name for himself. Before long, he became very popular and was doing a thriving business.

The poretz was very happy, because never before did he have such a good innkeeper. The poretz was so happy with Yankel, that he appointed him to be the manager of his entire estate. Now, none of his friends could brag of a better “Moshke.”

As for Yankel, the former clay carrier, he became a rich man. However, he never forgot that he was once poor. He knew what it meant to be poor and hungry, so he was always ready to help any needy yid.

Now Yankel was known as Yankel the Innkeeper, but he was also known as the kindest and most charitable person in the area.

For his part, Yankel was thankful to Hashem for the great kindness and miracles He had shown him.

The Little Zeide

The following story took place in the time of the Ba'al Shem Tov, in a town called Uman. There was a yid named Reb Boruch who lived there. Reb Baruch had a mitzvah that he liked to do very much, and that was the mitzvah of hachnosas orchim, having guests.

Reb Boruch fulfilled the mitzvah of hachnosas orchim in a very special way. Reb Boruch was B”H a wealthy man. He would assign his guests to one of the beautiful rooms in his home. If his guests consisted of an entire family, he would give them one of the separate houses that were in his courtyard.

Of course, Reb Baruch’s guests could stay as long as they wanted. Not only that, but Reb Baruch would give clothes to his poor guests, and to those in need, a horse and wagon!

As we said, Reb Boruch lived in the time of the Ba'al Shem Tov. But, this was before the Ba'al Shem Tov was known as a tzaddik. The Ba'al Shem Tov just seemed to be a simple yid, and he made a meager living by bringing cement into the town, to sell to builders.

The Ba'al Shem Tov’s horses were getting weak from so much hard work. One day, when the Ba'al Shem Tov was getting to work, he discovered that his horses could no longer handle the load that they had been given.

The Ba'al Shem Tov had to get new horses, because he could not continue working without them. Horses were very expensive. The Ba'al Shem Tov could not afford to buy them with the little money that he had.

Well, that day, the Ba'al Shem Tov heard about a person who could help him. His name was Reb Boruch, and he lived in Uman. The Ba'al Shem Tov had heard many good things about this man, and he wanted to visit him.

So, the Ba'al Shem Tov went with his weak horses to visit Reb Boruch. Although the horses could not carry the load that the Ba'al Shem Tov worked with, they could take the Ba'al Shem Tov and his wife, ever so slowly.

The Ba'al Shem Tov and his wife arrived in Uman. They found Reb Boruch’s house, and knocked on the door. A servant greeted them, and took them straight to Reb Boruch.

Reb Boruch was so happy to see that he had guests, and gave them one of the beautiful houses that were in his courtyard. Reb Boruch asked them how they came; did they have a horse and wagon, or did they travel by foot?

The Ba'al Shem Tov told Reb Boruch that they came with a horse and wagon. “Okay,” Reb Boruch said. “Let me take your horse into the barn so that it can eat and rest.”

When Reb Boruch saw the wagon, he noticed that it was very dirty. He asked the Ba'al Shem Tov: “What do you do with your wagon? It seems to be so dirty.”

The Ba'al Shem Tov responded: “To make a living, I use my horse and wagon to bring cement into the city. That is why my wagon is so dirty.”

“Oh,” Reb Boruch said, “your horses are much too weak for such work.”

“Yes,” the Ba'al Shem Tov replied. “It is even difficult for them to carry an empty load.”

Reb Boruch, as was his custom, did not leave the Ba'al Shem Tov with his old horse. Instead, he said: “Why don’t you come to the barn with me and I will give you new horses. Your old horses can stay here with me and I will take care of them.”

The Ba'al Shem Tov and his wife were so thankful to Hashem for Reb Boruch’s help. They stayed at the house that Reb Boruch had given them for a few days.

Soon it was Shabbos, and Reb Boruch invited them to stay for Shabbos. The Ba'al Shem Tov accepted the invitation, and had a wonderful Shabbos at Reb Boruch’s home.

Reb Boruch had other guests as well, so there were enough people to have their own minyan. After davening, they all enjoyed the Shabbos meal together at Reb Boruch’s house, in his humongous dining room. There was singing, divrei Torah, and of course, delicious food.

On Shabbos day, after the meal, Reb Boruch took a big nap. Later he woke up, and after Shabbos, after mariv and after havdala, there was a melava malka.

After the melava malka, everyone went to sleep. But not Reb Boruch, he was not tired, because he had rested during the day. As Reb Boruch was walking around his house, he saw a strong light coming from the window.

That surprised him very much. It was not something you would expect to see in middle of the night in a town like Reb Boruch’s. Reb Bourch thought that it must be morning already, and the sun was rising.

Reb Boruch looked at his watch, and saw that it was around one o’clock. He knew that the sun did not rise at one o’clock at night, so he thought that the bright light must be from the moon.

Reb Boruch just ignored the light, but then he realized that it was close to the end of the month, and the moon does not shine brightly at that time. At the end of the month, the moon looks like a thin banana—not bright at all!

Since Reb Boruch knew that the light was not from the sun, and not from the moon, he got worried. He thought that maybe the light was coming from a fire! Reb Boruch quickly looked out the window, and saw that the light was coming from one of the houses in his courtyard. This light was not a light from a candle. It was very bright!

Reb Boruch ran out of his house, to see what was wrong. He was sure the light was coming from a fire!

He went over to the house where the light was coming from. He looked though the window, and there he saw the Ba'al Shem Tov, sitting on floor, with his hands stretched upwards. Reb Boruch thought that the Ba'al Shem Tov was just an ordinary man, but the Ba'al Shem Tov was saying special teffilos that only tzaddikim say in middle of the night, called Tikun Chatzos.

Next to the Ba'al Shem Tov, there was standing a tall man, who looked like a holy tzaddik, and was made out of light! When Reb Boruch saw that, he let out a shriek and fainted!

The Ba'al Shem Tov heard the noise, and came outside. There, he saw Reb Boruch, and tried to revive him. The Ba'al Shem Tov was successful, and Reb Boruch was revived.

Reb Boruch asked the Ba'al Shem Tov about the man who was made of light. The Ba'al Shem Tov said: “If Hashem let you see that, then I will tell you what that was about, but you are not allowed to tell anyone.”

Reb Boruch agreed to keep it a secret, but then he said: “I did not know that you were a tzaddik. I thought that you were a simple worker. I would be most happy if you would stay here with me and I will take care of your every need."

The Ba'al Shem Tov said: “No, I cannot. Nobody is supposed to know anything about me. Since you saw what you saw, I will tell you what it was all about.”

The Ba'al Shem Tov continued: “That man you saw was the Maharal of Prague. He was sent from the shomayim to come down here. He came to go into the body of a new baby boy, not as the Maharal, but as someone else, to help yidden in need.

“You, Reb Boruch, are a great-grandchild of the Maharal, and in one year, you will have a baby with the neshoma of the Maharal.”

When Reb Boruch heard that, he was shocked! He said to the Ba'al Shem Tov: “Please let me take care of you. I will give you everything you need. You don’t need to work so hard like a simple man.”

Once again, the Ba'al Shem Tov refused, and said: “Remember, this is a secret, and you are not allowed to tell anyone about it. Treat me like a simple guest, because this is what Hashem wants.”

The next morning, the Ba'al Shem Tov and his wife left Reb Boruch.

A year later, Reb Boruch’s wife gave birth to a baby boy.

The bris took place on the eighth day. Reb Boruch notified everyone about the bris. There was a very nice seudah, and of course, Reb Boruch did not forget to set aside tables for poor people.

Reb Boruch named the baby Aryeh Leib, similar to the name of the Maharal, Yehuda Leib. (It seems that Reb Boruch could not name his son Yehuda Leib, because he already had a son with that name.)

They had a minhag of people coming up and giving brochos to the baby. Many of Reb Boruch’s friends gave brochos to the baby.

As Reb Boruch was greeting his many guests, he noticed that the Ba'al Shem Tov was among the. He wanted the Ba'al Shem Tov to bentch the baby, just as others had.

Reb Boruch knew that nobody was supposed to think that the Ba'al Shem Tov was anyone special, so he had a little problem. How was he going to ask the Ba'al Shem Tov to give the baby a brocha without anybody noticing? He wanted to walk straight over to the Ba'al Shem Tov, but the Ba'al Shem Tov signaled him not to.

So, Reb Boruch decided to go around the room with the baby, so that anyone would be able to give a brocha to the baby. He pretended that he came over to the Ba'al Shem Tov “by chance,” and asked him to give a brocha just like everyone else.

The Ba'al Shem Tov refused, saying: “I don’t know how to give a brocha. I never learnt how to do that.”

But Reb Boruch persisted and said: “Just say something to the baby.”

So, the Ba'al Shem Tov said: “I learnt in cheder, when I was a little boy, about Avrohom. I went to cheder for only a short while, but I remember my Rebbi teaching me about Avrohom. He said that Avrohom was the zeide of all the yidden.”

The Torah only says that Avrohom was the father of the yidden, but the Ba'al Shem Tov wanted to pretend as if he did not know much.

“So,” the Ba'al Shem Tov continued. “I want to give a brocha that this baby should also be a zeide.” People laughed, thinking that this man was just a simple beggar who gave a silly brocha.

Well, after the seuda, everyone left. Those who came to the bris, remembered what the Ba'al Shem Tov had said, and as a joke, would ask: “How is the little zeide doing today?”

When the baby grew up, he became a great talmid chochom, but the name still stuck—“The Little Zeide.”

Later on, he moved to a place called Shpole and became known as “The Shpole Zeide.”

The Two Shidduchim

The following is a story about the Rebbe Rashab. The Rebbe Rashab would travel around a lot. He would meet with important people and government officials, in order to help the yidden.

Many times, the Rebbe Rashab would take his son, who later became the “Frierdiker Rebbe” along with him on his travels.

On one such trip, the Rebbe Rashab and the Frierdiker Rebbe were in their hotel room. After lunch, as was his custom, the Rebbe Rashab took a short rest on the couch. The Rebbe Rashab would lean back a little, and close his eyes. Later, he would go on with his busy schedule.

Well, this time, the Frierdiker Rebbe was waiting for the Rebbe Rashab to finish his rest. That was going to be their last day in that city and soon they planned to leave.

But, the Frierdiker Rebbe just waited and waited. The Rebbe Rashab was not waking up. He noticed that the Rebbe Rashab’s eyes were half-open. The Frierdiker Rebbe had never seen his father rest like that, nor for so long.

The Frierdiker Rebbe was getting worried, so he began making light noises to wake the Rebbe Rashab. Still, the Rebbe Rashab’s eyes were half-open and half-closed, and it seemed as if he was looking at something very far away.

An hour passed, and then two hours! The Rebbe Rashab was motionless! He was still breathing, but otherwise he was not moving at all. The Frierdiker Rebbe realized that something was going on, but he did not dare wake his father.

Another hour went by, but the Rebbe Rashab did not wake up. It was getting later and later, and the Rebbe Rashab was still motionless.

It was soon getting dark and the Rebbe Rashab was sitting just as before, without making a move. The Frierdiker Rebbe knew that something unusual was happening, so he left his father alone.

Just as the sun was setting, the Rebbe Rashab awoke. He stood up very quickly, seeming very excited. He asked the Frierdiker Rebbe: “What day is today? What is this week’s parsha?”

The Frierdiker Rebbe told his father what the day of the week it was, and what was that week’s parsha. The Rebbe Rashab said: “I have to daven mincha.”

The Rebbe Rashab prepared to daven mincha, and then davened together with the Frierdiker Rebbe who had not yet davened mincha. Later, they davened ma’ariv as well.

The Rebbe Rashab did not explain what had happened. Although the Frierdiker Rebbe wanted to know what was going on, he did not ask. He just thought: “I will see what will happen tomorrow.”

The next morning, after davening, the Rebbe Rashab asked the Frierdiker Rebbe: “How much money do we have?” The Frierdiker Rebbe told him how much money they had.

The Rebbe Rashab said: “I need more money. I am going to buy something, and I need a lot more money than that.”

So, the Frierdiker Rebbe went out to borrow money. Although they had planned to leave the city that day, it seemed that now that would not be possible.

Well, the Frierdiker Rebbe came back with the money, and gave it to the Rebbe Rashab. The Rebbe Rashab then left the hotel with the money. The Frierdiker Rebbe stayed behind.

A while later, when the Frierdiker Rebbe was in the hotel room, someone knocked on the door. The Frierdiker Rebbe asked who it was. It was a deliveryman.

The Frierdiker Rebbe understood that the Rebbe Rashab had bought something with the money and asked for it to be delivered. The Frierdiker Rebbe opened the door, and saw the deliveryman holding three big boxes decorated with pink ribbons and flowers.

The Frierdiker Rebbe took the boxes from the man and put them away. He noticed that the boxes had labels from a dress store. The Frierdiker Rebbe thought that the boxes might be for his three daughters, but he was not sure.

Soon, the Rebbe Rashab returned. He told the Frierdiker Rebbe: “It is now time to pack up. We are leaving.” They packed their things, and went downstairs to pay the hotelkeeper.

They paid the hotelkeeper, and took a taxi to the train station. When they arrived at the train station, the Frierdiker Rebbe went to buy tickets to return home.

As the Frierdiker Rebbe approached the ticket window, the Rebbe Rashab said: “We have to go to Pressburg. Please buy two tickets for Pressburg.”

The Frierdiker Rebbe was taken aback because he thought that they were returning home. The Frierdiker Rebbe bought two tickets to Pressburg anyway.

When the Rebbe Rashab and the Frierdiker Rebbe arrived at Pressburg, they got off the train. The Frierdiker Rebbe was about to hail a taxi to go to the hotel, but the Rebbe Rashab stopped him. The Rebbe Rashab said: “We will walk. Don’t get a taxi.”

The Frierdiker Rebbe was surprised as before, because they had many things with them. But still, the Frierdiker Rebbe took his things and went together his father, the Rebbe Rashab.

The Rebbe Rashab said: “We are going to Reb Avrohom’s hotel.” So, they left the train station, and started walking down the street with their baggage.

The Frierdiker Rebbe was still wondering why they had to walk when they had so much to carry. Why couldn’t they have taken a taxi? He did not know and he just went on.

As they were walking, the Rebbe Rashab stopped a bochur in the street. The bochur was walking very quickly and holding a gemmora in his hands. The Rebbe Rashab asked the bochur: “Excuse me, can please tell me how to get to Reb Avrohom’s hotel?”

The bochur seemed very busy, and said: “Oh, you go down the street till that corner, make a left, and there you can ask someone how to continue.”

Of course, the bochur would not have acted that way if he would have known to whom he was speaking. Still, the Rebbe Rashab would not say “I’m the Rebbe Rashab,” so he just said: “This is not the way to treat a stranger. Can you please tell me how to get to Reb Avrohom’s hotel?”

Well, the bochur gave detailed directions, and he added: “I would like to tell you something very important. Just yesterday, Reb Avrohom passed away. The hotel is open, but Reb Avrohom’s family is sitting shivah.”

“So when did Reb Avrohom pass away? Yesterday? What time?” asked the Rebbe Rashab.

The bochur answered: “He passed away around midday, and the levayah lasted until sunset.” The Rebbe Rashab thanked the bochur and said good-bye. The bochur then went off very quickly.

The Frierdiker Rebbe realized that Reb Avrohom’s levaya took place at the exact time that his father was sitting on the couch without moving with his eyes half-closed. He did not know what that meant, but he thought that there must be a connection.

Well, the Frierdiker Rebbe and the Rebbe Rashab went to the hotel. They came in, and got a room. They went to their room, put away their things, and rested up a little.

Then, the Rebbe Rashab said: “Let us go take a walk in the city.” So, they left the hotel, and stared walking outside.

The Rebbe Rashab and the Frierdiker Rebbe came to a big yeshiva. They went inside and saw many people of all ages learning.

They entered a room, and the Rebbe Rashab said: “I will go to that table and test the bochurim there.” The Rebbe Rashab sat down together with the Frierdiker Rebbe at the table and got into a conversation with the bochurim.

The bochurim saw that they had a great tzaddikim with them. They asked him questions and he explained different concepts. Soon, many bochurim gathered around the Rebbe Rashab.

It just “happened” that the Rebbe Rashab was mainly asking questions of two particular bochurim. One bochur was a little older, and the other was younger. The younger bochur was the same bochur whom the Rebbe Rashab and the Frierdiker Rebbe had met not far from the train station.

A while later, the Rebbe Rashab and the Frierdiker Rebbe left the yeshiva, to return to the hotel. While they were walking, the Rebbe Rashab was talking about the two bochurim, and how they were such B’nei Torah.

When they arrived at the hotel, the Rebbe Rashab and the Frierdiker Rebbe did not go to their room. Instead, they went to the room where Reb Avrohom’s wife and three daughters were sitting shivah.

They went to comfort Reb Avrohom’s family. As they were talking, the Rebbe Rashab said: “I see that you have two daughters that are old enough to get married. Why don’t you find shidduchim for them?”

“I would love to do that,” Reb Avrohom’s wife said, “but we simply cannot afford it. We make very little money from the hotel. It costs a lot of money to make a chasuna and to set up a home. I do not even have enough to buy one dress for just one of my daughters.”

Then, Reb Avrohom’s wife started to cry. The Rebbe Rashab saw that the daughters wanted to get married but the money was stopping them.

The Rebbe Rashab said: “It might be easier than you think. Do not worry about the wedding dress. I have one right here with me in my room. I can give that for your first daughter, and when the time comes, I also have dresses for your other daughters.”

The Frierdiker Rebbe now understood what the pink boxes with the flowers were all about. Those were wedding dresses.

Now, Reb Avrohom’s wife said: “That is very nice of you to give dress for my daughters. Still, what is a chasunah going to be like without a choson?”

“I do not think that will be a problem either,” said the Rebbe Rashab. “I know some very fine bochurim from the yeshiva here. I think I have a choson for your older daughter and also one for your younger daughter.”

Reb Avrohom’s wife was very excited. She said: “Would it be possible for you to arrange shiddichum for my two daughters?”

The Rebbe Rashab was happy to do that. He arranged the two shidduchim, and very soon, they got married. Of course, the daughters both wore the dresses that the Rebbe Rashab had bought.

The story is almost over, but five years later, the Frierdiker Rebbe was traveling by himself and arrived in Pressburg. He decided to stop by at Reb Avrohom’s hotel and see how the family was doing.

When he entered the hotel, he saw Reb Avrohom’s youngest daughter. She immediately recognized the Frierdiker Rebbe and told him what had transpired:

The oldest daughter went together with her husband to another town where he became the rov. The younger daughter’s husband became a rosh yeshiva. Her husband was a fine man, who was in charge of the hotel.

She then concluded: “My family—my mother and my two sisters—are very thankful to you and your father for everything you did for us.”

The Special Ruble

In the time of the Tzemach Tzedek there lived a poor melamed. We do not know his name, so we will call him Reb Boruch.

Reb Boruch was very poor. He was paid only a small sum of money for his teaching. The parents paid Reb Boruch just 150 kopecks per child per year! As you can imagine, Reb Boruch was nothing close to a rich man.

What did Reb Boruch live on? Well, he lived on air! He somehow managed to buy some bread, beans, and water, and that was how he lived.

One day, Reb Boruch had to buy something. Who knows—maybe it was food, or maybe the clothes that he so desperately needed. Either way, he had to buy something, but had no money.

Reb Boruch thought: “I can’t wait until the next time the parents come to pay me. That will be in a few months! What am I going to do? I need the money now.”

Reb Boruch decided to go to the Tzemach Tzedek and ask him if he could borrow a ruble. It was somewhat strange, but Reb Boruch had no choice. Where else could he go?

So, that is what Reb Boruch did, but he was very embarrassed. The Tzemach Tzedek asked him: “Reb Boruch, when will you return the money?”

Reb Boruch said: “I will Im Yirtzeh Hashem repay you in six months, when I get paid by the parents.” Reb Boruch was paid only twice a year.

“Okay Reb Boruch,” said the Tzemach Tzedek. “So you will pay me back in a half a year, six months. Right?”

“Yes Rebbe, with Hashem’s help,” Reb Boruch replied.

The Tzemach Tzedek then opened a drawer and took out a ruble for Reb Boruch. He gave it to Reb Boruch, and said: “Remember, Reb Boruch: You will pay me back in a half a year. Is that correct? Six months?”

“Yes. That is correct. I will repay you in six months, with Hashem’s help,” Reb Boruch reaffirmed.

When Reb Boruch was about to leave, the Tzemach Tzedek once again asked Reb Boruch when he would return the money. Reb Boruch, in reply, told the Tzemach Tzedek: “I will Im Yirtzeh Hashem repay you in six months.”

With the ruble in his pocket, Reb Boruch came to the marketplace. He wanted to get change for the ruble, so he approached a farmer who was selling eggs. He said to the farmer: “Excuse me sir, can you please give me change for this ruble?”

The farmer said: “Sure, no problem! Just put down you ruble here, I will give you the change.” Reb Boruch did as he was told, and took the change from the man.

Reb Boruch was about to continue on his way, when he noticed that the farmer did not take the ruble. He had just left it there.

The farmer started getting busy with his customers, while the ruble was still on the small counter. Reb Boruch said to the farmer: “Excuse me, but your forgot your ruble here.”

The farmer was busy taking care of his customers. He just said to Reb Boruch: “Don’t you see that I am busy? Go away! Take this too. It is in my way.” He then gave the ruble back to Reb Boruch and pushed him away.

Reb Boruch thought that was strange. Why would the farmer push him away? Reb Boruch went to return the ruble to the farmer, but the farmer sent him away.

Reb Boruch tried to give the ruble back again, but the farmer was getting upset with him. So, Reb Boruch decided to just forget about it and take the ruble with him.

Now that Reb Boruch had another ruble, he wanted to buy things with that ruble too. He went to a potato merchant to get change.

Reb Boruch put down the ruble, and the potato merchant gave him the change. The potato merchant now went back to serve his other customers, and forgot about the ruble.

Seeing this, Reb Boruch said to the potato merchant: “Won’t you take your ruble? It’s right here.”

The potato merchant was very busy, and he said to Reb Boruch: “What ruble? How many pounds of potatoes would you like to buy today?”

“Uh, you just gave me change for this ruble. Here is your ruble,” Reb Boruch replied.

“I’m busy now,” said the potato merchant. “Leave me alone.” The potato merchant waved to Reb Boruch and gave him a light push. Reb Boruch decided to take the ruble with him again. It seemed like the potato dealer did not even “know” that he had given Reb Boruch change!

Now Reb Boruch still had his ruble with him, so he wanted to get change for it. He went to someone selling chickens, and asked for change.

Reb Boruch got the change, but the scene repeated itself:

the “chicken-man” forgot to take the ruble! Reb Boruch tried to bring it to the man’s attention, but as before, he was shooed away.

Well, Reb Boruch decided, if no one was taking his ruble, he might as well give it back to the Tzemach Tzedek. He had plenty of money (at least according to his standards), and meanwhile he had nothing to with this ruble.

So, for the second time that day, Reb Boruch went to the Tzemach Tzedek. This time, he went to return the ruble that he had borrowed.

When Reb Boruch came to the Tzemach Tzedek, the Tzemach Tzedek told him: “Reb Boruch, didn’t you make it clear that you will pay me back in six months, and not in a few hours? Did I not tell you: ‘Remember, Reb Boruch: You will pay me back in a half a year.’”

“Yes Rebbe, I told you that I would repay you in six months,” Reb Boruch recalled.

The Tzemach Tzedek continued: “Now that you came to me, I will have to take back the ruble.” So, the Tzemach Tzedek took the ruble.

After Reb Boruch left, he understood why the Tzemach Tzedek had made it so clear that he should return the ruble in six months. If he had kept the ruble for that length of time, he would have been a wealthy man.

The ruble that Reb Boruch received from the Tzemach Tzedek had a special brocha, so that nobody wanted to take it. Whenever Reb Boruch would try to do something with it, no one would accept it.

The Tzemach Tzedek wanted Reb Boruch to have that special brocha, but he returned the ruble too early, so the full brocha never materialized.