Crossroads Puzzle
One Friday, Chassidic master Rabbi Yaakov Yitzchok Horowitz (the famed
"Seer of Lublin") was traveling with some of his disciples when they
arrived at a crossroads. The wagon driver asked which way to turn. Surprisingly,
the "Seer" didn't seem to know what to answer. Shrugging, he said,
"Loosen the reins. Let the horses go in whichever direction they
will."
After a while, they arrived at a town. After several inquiries, they soon
realized that not only was this not the place they were seeking, they weren't
even on the right road.
"It's late. We'll stay here for Shabbat," the Seer announced. Then he
added, "But don't reveal my identity to anyone or tell them that I am a
Rebbe."
His followers were shocked. They had no money because the Seer never allowed any
to be kept overnight. However much he had in his possession would be distributed
to poor people before nightfall. If his identity were to be kept secret, how
would they be able to provide for themselves for Shabbat?
When they asked him, he replied, "We'll do like all Jewish travelers. We'll
go to the local shul tonight, and people will invite us when they see we have no
place to go."
And so they did. They prayed at the back of the shul, and afterwards, all of the
Rebbe's students and attendants were invited individually to different homes.
The Seer, however, was left in the shul. He always took a long time for the
Shabbat evening prayers and this week was no exception. By the time he finished,
everyone was gone.
In fact, there was just one other person in the shul, an old man of at least
eighty years. He saw that the stranger was sitting and reciting Tikunei Shabbat
(selected passages usually recited during the course of the meal on
Friday night).
"Where are you going for your Shabbat meal?" he opened.
"I don't know."
"Why don't you eat at the inn where you are staying?" asked the
elderly man, concerned. "If it is a problem of money, after Shabbat I'll
collect some money to pay your bill."
"I saw they didn't light Shabbat candles, so I presume that I cannot trust
the kashrut of the food they serve."
"I'm sorry," murmured the older man, "but at my home, my wife and
I will have only bread and wine."
"I'm neither a glutton nor a guzzler."
"Come along then," said the apprehensive host. The Seer followed
meekly.
After kiddush and hamotzi, while they were sitting calmly at the table, the
elderly man asked him where he was from. Upon hearing his answer, he next asked
him if he knew the Rebbe of Lublin.
"I am always with him," was the Seer's response.
"That's wonderful," said his host. "please tell me something
about him."
"Why do you want to know about him?" queried the Seer.
"Because," said the man, "I was his teacher in cheder when he was
a young boy, and he was not noticeably exceptional in his studies. Now I hear
that he is a great rabbi and does miracles."
"Did you notice anything unusual about him when he was a child?" the
Seer asked.
"Only one thing," the retired teacher replied. "Each morning,
when I would want to call upon him to read from the siddur, I could never find
him. He vanished! Later, when he would re-appear, I would punish him for
his unauthorized absence. One day, I decided, 'Enough already! I ought to find
out where he disappears to.' I watched him closely out of the corner of my eye.
When he exited the room I slipped out after him, keeping a good distance between
us so he wouldn't sense my presence. He went into the forest. I followed. I
peered through the trees and there he was, sitting next to a hive, being stung,
and crying out, Shma Yisrael Ad-ny Elokeinu Ad-ny echad ('Hear O Israel, the L-rd our G-d, the L-rd is one').
"After that, I never punished him again. Now, after all these years, I
would like very much to be able to see him in his glory, but I don't know how it
can be. I'm very poor and I've become weak in my old age, so it is impossible
for me to make the journey to Lublin. Nevertheless, my desire is so strong, I
fast one day a week that I should have the merit to see him with my own
eyes."
Finally, the Seer understood why events had been directed to bring him to this
particular town. Looking fondly at his host, he acknowledged gently, "I am
he, the Rebbe of Lublin."
The old man fainted instantly. His wife and special guest were able to revive
him only after great difficulty.
That Saturday night the Seer and his entourage departed the town and continued
their journey. The elderly man escorted them briefly and then returned home.
They stopped at the Seer's request at a not-too-distant village, in order to
enjoy the melaveh malkah repast of Saturday night. After the meal, the Seer
said, "Now let us return to that town to attend my
childhood teacher's funeral and to deliver an appropriate eulogy."
-- Translated and adapted by Yrachmiel Tilles from Shim'u Utechi Nafshechem
#266. Rabbi Tilles is co-founder and educational coordinator of ASCENT OF SAFED,
and editor of Ascent Quarterly and the Ascent website.
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The Girl Who Had
To Be
Jewish
Rabbi Zalman Serebryanski, a senior chassid from Russia and dean of the
Lubavitch Rabbinical College in Melbourne, Australia, once brought a girl to
Rabbi Chaim Gutnick. "Please, help this girl convert," he asked.
Rabbi Gutnick listened to the girl’s story. She lived in Balaclava, and from
her youth had felt a strong attraction to Judaism. Whenever she heard
stories of the Holocaust, she was deeply touched. She had been reading and
studying about Judaism for a long time, and now wanted to convert.
Rabbi Gutnick was moved by her sincerity. Nevertheless, he did not want to
perform the conversion. The girl was still living at home with her
non-Jewish parents. Would she be able to practice Judaism in her parents’
home? Would her interest continue as she matured into adulthood? Since he
could not answer these questions, he decided to let time take its course. If
the girl was still interested when she was older, she could convert then.
Rabbi Gutnick’s refusal plunged the girl into deep depression, to the extent
that she had to be confined to a hospital. The elder Reb Zalman, stirred by
the depth of her feelings, continued to visit her from time to time.
After several weeks, he called Rabbi Gutnick, telling him of the girl’s
condition and asking him whether perhaps he would change his mind because of
the strength of her feelings.
Rabbi Gutnick answered that the reasons which had dissuaded him from
performing the conversion were still valid. Nevertheless, he promised to
write to the Lubavitcher Rebbe describing the situation. If the Rebbe
advised him to facilitate her conversion, he would happily comply.
Reb Zalman told the girl that the Rebbe was being consulted, and her
condition improved immediately.
Rabbi Gutnick did not receive an immediate reply to his letter. But at a
later date, at the end of a reply to another issue, the Rebbe added:
"What’s
happening with the Jewish girl from Balaclava?"
Rabbi Gutnick was surprised. The girl and Reb Zalman had both made it clear
that her family was Anglican!
He and Reb Zalman went to confront the girl’s mother. At first, she
continued to insist that she was Anglican, but as the sincerity of the two
rabbis impressed her, she broke down and told her story. She had been raised
in an Orthodox Jewish home in England. As a young girl, she had rebelled
against her parents and abandoned Jewish life entirely, marrying a gentile
and moving to Australia. She had not given Judaism a thought since. She
loved her daughter, however, and would not oppose her if she wished to live
a Jewish life.
Once the girl’s Jewishness was established, Rabbis Serebryanski and Gutnick
helped her feel at home in Melbourne’s Lubavitch community. She continued to
make progress in her Jewish commitment, and today is a teacher in a
Lubavitch school.
But Rabbi Gutnick still had a question: How did the Rebbe know she was
Jewish? At his next yechidut (audience with the Rebbe) he mustered the
chutzpah to ask.
The Rebbe replied that, at Reb Zalman’s urging, the girl had also written
him a letter. "Such a letter," the Rebbe declared, "could only
have been
written by a Jewish girl."
-From To Know and to Care by Eliyahu and Malka Touger; Published by Sichos
in English
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"He Ascends to Heaven"
"One
who does charitable deeds is greater than one who brings sacrifices, as it says,
'He who does justice and charity is more dear to G-d than one who brings burnt
offerings on the Altar' (Succah 49b)."
One of the Chassidic masters failed to appear at the pre-dawn Selichos services
prior to Rosh Hashanah. His followers explained his absence as, "He ascends
to heaven."
One man scoffed, and was determined to prove that the Rabbi's absence was due
merely to his sleeping late. He came to the Rabbi's home posing as a wayfarer,
and asked for lodging.
In the early morning hours he secretly observed the Rabbi don a woodsman's
clothes and leave the house carrying an axe. Curious, he followed the Rabbi into
the woods and saw him fell some trees. The Rabbi then carried the wood to the
hut of an old, feeble woman. "Do you need any firewood today?" the
Rabbi asked.
"Yes, I do," she said, "but I have no money to pay you."
"Do not worry," the Rabbi said. "I am willing to trust you. And
that should be a lesson to you If I am willing to trust you, even you are old
and frail, then you should certain be willing to trust in G-d, who is mighty and
eternal."
The Rabbi then arranged the wood and ignited it, while humming the tunes of the
Selichos prayers.
The scoffer later told the townspeople, "You think the Rabbi is absent
because he ascends to heaven? You are wrong. He ascends much higher."