The Sukkah Avraham Avinu Refused To Enter

The tzadik, Reb Pinchas of Koretz, didn't have a moment of peace. There was no dearth of suffering people--some needed a blessing for health, some for children, still others needed guidance in business affairs. Since Reb Pinchas couldn't turn away from his fellow Jews, they came to him day and night, knocking on his door, pouring out their hearts and souls.

Reb Pinchas did all he could for them. In fact, so completely did he devote himself to his brethren, that he felt his own divine service suffering. One day Reb Pinchas prayed that he become disliked by his fellow man. Then, he would be free of their demands, and would be able to devote himself to his own spiritual service. And so it was that from that day on he became a recluse, never emerging except to pray in the synagogue.

When the festival of Sukkot approached he tried to find someone to help him build the sukka, but no one was willing, since all his fellow Jews disliked him so much. He had to hire a non-Jew to do the work, and when he needed to borrow tools, even that wasn't easy because of the animosity his neighbors felt toward him.

After services on the first night of the holiday, Reb Pinchas wanted to fulfill the mitzva of inviting guests into his sukka, but no one would accept his invitation. When he arrived home, he entered the sukka and began chanting the traditional invitation to the first of the Ushpitzin (the Forefathers, who visit the sukka each night). When he looked up, he saw Abraham standing outside the door of the sukka.

Reb Pinchas saw that this year the Patriarch was unwilling to enter, and he cried to Abraham, "Why do you not enter my sukka? What is my sin?"

Our father Abraham replied, "I have the custom to enter only those places where guests are welcome."

Reb Pinchas understood from that response that he had been wrong in his path of service. He prayed that he be returned in favor to his fellow Jews, and that he be able to continue as before.

True Love For A Fellow Jew

Word had spread that Rebbe Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov was gravely ill and that his hours, perhaps minutes, were numbered. His family and disciples crowded around his bed, waiting in trepidation, hoping to hear some last words from his holy lips which would remain with them and guide them in their lives.

As they gazed at his face, they reflected on its expression of profound concentration and assumed that their master was meditating on some sublime spiritual thoughts. How could they have assumed that he would spend his last moments in this world communicating with them?! But just then his eyes opened and traversed the room, focusing on each person there. They saw that his eyes finally fixed on one particular unfamiliar individual who had been standing off in a corner of the room. They pushed him forward so that the Rebbe could see him more easily. Everyone was anxious to see what the Tzadik wanted with this man.

"Reb Shmuel," the Rebbe was heard to murmur, "what is it that you have come to ask me?"

"Rebbe," the man said, "it's about the wool I bought... what should I do about it?"

"Don't worry, Reb Shmuel," the Rebbe whispered. "Just keep it until next winter. Then the prices will rise and you will make a nice profit."

Then, before the eyes of all his family and Chasidim, the Rebbe closed his eyes and his soul departed from his body.

The heartbroken mourners couldn't stop talking about the Rebbe's last words. What could the Tzadik have meant by those cryptic words he uttered to the complete stranger who captured his attention in his final moments on earth. The stranger certainly must have been one of the 36 hidden saints in whose merit the world stands. Why, he disappeared as mysteriously as he had appeared! And who could explain the mystical concepts behind the words "Wool," "next winter," and "nice profit"? Each Chasid had his own interpretation of the Rebbe's words.

After a few days, Rabbi David, Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech's son, heard about the speculation. He called some of the senior Chasidim to him and offered the explanation of his father's last words:

"There is no mystery at all about my father's words; there is only the true expression of his profound love for each and every Jew. You never noticed Reb Shmuel, but he used to come often to my father to ask for his advice and blessing on his business decisions. Not too long ago, he purchased a large lot of wool. After he invested almost all his money in the wool, as well as large borrowed sums, prices took a sharp decline. He was worried sick about the possible loss of all of his assets and how he would cover all the debt he incurred borrowing to make the purchase.

"He decided to come to my father at once to ask his advice in this matter, but he had no idea that my father was ill. When he came, he saw a large crowd going into my father's room, and he just followed the others. But, when Father saw him, he realized that Reb Shmuel had probably come to ask his advice on some matter of concern, and so, he inquired what he needed. For my father, the need of a fellow Jew was his highest priority, and so, even in his last moments, he sought to assure the worried man that all would be well.

The Prayer That Transformed A Heart

In the ancient city of Aleppo, Syria there lived a Jew named Shimshon. He was well-known as a bully and half-drunk most of the time.

In the marketplace he walked from stall to stall, placing groceries in his basket, and leaving without paying. If anyone dared ask for payment he glared at them or made menacing comments. If he really got angry, he would overturn the produce or grocery cart and even give the stall keeper a big wallop.

Word eventually got to the rabbi of the town, who called Shimshon in and severely rebuked him. Shimshon, feigning innocence, asked, "Did anyone complain to you about me?"

The rabbi had to admit that no specific complaint had yet been brought. But, of course, the people were too frightened to accuse him and start up with Shimshon.

One day an older woman brought beautiful fruits and vegetables to the market. Shimshon came up to her stall, choose several items and walked away.

"Stop, come back. You haven't paid me," yelled the woman.

Shimshon turned around, looked at her threateningly and shouted, "You'll keep quiet if you know what's good for you." Then he continued on his way.

The stall keepers nearby encouraged her to go to the rabbi, who was relieved that there was finally a charge against Shimshon. The rabbi immediately sent for the culprit.

"Did you take produce from this woman without paying?" the rabbi asked Shimshon.

"Who says I'm not going to pay her?" was Shimshon's insolent reply.

"Pay her immediately or return her goods," was the rabbi's stern response. "If this ever happens again you will also have to pay a heavy fine," the rabbi added.

Shimshon took out his money and silently paid the woman. But as he was leaving, the rabbi's attendant, Levi, overheard him muttering, "I'll get even with the rabbi!"

A few days later the rabbi was invited to a circumcision in a nearby village. Along the way, Levi kept a sharp look out. When he noticed a man hiding behind some shrubs in the distance he was certain it was Shimshon. He now told the rabbi of Shimshon's threat and urged him to turn back.

Instead, the rabbi noted the time and told Levi to stop the carriage so they could say the afternoon prayers. He prayed intensely and longer than usual, then climbed back into the carriage and told Levi to drive full speed ahead.

In a matter of moments, Shimshon appeared in the middle of the road and stopped the carriage. Rushing over to the rabbi, Shimshon grabbed his hands, and with tears in his eyes begged forgiveness. The rabbi forgave him on the condition that he change his ways. Shimshon promised he would and they parted like best of friends.

Levi was amazed and puzzled. The rabbi explained what had just happened with a commentary from the Torah. "When Esau threatened Jacob's life, Rivka, their mother, instructed Jacob, "When your heart is free from any anger that you harbor against your brother for the trouble he has caused you, then you will be sure that his anger has turned away from you."

"You see," the rabbi concluded, "I was very angry with Shimshon, but I prayed to G-d to help me free my heart from any anger against him, and to help him free his heart from anger and evil. When I felt I no longer had ill feelings toward him, but rather compassion and a strong desire to help him mend his ways, I was certain that his heart, too, was pure. That is what actually happened. Thus, our sages teach us: As water reflects a face, so does one heart respond to another!

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