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 Well Water That Changed Taste

One wintry day a man came to the saintly Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov. The man braved the winter weather to seek the saintly Rebbe's help.

He told the Rebbe that he was an innkeeper in a village some distance away, the inn having come down to him from his late father, who had rented it from the old country squire. The old squire was a reasonable man and made no trouble if the rent was not paid on time in a bad season, in the wake of a severe winter. But the old squire died, and his son, the new squire, was not so kind. Now, he threatened to throw them out if the rent was not paid on time. He came to ask the Rebbe's help, so that his family would not be left without food and shelter in the midst of a terrible winter.

"Do you live in such and such village?" the Rebbe asked.

"Yes, Rebbe."

"Still in the same house, with the narrow windows and three steps leading up to the front door?"

"Yes, Rebbe," the innkeeper replied, wondering how the Rebbe knew.

"And is the well in the courtyard still plentiful, and the water still good?"

"Yes, Rebbe," the innkeeper answered with even greater amazement.

"I'm glad, I'm glad," the Rebbe said, stroking his silver beard. "You have nothing to worry about."

The innkeeper's face lit up with relief and he turned to go. But then he stopped and hesitated. He was baffled. How did the Rebbe know about the inn and the well, and what had the well to do with it all?

"Forgive me, Rebbe, for my insolence, but how does the Rebbe know my inn so well?" he finally asked.

The Rebbe smiled and said, "Very simple. I was there. It was a long time ago. Let me tell you the whole story.

"Many years ago, a young man was on his way to the saintly Rebbe, the 'Seer' of Lublin. He had been traveling for three days without food and shelter. He came to your village and stopped at the inn for a rest. He was so tired and hungry that he could barely climb the three front steps leading to the door. Your father was busy at that moment with peasants and wayfarers who crowded the inn, and he did not notice the stranger. After the young man rested a while, and seeing that no one took any notice of him, he decided to move on. As he passed by one of the narrow windows, he saw a small boy peeking out. The boy saw the haggard face of the stranger and ran after him. He begged the stranger to return with him to the inn. 'My father always welcomes poor wayfarers, and he would not forgive himself if he knew that one had passed by his inn without a good meal and a good night's rest. Please, come with me,' the boy urged.

"The young man returned to the inn and was immediately greeted by your father, then led to the dining room where a sumptuous meal was set before him. After the meal he was quite thirsty. The innkeeper sent the maid to fetch a pail of water. In her absence the innkeeper explained that she had to go to the village to fetch water.

" 'Have you no well in your courtyard?' the young man asked.

" 'Yes, but the water is not good. We only use it for the horses and garden.'

" 'If you don't mind, I'd like to taste your well-water. I'm very thirsty,' the young man said.

"The innkeeper brought a pitcher of water from the well and poured some for the thirsty guest. He drank it and said, 'Fancy giving such good water a bad name! Taste it, and see for yourself.' Everyone who tasted it was astonished. 'It's wonderful! It's even better than the water from the village well!' they said."

"Now I remember," the innkeeper said. "I was that little boy, and the young man - he must have been you!"

"Yes," said the saintly Rebbe, "and thanks to you I had a good meal and a good rest."

"That was nothing in comparison to the blessing which you brought into our home. Word got around how the water in our well suddenly turned pure and fresh. People still come just to drink our well water, saying it is good for their health!"

"If the water in the well is still good, then you can be sure that G-d is with you. Go home, and don't worry. Carry on with the mitzva of welcoming guests and G-d will continue to bless you," said the Rebbe.

The Bnei Yissachar's Connection To Chanukah

Once, after the long and joyous prayers of Rosh Hashana, Reb Yehuda Tzvi made a mysterious comment to his Chasidim: "During the lighting of the fifth Chanuka candle, if you will remind me at that moment, I will prepare a banquet for everyone!"

The Chasidim looked at their Rebbe and thought to themselves, "What is the connection between Rosh Hashana and Chanuka?" Others wondered, "Why a banquet on the fifth night? Why not every night!?"

The fifth night of Chanuka came and the Chasidim reminded their Rebbe of his promise. He immediately ordered a banquet prepared for all the guests. After many l'chaims someone stood up courageously and asked, "Rebbe, what is the occasion of the banquet?"

Rabbi Yehuda Tzvi explained, "I saw during the sacred prayers of Rosh Hashana that a tzadik (a righteous person) of our generation would be appointed one of the judges of the heavenly court. I knew there were three possibilities. Either myself, the Rebbe of Butzchatch or Rebbe Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov. I prayed with all my heart to the Creator that I wasn't worthy to be a judge of the heavenly court. It wasn't clear to me what the heavenly decision would be until this moment. For as you all know Chanuka is the final seal of whatever happened on Rosh Hashana. Now I know that I wasn't chosen. That is why I have made this banquet."

Soon thereafter the news spread that the Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov had been chosen to be a judge of the heavenly court.

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Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov was on his way to visit his Rebbe, the Chozeh (Seer) of Lublin. During the journey he began to wonder from which of the Twelve Tribes he descended.

"Why is it," he thought to himself, "that as soon as Chanuka nears, I always experience a special spiritual delight? I cannot be descended from the Hasmoneans, for I am not of the priestly family. So where does this special feeling come from?"

Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech decided that when he was in Lublin, he would ask his Rebbe. Upon arriving at the Chozeh's court, before he even managed to say a word, the Chozeh said: "You are descended from the Tribe of Yissachar. As to why you experience what you do on Chanuka, it is because in the time of the Holy Temple you were a member of the Rabbinical Court of the Hasmoneans" for the Tribe of Yissachar traditionally supplied the scholars who manned the Rabbinal Court in Temple times.

That is why Reb Tzvi Elemelech entitled his learned book on the festivals, Bnei Yissachar - the Sons of Yissachar.