Kosher Money

Rabbi Meir of Premishlan was a great tzadik whose holiness was acknowledged by Jews from far and wide who sought advice and blessings from him.
One day a woman was admitted into his study. As soon as she set eyes on the tzadik she burst into tears. "What is troubling you?" Reb Meir asked. The sobbing woman could barely speak, but she managed to get out the words, "Rebbe, I have no children; please give me your blessing."
The Rebbe was full of compassion for the woman's pain and he replied to her, "May it be G-d's will that your request be fulfilled."
Armed with the holy man's blessing, the woman confidently went home and waited for his words to be realized. Not a year had passed by when Rabbi Meir received a letter from a distant city from a person he did not know.
When he read the letter and removed the papers contained in the envelope, he was shocked to find a bank note for the tremendous sum of three hundred rubles.
The letter read: "My wife has just given birth to a child thanks to the Rebbe's blessing. I beg the Rebbe to accept this gift in gratitude."
Far from being pleased, Rabbi Meir's distress was apparent, as he extended his hand to put the bank note on the far side of the table as if he wanted to remain as distant from it as possible. Then he called his sons to come to him at once to discuss an important matter.
When they arrived, he brought them into his room and pointed to the letter: "Today I received a letter which is brimming full of errors and falsehoods. For one thing, it refers to me as a holy man, a tzadik, and that is patently false. Secondly, the entire premise of the letter is false, for this man credits me with the birth of his son. How ridiculous! What do I have to do with such lofty matters as birth and death? Am I a tzadik that I have control over these things? I have therefore decided to return the money to him at once."
His sons were shocked. The eldest spoke first. "Father, we are very poor. Perhaps G-d has taken pity on us and decided to end our poverty through this man. Maybe it would be wrong and ungrateful of us not to make good use of it." Everyone agreed.
Only the Rebbe staunchly maintained that the money must be returned to the misguided sender.
They turned the matter over this way and that, but it became clear that no consensus could be reached. The family decided to bring their dilemma to a rabbinical court, a beit din. The judges listened to both sides of the case and then reached their decision: The Rebbe should keep the money. It was true that Reb Meir was such a modest man that he denied being a tzadik whose blessings could have helped the childless woman, but the woman and her husband obviously thought differently. In their estimation it was the Rebbe's prayers that brought about the birth of their child, and they gave the money purely as a gift from their hearts. Therefore, it was perfectly fine to keep the gift.
The Rebbe and his sons left the rooms of the beit din in very different moods. The sons were satisfied that their opinion had been upheld by the judges. The terrible poverty in which they lived would be alleviated at least for a time. Their father, however, was brought no peace by the decision. For although the rabbinical court had ruled that he was completely justified in keeping the money, his own heart was uneasy. He decided to take the problem to his wife, the rebbetzin.
As his life's companion and a woman whose vision was always clear, she would be the final arbiter of this case, for he trusted her judgment completely.
The Rebbe and his sons entered the house and asked the rebbetzin to come and sit with them; they had something of great importance to discuss with her. When the family was seated around the table, the Rebbe filled her in on all the details of the problem, leaving out nothing, but stressing his own unease with the reason for receiving the gift.
Her sons, on the other hand, stressed how much easier their lives would be now, since G-d had clearly wanted to help them out of their troubles by sending them this money.
She listened wordlessly to both sides and then turned to her husband. "My dear husband, all your life you have guarded yourself from even tasting food that had a question about its kashrut. Even when you discovered that it was a hundred percent kosher you refrained from eating it, because its permissibility had been in question. Now we are faced with the same situation, the only difference being that the question is on the kashrut of money and not on food. Why should you act any differently now?"
Rabbi Meir smiled at her. He stood up, walked into his room, took the bank note and put it into an envelope which he addressed to the sender. That very day it was deposited in the post and the hearts of the tzadik and tzadeket were content.

NEVER DEMOLISH A SUKKAH

An epidemic raged through Nadvorna as Sukkos was approaching, and the physicians warned the townsfolk to take all possible hygienic precautions for fear of contagion. The local judge, an unusually evil man, was told that Rabbi Mordechai of Nadvorna had just built a sukkah. He at once dispatched a messenger with a court order to demolish it forthwith, because it supposedly contravened the municipal health regulations. The Nadvorner Rebbe ignored the message.
Within minutes a squad of police arrived at his doorstep to warn him of the consequences of his defiance. He replied: "I built my sukkah in order that it should stand, not in order that it should be demolished."
This time the judge sent the tzaddik a summons. When this too was ignored, the judge decided to descend on his victim himself. He ordered the tzaddik in harsh terms to dismantle the sukkah immediately, and warned him of the severe punishment which any further disobedience would earn him. These threats and warnings did not shake the tzaddik's equanimity in the slightest. He simply answered coolly in the same words that he had told the policemen - that he had built his sukkah in order that it should stand, not in order that it should be demolished.
The judge was incensed and was about to pour more vituperation upon the tzaddik, whereupon the latter remarked, "I would like you to know that Rebbe Meirl of Premishlan was my great-uncle."
The judge flew into a rage: "Who cares who your great-uncle was? Just demolish that thing, and that's all!"
The Nadvorner now repeated what he had just told the judge, then asked him calmly to wait a moment; he wanted to tell him an interesting story.
The judge, taken by surprise, signified his assent with a brief nod, and R. Mordechai began:

"Once there lived a priest who had ten sons, all of them as robust and strong as cedars. He owned a beautiful big park, full of trees that delighted G-d and man alike. One day he decided that he would add grace to this grove by planting a little flower garden next to it. So he uprooted some of his trees, and in their place he planted fragrant flowers. But no sooner had he finished this work than his sons fell ill, one after the other. First the oldest weakened and died, then the second, and so on, until the very youngest fell ill. The priest was at his wit's end. He summoned the most expert doctors, and even consulted sorcerers, but to no avail. At this point several people advised him to make the journey to visit Rebbe Meir of Premishlan. Who knows? Perhaps salvation might come through him, for he was reputed to be a holy man. By now there was no alternative open to him, and he was desperately eager to save the life of his last surviving son. So with a heavy heart he traveled to Premishlan.
"Arriving there he told the holy man of all the trials that had befallen him - and now even his last son was mortally ill, and no physician cold cure him. Heaven alone could help him now.

"'You had a beautiful garden full of goodly trees,' Reb Meir told him, 'but because you wanted a flower garden as well, you chopped down the trees of G-d. And that is why He has now chopped down your trees, "for man is a tree of the field." But since you have already come here, and your time has not yet run out completely, I promise you now that your youngest son will be helped from Above, and will soon be cured.'
"The holy man then prayed that the Almighty heal the priest's son, in order that His Name be sanctified wherever people would hear of his story. This prayer was accepted, and the son grew to manhood.

"I want you to know," Rebbe Mordechair concluded his story to the judge, "that you are the son of that priest…So, tell me, now, is this the way you repay the kindness that my great-uncle showed you by saving your life?"
The judge fell at his feet, and wept. "True, true, I know it all!" he sobbed. "Forgive me, Rabbi, for what I've done to you. You can build even ten of those things - but only promise that you will forgive me!"
The promise was given, the chastened judge went his way, and the Rebbe of Nadvorna enjoyed his sukkah in peace.
[Slightly modified by Yrachmiel Tilles from the version in A Treasury of Chassidic Tales (Artscroll), as translated by the incomparable Uri Kaploun.]
Biographical notes:
Rabbi Mordechai of Nadvorna [?-15 Tishrei 1895], the great grandson of Rabbi Meir "The Great" of Premishlan, was orphaned early and raised by his uncle, the famous Rebbe, Meirl of Premishlan (see below). Chassidim from all over Rumania and Hungary streamed in to receive his blessings. An extraordinarily large number of his descendents became Chassidic leaders and Rebbes, including dozens in the world today. His teachings are collected in Gedulas Mordechai.
Rabbi Meir of Primishlan [?-29 Iyar 1850], lived in abject but patient poverty, yet exerted himself tirelessly for the needy and the suffering. His divine inspiration and his ready wit have become legendary. He wrote no works, but some of his teachings were collected and published by his Chassidim after his death.
Editor's note:
One descendant of R. Mordechai of Nadvorna was the beloved Nadvorna Rebbe of Tsfat, Rabbi Aharon Yechiel Leifer, of blessed memory, who passed away on Rosh Chodesh Sivan, 2000.

The Blessing That Saved A Tzadik

There was once a woman named Rachel who had no children. Her husband, Nosan, considered himself to be modern and disdained rabbis and their "antiquated" teachings. Rachel, however, believed differently, and whenever her husband was away on business she would visit the great tzadik Rabbi Meir of Premishlan to beg him to bless her with children.

For poor Rachel each visit was the same. She would wait for her turn and then make her request. Each time Rabbi Meir's reply was the same: "I cannot bless you unless you come together with your husband." And each time Rachel would return home sad, but not hopeless, for she believed that somehow salvation would come to her.

On one visit her faith was rewarded when Rabbi Meir replied, "Return home. When your husband returns from his business trip, tell him, 'Rabbi Meir of Premishlan commands you to come at once.' Of course, he will refuse, but when he does, tell him, 'On the day before yesterday, which was Lag B'Omer, you attended a gathering where you spoke disrespectfully of Rabbi Meir.' When your husband hears this he will certainly come, and then you will be blessed."

Rachel was at home when Nosan returned, and she immediately repeated Rabbi Meir's words. His response was the expected one, but when Rachel countered, telling him about his untoward comments about Rabbi Meir, his face flushed. How could the rabbi know such a thing, he wondered, and he at one resolved to visit Premishlan to find out.

Nosan was not, however, ready to endure the ridicule of his friends. He decided that instead of traveling straight to Premishlan he would make a detour through Lemberg, thus cloaking his true intentions in a bogus business trip. When he finally arrived in Premishlan and was admitted to Rabbi Meir's room, he announced his name and his request. Rabbi Meir responded, "Don't think I don't know that you came here via Lemberg. If you want my blessing, you must return home and then come here directly."

Nosan was completely amazed. How could Rabbi Meir have possibly known that? If he had such wondrous powers, he would do as Rabbi Meir said. To his wife's utter joy, Nosan returned home and announced his plans to spend Shabbat in Premishlan. When the couple arrived in Premishlan, Rabbi Meir was pleased to see them. On Shabbat, Nosan was honored with an aliya to the Torah for the passage which read, "There shall not be a sterile or barren one amongst you." He was so moved, that he was about to offer a large donation. Rabbi Meir interrupted him with the words, "Because he has promised to help a Yisrael [lit. Israelite]." Nosan was confused. What could Rabbi Meir's words mean?

When the prayers ended, Rabbi Meir explained his cryptic words. "One day you will have the opportunity to save a very holy Jew, at great personal risk. If you promise to help him, you will have a son." Without giving the matter a moment's thought, Nosan said, "I promise!" In due time, the tzadik's blessing was fulfilled, and Nosan and his wife were the parents of a baby boy.

A year or more passed and Nosan was on a business trip near the Austrian-Romanian border when he heard that the illustrious Rabbi Yisrael of Ruzhin was also there. He was fleeing the Russian authorities and had to somehow get across the border. This was obviously what Rabbi Meir had alluded to when he had made the promise.

True to his word, Nosan presented himself to Rabbi Yisrael and disclosed to him a plan to carry him across the border over a small, frozen river. Rabbi Yisrael agreed and they set off at midnight. Nosan knew the crossing well, but he was unaccustomed to heavy physical labor. Despite the bitter cold, sweat poured down Nosan's face. Carrying a grown man was harder than he had thought, and at each step he prayed that the thin ice would hold the weight of the two men and not crack, plunging them to a frozen death. Suddenly Nosan stopped walking. "Is anything wrong?" Reb Yisrael asked.

"Nothing is wrong. I just realized that we have reached the middle of the river. If I am to make my request, this is the time. Rebbe, I have committed many sins. I have scoffed and disregarded the teachings and precepts of the Torah. But before I continue, I want your promise that I will have a place in the World to Come. If you give me your promise, I will continue; if not, I won't go on."

Rabbi Yisrael replied at once, "Of course, I will give you my word. I am happy that at such a time you can have such thoughts!"

With that assurance, Nosan continued his dangerous progress across the icy darkness. It wasn't until many hours later that they arrived safely in the small, Austrian border town. It was Nosan's good fortune to have spread the news that through his efforts, the holy Ruzhiner was finally safe.