It had all begun two weeks previously, when the Rabbi of Yanov had set out with a large contingent of local Jews for his daughter's wedding. As the groom's hometown was on the other side of a forest, the wagons would be traveling in a caravan to make sure that no one got lost.
It was almost dark when the convoy stopped to pray the afternoon service. By the time they finished it was early evening, and the sun had already set.
The group was about to proceed when a cry rang out from one of the men. "The Rabbi! Where is the Rabbi?" Immediately, pandemonium broke out among the travelers. They searched all the wagons, but the Rabbi was nowhere to be found. Then someone suggested that perhaps he had wandered off to pray in solitude, and had lost his bearings in the pitch darkness. Anything was possible; the forest was an impenetrable maze at night, without familiar signposts. "Rabbi! Rabbi!" everyone cried at the top of his lungs, but the forest was silent. The Rabbi of Yanov had disappeared.
Terribly worried about their Rabbi's welfare, the Jews consoled themselves with the fact that another person was also missing: Reb Ozer, the wealthiest member of their contingent, was the only individual who had been traveling in a private carriage. "He probably hurried off as soon as we finished praying, and took the Rabbi with him," they reassured each other. "He must have wanted to reach the village before it was completely dark." Everyone clung to this tiny thread of hope as the only possible explanation.
Unfortunately, their bubble burst as soon as they arrived in town. Reb Ozer had indeed gone on ahead without the others, but he was alone, and had no idea where the Rabbi was.
With no other choice the wedding was held without the bride's father. The affair was relatively joyless, as everyone was preoccupied with the Rabbi's fate.
The Rabbi was missing for three whole days. On the fourth day, however, he walked into town, exhausted and hungry almost beyond endurance. It turned out that the travelers' first assumption had been correct: Wishing to concentrate on his prayers, the Rabbi had sought out a quiet place away from the caravan and had lost his bearings. For three days and nights he had subsisted on wild fruits and berries, avoiding the wild animals that roamed the forest. Indeed, it was a miracle that he had been able to find his way back to civilization.
Needless to say, the joy of the Jews of Yanov was beyond description. But their relief was only short-lived, as they realized that they now faced an entirely different problem: That Thursday afternoon, the Rabbi began to berate his family for not getting ready for Shabbat. Despite their protestations that it was only Thursday, he insisted that it was Friday, and that Shabbat would begin in a matter of hours. With mounting horror they realized that the Rabbi had lost track of time during his sojourn through the forest. He had lost a day, and could not be dissuaded.
The news quickly spread throughout the town, and it was decided to play along for the time being. A minyan was assembled so that the Rabbi could pray, after which he recited Kiddush. It was obvious that the situation couldn't continue for long, but no one had any idea what to do.
When the news reached the famous Reb Shmelke of Nicholsburg he jumped into action. A close personal friend of the Rabbi of Yanov, he decided to pay him a surprise visit.
The following Thursday, when Reb Shmelke suggested that they get ready to greet the Sabbath Queen, the Rabbi smiled broadly. Finally, here was someone who agreed with his own reckoning! As dusk fell Reb Shmelke donned his Shabbat clothes and sat down with his friend at the Shabbat table. "I've brought you something special," he told him, producing a bottle of rare aged wine and an elaborate Kiddush cup. "Consider it a gift, to celebrate your salvation." The Rabbi made Kiddush and drank most of the goblet's contents.
Throughout the meal Reb Shmelke kept refilling the Rabbi's cup, encouraging him to rejoice. The wine was so strong, however, that the Rabbi soon fell into a deep sleep. Reb Shmelke placed a pillow under his head, and instructed everyone to leave the room. For 24 hours he made sure that no one made any noise or disturbed him.
The next evening he called everyone back and told them to take the same seats they had occupied night before. Reb Shmelke then made Kiddush, and the Shabbat meal commenced.
Around midnight, Reb Shmelke tapped the Rabbi on the shoulder and roused him from his slumber. "Wake up, my friend," he said. "It's time to recite the Grace After Meals."
