The Etrog That Was Meant For Someone Else

A chassid walked through the bustling Warsaw marketplace, seeking a very special etrog for his Rebbe, Rabbi Avraham of Chechanov. The price of the etrog was immaterial to him, as long as his Rebbe would be able to take pleasure in having the best of the best.

Aware of the chasid's mission, the merchants showed him their very best etrogs, each more beautiful than the one before. The chasid examined each one carefully and then returned it to its owner. In every etrog he found some sort of flaw: this one was too pointy, that one had a dirty spot, the third sported a blister.

There was just one etrog that caught the chasid's eye. It was an extremely beautiful etrog, clean and shining. The chasid wanted to buy it, but the merchant refused to sell it. This particular etrog had been designated for the saintly Rebbe, Leibele Eiger, the "Toras Emmes" of Lublin. The "Torah Emmes" was known for spending a princely sum on his etrog each year, and would surely wish to purchase this one.

The chasid would not give up. He begged. He pleaded. He raised his offer considerably, and was finally rewarded with the beautiful etrog. Joyously, he carried it back to his Rebbe.

The tzadik of Chernov accepted the etrog with joy. It was truly an outstanding etrog and had no equal.

On the first day of Sukkot, the Rebbe picked up his arba minim and was about to recite the blessing over them when he suddenly put them down again. He picked up the etrog and studied it from every angle. Finally, he summoned the chasid who had brought it to him.

The chasid came running. The Rebbe turned to him and asked, "Tell me please, how did you acquire this etrog?"

The chasid retold the whole tale to his Rebbe: how he had traveled to Warsaw to search for a special etrog, how all the merchants had clustered around him with etrogim that he had refused, and how, at last, he had spied the beautiful etrog whose owner declined to sell to him. The chasid had been forced to raise the price of his offer in order to buy it, but any price was worthwhile if it meant that he could bring his Rebbe such a perfect etrog.

"That's it!" the Rebbe exclaimed. "This etrog was intended for the Rebbe of Lublin! It is his. I have no permission to recite a blessing over it."

The Rebbe said the blessing over a different etrog -- and the chasid learned an important lesson in the proper way to conduct business.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Adapted by Yerachmiel Tilles from "Treasury of Chasidic Tales" and "Stories my Grandfather told me"(Mesorah).]

Biographic notes:
Rabbi Avraham Landau of Chechanov [1784 - 5 Adar 1875], a disciple of R. Fishel of Strikov and R. Simcha Bunim Of Pesishcha, was a renowned scholar and rabbinical judge. He served as Rav and Rebbe in his community for 56 years, refusing all offers to serve in larger, more prestigious posts. He authored Zechuta d'Avraham, Ahavas Chesed, and many others. In 1943 his grave was dug up, and his body and even his burial shrouds were completely intact.

Rabbi Yehuda-Leib ("Leibele") of Lublin [1816 - 22 Shvat 1888] was the grandson of one of the eminent Talmudic scholars of the century, Rabbi Akiva Eiger. He became a chasid of R. Menachem-Mendel of Kotsk, and subsequently of R. Mordechai-Yosef Leiner of Izbitz, upon whose death he became a Rebbe in his own right, in Lublin. One of his close followers was Rabbi Tzadik HaCohen of Lublin. His published works include Toras Emmes and Imrei Emmes, both on the weekly Torah readings and the holidays.

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The Sukkah Where The Rain Didn't Fall

The brother-in-law of the Baal Shem Tov, Rabbi Gershon of Kitov, lived in Brody. In the same town lived Rabbi Chaim Tzanser (not to be confused with Reb Chaim of Sanz), an eminent scholar who is remembered as one of the earliest to express his antagonism to "the Sect," as the Chassidic movement was nicknamed in its infancy.

One year it rained on the first night of Sukkot, so that Rabbi Chaim was distressed that he would be unable to fulfill in a leisurely manner the mitzvah whose special time was that very night. In the meantime a visitor came in and told him that no rain was falling in Rabbi Gershon's sukka. Rabbi Chaim immediately sent his son to check if this report was true. Sure enough, after only a few minutes the son returned and confirmed the story: Rabbi Gershon was sitting in the sukka, and not a solitary drop of rain was to be felt.

Rabbi Chaim was not a man to be quickly impressed. [He stayed at home in his own sukka,***] and spent the evening exchanging jests with this son about the weird wonders and miracles that the so-called tzadikim of "the Sect" occupied themselves with, in defiance of the spirit of the Torah.

The next morning Rabbi Chaim and Rabbi Gershon met on their way to immerse themselves in the local mikvah, in preparation for fulfilling the mitzvah on the lulav.

"Honored Rabbi," said Rabbi Gershon to Rabbi Chaim, "since when is one permitted to sit in one's sukka and speaklashon hara, slander?"

Rabbi Chaim was astonished. "But how on earth did you find out about that? My son and I sat alone, and no one else was with us at the time. I must therefore conclude that an angel from heaven came along and told you. And if that is so, the how is it possible that an angel should speak lashon hara?"

Rabbi Gershon had an answer.

"Our Sages," he said, "teach us [Avot 3]: 'Whoever fulfills one mitzvah acquires one angel to speak up in his defense, and whoever does one transgression acquires for himself one prosecuting angel.' Very well, then, that very prosecuting angel who was created by your slanderous talk, he's the one who came and told me about it!"

-------- -------- -------- -------- -------- -------- -------- --------

***Alternate version for the bracketed clause:

The rabbi (who in this version was Rabbi Yitzchak Halevi, the chief rabbinical judge of Brody) thereupon told his attendant to take some challot and a bottle of wine, and to accompany him to Rabbi Gershon's sukka.

Rabbi Gershon was taken aback to see the local chief rabbi at his sukka door.

"Why did you have to go to the trouble of coming to my sukka?" he asked. "After all, rabbi, you too could have arranged things through the exercise of practical Kabbala so that it shouldn't rain in your sukka either."

The rabbi promptly told his attendant to pick up their loaves and wine.

"Off we go," he said, "I have no inclination to make use of tricks of this sort."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Adapted by Yrachmiel Tilles from two separate stories in A Treasury of Chassidic Tales (Artscroll), as translated by our esteemed colleague Uri Kaploun from Sipurei Chasidim by Rabbi S. Y. Zevin.]

Biographical note:
Rabbi Gershon of Kitov [? - ca.1760] was the brother-in-law of the Baal Shem Tov and subsequently an important disciple. He was the recipient of the famous letter from the Besht about his visit to the heavenly abode of Moshiach, as well as other important correspondence. In 1747 he moved to the Land of Israel, living first in Hebron and then in Jerusalem.

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Desperate Sukkah Builders

The following story was retold several times by the Shiniva Rebbe (1811-1899), the son of the Divrei Chaim of Sanz.

In a village there once lived a poor man who was quite unlettered, but G-d-fearing. The eve of the festival arrived, and he still had no branches with which to cover his sukkah, nor could he afford to buy any. So he went out with his wife all the way to the forest that they may cut branches themselves. The shadows were lengthening, and they were afraid that if they would continue pulling down branches with their hands they would soon be desecrating the festival which would begin at sunset. They therefore decided in their simplicity that the best thing to do would be to bite off twigs and leaves from the trees with their teeth. And this they did, despite the scratches and weals that they suffered on their lips and faces.

Echoes of their self-sacrifice pealed throughout the heavens. Indeed, the Heavenly Court decided that the patriarch Avraham, the first of the Ushpizin [heavenly guests], would call on this poor man in his humble sukkah, and would be seen by him.

That same evening, the poor man looked up and saw a stranger standing in his sukkah. Assuming that this was some unfortunate pauper in search of a place to eat, he said; "I am sorry sir, but I myself am a very poor man, and there isn't a mouthful of food here to eat. But I've got an idea. Why don't you go over the road to that house over there? He's a rich man, and I'm sure you'll be serves a square meal in honor of Yom-Tov."

"But I didn't come to eat of your bread," said the stranger, "nor to take anything from you. I am your forefather Avraham. I have come to visit you in your sukkah and to be seen by you here, in recompense for the self-sacrifice and suffering with which you fulfilled the mitzvah of the sukkah."

With that, the stranger vanished.

A COMATOSE "HALLUCINATION"

It is a glorious good deed to share one's lulav-esrog set during the Sukkot festival. On the first day of the holiday, two students from the main Lubavitcher Yeshiva, in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn, walked to the nearby neighborhood of Park Slope and knocked on doors, offering people to make the blessing on their "Four Species." At one apartment they were immediately let in by a young man with long blond hair and blue jeans (this story happened in the early '70's). He declined their offer, saying that he already possessed a set! They were quite surprised to hear it, and much more so when he proceeded to take out and show them the most beautiful esrog they had ever seen.

The "hippie" asked the two wide-eyed students if they would like to know the story of how he got this magnificentesrog.

"I had suddenly taken ill and my condition deteriorated rapidly. I was hospitalized and fell into a coma. I heard afterwards that the doctors had given up on my chances for survival.

"While lying in a coma I saw a sort of courtroom, and the mood of the judges was frighteningly somber. Then, an old man stood up. He had a large, squarish white beard and piercing blue eyes, yet his face was welcoming and somehow reassuring. He announced to the court that he would assume responsibility for me.

"Turning to me, he told me that I would not die at this time, but in return I would have to get more involved with my Judaism.

"A short while later I regained consciousness. The doctors were surprised. After a slow recuperation and rehabilitation, I was released and sent home. Several months passed and life resumed its normal status quo. I had almost forgotten my strange dream.

"One day I was watching the evening news. The report concerned the seventieth birthday of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. When the Rebbe's face appeared on the screen, I nearly jumped out of my skin. There was the face I had seen in my coma. I called the TV station and asked them where this person lived.

"Traveling by subway, I arrived at 770 Eastern Parkway, Lubavitch World Headquarters. People were running back and forth. I stopped a young man and told him I wanted to see the Rebbe. He brought me to a certain spot and told me to stand there, that the Rebbe would soon be passing by on his way to his office.

"When I saw the Rebbe, a great awe overcame me. I managed to step in front of his path and said, 'Rebbe, I need to speak to you.' The Rebbe walked past me as though I was not there. I felt like I had just been thrown away. 'So much for comatose hallucinations,' I thought.

"Just then, a different office door opened. A man who introduced himself as the Rebbe's secretary told me that the Rebbe wanted to see me now. I was led into his office and the secretary closed the door.

"I told the Rebbe about seeing him during my coma and what he has said to me. The Rebbe smiled and said, 'if so, what have you done about it?' I shook my head sheepishly.

"The Rebbe asked me various personal details. Finally he opened a desk draw and removed what he told me was a pair of tefillin. Handing them to me, he said that I should go into the adjoining study hall and ask one of the students to show me how to use them.

"Each month, he continued, he would send some other mitzvah for me to do. This month, just a few days ago, I received this esrog, along with a lulav and the little branches of two kinds of greens. I have instructions how to use them but I don't quite understand them. Since you are here, please show me how to do it."

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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 DARKEST BUSIEST SUKKAH IN JERUSALEM

All the Jewish inhabitants of the Old City of Jerusalem in the early 1940's were well acquainted with the uniquesukkah of Rabbi Shlomo-David Kahane, the Chief Ashkenazi Rabbi of the Jewish Quarter. It was so special that even many New City residents made a custom of dropping in during Sukkot on their way to the Western Wall, in order to imbibe of its beauty, its special spirit of holiness and festival joy, and the inspiring Torah words of the rabbi.

Despite his advanced age (70's), Rabbi Kahane always expended major effort in the mitzvah of building his sukkah. He would start, with the help of some of his students, immediately after having something to eat and drink after the 26 hour Yom Kippur fast. He wanted to be sure that it would be large and spacious enough for all the guests who always wanted to come. His young grandchildren and great grandchildren could hardly control themselves in anticipation until the sukkah was ready, so that they could make it even more beautiful and glorious with their innocent festive decorations.

While everyone was fascinated by the Rabbi's magnificent sukkah, one custom of his in it perplexed them. Indeed, it seemed almost bizarre. On the first night of the holiday, the time of the only meal of the Sukkot festival obligated by the Torah, all the Sukkot in Jerusalem were filled with light…except the famous one of Rabbi Kahane, where the meal was conducted in great joy, but in near total darkness relieved only by the dim light of a few candles. And when those candles dimmed and extinguished, the Rabbi, accompanied by some of his students, sat in the pitch blackness the entire night, energetically discussing Torah topics relevant to the festival, and in particular to the commandment of dwelling seven nights and days in a sukkah. In a later year, on one of the days of Sukkot, Rabbi Kahane agreed to explain the background behind this strange custom of his.

* * *

Poland had been beaten into submission by the brutal Nazi war machine. Heavy artillery and rocket fire had devastated all the major cities, especially Warsaw. It was September 1939. The High Holiday season was just beginning. Rabbi Shlomo-David Kahane was then Chief Rabbi of Warsaw. He was well aware that he would not be able to fulfill the two Sukkot festival commandments of Dwelling in a Sukkah and Waving the Four Species in their full glory, as he was accustomed to. Not even a single lulav (palm branch) was available, nor any suitable myrtles or willows. In all of Warsaw there was one etrog (citron fruit), in the possession of Rabbi Meshulem Kaminer, the man in charge of the Jewish cemetery in Warsaw.

After Yom Kippur, with the Sukkot festival only four days away, it seemed that it would not be possible to erect asukkah for the week-long festival. True, Rabbi Kahane had in storage all the wooden boards necessary for the walls and the roofing of a sukkah, but to dare to actually build a sukkah would be to seriously endanger his life. Warsaw was occupied by blood-thirsty Nazis, who patrolled the streets voraciously. Any visible sign of Jewish observance could whet their appetite for another blood bath. No one in his family would be safe - not in the sukkah and not inside the house.

Nevertheless, despite the difficulties and the dangers, Rabbi Kahane was not willing in the slightest to give up themitzvah so precious to him. In the days preceding Sukkot, he prowled all over the area, looking for a spot in one of the Jewish courtyards that was sufficiently concealed for him to risk constructing a sukkah there.

In the end, he decided on a location in a courtyard only three houses away from his own dwelling. With the help of some of his students, he succeeded in removing the wooden walls and the thin strips of wood for the roof from storage, quietly transporting them to the chosen spot, and quickly erecting a sukkah that fit all the requirements of Jewish law. Around it he hung wet sheets and clothes, so that a casual glance would register only laundry hanging to dry.

On the first night of the festival, the Rabbi surreptitiously entered the sukkah with two of his students. They recited kiddush over two slices of bread, and discussed Torah topics relating to the holiday and the mitzvah of dwelling in a sukkah in as low tones as possible. There were no decorations in the sukkah, no delicacies appropriate for a festive meal to eat or drink; no visible signs of the holiday at all other than the bare sukkah. Still, Rabbi Kahane felt as happy as he ever did in his life, filled with joy and gratitude at being able to fulfill the mitzvah of dwelling in a sukkah in such extremely difficult conditions.

In order not to arouse the suspicions of the Nazi beasts, who patrolled everywhere in the area until there was no one left on the streets, the rabbi and his two students remained in the sukkah the entire night. That whole time they didn't discuss even once the political situation and its continuous terrors; they continued with enthusiasm to analyze the holiday and its mitzvot from all the various aspects of Torah. One point which the Rabbi emphasized to his two students was the following:

"There is one question I always ask myself: when will I be able to fulfill the commandment to 'rejoice in your holiday' purely and in its entirety? Holidays contain many elements besides the mitzvah itself - eating, drinking, fancy desserts, resting, socializing, etc. Tonight we have learned that when we sit in a sukkahdevoid of all these components - no delicacies to eat and not even any light, overshadowed by an environment of dread and terror, yet still we make every effort to instill and feel joy in our hearts, this is true, pure, unadulterated joy in the mitzvah--the real thing!--an inner joy, stemming from the actual fulfillment of the mitzvah in the most antagonistic of conditions."

A basic motif of Nazi activity in conquered cities was actions to depress the spirit of the Jewish community - to humiliate them, to subjugate them, to crush any remnants of Jewish pride and personal self esteem. One of their favorite methods for this was to topple the rabbi; it was on the top of their "to do" list. They well understood the role the rabbis filled in encouraging the people, strengthening them, and lifting their spirits.

So it happened that on the first night of Sukkot, in the middle of the night, while the Rabbi and his two students were still sitting and conversing in the blacked-out sukkah, a small group of uniformed Nazis came banging loudly with their gun butts on the Kahane family door. When the terrified Mrs. Kahane finally opened the door, the vile Germans burst in and amidst much cursing began a thorough search in every room and corner of the house, pausing only to present blows with their gloved fists to any family member who came too close.

The entire time of the search Mrs. Kahane stood stone still. When they were not able to find any trace of her husband, one of the Nazi soldiers placed the barrel of his revolver between her eyes and barked, "Tell us immediately where is the Rabbi, or else…."

It was with great difficulty that the terrified Rebbetzin managed to squeeze out a few words in reply. "He disappeared as soon as the explosions started."

This explanation made sense to the Nazi murderers because at the time of the explosions many people ran off. So he lowered his gun, and they wrote in their report "the Rabbi fled," implying there was no need to search the house any more.

While the Rabbi was sitting in his sukkah with his students that night, he heard the screaming, the curses and the tumult, but it never occurred to him that he was the main cause of it. It was only early the next morning when he managed to sneak home that his wife told him about the miracle that had taken place the night before. Subsequently, at the Festival Morning Torah Reading, Rabbi Kahane said the "Gomel" blessing, thanking the Almighty for the kindness of His intervention.

* * *

Only after a long arduous journey with numerous potential pitfalls did Rabbi Kahane finally succeed in escaping the claws of the Nazis and reading the shores of the Holy Land. He decided that as a reminder and an expression of appreciation for the wondrous salvation that had occurred for him, every year he would continue to sit in a darkenedsukkah, to remember and re-experience how it is possible to capture the true essence of the mitzvah of sitting in asukkah, even without light or any of the other usually available pleasures.

Into his remarkable story Rabbi Kahane managed to weave the pithy explanation of the Chasidic rebbe and tzadik,Rabbi Meir of Premishlan about a law of the festival as stated in the Mishna: "One who is suffering [from illness or from conditions in the outdoor sukkah] is freed from [the obligation to dwell in] the sukkah."

Commented Rebbe Meirl: "One who is suffering, the sukkah frees him" - the sukkah can free us and save us from all of our sorrows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Source: Translated-adapted by Yerachmiel Tilles from Sichat HaShavua #1344.

Biographical note:
Rabbi Shlomo-David Kahane (1868 - 27 Kislev 1943) was considered a leading rabbinical authority in his generation. He was the Chief Rabbi of Warsaw and its rabbinical court for many years until the early years of WWII, when he managed to escape the deadly clutches of the Nazis who were hunting him and eventually arrive in Israel. He became the chief rabbi of the Old City of Jerusalem until his death in 1943. His "Committee of Polish Rabbis in Israel" and his "Committee of Polish Rabbis for Freeing Agunot" saved literally thousands of Jewish women whose husbands' whereabouts were unknown as a result of WWII horrors, and enabled them to remarry.

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Who Walks In First?

There are two customs regarding the order of the Ushpizin (our ancestral guests whom we invite into our sukkot each evening).

Either, following a chronological sequence, Joseph is fourth -- immediately after his father, Jacob, and before Moses and Aaron. Or, based on a Kabalistic teachings, Joseph follows Moses and Aaron as the sixth guest.

Reb Yitzchak Aizik of Komarna once decided that he would like to reverse the usual order in which he invited the Ushpizin to the sukka on their respective nights.

This year he would like to adopt the other custom and invite Joseph before Moses. But he first sent his son, Reb Eliezer, to Reb Yitzchak Aizik of Zhidachov to ask for his opinion on the matter.

Replied the latter: "I am surprised that your father should propose this change. For last year we saw with our own eyes how Moses entered our sukka before Joseph!"

From Sipurei Chasidim

Sit In The Sukkah, Not In Your Plate!

In the days before Reb Yissacher Dov of Radoshitz became known as a Rebbe, he was so poor that he often fasted because he simply had no bread to eat.

One year he had eaten nothing for a few days before Yom Kippur, and even after the fast was over he had nothing better than meager rations of bread and water. Nor could he afford to prepare anything at all for the oncoming festival of Sukkot.

After the evening service on the first night of the festival he remained in the synagogue, for he knew that at home there was nothing to eat. But he did not know that on the eve of the festival his wife had sold some modest item of jewelry that she had found among her possessions, and with the proceeds had bought braided challahs, candles and potatoes.

When he decided that most people had by now finished eating in their sukkot and had probably returned to their houses, he left the synagogue and went home.

Entering his sukka, he was overjoyed to see candles and challot on the table. He washed his hands, recited Kiddush, and sat down to eat. By this time he was well-nigh starving, so he ate the potatoes which his wife served him with a ravenous appetite.

While he was eating, a thought flashed through his mind.

"Berl," he said to himself, "you're not sitting in the sukka: you're sitting in your plate!"

And he stopped eating.

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.

The Sukkah G-d Needs To Build

Preparations for the festival of Sukkot were under way, but for the poor, there were often obstacles. Finding wooden boards with which to erect the sukka was always hard, and so every year Reb Mordechai of Lechovitch amassed wooden boards that he lent out to needy Jews.

One year when the eve of Sukkot fell on Friday night, a tattered-looking man limped up to Reb Mordechai's door and asked if he could borrow a few boards to build his sukka. The tzadik replied that unfortunately there were none left. Without a word, the poor fellow turned and limped off to continue his search for the requisite boards.

Reb Mordechai watched sadly as the man disappeared into the alleyway, and then burst out in tears. He addressed G-d, crying, "Master of the Universe! See how Your children love the mitzva of dwelling in a sukka! Here You see a poor, wretched cobbler, lame in one leg, with torn clothing and no proper shoes--tramping through the mud, doing what!--looking for boards to build his sukka! Heavenly Father, look down from Your holy dwelling place and bless Your people, Israel--`Spread out over them Your Sukka, Your Tabernacle of Peace.'"

Reb Mordechai went outside, climbed his roof, and searched until he discovered a few loose boards. He then called his attendant and instructed him to bring the boards to the poor cobbler, and since time was short before the holy Shabbat, to help him to build the sukka as well.

A Bracha Over A Horse instead Of An Etrog

Before Reb Mordechai of Neschiz assumed his position as rabbi, he was a merchant. His son, Reb Yitzchak, recalled that every time he would return from a buying trip, he would take a portion of his profits and put it aside in a special box to be used to buy an etrog.

One year he had amassed the sum of six silver rubles, and he made his way to the town of Brody to purchase the etrog. As he travelled down the road, he was surprised to hear the sound of weeping. He came upon a poor man sobbing over the loss of his horse, without which he had no means of support. Reb Mordechai told the man to stay put, and with his silver rubles, he rushed off to purchase a new horse for the man. The poor man couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Reb Mordechai approaching with a horse! He gratefully heaped blessings on his benefactor and went on his way.

As for Reb Mordechai, now left without any money, he also turned towards home. He realized that he would be without an etrog for the upcoming festival, but he thought to himself: "What's the difference? Buying an etrog is a mitzva commanded by G-d, and helping my poor brother is also a mitzva commanded by G-d." A smile crossed his face and he chuckled to himself: "Everyone else will make the blessing over an etrog; I'll make my blessing over a horse." And so he continued home in a very happy mood. In fact, someone brought him an etrog in good time to use for the Yom Tov, and that year he made a blessing not only over an etrog, but over a horse as well!

Simchat Beit Hashoeva In The Beit Hamikdash

One of the most joyful celebrations in Israel was the Drawing of the Water during Sukkot. The Sages noted that "Whoever never witnessed the Simchat Beit Hashoeva has never in his life seen true joy." They have left us wonderful descriptions of the scenes that inspire us with longing to witness it once again.

How was the ceremony conducted? A golden container was filled with water drawn from the pools at Siloam in Jerusalem. When the water carriers reached the Water Gate, they blew three notes on the shofar.

On the right side of the ramp leading to the altar, there were two silver bowls, each with a hole shaped like a narrow spout, one wider than the other. One bowl stood to the east and the other to the west. The shapes of the bowls allowed them to be emptied simultaneously. (The wider spouted bowl held wine, which flows more slowly than water.)

As the evenings of the festival approached, the people made their way down to the Court of the Women. There were golden candlesticks, fifty cubits high, with four gold bowls atop them. Four ladders led to the top of each candlestick, and four young kohanim mounted the ladders, holding in their hands large jars of oil which they poured into the golden bowls. Wicks to light the oil were made from worn-out clothing of the kohanim, and when the candlesticks were lit, the light glowed through out the entire city of Jerusalem.

The greatest Sages and tzadikim would participate joyfully in the celebration, performing the most extraordinary feats. Some of them would bear burning torches in their hands while singing Psalms and other praises of G-d. The Levites would play many various musical instruments, including harps, lyres, cymbals, and trumpets as they stood on the fifteen steps which led down from the Court of Women in the Holy Temple.

Two kohanim were stationed at the Upper Gate of the Temple, holding trumpets in their hands. As the roosters crowed the first light of dawn, they blasted their trumpets, and as they ascended the steps, they blew two additional rounds of tekiah's. They continued walking until they reached the gate which led to the east, whereupon they turned to face the west and uttered the words: "We belong to G-d and our eyes are turned to G-d."

The Sages relate that when the great Sage, Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel rejoiced at the water festival, he would juggle with eight lighted torches, tossing them into the air, catching one and then throwing another, so that they never touched each other. He would also prostrate himself on the ground, bend down, doing a head-stand, kiss the ground and draw himself up again, a feat which no one else could do.

The Talmud relates many of these displays of prowess which the Sages performed at the Simchat Beit Hashoeva. They record that Reb Levi used to juggle in the presence of Rabbi Yehuda HaNassi with eight knives. Shmuel would do the same with eight glasses of wine, without spilling any of their contents. Rabbi Abaye would juggle before Rabbi Rabba with eight (or some say, four) eggs.

It is written in the name of Rabbi ben Chanania, "When we used to rejoice at the place of the water-drawing, our eyes saw no sleep." It is explained that the entire day was occupied with holy activities, so that the participants in the simcha were busy from day to night.

In the morning the sacrifice was brought, followed by prayers, and then an additional sacrifice. Then they would study Torah and eat breakfast. Afternoon prayer was following by the evening sacrifice and then the water-drawing festivities commenced.

The celebration of the Simchat Beit Hashoeva continued throughout the entire night, lighting up the city so brilliantly that there was no courtyard in Jerusalem which didn't reflect the light of the great candlesticks which illumined the Festival of the Water-Drawing.

The Son of An Etrog

Every year, immediately after Rosh Hashana, Rabbi Chaim Meir Yechiel Shapira of Mogelnitz sought a trusty messenger for a special mission. He would give him a large sum of money, send him out to purchase an etrog for the entire community and instruct him not to spare any effort to acquire the best one available. (An etrog is a citron fruit, one of the "Four Species" upon which a blessing is recited during the Sukkot holiday. The Torah describes the etrog as "the fruit of a beautiful tree" and it has long been customary to seek out a beautiful, unblemished etrog with which to enhance the mitzva.)

In those days in Europe, good-quality etrogim were very difficult to come by. In many towns and villages, as in Mogelnitz, there would be just one etrog for the entire Jewish populace.

One year it was extremely difficult to find a beautiful etrog; they were all blemished. The agent went from place to place, but was unable to find anything remotely suitable. He recognized right away that none satisfied the rabbi's requirements.

As the Sukkot festival approached, he became increasingly anxious. He realized that he would have to turn back towards home if he were to arrive on time for Sukkot. He would have to buy the first etrog he came across, even if it was plain.

Late in the day he arrived at a certain village and went into a small shul to pray mincha, the afternoon service. He overheard two men talking. "Did you hear about Mr. Almoni? This year he managed to buy the most beautiful etrog imaginable."

The agent inquired as to Mr. Almoni's address and hurried there. Mouthing a silent prayer, he reached up to knock on the door of the magnificent house. A servant admitted him, and showed him into the rich man's study.

The agent hesitated. How could he convince this stranger to part with the etrog? Certainly a man like that wasn't going to be interested in money! All he could do was express his feelings. He explained about Rabbi Chaim Meir Yechiel Shapira, that he was a great tzadik, an exalted person for whom performing every mitzva in an enhanced manner was an integral, indispensable aspect of life. "Please," he cried, "have mercy on this holy Jew and you will have a share in his great merit."

Mr. Almoni turned him down but the agent continued to plead. Suddenly, the wealthy householder's face softened slightly. He sat silently for a few minutes, thinking deeply. Then he spoke.

"You say your rabbi is a big tzadik?"

A ray of hope sparked in the agent's heart. "Yes! Yes," he exclaimed. "It's true."

"If so, perhaps we can do business," said the rich man. "Money is not the issue here. I paid a handsome sum for this glorious etrog. Thank G-d, I can afford it. But there is one thing I cannot buy. All these years, my wife and I have no children.

"I am prepared," he continued, "to 'sell' you my incomparable etrog. My non-negotiable price is that your holy rabbi should bless us to have a child, and that his blessing should come true within a reasonable period of time. If it comes to be, then the etrog is my gift to him. But if not, then retroactively your great rabbi and your entire community will not have fulfilled the mitzva (as one only fulfill this mitzva on an etrog that belongs to him)."

The rich man looked the rebbe's representative in the eye. "Do we have a deal?"

Silence permeated the room as the stunned agent considered how to respond. Finally he decided that he had no choice and accepted the proposal after which the agent set off straight for home.

Rabbi Chaim Meir Yechiel opened the box. Before him was one of the most splendid, perfect etrogim he had ever beheld. His joy knew no bounds, until the agent told him the conditions of the "transaction." He slowly re-wrapped the etrog.

For a long time Rabbi Chaim Meir Yechiel sat still, engulfed in his lofty thoughts. When at last he stood up from his chair, his face was pale, but a twinkle could be detected in his eyes.

"All right," he stated softly but firmly. "I accept upon myself this difficult condition. I will do that which I am able and bless Mr. Almoni that he and his wife should have a child. Now it is up to the Al-mighty to do His part."

A year later, on the eve of Rosh Hashana, a small package arrived for Rabbi Chaim Meir Yechiel. Inside was an etrog of superior quality, along with a note from Mr. Almoni announcing that a son had been born to him and his wife a few weeks before, and thanking the Rabbi for his blessing that had come to fruition.

Rabbi Chaim Meir Yechiel was overjoyed at the news. For him it was a two-fold celebration. Not only had the long-suffering couple been blessed with a child, finally he could fully rejoice over his mitzva of the Four Species of the previous Sukkot, which now no longer had a shadow of doubt cast over it.

Every year, the rabbi would receive a beautiful etrog from the grateful Almonis. One year, the messenger who delivered the etrog was a young yeshiva student.

"I have the etrog which my father requested that I deliver to the honorable Rabbi," said the young fellow, bashfully.

Rabbi Chaim Meir Yechiel stared at the youth. Tears welled up in his eyes. He extended one hand to receive the etrog and placed the other on the boy's head. "Not only are you the bearer of an etrog," he said, "you are the son of an etrog!"

Translated-adapted by Yrachmiel Tilles for the Ascent Weekly, www.ascent.org.il

The Unbreakable Sukkah

A long time ago in a village in Poland there lived a rabbi who was very conscientious about the building of the suka-hut in honor of the holiday of sukot. The suka that the rabbi had built for himself every year was a sight to see. The walls were of the thickest and best wood. Even the greenery that he used to cover the top of the suka was thick and fresh.

Now it so happened that one year everyone in the village decided that they too could afford to build beautiful sukas like their rabbi. The only hindrance was that they most of them were not very good carpenters. Many of them were not even very handy.

What did they do? About 20 of the villagers, the ones who knew how to work with their hands, joined together to be the "suka-builders" for the community and they set to work going from house to house building new sukas for everyone.

Needless to say, they had to work day and night non-stop and made a lot of money that year building sukas. A few hours before the holiday, as they finished the last suka, they realized that they had been so busy working for everyone else that they had forgotten about themselves! They had no sukas in their own courtyards.

What could they do? There wasn't enough time for each one to go home and build his own suka, so they decided that they had no other choice than to take all the scraps and leftover wood and build one big suka near the outskirts of the town for everyone.

They finished building their large rickety hut with just enough time left for everyone to run home and prepare for the holiday before sunset.

One and a half hours later, all the workers were sitting in the shul looking radiant, holy and very happy like everyone else, engrossed in loud enthusiastic prayer.

The prayers finished, they sang and danced together, shook hands and wished one another "Good Yom Tov (holiday)." Someone opened the huge doors for everyone to leave and suddenly... it began to rain.

For the first few minutes it looked like it wouldn't last long, but then it got stronger and stronger. The strong wind and rain even made it difficult to close the shul doors again, and the sound the torrential rain and things smashing in the street, made it seem like it would never stop. But after half an hour the rain ceased. The shul doors opened again and the congregants began to joyously leave the synagogue into the muddy streets; finally they would be able to go home to their sukas and eat the holiday meal! But they were in for a surprise.

All the sukas had been destroyed in the storm!

In a few minutes everyone was standing again in the street in front of their homes not knowing what to do.

Then someone got an idea. "Let's go to the rabbi. He is a great man. Surely his suka is still standing!"

Together everyone set out for the rabbi's home. But as they approached they heard wailing coming from the rabbi's courtyard: "Oy, my suka!"

The Rabbi's suka was even more destroyed than everyone else's; the walls had been completely shattered and one had even been lifted into a tree.

Then from far away they heard singing! It was coming from the direction of the worker's suka. Immediately the children ran in the direction of the music and in minutes they returned breathless with the good news, "The Worker's Suka is .... standing!!"

"Nu, " said the rabbi to the gathered crowd. "Go home and get your food. We are going to eat in a suka after all!"

The entire night the congregation took turns crowding into the worker's suka, two or three families at a time ten minutes for each shift, eating their holiday meals.

So they did for the next three meals, one the next morning and two the day until they were able to rebuild their Sukas. (Note the Holiday of Sukot is seven days but the first two days are the Holiest and work is forbidden).

The next day there were about one hundred Chasidim in the Rebbe's house with the same question "Why was everyone else's Suka destroyed except for the Suka of the workers?"

At first the Rebbe tried to answer that maybe the winds were weaker on the outskirts of town. But that didn't work because trees were actually uprooted there.

Then he said that maybe it was because theirs was stronger one than everyone else's. But that also wasn't so because their Suka was built so hastily that the whole thing shook when anyone just pushed it.

So the Rebbe thought for a minute and then a smile broke on his face. "I know!" He declared, "I know why their Suka remained standing! Because our Sukas were built each person for his own self and his own family. But when they built their Suka it was with unity, each built for everyone else...

And when there is unity between Jews, all the storms and the hurricanes in the world can't break it!"

By Rabbi Tuvia Bolton, reprinted from www.ohrtmimim.org

An Etrog Story

Yosel was a simple, honest Jew, which is why each year he was chosen to be the one to buy a "special" etrog (citron) for his town. There were, of course, other etrogim in town that individuals purchased in order to fulfill the mitzva (commandment) of "lulav and etrog" on the holiday of Sukkot. But the special etrog was unique; it was purchased from a fund contributed to by everyone in the town so that a truly excellent etrog could be bought.

Yosel hummed a joyous melody as he and his horse plodded through the forest on their two-day journey to the city. Suddenly, Yosel noticed a person gesturing wildly by the side of the road up ahead. Yosel was sure that someone was in dire need and Yosel wanted to be of help if he could be.

Within a few moments, Yosel was near enough to take in the whole situation. A Jew was standing next to his fully-loaded wagon, holding his head and weeping aloud like a baby. Yosel couldn't stand seeing a fellow Jew sad.

"What's wrong?" called out Yosel compassionately. "Why is a Jew crying?"

The poor fellow just pointed to the ground. There lay his horse, still as a stone, harnessed to the carriage with one leg in the air; a truly pitiful sight.

Yosel understood. This unfortunate merchant was also on his way to the city but he had with him a wagon full of wares. This loaded wagon most likely represented his income for the next few months. And now, with his horse dead, there was no way for the merchant to reach the market.

"Come with me" offered Yosel. "My wagon isn't nearly as big as yours but you can put some of your things in." But as the words came out of the good-hearted Yosel's mouth, he knew this suggestion wouldn't work. His horse wasn't strong enough to pull a laden wagon and even so, everything left behind would certainly be stolen. The fellow would loose his wagon and the remainder of his goods as well.

"Look," Yosel said, "how much do you need for a new horse?"

The man whispered, "Five hundred rubles," and then began to weep again.

Yosel took the money for the special etrog out of his pocket and said, "Here is 500 rubles. Jump in! We can make it to the market in a half a day. You can buy a horse there, ride it back here and make it back to the market again before tomorrow morning. You can repay the loan later."

Yosel urged his horse on and throughout the entire journey Yosel sang a happy melody, thinking of how lucky he was to be in the position to help out a fellow Jew in need. Within two hour of reaching the marketplace, the Jew had purchased a new horse and was off like the wind to save his wagon.

As the Jew faded into the distance, so did the smile on Yosel's face. He suddenly realized the predicament he was in. Hmm, a two-day journey back to his own town, 500 rubles from his savings, a two-day journey back to the city to buy an etrog, then back home again... Yosel's head began to spin.

"I'm such a simpleton! A fool!" Yosel began berating himself. But suddenly he thought, "Hey! What possible good will come from being sad!? Exactly the opposite; the Baal Shem Tov says that 'Sadness is the doorstep to all sins.' It is a mitzva to be happy and joyous I will be!"

Just then, Yosel noticed a large group of people gathered around one man. Yosel approached and was awed by what he saw. A huge etrog, as brilliantly yellow as the sun, and spotlessly perfect! It was magnificent. He had never seen anything like it in his life. How he would have loved to have purchased that etrog as the special one for his community. Surely the selling price was at least one thousand rubles. Yosel took one last wistful look and then turned away. But then, he heard something that caught his attention. A raffle! It seemed that because no one had such a large sum the owner decided to make a raffle: He would sell 50 tickets for 20 rubles each.

Yosel bought a ticket. He wrote his name on a piece of paper and placed it together with the other 49 slips of paper in a hat. A child was called up from the crowd. He closed his eyes, stuck his hand in and...

Yosel won! Everyone in the crowd shook his hand and patted him on the back. Yosel graciously took the etrog and then walked to the nearby synagogue to recite the afternoon prayers and thank G-d properly. The next morning, Yosel set off for home. He marvelled at G-d's ways and continuously thanked G-d for the goodness He had bestowed upon him.

On his return trip home, Yosel once again caught site of someone by the side of the road. Yosel stopped his wagon and was delighted to see the Jew whom he had helped just the day before. The Jew explained, "A miracle! When I came back with the new horse I found that the old one that I thought was dead , wasn't dead at all. He was standing by the road, eating grass. So I hitched both horses up to the wagon and in no time I made it to the market and sold all my goods in just a few hours at a nice profit. Then I sold the new horse you bought me and raced out here last night so I could intercept you on your way back home, and now here you are, and here's your money back."

So, Yosel helped a fellow Jew in need, acquired a very special etrog for his community, and was even returning to his community with 500 rubles for them to do as they saw fit, all because of his simple joy.

By Rabbi Tuvia Bolton, from www.ohrtmimim.org

Chassidic Sukkah Decorations!

Rabbi Chaim of Sanz had a special custom. Every year before Sukkos, Rabbi Chaim and his sons would collect money from community leaders and businessmen. As soon as they gathered it, they gave it away to the poor, so that they too would have enough for the holiday. Needless to say, they also had lots of guests and learned Torah in the sukkah.

One year, Rabbi Chaim was able to distribute a very large amount of money to the needy. As his guests entered the sukkah, his young son saw that it glowed with a special beauty. Yet not one decoration could be seen. "What makes this sukkah so beautiful?" the boy asked.

Rabbi Chaim explained, "Many people decorate their sukkos with all kinds of very expensive ornaments. But my sukkah is different. Its beauty comes from giving tzedokah and performing other mitzvos. This is a beauty that anyone can acquire."

A Beautiful Etrog

Each Sukkot morning, after performing the mitzvah of taking the “Four Kinds,” the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, would allow all who wished to do so to use his lulav and etrog. Many chassidim availed themselves of the opportunity, though they had a set of “Four Kinds” of their own, regarding it as a great privilege to perform the mitzvah with their Rebbe’s set.

One day, after the Rebbe’s etrog was returned to him bruised and stained from being handled by hundreds of hands, one of his chassidim said to him: “Why do you allow so many people to use your etrog? Look at what has happened to it! It has lost its hiddur (beauty)!” [1]

“Why,” replied Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, “this is the most beautiful etrog in the world! What greater hiddur can there be for an etrog than the fact that hundreds of Jews have performed a mitzvah with it?”

-----
[1]. The chassid was referring to the principle of hiddur mitzvah(“beautification of the mitzvah”), derived from the verse, “This is my G-d, and I shall beautify Him” (Exodus 15:2). According to the Midrash, this teaches us to “make beautiful before Him with mitzvot: make Him a beautiful lulav, a beautiful sukkah, beautiful tzitzit, beautiful tefillin” (Mechilta, ibid.). One of the things that characterizes an etrog as mehudar is a “clean” surface, free of blemishes and discoloring.

From MLC

The Natural Chassid

When Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi began to disseminate his teachings in White Russia and Lithuania (circa 1772), many young men flocked to him and became his ardent followers, despite the prevailing opposition to the Chassidic movement. They found that Chassidism injected a new vitality and joy in serving G-d that was lacking in “establishment” Judaism. Among the newly converted Chassidim were the two sons of one of the leading Torah scholars of the time.

One day, they approached Rabbi Schneur Zalman with a dilemma that had been occupying their minds for some time: should they try to win over their father to the Chassidic approach to serving G-d, or is he perhaps too set in his ways to change at this point in his life.

“Does he perform mitzvot with joy?” asked Rabbi Schneur Zalman.

“Every year,” related one of the sons in reply, “when we finish building oursukkah, father climbs onto a bench and kisses the sechach[1].”

“In that case,” said the founder of Chabad, “he is fine the way he is.”

------

[1]. The roof of branches (or other vegetation) that is the main component of the sukkah.

From MLC

The Etrog Of R' Uri Of Strelisk

It was the first day of Sukkot, and all the congregation in the shul of Rabbi Elimelech of Lisensk were in a festive mood. As Rabbi Elimelech stood at the bima, all eyes turned towards him. There was something unusual in his manner this Sukkot. Why did he stop so suddenly to sniff the air? It was evident that something was on his mind, something rather exciting by the look on his radiant countenance!
The minute the prayers were over, Rabbi Elimelech hurried to his brother Rabbi Zushia who was standing, and said: "Help me find the etrog which is permeating the shul with the fragrance of the Garden of Eden!"

They went from person to person until they reached a corner of the shul where a quiet-looking man was standing, engrossed in his own thoughts.

"This is the one," exclaimed Rabbi Elimelech. "Please, dear friend, tell me who are you and where did you obtain this wonderful etrog?"

The man, startled by this unexpected question, replied rather slowly:

"Rabbi, it is quite a story. Do you wish to sit down and listen to it all?"

"Most certainly, I am sure it will be a story worth hearing!"

"My name is Uri, and I come from Strelisk. The mitzva of etrog has always been one of my favorites. I am a poor man, and could not normally afford to buy an etrog as I would wish, but my good wife, who agrees with me, hires herself out as a cook. In this way, I can use half of my earnings for spiritual matters. Every year I travel to Lemberg to make the purchase, and in order to conserve money, I go by foot.

"This year, during the Ten Days of Repentance, I was travelling with fifty gulden with which to buy an etrog, when I stopped at an inn to rest. It was time for the afternoon prayers, so I stood in a corner and prayed.

"In the middle I heard a terrible sound of moaning and groaning. I hurriedly finished so that I could see if I could help in some way. As I turned towards the man who was in obvious distress, I saw a person, dressed in peasant garb, pouring out his troubles to the inn-keeper.

"The man was a Jew who earned his living as a wagon-driver. He had a wife and several children, and barely managed to earn enough to make ends meet. Now, a terrible calamity had befallen him. His horse had suddenly collapsed in the forest and was unable to get up.

"I tried to encourage the poor man, telling him not to forget that there is a great G-d Who could help him out of any dilemma. The innkeeper, offered to sell him another horse at a good price, but the man replied bitterly: 'I haven't got even fifty kopeks, let alone fifty gulden!'

"How could I keep the etrog money in the face of such a tragedy? I asked the innkeeper what was the lowest price he would take for the horse. 'Forty-five gulden, but not a kopek less,' he replied.

"I immediately took out my wallet and handed him forty-five gulden, the astonished wagon-driver looking on. His relief and joy were absolutely indescribable!

"I had to content myself with buying a very ordinary etrog with my remaining money. Usually, my etrog is the best in Yanev, and everyone comes to make the blessing on it. But with such a poor-looking one, my wife agreed that I could come here to Lisensk where nobody knows me."

"But my dear Uri," cried out Rabbi Elimelech, "yours is indeed an exceptional etrog! Now I understand why your etrog has the fragrance of the Garden of Eden! Let me tell you the sequel to your story."

"The wagon-driver, overjoyed by his good fortune, decided that you must have been none other than Elijah the Prophet. He wanted to express his gratitude to the Alm-ghty, but didn't know how to pray. Suddenly his face lit up. He took his whip and lashed it into the air, crying out:

"'Oh, dear Father in Heaven, I love you very much! What can I do to convince you of my love for you? Let me crack my whip for you as a sign that I love you!' Then, the wagon-driver cracked his whip three times.

"On the eve of Yom-Kippur the Alm-ghty was seated on His 'Seat of Judgment,' listening to the prayers of the Day of Atonement.

"A wagon full of Jewish mitzvot was standing at the Gates of Heaven, when Satan appeared and obstructed the path with a wagon-load of Jewish sins. Nothing was able to budge Satan.

"Suddenly the sound of a cracking whip rent the air, causing a blinding ray of light to illuminate the whole universe, right up to the very heavens! All at once, the Angel Michael appeared, leading a horse, followed by the wagon-driver with whip in hand.

"The Angel Michael harnessed this horse to the wagon of mitzvot, and the driver cracked his whip. Suddenly the wagon gave a lurch forward, flattened out the Jewish sins, and drove on smoothly right up to the 'Throne of Honor.' A happy new year was assured.

"And now, dear Uri," concluded Rabbi Elimelech, "you see that all this came about through your selfless action! Go in peace, and know that you have with you the approval of the Heavenly Court. But before you go, permit me to hold this wonderful etrog of yours and praise G-d with it."

From The Complete Story of Tishrei.