Faith In A Tzaddik's Blessing

In Petersburg behind closed doors, the highest officials in the land were drawing up evil decrees against the Jews of Russia. There was no time to waste, and so, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Lubavitch (known as the Tzemach Tzedek), dispatched his son Shmuel to Petersburg with orders to make sure the decree would not pass. Reb Shmuel was the Rebbe's youngest son, yet it was Shmuel who was chosen for this important mission. But he did not travel alone. His older brother, Reb Yehuda Leib, who was twenty years his senior accompanied him to the capital.

Before they embarked on their journey Reb Shmuel made one request of his brother: "I must insist upon one condition if we are to travel together. I must ask that you refrain from giving any blessings along the journey. Our father is the Rebbe, and only he should be the one to give blessings."

Reb Yehuda Leib was accustomed to granting requests for blessing; people always gathered around him wherever he went, asking for his help in serious matters of health, livelihood or any of the myriad of problems that plagued them in those harsh times. He was uncomfortable acceding to his brother's wishes, but under the circumstances, he had no choice but to agree. Keeping his word, however, wasn't so simple. For people were used to receiving Yehuda Leib's blessings, and whenever people heard of his arrival, they flocked to meet him. Each person came with a different, equally pressing need for a divine mercy, and each tragic story pierced Yehuda Leib's kind, compassionate heart like an arrow.

In one village he encountered an especially persistent woman. Stationing herself in front of Yehuda Leib, she begged him to bless her, crying, screaming and weeping unrelentingly. The heartbroken woman had no children, and she was determined not to budge until Yehuda Leib blessed her with a child. Yehuda Leib was moved by her tears, but he had promised his brother, and so, he steadfastly refused to give a blessing. He replied only, "Go to my father. He will surely bless you." The woman refused to be put off, and her wailing could be heard throughout the entire village. Finally, in utter desperation, he cried, "Go to my brother, perhaps he will bless you!"

The woman's countenance changed at once and soon she appeared before Reb Shmuel. The entire scene was repeated, complete with cries, screams and bitter tears. Even a rock would have dissolved in the face of such grievous pain, and Reb Shmuel was certainly not impervious to her agony, but he followed his own counsel, insisting, "Go to my father, he will surely bless you."

The woman continued her plaintive cries until, unable to respond any further, Reb Shmuel turned to his brother and said, "Call the coachman so that we may leave this place!"

The driver leaped to his seat and urged the horses forward, but the wheels didn't budge. The resourceful woman had placed a stick between the spokes of the wheel and the coach was immobilized. Now Reb Shmuel reached the limit of his patience. He descended from the coach and barked at the woman, "Go eat a bagel!" - the equivalent of "Go fly a kite!" in today's vernacular. In a flash the annoying woman was gone and the two brothers continued in peace on their way to do battle in Petersburg.

A year passed and the incident with the distraught woman was long forgotten. In the interim the Tzemach Tzedek had passed away, and Reb Shmuel, the youngest of his seven sons, was named his successor. One day a man arrived in Lubavitch and appeared before the new Rebbe bearing two beautiful cakes.

"Last year you gave my wife a blessing that she would have a child and she has just given birth. She has asked me to bring these cakes to the Rebbe to thank him for his blessing."

"Would you remind me of my meeting with your wife? I cannot remember that such an incident occurred last year."

"Well, my wife was in the village of B and she begged you to bless her with a child. You told her, 'Go eat a bagel!' And Rebbe, my wife ran to do exactly what you told her."

"I am very happy to hear your good news. Tell me, though, why are you bringing me two cakes? Surely one would be thanks enough."

"Forgive me. I didn't tell you the whole story. You see, you told my wife to eat a bagel, but she was very anxious for your holy blessing to take hold. And so, instead of one, she ate two bagels, just to be sure. And it worked, for she has just given birth to twins! And that is why she sent you two cakes," the beaming father concluded.

Reb Shmuel was deeply moved by the man's words. "Know that there was a Divine decree that you and your wife would never have children. Therefore, I was unable to promise her a child. It was just out of exasperation that I told her to 'eat a bagel.' But because of her pure and simple faith in the blessing of a tzadik the decree was annulled and you and your wife have been blessed with children."

Once, two young men traveled to visit Rabbi Shmuel of Lubavitch, the Rebbe Maharash. They both wished to speak with him on the subject of how better to serve G-d. One young man was very learned, and the other, while not a very learned man, possessed a simple, yet pure faith in G-d.

The first man entered the study of the Rebbe for yechidut [a private audience]. He approached the Rebbe and asked him how he could improve his G-dly service, especially in the area of prayer. The Rebbe Maharash told the man to always hold a prayer book when he prayed, and that he should look at every word while praying. The young man told the Rebbe that he felt he could concentrate better when he pulled his tallit over his head, closed his eyes and prayed.

The Rebbe exclaimed, "Fool! Are you going to say 'Haleluka' [a portion of the morning prayers] on a beam?" The young man left the Rebbe thoroughly confused. What could the Rebbe have meant by suggestion that he prayed "on a beam?"

The young man asked some of the elder chasidim if they could decipher the meaning of the words, but they were unable to help him. After pondering the matter for a few hours, the young man suddenly realized to what the Rebbe had been referring. He remembered that once, while praying, he noticed a beam that ran the entire length of the synagogue. The young man decided to walk the entire length of the beam while saying the "Haleluka" prayer. He wanted to see if he could begin the prayer at the beginning of the beam, and reach the end of the beam at the conclusion of the prayer. Now he understood what the Rebbe meant; his concentration during prayer would be greatly improved by using a prayer book for every word.

Then the second man came to the Rebbe, and the Rebbe told him that at every opportunity he should learn the complete Tanach [the books of the Torah, Prophets, and Hagiography]. He should study it in Yiddish translation, in order that he should be able to comprehend fully what he was reading. The Rebbe emphasized that he should utilize as much free time as possible in learning Tanach, while journeying on business trips and even between customers. The man took this upon himself, and devoted as much free time as possible learning Tanach in Yiddish.

During one winter, the man went away on a business trip, and as usual, spent every free moment studying the Tanach. He returned home a few days later after his business had been completed. After greeting his wife, he looked in on his child peacefully sleeping in his bed. Begin that it was a freezing, cold night, the father placed his heavy cloak which he had just removed on the sleeping form of his child, in order to keep the child warm. He then proceeded to discuss the various details of his trip with his wife. After they finished their conversation, they went to check on the baby. Upon doing so, they realized that the child was not breathing. He had suffocated under the heavy cloak!

The father shook the child back and forth, hoping to start the child breathing again, but to no avail. The wife ran to get a doctor. When she returned home, an amazing sight met her eyes. There was her husband sitting and playing with their child, as if nothing had happened. How could her husband, who was by no means a doctor, revive their child? When she inquired as to how he had done this, he told her about a portion of Tanach that he had learned while on his trip. The portion dealt with the prophet Elisha, and it documents how Elisha revived a dead child by laying atop the child and breathing into his mouth. So this man, with his pure and complete faith, figured that if this worked for Elisha it would work for him, too.

All those who knew the man and knew of his conversation with the Rebbe Maharash, realized the meaning of the Rebbe's instructions. It became clear that this miracle came about in the merit of his following the Rebbe's directive to constantly study Tanach, and also in the merit of his unwavering faith in G-d.

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The Rebbe Maharash carefully scrutinized the chasid who had just entered his room for a private audience. "Tell me," he asked, "have you allotted time to learn Torah with others?"

The chasid shifted uneasily. A talented silversmith and skillful watchmaker, he had traveled for many days from his town, Vladimir, to be with the Rebbe, and this private audience was definitely the culmination of his visit.

No, he explained, he had not scheduled any learning sessions with others, but he was not to blame. He had just taken up residence in Vladimir and the Jewish population there was comprised of boors, through no fault of their own. They were descendants of the Cantonists -- the Jewish children who had been brutally kidnapped from their grief-stricken parents to serve forcibly in the Czar's army, eventually forgetting the sacred laws and rituals of their youth.

There were only two villagers capable of officiating as chazan; the chasid was the only one in the entire community learned enough to read from the Torah, and it was his sacred duty to prepare the weekly Torah portion. This, besides his daily private study schedule and business, argued the chasid, left him with no additional time to teach others.

"I do not understand you," said the Rebbe Maharash disapprovingly. "For what reason did you leave your previous residence in Polotsk -- which is famed for its religious adherence -- and exchange it for Vladimir, a wilderness barren of Torah and mitzva observance?"

The chasid agreed wholeheartedly. Polotsk had been an exemplary place to live, inhabited by exceptionally pious people who filled its synagogues from dawn till dusk, and whose yeshivot boasted advanced levels of religious education of no small repute. But what could he do? His business had deteriorated steadily and he barely eked out a meager existence in Polotsk. Besides, he had expressly asked for and received the Rebbe's consent and blessing to move to Vladimir. The blessing had materialized to the fullest extent with his business succeeding beyond his wildest dreams.

"You are mistaken," said the Rebbe Maharash, "thinking that you were sent to Vladimir for business purposes. Whoever believes in G-d and Divine Providence can, and must, understand that G-d does not uproot a G-d-fearing family from a place of Torah to an irreligious environment for material reasons. This notion stems from your misconception of your purpose. In truth, your purpose is not to work with silver and watches but to spread G-d's Torah and its commandments wherever possible. Your move to Vladimir was Divinely orchestrated to enable you to teach and inspire the masses, whether the knowledgeable soldier or the illiterate Cantonist children."

The Rebbe Maharash continued, "Have you forgotten the teaching of the saintly Baal Shem Tov that a soul descends to this physical world for seventy or eighty years to do another Jew a favor, a physical favor and especially a spiritual one? He who assumes that his steps are predestined according to his material needs is lacking in his faith. Cannot the same Divine blessing rest in Polotsk as in Vladimir? My blessing for your material success was intended to accompany your own efforts in disseminating Judaism; without it, my blessing will come to nothing."

"Let the reader beware," wrote the Previous Rebbe, who recorded this story in a letter to one of his followers, " do not read this story as if it were just another anecdote, entering one ear just to exit the other. Rather, let the words of the Rebbe Maharash permeate his very essence, and let every person ask himself -- what am I doing to fulfill the Divine mission that has been entrusted to my care in the place which has been Divinely ordained for me?!"

Reprinted from the weekly magazine, Beis Moshiach.