DIRE
OBSTINANCY
The distinguished Rabbi of
Yanov was well known for his piety and high level of Torah scholarship. On the
occasion of the wedding of his son to a bride in a distant town, he invited the
dignitaries of his town to travel with him to the wedding. A caravan of carriages,
carrying all of the most prominent citizens, set out in honor of their Rabbi and
to share in his joy.
The Rabbi rode in the lead coach, accompanied by the
bridegroom, the lay leader of the community, and a certain gifted young scholar.
When the time came to recite the afternoon prayers they all got down from the
carriage to find a quiet spot in the forest in which to pray, the Rabbi choosing
to stand under a tall tree at a little distance from the others. The other three
waited respectfully in the carriage for this return, but even when the sun had
set there was no sign of him. They set out to look for him amongst the trees,
expecting that he had tarried over the Minchah prayer, but they could not
find him. As night fell they became increasingly anxious. Returning to the highway
they found that the rest of the caravan had caught up with them. Their newly-arrived
townsmen reassured them: "A little while ago one of the worthies of our town
drove past us alone in his coach on his way to the wedding. The Rabbi must have
joined him for some reason."
This assumption sounded plausible enough,
so they set off again to the town of the bride, feeling much relieved. On their
arrival at their destination, though, they were stricken with consternation: the
father of the bridegroom was not there.
Guesses of all kind were proposed,
but finally, the wedding ceremony had to take place without the missing father.
It was solemnized in the most dismal spirit imaginable. All the way home the guests
asked passersby whether they had seen the Rabbi, but in vain. Nor did they find
him at home at Yanov, nor did the messengers sent out to various other places
bring back any clue.
Actually, the Rabbi had lost his way in that endless
forest. Wanting to return to the highway, he had become confused by the roundabout
tracks leading in all directions, and in fact walked on in the dark for several
miles deeper and deeper into the wilds. As the sun rose he paused to rest, and
was obliged to recite his morning prayers with neither tallis nor tefillin.
On he wandered for weeks on end, surviving on whatever fruit he could find. So
distressed was he by his tribulations that he lost track of time, and honored
Shabbos in whatever humble ways his predicament allowed - one day early.
By
virtue of his Torah study over the years the Al-mighty protected him from harm,
until at long last, after all manner of adventures, he found his way back to Yanov,
and recounted his unenviable story to a family wild with joy.
Came Thursday
afternoon, and the Rabbi busied himself with all the traditional preparations
for the approaching Shabbos. When he expressed his puzzlement that his family
did not do likewise, they explained that his calculations had become confused:
Friday was only the next day. But the Rabbi since his youth had always been an
exceptionally stubborn person who never ceded an argument, and now, in addition,
all the suffering he had undergone must have left its somber mark on him. No matter
how earnestly his relatives and townsmen debated and argued the subject with him,
nothing could make him budge from his irrational fixation: he alone was right
in his calculations. They became secretly worried about his sanity - but what
could be done? On Friday he desisted from travel, and did not put on tefillin
at morning prayers, as if the holy day had already arrived.
But the next
day, the bizarre aberration took on tragic proportions, as the Rabbi treated Shabbos
like a weekday, doing all sorts of forbidden labors. He also reprimanded his family
for their stubbornness - while their buoyant joy at his return was overlaid with
dismay.
In the weeks that followed, rabbis and sages from all around tried
to convince him, with the aid of entire batteries of invincible scholarly arguments,
that this time he was in the wrong - but to no avail. Though rational in all other
respects, his harsh experiences in the forest had further toughened his innate
obstinacy.
Some of the townspeople decided to convey word of the bizarre
situation to the famed chassidic Rebbe, Reb Shmelke of Nikolsburg, who
was a close friend of the Rabbi of Yanov since their youthful yeshiva years
together. Reb Shmelke, who was then the Rabbi of Shiniva, immediately set out
for Yanov, arriving on Thursday. Overjoyed at seeing his boyhood friend, the Rabbi
of Yanov asked his guest: "Would you do me the honor of staying with me for
Shabbos?"
"Why, of course," said Reb Shmelke. "In fact
I was hoping for such an invitation."
"Then you do realize that
tonight is Shabbos?" said the Rabbi in wonder and delight.
"What
is the question?" replied Reb Shmelke simply.
"Whew!" sighed
the Rabbi, exuding relief. "You don't know what a difficult time I've been
having with the stubborn people here. Ever since I came back they have been laboring
under the delusion that Shabbat is a day later, and I can't seem to convince them."
"Perhaps
I can help," Reb Shmelke smiled. "Trust me."
On Thursday
afternoon the two men set off to immerse themselves in the mikveh. The
local folk were stupefied: surely their Rabbi had not won over Reb Shmelke! At
first opportunity he privately reassured them, and then asked that everyone come
to shul that night in their Shabbos finery. He also took aside his host's
family and told them to prepare for Shabbos that same evening, and to bring to
the table a few bottles of strong, old wine.
As the beaming sun dipped
behind the trees, all the menfolk duly dressed up in their fur shtreimels
and black silk kapotes, and proceeded to the synagogue for evening prayers.
the Rabbi was amazed at what Reb Shmelke had managed to accomplish in such a short
time. "Could it be that there is something to this chassidic rebbe stuff
after all?" he mused to himself.
His guest turned down the invitation
to serve as chazzan, and insisted that the host lead the prayers of welcome
to Shabbos, saying that would be one of the pleasures of his visit. The Rabbi
began with a pleasant tune, while Reb Shmelke and all the other congregants quietly
recited the weekday evening service.
As if it were Friday night, the Rabbi
and his family returned joyfully home, where they were joined by a great many
guests who had come in honor of Reb Shmelke. They sang Shalom Aleichem,
welcoming the ministering angels whose appointed time is Friday night; they recited
the Kiddush of Friday night over goblets of wine; and in between the courses
of gefilte fish and other delicacies not normally reserved for Thursday
nights, they exchanged favorite gems of Talmudic lore, as Jews all around the
world are wont to do - on Friday night.
In the course of the festive meal
Reb Shmelke remarked to his host that it would be only right to turn this occasion
into a Thanksgiving Meal for his miraculous survival-by serving a few extra bottles
of wine for example. He them saw to it that his host drank a considerable quantity
of the kind of old wine that throws a person into the extended stupor of deep
sleep. When the Rabbi duly fell asleep at the table, Reb Shmelke asked that the
curtains be drawn and a pillow placed under his head so that he should be able
to slumber on, undisturbed. Finally, taking up his pipe and puffing happily away,
he turned to the townsfolk who were at the table: "You can now all go off
and rest. Everyone can go ahead with his usual occupations, and with the help
of the Almighty, everything will work out well. And tomorrow night, on Shabbos
eve, at this same hour, I would ask you all to come here again after your meal."
Reb
Shmelke personally stood on guard all that night and throughout Friday, enforcing
silence around the house as well as within it, lest the slightest noise disturb
the Rabbi in his sleep. On Friday night he did not even go to the synagogue, but
prayed alone in the house of the Rabbi. After their meal, the townsfolk filterered
in and found the Rabbi still sound asleep. They assumed the exact same positions
around the Shabbos table as they had done the night before. Reb Shmelke partook
of the Shabbos meal joyfully, delighting his listeners with discourse after discourse
until midnight - and then woke up his host.
"Rabbi of Yanov,"
he said, "please join us for the Grace after Meals."
After Shabbos
all the local dignitaries came to offer Reb Shmelke their whispered thanks, to
which he responded by making them give their solemn promise never to make the
slightest mention of the whole episode.
And until the day of his death the
Rabbi never discovered what had happened. On the contrary, he was proud of the
fact that so many people had finally seen the light and were now observing Shabbos
according to the way he had argued all along.
"Mind you," he would
add, "one must give credit where credit is due. It took none less than my
esteemed friend from way back, to do the trick. Funny, isn't it? Some people can
be so obstinate!"
(Adapted by Yrachmiel Tilles from A Treasury of
Chassidic Tales on the Torah Artscroll-translations /adaptations by our
esteemed colleague, Uri Kaploun], and other received oral traditions).
Biographical
note:
Rabbi Shmuel Shmelke HaLevi Horowitz of Nikolsburg (1726
- 2 Iyar 1778) was a major disciple of the Maggid of Mezritch along with his younger
brother, Rabbi Pinchas, who became the Rabbi of Frankfort (see story #202). Many
of the leading rebbes in Poland and Galitzia were originally his disciples. Among
the books he authored are Divrei Shmuel and Nazir HaShem.
Yrachmiel Tilles is co-founder and associate director of
Ascent-of-Safed, and editor of Ascent Quarterly and the AscentOfSafed.com and
KabbalaOnline.org websites. He has hundreds of published stories to his credit.