1493 (5786-44) 6 AV 5786 (July 20, 2026)

"The Difficult Nine Days of a Chasidic Master"

During the “Nine Days” of intensified mourning for the loss of the Holy Temples in Jerusalem, Rabbi Baruch of Mezhibuzh would disappear; none of his chasidim could accompany him, see him off or know where he went.

Why This Week? TISHA B'AV [2026: Wednesday, July 22, sunset – July 23, nightfall.]

Story in PDF Format for more convenient printing.

The Difficult Nine Days of a Chasidic Master

The 'Nine Days' leading up to Tisha b'Av-which commemorate the destruct-ion of the Holy Temple-weighed heavily, like a dark cloud, over the court of the holy Rabbi Baruch of Mezhibuz, a grandson of the Baal Shem tov, which was usually permeated with an atmosphere of inner joy. Even Yossele, one of the youngest and usually most cheerful of the chassidim, tried this time to silence the happy melodies he was accustomed to humming while bent over his books in study. Occasionally he would hum without thinking, until his friends reminded him sternly, "Yossele, have you already forgotten what our Rebbe said-that there is to be no singing or joy until the Nine Days are over?"

During these nine days of intensified mourning for the loss of the Temple, Rabbi Baruch would not see any of his followers. Rumors spread that each year on these days he sets out on a personal "exile," to feel, firsthand, the bitterness of exile that our ancestors experienced after the destruction-when they were taken en-masse to Rome and sold as slaves.

He would typically reappear at his doorway on the eve of Tisha B'Av, ready to read Eichah -- the Book of Lamentations.

That year as well, Rabbi Baruch disappeared at the beginning of the Nine Days, and none of his chassidim saw him leave. The truth is, even had they seen him, they would not have recognized him-because he had disguised himself as a wagon driver, traveling across the country with a wagon and horses. He never used the same disguise twice, ensuring no one could recognize him. This time, he chose to pose as a wagon driver because he felt weak in his legs.

As he stood near his wagon, looking every bit the part, a Polish nobleman approached and hired him for a trip to a city about 70 kilometers from Rabbi Baruch's hometown. The disguised Rebbe calculated that he would have just enough time to reach the destination and return before Tisha B'Av, with an extra day in case of delays.

Rabbi Baruch set off, the nobleman sitting beside him. He traveled the dusty roads in silence, ignoring the traveler's sharp-tongued remarks. He sighed deeply at the sight of the old horses straining to pull the wagon, and quietly endured the jolts each time the wheels hit a rock or sank into the mud.

They spent two nights at roadside inns. Of course, "the wagon driver" did not have a private room like the nobleman; each night he had to sleep on straw in the stable, beside his horse. Then, at the first rays of dawn, he would rise and strap on his tefillin so he could resume the journey while it was still early in the morning.

Nothing noteworthy happened on the way there, aside from the usual hardships faced by any wagon driver. But on their first night returning, the nobleman got drunk at the inn where they lodged. Before going to bed, he boasted loudly to anyone who would listen about the successful deal he had made in the city. As is often the case in such situations, there were men nearby who were just waiting for such an opportunity. They were "ready" to deal with the wealthy traveler and "relieve" him of his money.

The next morning, when Rabbi Baruch awoke and roused the nobleman, he had to dress him himself and carry him to the wagon-he was still as drunk as Lot. Shortly after they left the inn, they entered a dense forest, empty of all life at that early hour. As far as the eye could see, there were no people or wagons, as the sun had only just begun to rise.

Suddenly, without warning, someone threw a sack over Rabbi Baruch's head. When he regained consciousness, he found himself tied to a tree. Opposite him, the nobleman was also tied to a tree, seemingly unconscious. Were it not for the rope holding him upright, he would have collapsed to the ground.

It became clear that bandits had ambushed them, emptied their pockets, and made off with the wagon and horses, which had vanished as if into thin air.

Rabbi Baruch noticed his tefillin lying in the grass-apparently of no interest to the thieves-as well as his small prayer book, without which he would never travel. His heart filled with joy at the sight of the tefillin and siddur, and he thanked G-d for sparing his life.

But the troubles were only beginning.

With great effort and movement of his entire body, Rabbi Baruch managed to loosen the ropes binding him. He then untied the nobleman, picked up his tefillin, kissed them, and placed them in his double pouch used for travel.

As for the nobleman-Rabbi Baruch managed to untie him, but he remained unconscious on the ground, barely clinging to life, his faint pulse the only sign he was still alive.

Rabbi Baruch could easily have left the man behind and made his way to the nearest settlement. But such a thought never even crossed his mind. He wandered a bit to find water, to wash the man's face and try to revive him.

After a few hours, the nobleman began to awaken from his stupor. When he finally came to, he asked Rabbi Baruch in confusion: "What happened? What's going on? Why are we sitting here instead of traveling home in the wagon?"

In a quiet voice, imitating a simple, obedient wagon driver, Rabbi Baruch told him what had happened. When he mentioned that they had been robbed, the nobleman sprang up like a man bitten by a snake and cried out, "My money! Where is my money-the ten thousand rubles that were in my pocket?"

He shouted and wailed, nearly losing his mind from the grief of losing his fortune. It took Rabbi Baruch quite some time to calm him.

Eventually, the nobleman sat on the ground, staring at a single point, as if hoping to find his lost money there. After a while, he began casting suspicious glances at Rabbi Baruch, who paid him no attention-he was deep in prayer.

When Rabbi Baruch finished praying, he turned to the nobleman and asked, "Are you strong enough now to walk with me? Perhaps we're not far from the inn, and we can make it back on foot-or at least reach a road or settlement."

They began walking slowly, but hadn't gone far when they heard voices-it was a group of hunters passing by. The nobleman's joy knew no bounds when he recognized some of his friends among them. He told them what had happened and added that he suspected the wagon driver of collaborating with the bandits.

"How else could the thieves have known I was carrying so much money?" he asked.

"Let's shoot him!" one of the hunters suggested.

The leader of the group, an older nobleman, thought otherwise. He proposed, "Let's tie the wagon driver to a tree and wait. If he's one of the thieves, his comrades will come to help him. If not-let G-d help him."

"Indeed, G-d will help me," thought Rabbi Baruch.

The hunters left him alone in the forest. Night fell. Not a living soul was in the forest, only the pale light of the moon filtered through the thick trees.

"It must be midnight," Rabbi Baruch said to himself, seeing the moon directly overhead. With hot tears streaming down his cheeks, he began reciting Tikkun Chatzot, the midnight lament for the destruction of the Temple, something he recited every night.

Never had he felt the pain of exile so deeply as he did now, amidst anguish and suffering. It was as though the entire forest echoed his voice as he poured out the Psalms from his broken heart. Strangely, with every verse he recited, hope returned and found a place in his heart.

It was as if the trees of the forest had joined together in a great choir mourning the destruction of the Temple, and the moon and stars above were trying to whisper that salvation was drawing near.

"Hey, you there-wait a moment!"

The low voice that interrupted Rabbi Baruch's prayer belonged to the old nobleman, the leader of the hunters, who had earlier objected to shooting him.

Rabbi Baruch turned toward the voice and saw the man approaching, accompanied by a group of others. "I wanted to see what became of you," the nobleman said. "I just couldn't believe you were one of the thieves. Meanwhile, we caught the robbers at the inn where you spent the night. They admitted that our friend had drunkenly revealed how much money he was carrying. So I came back to help you."

From the depths of his heart, Rabbi Baruch thanked G-d for the sudden salvation, and expressed appreciation to the old noble as well, for his thoughtfulness.

The old nobleman also gave him a horse, and left one of his servants with orders to escort Rabbi Baruch home.

It was late at night when Rabbi Baruch arrived. He found his chassidim waiting anxiously for him. They had almost resigned themselves to the idea that the Rebbe would not return. Then they heard the sound of horse hooves, and in strode Rabbi Baruch-accompanied by the nobleman's servant.

That night, Rabbi Baruch and his chassidim read the Book of Lamentations and recited the Tisha B'Av dirges with profound emotion, deeper than they had ever experienced before.

On the following Shabbat-Shabbat Nachamu, the Sabbath of Consolation-Rabbi Baruch sat with his followers and said:
"Soon God will send us our righteous Messiah,
who will redeem us from exile.
And the darker the night,
the more radiant the dawn will shine."

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Source: Adapted and supplemented from a translation of a weekly emailing five years ago of Sipurei Tzadikim.

Why This Week? Tisha b'Av [2026: Wednesday, July 22, sunset - July 23, nightfall.]

Biographical note:
Rabbi Boruch of Mezhibuz [1753 - 18 Kislev, 1811] was the son of R. Yechiel Ashkenazi and Adel, the daughter of the Baal Shem Tov. He moved from Tulchin to assume the Chasidic leadership in Mezhibuz, the town of his holy grandfather. He was one of the pre-eminent Rebbes in the generation of the disciples of the Maggid of Mezritch and had thousands of Chasidim.

Yerachmiel Tilles is co-founder and associate director of Ascent-of-Safed, and chief editor of this website (and of KabbalaOnline.org). He has hundreds of published stories to his credit, and many have been translated into other languages. He tells them live at Ascent nearly every Saturday night.

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