ב"ה
Chassidic Stories
There's no better way to make a point than to tell a story...
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“My daughter is betrothed to a fine young man, but I have no idea of how to pay for the wedding.”
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Moshe was known to
frequent the local watering holes, whiling away entire nights in a drunken
stupor.
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“If you are
presented with an opportunity to help someone, even if it’s an ordinary
stranger from the bazaar, don’t hesitate to do so.”
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Some of the town’s most distinguished community members hinted that perhaps the rabbi was wrongly suited for a city as “modern and
developed” as Nikolsburg.
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“I have something to say,” he announced. “I was wrong about the Rebbe and I want to apologize"
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The haze was thicker than usual—a mixture of
cigarette and furnace smoke—but Rabbi Shmuel could see the man.
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With that,
he signaled his driver and the carriage sped off before the rabbi had a chance
to ask any questions.
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The man blinked tears from his eyes. "I lease an inn from a local duke, and the business… it’s bad."
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Despite the girl’s many fine qualities, living around her became insufferable
due to her bizarre and unpredictable behavior.
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Noticing his father’s return to a life of wealth, Zalman’s son revived their kinship and stopped by to talk more often.
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“Please, forgive me,” muttered the wagon driver. “I had no idea who you were, and I request forgiveness for wronging you.”
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“I will not travel with you,” stipulated Rabbi Menachem Mendel, “unless you give me twenty silver coins.”
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Creeping through the brush to investigate, they discovered, to their surprise, a lone candle in a clearing, burning atop a small headstone.
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Trouble was brewing in St. Petersburg, and the Tzemach Tzedek immediately set to work to have the decree abolished.
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It was an unusual job for a religious Jew, and his success aroused jealousy, even among his own artisans.
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The driver’s mother didn’t say much, but half an hour before sunset she placed two candles on the table and lit them.
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With time, the tailor turned gray and decided to travel to visit his daughter…
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Reb Shalom’s daughter waited to be wed, but without a somewhat respectable dowry her chances of meriting a fine groom were virtually nonexistent.
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“Please, Berish,” said the dying man, closing his eyes, “protect the menorah as though your life depends on it.”
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Baila, an orphan adopted by Rabbi Levi Yitzchak and his wife, was marrying an exceptional young man who was also parentless.
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"If you realize that the entire day you spend in the store is just so you can learn for one hour, you will never lose touch with the Torah.”
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“Look outside. You see this wagon loaded with
straw rolling down the road? Walking behind it is a Jew . . ."
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Incensed by the jab, the son-in-law renewed his rant, which had now become personal.
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With no destination to guide him, he
slowly traversed sprawling forests and small towns, hoping to finally encounter
what his rebbe had in mind.
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“And what are you going to claim on Judgement Day, eh, Zusha? Your soul will know no peace when that time comes!”
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“The boy isn’t at all what he seems. Don’t be fooled by
superficiality."
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Wordlessly, the Rebbe curled his arm around Shloyme’s elbow, and together they strode through the crowded sanctuary.
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“You’re invited to dine with me but I have one simple request: for each meal, please prepare a small dvar Torah to share at the table.”
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When a couple couldn't procreate, they went to their Maggid, who gave them a unique mission.
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Living as a downtrodden shell of her former self, Leah's blank
eyes reflected the agony that gripped her heart.
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“I have three very strong
horses, fast as deer,” he whispered. “If you’re willing to pay, I’ll take the
innkeeper and his family to a city far from here. Tonight.”
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It did not take long until they had dragged me before the town rabbi, demanding that I divorce my “wife.”
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“So make it yellow,” replied Kusheh. And that is exactly what he did.
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The husband laughed bitterly. “See?” he said, “You spent all that time and money to visit your rebbe, and he gave you the most useless advice. How are leeches going to bring us the funds we so desperately need?”
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In the Soviet Union, even getting a piece
of matzah for the Seder was fraught with danger
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“Please
invite the wagon driver to come see me,” said the Rebbe upon hearing that the
man was in town.
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Despite his efforts to maintain a low profile, word of Reb
Eizel’s arrival traveled quickly . . .
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"Now you know why I felt compelled to attend the funeral of such an extraordinary person.”
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They
crisscrossed Russia, trudging from doctor to doctor, but even the greatest
specialists threw their hands up in despair.
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In time, rumors began to circulate that she had been acting
improperly with another man.
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Like every eligible male in Czarist Russia, Peretz Chein
eventually received a letter stating that he was required to show up at a
conscription office.
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Although the villager was a simple Jew,
he hoped that his children would one day surpass his meager knowledge of Torah.
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As the Siberian winter deepened, Chanukah came, and a group
of young Jewish prisoners convened for a short meeting.
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Besides his day job, he had another duty, one that he
carried out secretly and with great devotion . . .
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The landlady on the floor wailing hysterically. Her only son, she sobbed, had agreed to convert to Christianity, and was being held in a locked room in a monastery.
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Though people in the synagogue pitied him, he felt no shame.
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"When you are approached by a villager who offers
to sell you something, buy it at once."
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“But the magnate is a simple man, not a Torah scholar!”
interjected the rabbi. “How can I allow this match to happen?”
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The suddenness of the rebbe’s appearance in his city caught the chassid, along with his wide-open mansion, off guard. Left with no choice, he reluctantly surrendered his house so that it could serve as the rebbe’s accommodation.
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