Lag B’Omer
Hospitality
About
two and a half centuries ago, there lived in Kosov a
wealthy textile merchant named Reb Moshe. He dwelled in the best section of
the city, in a luxurious mansion on a huge estate, on which grassy lawns, lush
gardens, and orchards of fruit trees all flourished. Basically a simple person,
his innate humility seemed to remain unaffected even as his wealth grew from
year to year. But then, one day, an unusual idea entered his mind and took hold
of his heart. Moshe had become possessed by the desire to experience a
revelation of Eliyahu HaNavi,
Elijah the Prophet.
Not that he was under the illusion that because of his wealth he was entitled,
at present, to see Elijah. He knew better than that. So to become “worthy” of
attaining his objective, he undertook a series of fasts and other forms of
deprivations and self-afflictions, hoping that would enable him to fulfil his
wish.
But to no avail.
He started to keep company with the chasidim and the
other strictly religious people in the community, emulating their ways. He
hoped that their superior spiritual attainments would rub off on him and his
resultant elevation would allow him to attain his goal.
That also didn’t work.
Unsure what to try next, he decided to consult the
local tzaddik, Rabbi Boruch
of Kosov. The Rebbe
listened intently, but then, to Moshe’s dismay, said, “Reb
Moshe, why are you trying to pursue such lofty matters? Your task is to perform
acts of kindness and charity that’s what your soul requires for its
rectification.” Moshe left the Rabbi’s room, frustrated. He still felt sure
that he knew what he really needed.
From that day on, Moshe the merchant’s behaviour changed radically. He abandoned
his business for hours at a time in order to be in the Bet Middrash.
He no longer paid much attention to his personal appearance or the upkeep of
his estate, abandoning almost completely the aristocratic lifestyle he had
adapted over the years.
After some time, he went to visit the tzaddik again.
Eyes downcast, the dark shadow of depression on his face, it was clear he was
deeply troubled. His desire to see the prophet left him no peace. As he told
the Rebbe of his frustrations, he involuntarily emitted
a deep sigh.
The Rebbe repeated his advice that the proper path
for Moshe was that of kindness and good deeds. This time, however, he seemed to
accept Moshe’s sincerity, and advised him to greatly increase his distribution
of tzedakah. Then, after a pause, the Rebbe added mysteriously, “If a poor man should approach
you and request even a thousand gold pieces, don’t refrain from granting his
request.”
Moshe, once again, felt belittled by the Rabbi’s reply. Nevertheless, he
decided to adhere closely to his counsel. Any poor person that crossed Moshe’s
path was immediately endowed with a generous contribution, without any delay to
check the recipient’s worthiness. For several years, Moshe conducted himself in
this manner, but still there was no revelation of Eliyahu.
His frustration gave him no rest.
One day, while he was busy at work with a number of different customers, a
messenger arrived from his house. A pathetic-looking, poverty-stricken man,
related the messenger, had knocked on the door of the house, begging for help.
The pauper, however, had refused to accept the food that a servant had brought:
Instead, the pauper had insisted that he be invited into the dining hall so he
could sit and eat there. Reb Moshe’s wife wasn’t sure
how to handle the situation, so she had sent to ask her husband’s advice.
At first Moshe was outraged by the needy man’s chutzpah. But then, remembering
the Rabbi’s counsel, he instructed the messenger simply to tell his wife that
he would come home as soon as he could, and that in the meantime she should
fulfil the stranger’s unusual request and invite him in. When he arrived about
an hour later, he found his wife pacing near the entrance, exasperated,
impatiently awaiting him. As soon as she saw him she burst out bitterly, “Not
even sitting in our dining hall satisfies this beggar; he demanded to take a
nap in our bedroom!”
Moshe dashed upstairs to the master bedroom. He could barely believe the sight
that greeted him: a dishevelled crude-looking person, wearing what seemed to be
more rags and patches than actual clothing, sprawled across his bed, with the
stains and remains of his meal spread all over himself, and the hitherto fresh
linens. As Moshe stood there with bulging eyes and mouth opened wide, the
“guest” looked up at him and drawled, “Nu? So how about a little donation? A modest,
insignificant sum only a measly thousand gold pieces.”
Moshe wasn’t sure whether to erupt in anger or burst into laughter. He was so
taken aback, he felt powerless to move or speak; he could only stand there in
stunned silence.
“If you won’t give me right now one thousand cash, I won’t leave!” announced
the strange beggar defiantly.
Moshe calmed down a bit from his initial shock. Deciding to ignore the insult
to his honour, he simply offered the man a lesser sum. “Fifty...a hundred...one
hundred fifty...” Eventually he offered him 200 gulden … not at all a small
sum.
It was if the man on his bed had sealed his ears. He kept arrogantly asserting
he would take 1000 gulden and not a penny less. Moshe finally lost all patience
with this rude boor and signalled his servants to remove the impudent pest from
his presence. But the target was much too quick. Before they could lay a hand
on him, he climbed out of the window and disappeared.
All this occurred just a few hours before Lag B’Omer.
That night all the chasidim gathered at the tzaddik table in honour of the occasion. Moshe, our textile
merchant, was among them. Rebbe Boruch
spoke about the divine revelations that are manifest on this special day, but
that not everyone merits to recognise them. Moshe
decided that this must certainly be an auspicious moment to mention his burning
request. The Rabbi’s response shocked him like an icy hand squeezing his heart:
“But didn’t you already meet a poor person who requested from you one thousand
gold pieces?”
Moshe quickly told the tzaddik about the impudent
beggar who had so crudely pushed his way into his house earlier in the day.
“Oy. What a pity!” the Rebbe sighed softly. “You saw Eliyahu
HaNavi but didn’t recognize him.”
“That vagrant was Elijah the Prophet?!!” Moshe screamed in dismay.
“Yes,” explained the Rebbe. “He appears to people
according to the root of their souls and the level of their deeds.”
Moshe was truly broken-hearted. He and his wife decided to move to the
Before Lag B’Omer he would go to Meron
and devote himself to serving the myriads of attendees that crowded in to the
tomb area around the clock. He rubbed shoulders with the masses of simple Jews
that came to honour Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, taking
pleasure from their company and helping to take care of their needs.
Several years later, at Meron on Lag B’Omer, as Moshe was hurrying to and fro to help serve the
many guests, he suddenly saw in front of him a face that was burned into his
memory: it was the “beggar” who had appeared at his house so many years ago!
Moshe froze in his tracks. He stared in amazement at the person in his path.
This time the eyes that looked back at him were no longer outraged and
challenging; they were bright and shiny in the midst of a smiling face....
