|
Kidnapped |
In a small Polish
town there once lived a young Rabbi and his devoted wife. They were blessed
with a beautiful baby boy whom they absolutely adored. They were at the height
of their happiness as the time approached for his third birthday and the
cutting of his hair.
But fate had a
cruel blow in store for them.
One Friday, as
the young Rabbetzin was busy with her erev Shabbat preparations, and the Rabbi
was not yet home from the Bet Middrash, their little boy was outside playing.
When his mother went out to call him, he was nowhere to be seen. She looked in
every possible place, calling his name, but no sign of him was to be seen.
The Rabbi came
rushing home when he was informed of the terrible news, and all their friends
and neighbors joined in a frantic search for the missing child.
Candle-lighting
time came, but there was no peaceful Shabbat for the Rabbi and his wife or for
the rest of the Jewish community.
Someone mentioned
that a gypsy caravan had been seen that morning passing through the town.
"The gypsies must have stolen the little boy! But where had they gone?
Where could anyone now look for him?" The parents were heartbroken.
That, in truth
was exactly what had happened.
A group of
wandering gypsies, seeing a beautiful child playing alone with no one around,
snatched the child, enticing him with some candy, pushed him inside the caravan
and quickly drove off.
For a little
while little Moshe'le, as he was called, was quite happy playing with the gypsy
children inside the caravan, but after a while, he realized he was nowhere near
his home and he began to cry: "Mommy, Mommy!" But the gypsies had no
intention of stopping nor of returning him to his
parents. They meant to keep him until they could get some profit out of him.
For weeks the
gypsies wandered from place to place until they came to a beautiful estate
owned by a rich landowner.
The Polish
nobleman and his wife were childless, and they were delighted to pay a good sum
of money to the gypsies for the little boy. Little by little Moshe'le got used
to the couple who were good to him and he gradually stopped calling for his
parents.
Instead he called
the landowner and his wife "Daddy" and "Mommy."
Moshe'le also
soon forgot that he was a Jewish boy or that his name was Moshe'le. For now he
was called Yanush and he was brought up in the style and luxury of a young
"prince."
When the old
prince died, Yanush inherited his whole estate. Unfortunately, he also
inherited a feeling of hatred for Jews from the old prince.
With all the
wealth at his disposal, Yanush joined a group of young squires, and they spent
their time in deer-hunting, parties and leading carefree lives.
Yanush was very
popular and was the "darling" of Polish aristocracy. In time he was
appointed to be the governor of the entire district. This was bad news for the
Jews who lived under his lordship, for he often persecuted them and showed his
contempt for Jews in no uncertain manner.
The Rabbi and his
Rabbetzin continued their modest lives with a deep wound in their hearts which
was not healed even when they were blessed with more children, two boys and two
girls who gave them much joy.
There was a
"Shabbat-Goy" in their town who used to come
into Jewish homes on Shabbat, and he would also do jobs for them in the
weekdays when called upon.
The Rabbetzen was
always very kind to him, giving him food as well as money whenever he did some
job for her. But she noticed that he was not being honest. The first time he
stole something, she pretended not to know. But, when he began to steal things
time after time, she sent him away. Other Jews in the community also found out
that he was stealing things from them and they, too, told him they would not
have him in their homes anymore.
The fellow became
angry at the Jews who had employed him, and swore he would take revenge on
them.
Soon after Purim
when Jews began their preparations for Pesach, the gentile went to the
cemetery, in the darkness of night, where a Christian child had been buried
just a few hours earlier. He dug up the body of the child, cut its throat, and
took it to the Rabbi's back garden and buried it there. The following day he
went to the magistrate and told him that he had seen some Jews dig up the body
of a Christian child, extract some blood, and then had buried the body in the
Rabbi's yard.
In those dark
days, some Christians really believed the horrible libel story that Jews used
Christian blood for Passover matzot and wine.
The Magistrate,
hearing the gentile story, went to the Rabbi's house accompanied by police, and
dug up the body of the child. The Rabbi was immediately arrested, and so too,
were the lay heads of the community. They were put in prison awaiting their
trial.
No amount of talk
by the Rabbi to convince the magistrate that the Torah absolutely forbade Jews
to use any blood, helped to convince him of the falsity of the accusation. They
told the magistrate that even an egg which had the tiniest speck of blood was forbidden
to be eaten by a Jew …. all to no avail.
They told the
magistrate that the whole plot was concocted by the non-Jewish worker as an act
of revenge because he had been fired by the Jews whom he had robbed. But the
magistrate, no friend of the Jews, chose to believe the thief rather than them.
The poor Rabbi
was sentenced to die, and the other Jews were given
life-sentences.
In addition, a
huge fine was clamped down upon the entire Jewish community of the town and
they were completely helpless to do anything about their cruel treatment at the
hand of their oppressors. Their only and last hope was that the Governor, whose
signature was needed to confirm the verdict, might have mercy on them and
accept their plea of innocence. But, knowing the governor's attitude to Jews,
this was a poor hope indeed.
Their only real
hope was in the Al-mighty, and only He could save them from their desperate
position.
That night the
governor could not sleep. He tossed and turned and could not understand what
was bothering him. He was quite tired and should have fallen asleep instantly.
Yet different thoughts kept jumping into his mind. He had just returned from a
most enjoyable three-day deer-hunt and felt quite pleased with himself. So, why
then couldn't he fall asleep?
What bothered his
conscience now was the delegation of Jews who had come to see him just as he
was about to set off on that deer- hunt. He had no
patience to listen to them and he had sent them away quite rudely. What was it
they had wanted of him?
Some story about
an accusation against some Jews which they claimed was false, and begged him to
cancel the cruel unfair verdict against them. It was a matter of life and
death, they pleaded. But why should that bother him? He didn't even remember
exactly which of the small towns they said they came from. He only remembered
saying to them: "I have every confidence in the magistrate. I have nothing
more to say." But, why should he now have this very uneasy feeling?
In his heart he
felt it was absurd to believe in the silly blood- libel, but why should he care
if a few Jews found themselves in some desperate situation? Nevertheless, it
was obviously bothering him, for here he was, tossing and turning and unable to
get these innocent victims out of his mind.
He decided to get
up and take a drink of wine. Maybe that would help him to fall asleep. Finally,
in the early hours of the morning he fell into a very troubled sleep and he
began to dream a most remarkable dream.
Yanush was out
deer-hunting with his friends. His fast horse took him through a thick forest
where he was chasing a deer. He had left the others far behind. Suddenly his
horse reared on his hind legs and almost threw him. This infuriated him and he
was ready to vent his wild temper on the poor animal. Then, to his surprise, he
saw an old gray-bearded Jew calmly gazing at him as he rested on his wooden
cane.
The first
reaction of Yanush was to pick up his gun and shoot this impudent man who dared
to get in his way and frighten his horse. But something about the unusual
appearance of this dignified Jew held him back.
"Who
are you and what do you want?" called out the governor.
"I am your
grandfather and I have come to tell you, Moshe, it is time you returned to your
people," the old man answered.
"You are
making a false accusation. I am not a Jew! It's a lie! My name is not Moshe but
Yanush. Get away from here before I lose my patience!"
"A false
accusation is the one brought against my son, your innocent father. You alone
can save him. Have pity on your old father and have pity on yourself and on
your unfortunate soul!" cried out the old man.
The governor was
so shaken by these words that he awoke with a palpitating heart.
"A dreadful
nightmare," he told himself, and again fell asleep.
The following
night the old man again appeared in the governor's dream. He entered his
bedroom and called out:
"Moshe! Moshe! This is no dream!
Innocent lives are at your mercy! It is not too late to repent. Return to your people.!"
The governor
awoke with a start and a cold shiver.
"I must have
drunk too much," he told himself, and fell asleep again.
The third night
the governor dreamt that he was sitting in his office, the judge's verdict was
in his hand and he was just about to sign it. He dipped his pen into the ink
but was stopped by a voice calling out:
"Wait! You
cannot sign this false verdict.!"
He recognized the
voice of the old Jew.
"And how can
I know that the verdict is false?" asked the governor.
"That is
quite easy. Ride into town and give an order that the Shabbat-goy should be
whipped for giving false witness. You will very soon see that he will confess.
I tell you again, for the last time, free your old father from this awful
blood-libel. Save your own soul, Moshe. You have wasted enough of your life in
wild activities. You were born a kosher Jewish child. Gypsies stole you and
carried you away from your loving parents and left them broken-hearted. To this
very day they have not forgotten you. You were sold to the childless landowner
who brought you up as his son.
"Give me
some sign that what you are saying is true," said the governor.
"If you will
search among the things that the old prince left behind, you will find a
child's small "arba kanfos" that you were wearing when you were
brought to him by the gypsies. When you see the "tzitzit" you will
remember..."
The governor
awoke, trembling. This time he did not attempt to go to sleep again. He jumped
out of bed, put on a robe, and hurried to investigate this strange matter.
With trembling
hands he went through the old things that had been stored in a closet, until he
came across a little bag which actually contained the `arba kanfos' the old Jew
had described.
With mixed
emotions he began to finger this little garment.
Yes, his memory
began to work and he gradually recalled how those gypsies had enticed him into
their covered wagon, by giving him candy and letting him play with the children
inside.
He remembered how
they had struck him whenever he had cried for his mother and father. He
remembered, too, how they had brought him to the prince who had been so glad to
have him and called him Yanush. Then, little by little he had forgotten he was
Moshe'le - a Jewish boy, and had become Yanush, the young, spoiled Jew- hating
prince.
Early the
following morning, a special messenger arrived to see the governor as he was
sitting in his office, deep in thought. The messenger gave the governor a
sealed envelope, saying:
"I was asked
to bring this to you and wait for you to sign the document," he said.
The governor
broke the seal, read the judge's verdict, took his pen, dipped it into the
inkwell and wrote something on a piece of paper. He put his message in an
envelope and gave it to the messenger, saying:
"Take this
to the judge and tell him I shall bring the verdict back to him myself."
The court
messenger returned to the city and brought the news that the governor was
coming. This caused quite a stir, and preparations were begun to welcome the
governor and give him the honor due him.
Two days later
the governor arrived in his beautiful carriage, accompanied by a suite of
riders.
The governor
immediately ordered that the judges, the witnesses and the accused be called
together.
When they were
all assembled in the judge's chamber, the governor entered and everyone stood up
respectfully.
The governor
glanced at the old rabbi and an inner tremor took hold of him, for he looked
exactly like the old man who had repeatedly appeared to him in his dreams.
The governor made
an effort to control himself and called for the chief witness to repeat all he
had said in court.
Seeing the
governor there, the Shabbat-Goy became scared and began to stammer. He could
hardly make himself understood.
With the help of
the judges he finally managed to conclude his testimony, swearing that everything
he had said was true.
"You are a
liar," the governor called out sternly. "Whip him until he will
confess that he is lying." the governor shouted.
The Shabbat-Goy
threw himself at the feet of the governor, kissing his boots, and began to
plead for mercy.
"I only
wanted to avenge myself against the Jews who fired me," he stammered.
"Remove this
dog from here," ordered the governor. "Put him in prison until he
will get the sentence he deserves!"
The governor then
rebuked the judges who had so readily allowed themselves
to be deceived by their blind hatred of Jews. He tore up the verdict in front
of their eyes.
Speaking to the
judges directly, he said:
"Don't you
know that the blood-libel is altogether a lie? Don't ever again dare to carry
on such false cases against people!" he concluded.
Then, after he
ordered that the accused be freed from their chains, he said to them: "We
beg your forgiveness for the wrong we have done you. You are innocent victims
of blind Jew-hatred. As compensation for your suffering I free your entire
community from paying any taxes for a period of ten years."
The governor then
turned to the old rabbi, saying:
"Words
cannot compensate for the suffering and deathly fear you have experienced. If
you would grant me the honor I would like to visit you personally this
evening."
"With
pleasure," said the old rabbi, tears of joy filling his eyes.
That
evening the governor came, all alone, to the house of the old rabbi.
The Rabbetzin had
prepared a table worthy of their honored guest, but he touched nothing. His
gaze settled on the wrinkled face of his mother and he felt a strong urge to
fall on her neck. crying: "Mother! Dear
Mother!" But he controlled his emotions and said he would like to speak to
the rabbi privately.
The Rabbi took
the governor into the next room which had shelves on every wall, filled with
books. They sat down, and the governor began to ask the Rabbi questions about
his family.
The Rabbi told
him about his children, sons and daughters, now married, living in various
towns, and who had children of their own.
"And did you
never have any other children?" asked the governor.
The rabbi was
startled by the strange question but replied with a sigh:
"Yes,
indeed. We had a dear little boy, Moshe'le, who would have been the eldest of
our children. But, sad to relate, he was stolen from us when he was just three
years old."
"I know
where your Moshe'le is," said the governor quietly.
"What are
you saying?" exclaimed the old Rabbi, jumping up excitedly.
"How do you
know? Is he alive? Where is he? Is he still a Jew?" The questions tumbled
over each other.
"Yes, your
Moshe'le is alive, but he was raised among non-Jews. He would now like to live
as a Jew if his parents would not reject him and would allow him to return to
them."
"What are
you saying? Reject him? G-d forbid! The Al-mighty
rejects no one. Where is Moshe'le? Please bring him to us, please!" the
old Rabbi pleaded with tears in his eyes.
"He is
already here, Father. I am Moshe'le, your long lost son," said the
governor, opening his arms.
For a second the
old Rabbi was stunned, unable to grasp what he had heard. The next moment
father and son were in each other's arms, in a tight embrace, crying:
"Moshe'le!" "Father!"
When they finally
calmed down the old Rabbi said:
"I must go
prepare your mother for this wonderful news. I will bring her to you and we
will discuss and decide together what must be done next."
The Rabbi was
gone a short while, but the waiting seemed endless to the governor. Finally his
mother rushed in and threw herself into his arms, as all she could exclaim,
tearfully, was:
"Moshe'le! My darling Moshe'le!"
She could not
stop hugging him, smoothing his hair and kissing him, as if she could shower
him with all the motherly love he had missed, and was pent up in her heart
since he had disappeared.
Moshe'le broke
down completely and, for the first time in his adult life, he cried like a
child.
It took the three
of them some time before they could regain their composure and sit down to
drink tea.
Moshe told his
parents how he had found out who he really was, and how his arba kanfos had
brought back his memory of what had happened to him when the gypsies sold him
to the Poretz.
"And are you
really prepared to give up your luxurious life, wealth, and honor, and your
position as governor, in order to live as a Jew?" the Rabbi asked him.
"Do you
really doubt it, Father?" Moshe answered.
Suddenly, to his
own surprise the words escaped his lips:
"Torah
tziva lannu Moshe" (The Torah which Moshe commanded us). Strange that these words,
which were the last his father had taught him before he was kidnapped, should
now have come to his mind.
The plan the
three of them decided upon was that the governor should go out hunting with his
friends, as always. He would then stray away from his companions. He would ride
through a forest and stop at a lake, where he would discard his clothes and
change into simple clothing.
When he failed to
return and his clothes would be found on the banks of the river, it would be
assumed that he had gone for a swim and had drowned.
Moshe would then
travel to
He would carry a
letter from his father, introducing him and explaining that Moshe now wished to
live as a Jew, and was ready to devote all his time to studying Torah.
The talk went on
until after
"I don't
know if we will live to see you again in this world," said his father.
"But, dear son, we will surely meet in `Gan Eden' please G-d."
"We thank
the Al-mighty for having restored you to us after all these years. Your mother
and I will pray that He protect you and watch over you always. That is all we
ask. G-d will bless you, our very dear son."
The parents
embraced their son without saying anything more, and Moshe hurried out before
he would again break down.
He lost no time
in carrying out the plan, which came off smoothly, and spent the rest of his
life in Torah study and prayer, doing his best to make up for all those lost
years.