Rabbi Yisrael Baal Shem Tov zt"l
6 Sivan 5520 (1760)
The Baal Shem Tov once traveled to the town of Kaminka. As he approached his destination, he heard a Heavenly voice, "Yisroel ben Eliezer, Please remove the Shochet of Kaminka from his position."
The Baal Shem Tov pondered over the directive he received. He couldn't understand why there would be a Heavenly decree to discharge the Shochet from his position. He knew that Rabbi Boruch, the Rabbi of Kaminka, was a wise and respected Rabbi who was meticulous when it came to matters of Jewish Law. He was sure that if there was any Halachic problem with the town's Shochet, the Rabbi would know of it and correct it immediately.
"Perhaps," reasoned the Baal Shem Tov, "the problem is not a Halachic one. Perhaps the Shochet has taken a Halachic opinion from which he needs to be removed."
When he arrived in Kaminka, the Baal Shem Tov went directly to the house of Rabbi Boruch, who was elated and honored to welcome the holy Baal Shem Tov to his town. He was invited to rest there while Rabbi Baruch arranged for a celebration honoring the arrival of the great Tzaddik. He set aside several choice lambs, and sent a request to the local Shochet to come and slaughter them for the occasion.
After the slaughtering, when inspecting the lambs as Jewish Law requires, the Shochet found one of the lambs to have a certain question that he decided it was not kosher. He removed the unfit lamb and hung it on a hook in the passageway behind Rabbi Boruch's home.
Later that day, Rabbi Boruch found the Baal Shem Tov smoking his pipe in that passageway and staring in deep concentration at the slaughtered lamb. After a few minutes, the Baal Shem Tov turned to the Rabbi and said, "Rabbi Boruch, would you be so kind as to cut a piece of meat from this animal and roast it for me."
Reb Boruch thought the Tzaddik had made a mistake.
"Rebbe, this animal is treif (not kosher). That is why the Shochet hung it here. Let me prepare a piece from one of the other animals that he also just slaughtered."
"No," answered the Baal Shem Tov, "I want a piece from this particular animal."
"But Rebbe, the Shochet told me personally that this animal is not kosher."
The Baal Shem Tov turned to him and said, "I understand. But I can hear this animal begging me that it be able to fulfill its purpose in this world; that it be slaughtered by a G-d fearing Shochet and that a blessing be said by a Jew before it is eaten so its soul-spark can be elevated. We must speak with the Shochet and find out why he considers it to be not kosher."
Immediately, Rabbi Boruch sent for the Shochet. When he arrived, the Rabbi asked him in the presence of the Baal Shem Tov why he thought this lamb is treif.
The Shochet explained his doubt as to whether the animal was one hundred percent kosher, and his hesitancy to allow any Jew to eat it. Then he continued, "It is true, however, that there are several rabbinic opinions regarding this particular lesion, and that some authorities consider it to be kosher, and some do not."
The Baal Shem Tov then understood the 'position' the Shochet was in from which he had to be removed. Although the Shochet was G-d fearing and expert in his profession, he did not understand the spiritual consequences of his perhaps too strict position.
"In that case," the Baal Shem Tov addressed Rabbi Boruch, "please cut me a piece of meat and roast it for me." The Rabbi stared at the Baal Shem Tov in shock. On one hand he wanted to fulfill the request of his Rebbe. On the other hand how could he feed the Rebbe treif meat, a prohibition directly from the Torah?
The Baal Shem Tov understood the Rabbi's dilemma. So he suggested, "Please send a messenger to Rabbi Shmuel, the Dayan of the large strictly observant community of Polonnoye, with a letter explaining the doubts the Shochet has about this animal. Let him be the judge for us."
The other two agreed. Rabbi Boruch, relieved by the Baal Shem Tov's suggestion, immediately sent a messenger to Rabbi Shmuel. The messenger returned that same day with Dayan's reply, which was that the meat was indeed kosher. He also included the Halachic reasons for his opinion.
Thus, the Baal Shem Tov complied with the Heavenly decree and succeeded to remove the Shochet from his 'position.' Indeed, he placed him in a much better one in the eyes of Heaven.
In the times of the Baal Shem Tov, non-Jewish landowners would frequently imprison their Jewish tenants for failing to pay their debts. The Baal Shem Tov showed great concern for these poor families, and with boundless determination, he traveled from town to town, encouraging fellow Jews to contribute towards this great mitzvah of pidyon shvuim -- "ransoming captives."
Once, after a week of continuous efforts, the Baal Shem Tov succeeded in collecting the sum necessary to redeem a family imprisoned by a particularly stubborn landowner who had refused to release the family until he received every penny owed to him. It was not until Friday afternoon that the Baal Shem Tov was able to raise the entire sum and thus, the members of the family were set free only a few short hours before Shabbos.
"Stay with me for Shabbos," the Baal Shem Tov offered. "You will not be able to make it back to your town in time for candle lighting."
Needless to say, the poor family was more than willing to accept the invitation.
At the Shabbos meal, surrounded with some of his close students, the Baal Shem Tov turned to the man he had ransomed. "So, what news have you heard today?"
The man looked up in wonder. "But Rebbe, what news could have reached the pit in which we were imprisoned?"
"Then tell us something of your past," encouraged the Baal Shem Tov.
"I can't seem to think of anything worthy of telling about my life, but I have just recalled a strange experience I had while in prison.
All week long, we would hear pitiful moans and wails coming from a corner in the pit where we were held prisoner. Each Friday afternoon, however, the crying would cease, only to be replaced by shrieking laughter that pierced our ears.
This went on for weeks. My family and I were terrified to approach the nook where the noise came from, and we just huddled together in our corner.
This week, however, the crying was louder than usual, as was the deafening laughter which took its place. Knowing that we were to be freed shortly, I perked up enough courage to shout in the direction from which the voiced emerged, “Who are you?”
A voice responded from the far end of the pit.
We are unholy spirits whose existence depends on flaws in the behavior of a Tzaddik. He refrains from eating all week long, breaking his fast only on Friday. He prepares a mug of milk in the morning, setting it aside to drink when he concludes his morning prayers.
'All week long, we are overwhelmed by the power of his righteousness. This is why we wail. Every Friday, however, we cause one of his household members to accidentally spill the milk and rouse the anger of the holy man. It is from this display of anger that we derive our power and existence.
"This week, he was determined, more than ever, not to succumb to the folly of anger. Realizing that his expression of anger could negate all the spiritual achievements he had attained during the week, he resolved to prevent himself from being provoked. He decided to lock the closet in which he put the milk and to give no one the key.
That is why we were so upset this week, the voice explained. We did not know how we would be able to rouse his wrath. However, we were not prepared to give up so easily. This morning, one of us appeared as a woodcutter, knocked on the Tzaddik’s door, and offered his wife a bundle of wood at a bargain price.
"Her purse was in the same closet as the milk and she requested the key from her husband. Anxious not to keep the woodcutter waiting, she by mistake knocked over the milk jug. Sure enough, the Tzaddik exploded in rage and thus, we had much to celebrate today.”
The crowd of people at the Baal Shem Tov's table listened in amazement to this strange story. But suddenly, one of his great students fell down in a faint. He was known to fast the entire week.
