“Who could be knocking on the door now?” thought the priest. “An annoying interruption!”
Just a few minutes ago he had welcomed guests--important officials who had come to discuss various matters of local politics. He turned to his seated visitors, excused himself, and hurried to see who could be knocking so early on a Saturday. When the priest opened the door, he was stunned to see the new local rabbi, dressed in his Shabbos clothes.
“What do you want?” asked the surprised priest curtly, thinking only of his waiting guests. The rabbi smiled, and in voice full of sincerity declared, “I have seen the light! I have come to realize the truth in your religion!” The priest was doubtful of the rabbi’s intentions until the rabbi pronounced steadily and with conviction: “I have come to convert to Christianity!”
This was the sentence which every priest is yearned to hear; yet, the priest couldn’t believe his own ears. “What. . .what did you say?!”
“I have come to convert!” repeated the rabbi in a way that left no room for doubt as to his intentions. The priest’s attitude changed quickly from hostility, to growing delight at this amazing turn of events.
“Yes, off course; come right in!” smiled the priest clasping the rabbi’s hands. He shook them warmly and opened the doors wide and welcomed him inside.
“Salvatore, come quickly!” the priest summoned one of his attendants who led the rabbi to another room, “Salvatore, as you know I have a meeting with important messengers from the royal crown whom I cannot possibly leave. But our guest here needs attending to. He intends to convert, but I cannot officiate just now or conduct the ceremony while I have such guests to entertain. Please ply him with good food and drink until I can come back to him late tonight or early tomorrow morning!”
“Please rabbi follow me,” said Salvatore, as the priest hurried back with a new spring in his step.
“Just wait until the church fathers hear about my exploits! The local rabbi--my new convert; I just might make bishop!” He went back to the meeting where he boasted to the king’s men about who he had in the next room. Meanwhile, the local rabbi was led unsteadily to the next room.
“This rabbi already smells like he has had a few drinks,” smiled Salvatore to himself, “let’s keep him happily inebriated until the priest can come back and convert him.”
“Here rabbi, have a seat, help yourself to some of our best whiskey and some food while you wait for the priest to return.”
Salvatore quickly made his exit. The rabbi quaffed glass after glass and soon he was so drunk he could barely think straight. The strange turn of events of the previous Shabbos began to slosh through his mind...
He had awoken early as he had done every Shabbos since he became the rabbi of the town a few weeks ago. He went to the mikvah as usual and donned his Shabbos clothes and shtreimel. Then, as he was about to wrap himself in his tallis, he suddenly faltered. That was the first sign that foreign thoughts had possessed him.
He stared at the carefully set Shabbos table, but instead of contentedly appreciating its beauty, a strange compulsion swept through him. He thirsted for the contents of the wine and liquor bottles that were set out at the head of the table for kiddush and l’chaims.
“What is wrong with me?” he thought.
And then a new inconceivable thought began to form in his mind. “Why not leave all this behind? Why not convert?”
“What!” a counter voice screamed back. “What is this? Convert? Never!” But as strong as the protests began, they grew weaker and fainter against the onslaught of his sudden burning desire to convert. Conceding defeat in the battle that had just been waged within him, he cast off his tallis, grabbed the bottle of wine and began to drink. He then reached for the whisky, downing glass after glass.
Unaccustomed to such a deluge of alcohol on an empty stomach, and so early in the morning, inebriation came quickly. His compulsion to convert intensified by the overwhelming effect of the liquor coursing through his veins, propelled the rabbi to run all the way to the priest’s home.
And here he was, drunker than ever before. “What a strange day,” he thought just before he he vomited all over himself and then blacked out.
While this was going on, the congregants were shocked to discover that not only had their rabbi not come to shul that morning for davening, he was absent from his home as well. When they came in, they found his tallis cast off, and several empty bottles of wine and whisky lying on the floor. Just then one of the town’s gossipers ran in and declared, “A terrible thing has happened, I just saw the rabbi running to the priest’s house. When I drew near, I heard him say that he wanted to convert!”
“What? Liar! How can this be! Woe is to us! It cannot be true! There must be some other reason for his behavior! It’s unbelievable! It’s a lie--just nasty rumor! What will we do?” The congregants looked at each other with a mix of shock and outrage.
Meanwhile, in Mezibuz, as the sun made its way down towards the horizon, the talmidim of the holy Tzadik, Rav Yisroel Ba’al Shem clasped hands together and sang the zemiros of shalosh seudos. At the head, sat the holy Baal Shem Tov with his eyes closed in concentration.
Each Shabbos after mincha, the Baal Shem and the chevrah sat to eat shalosh seudos together like this. At such times, a wondrous thing happened. His soul soared upwards to the supernal chambers of Heavenly palaces. He would divest himself of his earthly form and visit all of his talmidim--wherever they were. Each talmid would be visited, regarded and appraised: What had he accomplished? What were his spiritual struggles? How could his rebbe, teacher and mentor help? And this Shabbos as the Baal Shem moved on to the local rabbi in our story, in faraway Lithuania, the Baal Shem was dismayed at what he discovered. His beloved disciple was shrouded in darkness and lying at the bottom of a deep pit. The Ba’al Shem saw that he was lost in despair and oblivion.
“How did this happen?” asked the Ba’al Shem. The answer came to him in the vision. First, what appeared, was the moment the talmid had been appointed to his new position as the town rabbi, and how he had set up a new charity fund. When the new rabbi reviewed the accounts, he noticed that one particular talmid chacham was receiving far more money than others. “This is unfair,” he concluded, and he had the gabbai stop his collection for the earmarked fund.
Meanwhile, from shomayim, the Baal Shem was shown the consequence of the new rabbi’s policy. The talmid chacham, who was already impoverished, was now destitute. His home was dark and cold; no food was cooking on the stove; the children were hungry. The vision continued. The mother wrapped herself in a torn shawl, trying to ward off the cold as she headed to the beis medrash.
“My husband, where is the money for this week’s expenses?”
“I am so sorry,” he said hanging his head low in shame, “I have nothing to give you.”
“What will we eat for Shabbos?” she cried. Seeing his wife’s suffering, he too, cried. And the heavens cried along with them.
Another vision appeared to the Ba’al Shem: Two litigants came before the new rabbis’ beis din to judge a case. “Rabbi, I have rented the flour mill for many years from the local poritz. Now Shimon here came and offered him more money, and the poritz cancelled my contract! I have no parnassa and no way of feeding my family!”
“I am sorry,” ruled the rabbi incorrectly, “but he seems to have outbid you.” The poor miller and his family cried that night in hunger--and the heavens cried along with them.
Now the Baal Shem saw the Satan prosecute the rabbi in beis din shel maalah and the sentence handed down was this: The Evil One has been given possession of the new rabbi. But the Satan decided that he didn’t want his body; he wanted his soul! And so, he injected poisonous thoughts of conversion into the rabbi’s mind, twisting his beliefs. And this is how the Ba’al Shem’s talmid reached this sorry state.
As the Ba’al Shem Tov and his circle of followers sang the words to the Arizal’s zemiros, and reached the stanza “Levatala bechol klifin – annul all the forces of darkness--the husks and shells of impurity,” the Baal Shem repeated these words over and over emphatically. His efforts, however, were to no avail. Nothing he did seemed to help.
After the zemer’s conclusion, the Ba’al Shem summoned a different student. He told him, “Here, take this slice of challah over which I said hamotzi, along with this loaf from the twelve loaves, and go!” He then took his own leftover shirayim from his challah, and the loaf from the twelve breads representing the show bread (the lechem hapanim from the Beis Hamikdash) and handed them to the talmid. The devoted talmid requested no details or explanations. He simply went!
As he continued walking along, the shadows grew longer as the sun’s last rays disappeared beneath the horizon. Soon dusk was followed by nightfall; stars began to peak their way out from among the clouds and the sounds of night creatures filled the forest. Crickets chirped, owls hooted, and animals darted about in the underbrush.
As the talmid crossed from woods to glade, and from one valley to another, he found himself surrounded by steep cliffs and impassable mountains. He plodded on relentlessly as he reminded himself over and over that he was on a mission sent from his rebbe, the holy Ba’al Shem; he must overcome all obstacles. Surely these mountains were simply an illusion--a trial from Satan himself, sent to obstruct his path and to prevent him from carrying out his sacred mission.
Straining every muscle and with sweat pouring down his brow, the talmid continued to climb. “Just like Avraham Avinu persevered against you and overcame your nisyonos!” he yelled, “so too shall I overcome and you!”
As soon as he reached the impossibly high peak, he saw that indeed, there were no mountains at all. It was all a test, an illusion to stop him. In fact, he saw before him a large stone compound with a cathedral at its center. He surmised that his destination lay straight ahead at the open door.
He stepped inside and found his colleague, the rabbi, lying on the floor in his Shabbos clothes, in a drunken stupor, covered in his own filth.
He sat his friend upright and tried to wash him off and wake him. Using some cold water, he revived the befuddled rabbi. However, as soon as he was awake, he headed straight for the drinks on the table!
“Oh no!” thought his friend, “this is even worse than I thought.” Then he had an idea. “Look here my good friend,” he told the rabbi, “too much drink on an empty stomach will make you sick. Wouldn’t that whisky go down better after a nice meal? You will feel better and be able to hold down the drink if you eat something. Here, I happen to have some delicious bread here with me for you!” He removed the challah loaf and the slice from his rebbe from his sack, and showed it to the drunken rabbi.
Through his stupor, the rabbi’s foggy brain tried to make sense of all he had heard, yet only one thing demanded his attention: the question of whether to drink more. Off course he wanted to drink more! And in order to drink more this nice friend was offering to help him with some bread. How nice of him to help him to continue drinking!
“Now come and wash your hands for bread; I have brought with me challah from the Master, the holy Ba’al Shem. Make a beracha and fulfill the mitzvah of Melave Malka!” No sooner had the rabbi washed and pronounced the berachah, and tasted a morsel of the challah, had he snapped out of the strange trance. The evil one’s grip over his heart was released and he was back to normal.
