It happened that Rabbi Babad, the grandson of the renowned rabbi known as the "Minchat Chinuch," became the rabbi in a certain town in Galacia. That particular town had once been the seat of a number of rabbinical luminaries upon whom the people had always relied.
One of these rulings very strongly affected the town's business which was the brewing of beer. Every year before Passover the townspeople, who made their living as brewers, sold their beer to a gentile through the rabbi as proscribed by Jewish law.
During the holiday the beer would naturally mature and ferment, thus improving in quality. The previous rabbis who had served the community had never called this practice into question, but when Rabbi Babad arrived in town, his consideration of the matter was entirely different.
The new Rabbi walked to the front of the shul, opened the holy ark and enacted a ban upon the accustomed practice of selling the maturing beer to gentiles. The town reeled as the news of the ban spread from person to person.
The townspeople were anguished over the decision of their new rabbi -- their livelihood depended upon the sale of beer. Besides, their previous rabbis had been far more illustrious than the new, young man who now occupied the position. How could he take upon himself the awesome responsibility of forbidding a practice which was sanctioned by his more learned predecessors, they wondered.
But the inhabitants of the town were, by and large, G-d fearing people, and with great difficulty they accepted upon themselves the ruling of their new rabbi, following the dictum of the Torah, that one is obligated to follow the ruling of the rabbi of their time and place. Only one man decided to do differently. This one man could not bring himself to follow the difficult decision, and on the intermediate days of Passover, he packed up his wagon and took to the road in search of a new place to live.
He was driving along when he noticed what appeared to be a band of robbers lying in wait by the side of the road. In those days, robbers were just as likely to murder as to rob, and the man was fearful of being killed. He decided that it was better to abandon his wagon and horse than to take the risk of tangling with the robbers. He jumped off the wagon grabbing only a package of matzot, and fled, leaving all of his possessions to the robber band.
The man continued walking down the road hoping that the robbers would not catch up with him. He walked for many hours until nightfall. His hunger was becoming too persistent to ignore. Though he was leaving his home to avoid following the ruling of the new rabbi, he still was a G-d-fearing man and he wouldn't eat without first washing his hands and reciting the proper blessing. He knew a creek ran through the dark forest which ringed the area, but that forest was the lair of the many robber bands who terrorized travellers. He certainly wanted no part of walking right into the hiding place of the very bandits who had robbed him.
