The financial situation in his home had gotten so bad that Reb Uri of Strelisk was forced to go into business to bring home some revenue. Although his lifestyle was such that he could suffice on just the bare minimum, it wasn’t enough for his family; they needed more. They were lacking the very basics, so he went and involved himself in “worldly matters” for their sake.
While he was at the market in a neighboring town, a report came that his hometown had gone up in flames, including his house. Other than ash, nothing was left. Everything had burned to a crisp, and yet B”H no one was injured. When his gabbai heard the news, he decided to withhold the news from the Rebbe. “Let him finish his business trip,” the gabbai thought. “Otherwise, he’ll have neither a house to live in nor money for his family. Once he’s here, let him accumulate a substantial profit, and only once he’s leaving will I break the news.”
When the time came for them to pack up and leave for home, the gabbai knew it was time. He didn’t want the Rebbe to be in for a shock upon coming to his hometown. Still, how was he going to break it to the Rebbe?
In a trembling voice, the gabbai said, “You know, sometimes fires break out. And sometimes, fires can destroy an entire city.”
Reb Uri nodded, but showed no reaction. His gabbai thought that he hadn’t picked up what he was trying to say, so he figured that he’d have to hint it a bit clearer.
At the next rest stop, when Reb Uri was seated, the gabbai told it to him — this time bolder. “A fire had broken out in your hometown, and many houses went up in flames,” he said, but once again the Rebbe showed no response. The Rebbe went on with his day-to-day activities as though nothing was amiss. His davening and learning continued with the same fire as always, and his simchah was oozing.
The gabbai realized that he would have to tell the Rebbe the news in no uncertain terms. Settled in their lodgings, he found a suitable time to spill the beans. He built up the courage to do it in a way where there would be no misunderstanding. And so he did; he told the Rebbe the way it is, no flowering it in any way.
But this time as well, Reb Uri showed zero upshoot. He was cool as the day of his chasunah. Though a bit shocked how his Rebbe coped with the news, the gabbai was even happier that his Rebbe hadn’t collapsed from the news, yet he remained nervous about one final thing. “How will Reb Uri react once he sees his house? Will he be this cool when reality sets in? Maybe the Rebbe hasn’t yet processed the devastation, and once he faces it in real life, who knows how he’ll react?”
When they arrived at the city — or at least where the city once stood — all they saw was what looked like an extinguished furnace. Other than scorched frameworks and ashes floating through the air, the city was desolate. What used to be a bustling place was pitch quiet, other than some sweet-sounding birds singing in the neighboring forest.
Yet, Reb Uri held his ground. Not only did he not break down, but when he came up to his house, he stepped off his wooden chariot and broke into a dance.
A vigorous one. It was so intense that he wasn’t even aware of his bearings. Reb Uri was singing an old-time song of “Shelo asani goy.” After some time, he gained consciousness of his surroundings, and he saw the wonder radiating from the faces of the onlookers.
Reb Uri explained his practice. “Had I not been born a Yid, then when a fire would blaze through my home, so it would blaze through my belief as well. And that would not only be a tragedy, it would be a tragedy. I would be left with nothing. But since I’m born a Yid, no fire in the world can remove my belief. Hashem, Who has been with me ever since, will forever be with me. That’s why I’m ecstatic.
“Not only that,” continued Reb Uri, “but now that I don’t even have a house, I have nothing that can distract me from my ahavas Hashem. Until now, I had a house that could’ve filled a portion of my ahavah, but now that I have no house, there’s nothing to void that ahavah. So, I ask you, is that not a reason to burst into an animated dance and thank Hashem for making me a Yid?”
