Yankel the innkeeper lived in an isolated village for so long that he barely remembered that he was a Jew. Shabbos was a word he dimly recalled. Day and night he served the Polish peasants who bought drinks in his little inn. Nothing new ever happened and one year slipped unnoticed into the next.
One day, however, a tall, husky Jew entered Yankel's inn and disturbed Yankel's quiet existence. This visitor was none other than the famous Rabbi Moshe Leib of Sassov, who had leased a hut in the middle of a forest in order to meditate and pray in the stillness of the woods. At times, however, he came to the village to purchase food, and that is how he happened to meet Yankel.
When Rabbi Moshe Leib had first entered his inn, something deep inside Yankel stirred and prompted him to say to the Rabbi, "You know, sir, I am a Jew."
"How can you live in a place where there are no other Jews?" the Rabbi queried him. "It seems you have even forgotten our holy traditions. My poor brother, even the animals of Jews refrain from work on the Shabbos. How can you do less than that?"
Yankel blushed at Rabbi Moshe Leib's words. "But, Rabbi," he continued, "I have to stay open on Shabbos or the peasants will buy their drinks elsewhere, and I will lose my livelihood!"
"Nevertheless," Rabbi Moshe Leib insisted, "you must close on Shabbos. How can a holy Jewish soul do less than the donkey of a Jew who is kept from working on the Shabbos day?"
When Yankel saw that the Tzaddik was adamant, he began to consider the matter more seriously. Eventually, he resolved to close the inn on Shabbos. Yankel's announcement provoked a bitter reaction from his customers.
"If you refuse to sell us liquor, we'll complain to the landlord! He'll throw you out! You can't do this to us!"
Yankel knew they would follow through on their threat especially since it involved the issue of vodka. He walked deep into the forest until he found the hut of Rabbi Moshe Leib. "The peasants are threatening to ruin me," Yankel cried.
"Don't worry," replied Rabbi Moshe Leib. "Bolt the doors. If the landlord questions you, do not hesitate to tell him that your G-d commanded Jews to keep the Shabbos day holy."
The Innkeeper Opens the Door for the Furious Nobleman
Yankel had no choice but to accommodate him. The furious nobleman entered the inn and screamed, "Who do you think you are, denying vodka to your customers! Why else did I lease this inn to you, except to make a profit?"
"Sir," began a frightened Yankel, "surely you know I am a Jew. Just recently I was told by a holy Jewish Rabbi that our Torah forbids us to work on the Shabbos day. That is why I have closed the inn today."
The directness of the reply intrigued the landowner. "Where is this person? Bring him to me!"
Soon, Rabbi Moshe Leib was standing before the landlord. "Tell me, Jew, does this prohibition against working apply to a Jew who is in danger of losing his livelihood?" he asked, in a cutting tone. "Sir, it applies even in such a case," was the Tzaddik's reply.
"How can you allow yourself to torment this man? I doubt your answer would be the same if it were your livelihood that was involved. Well, I know how to find out. If you are really sincere, I will permit the innkeeper to close on the Shabbos."
The landlord dismissed the Rabbi, a plan hatching in his mind. The following Shabbos, the landowner rode into the forest with a bag of gold coins. He scattered the coins on the ground near the Tzaddik's hut and waited to see what would transpire.
Returns to Examine the Gold Coins More Closely
At first the Tzaddik passed right by the coins after barely glancing at them, but then he returned and examined them closely. The landlord waited gleefully for the fatal moment when the Jew would eagerly scoop them into his hands. But no, he averted his eyes and continued walking.
The landowner then rushed out of his hiding place. "I am very impressed, and I will keep my end of the deal. But tell me, why did you first ignore the money and then bend down to examine it?"
"I will explain," began Rabbi Moshe Leib. "At first, I ignored the money, for it was Shabbos. But then, I began to think how I needed the money to rescue many imprisoned Jews. I considered that perhaps the Mitzvah of redeeming captives and saving lives overrides the prohibitions of the Shabbos. I became confused, and then I prayed to G-d to give me direction.
“Suddenly I understood. Sir, if I had taken or hidden the money, you would not have understood my motives. You would have assumed that I was taking it for my own desires. I realized that G-d is certainly capable to provide me with the money in a permissible way. I have always scrupulously observed the Shabbos, and now Heaven has protected me from coming to any harm. Surely, now you can see the importance for a Jew to keep the holiness of the Shabbos."
Reprinted from the Parshas Va’eira 5784 email of Rabbi David Caro’s Inspired by a Story.
