Erev Shabbos Kodesh, Shabbos Mevarchim. As every month, Shimon the wagon driver waited for his loyal customers.
“Ach, such customers...I wish everyone could be like them,” he thought to himself. Slowly, everyone gathered. The first one sat down in his place and greeted Shimon warmly. Soon enough, everyone was seated and the trip began.
For a long time already, they had been traveling together, the wagon driver and the chassidim, each Shabbos Mevarchim. The beautiful scenery that whizzed by at dizzying speed, on the long route from the village where they lived towards Chernobyl, did not draw their attention. They were busy the whole time with divrei Torah and chassidus, and from time to time, they sang a vibrant Chassidic niggun, preparing themselves for Shabbos with their Rebbe, Harav Mordechai of Chernobyl, ztz”l.
As soon as they arrived at their destination, Shimon the wagon driver would hurriedly turn around and return home to spend Shabbos with his family. At dawn on Sunday, he traveled back to Chernobyl to bring the chassidim home.
This puzzled the chassidim who traveled with him. How was it possible that Shimon the wagon driver had been passing near the home of their Rebbe once a month for a few years now, but he never visited the Rebbe – not even to receive a brachah or to gaze at his holy visage?
They tried to speak to him. Each month anew, they offered him to go in to get a brachah, but their words fell on deaf ears. “What will it help me to see the Rebbe? Would that improve my dismal situation? Can the Rebbe provide food for my hungry children?”
With the stubbornness of a wagon driver, Shimon’s resistance remained firm, and the chassidim kept urging him and trying to convince him, until finally, he acquiesced. This coming Sunday, he told them, he’d come to Chernobyl early, and if they would take him into the Rebbe’s room, he would not object.
Sunday morning. The wagon driver kept his word, and the familiar clip clopping of his horse could be heard making its way through Chernobyl earlier than usual. He davened Shacharis with the chassidim, and right after davening, he was brought into the Rebbe’s room. The chassidim expected to see him emerge within a few minutes, but to their surprise, the conversation stretched on.
When he emerged, the wagon driver was enveloped in uncharacteristic silence. It was evident that the Rebbe had succeeded in penetrating the deepest part of his soul. The chassidim understood, and did not urge him to tell them what had happened. On the first half of the ride, he remained silent, but as they drove on, and the chassidim began to speak about their lofty Shabbos with the Rebbe, the wagon driver suddenly interjected solemnly, “I don’t think any of you was as elevated on this trip as me.”
The surprising admission aroused the curiosity of the chassidim, and the wagon driver shared with them what had happened. “When I went into the room, the Rebbe asked me to describe my daily schedule. At first, of course, I chose to describe the days I did not work, and as you surely know, unfortunately, in our poor town, such days are rather common. I detailed how I get up early in the morning and hurry to daven in shul and even stay for a shiur Mishnayos and to say Tehillim. In the afternoon, I return for Minchah and Maariv and for a shiur in Ein Yaakov, which takes place between the tefillos.”
“‘This is what you do on days when you don’t have work,’ the Rebbe stopped me, and then wondered, ‘And how do you conduct yourself on a day that you do have work?’
“I was ashamed to answer but the Rebbe pressed me, so I told him in a low voice: ‘On such days, I get up early, I grease the wheels of my carriage, check how it’s doing, and hurry to be on the way. So I have to put on tefillin quickly and daven at one of the stops.’
“The Rebbe did not let me be and continued asking: ‘And why don’t you start working after davening properly?’
“‘Because then I’ll lose out even the few customers that I have!’ I replied shamefacedly.”
“In response, the Rebbe told me a story: ‘There was a person who worked hard for a living and after being absent from his home for many months, he made his way home with a lot of money that he’d managed to earn. He had three sacks in his hand. One was filled with golden dinars, another with silver coins, and a third with copper coins. He walked along the route for a few days, and as Shabbos approached, he hurried up to reach the nearest town that had a Jewish community, and a short time before Shabbos began he knocked at the Rav’s door and asked if he could deposit his money sacks there.’
“‘From there, he hurried to the inn, but right when darkness fell, doubts began to plague him. Who knows, maybe the Rav won’t guard the deposit well, and if so what will be with me? Am I going to lose all my money?!
“‘Thus Shabbos passed, and he was overcome with worry. He hardly tasted the delicious food that was served to him, and he could barely sleep.
“‘As soon as Shabbos ended, he hurried to the Rav’s house, and with bated breath, demanded his money back. But the Rav was in no hurry...I won’t touch the money before Maariv and Havdalah, he said placidly. The visitor had to wait patiently. After Havdalah, the Rav went into the inner room, and returned holding three familiar sacks. But the man was not leaving just yet: With trembling hands, he poured out the contents of the first sack and began to count the coins, one after another. To his relief, they were all in place. Later, he counted the silver coins – and all was in order. When he was about to spill out the contents of the third sack, the Rav could not hold himself back and chided: That’s enough! After you checked me and saw that I didn’t touch your silver and gold coins, you would suspect me of filching from your silly copper coins?!’
“That’s how the Rebbe finished his parable and said to me, ‘My dear man! Every night, you give your neshamah to the Creator, and in the morning, you open your eyes – and see a world filled with so much color, you move your limbs – and they all work well – would you suspect, chalilah, that the simplest matter – parnassah – is something that Hashem cannot provide for you?!’”
“Now you tell me,” the wagon driver concluded, “am I not the one who was most elevated than all of you on this trip?!”
Birchas Dovid, Behar
The One Who Gave Life Will Give Sustenance
