Some of the chassidim of the tzadik Rabbi Yisrael of Ruzhin were sitting in the study hall, speaking about the current situation. “Oh, woe,” a heavy sigh suddenly escaped from one of the chassidim.
“What are you sighing about?” his companions asked him.
“About the harsh and prolonged exile, with no end in sight,” the chassid replied.
From there, the conversation turned to the long exile and the hoped for redemption.
“Why is it,” one of them asked rhetorically, “that Hashem is keeping us in exile for such a long time?”
“He has His reasons,” another answered.
“Perhaps He wants to test us and examine our loyalty to Him,” suggested a third.
“‘It gives Me pleasure that I decreed and My will is being fulfilled,’” added another in the group. “Hashem delights in every single moment that Jews observe the mitzvot in exile.”
The Tzadik’s Story
Thus, the chassidim continued to search for reasons for the prolonged exile and tried to "explain" Hashem's ways.
Suddenly, the door to the Rebbe’s room opened, and the tzadik came out. The mouths of the chassidim fell silent in awe. The Rebbe approached and sat at the table.
“Let me tell you a nice story,” he began, “which, even if it never happened, carries a moral lesson.” And he told the following story:
As is known, many Jews live in remote towns and small villages where Jewish life is sparse. These Jews, who from a young age—or even from childhood—became apprentices to craftsmen, grew up without Torah and without guidance. Their ignorance is great, and their knowledge of Jewish law and customs is minimal. Some cannot even read or write, let alone study or pray.
Why are they Crying?
Yet even among these Jews beats a warm Jewish heart. As the holidays approach, they travel to the nearby city to celebrate in a proper Jewish atmosphere. Especially during the High Holy Days, they try to be in large communities where there is a synagogue and a minyan for prayer. Even those who cannot pray themselves come to the synagogue to simply be present.
It once happened that a certain completely ignorant villager traveled to the city on Rosh Hashanah and came to the synagogue that morning. He sat and looked around, with no ability to pray or understand what the congregation was doing at any given moment.
When the congregation reached the Amidah (Silent Prayer), a wave of emotion swept over the crowd, and people began to weep. The villager didn’t understand and wondered to himself—why are they crying? No fight broke out among them, and no disaster had occurred since the prayers began!
They Must be Hungry
He thought and thought and finally came to a conclusion—they must be crying because the prayers are dragging on for too long and they’re hungry, having not eaten since morning. They're simply starving!
Since the villager was also hungry, he joined in and cried along with them.
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How Long Can We Wait?!?! (continued)
Eventually, the Amidah ended and the weeping ceased. Once again, the villager was puzzled—no one had eaten anything, their hunger must be worse now, so why did they stop crying?
He placed his head in his hands and pondered deeply, his face serious. Suddenly, he remembered that before leaving his host’s home that morning, he had seen the housewife placing a tough piece of meat into the cholent pot—meat that requires long, slow cooking. The more it cooks, the softer and more delicious it becomes.
That, the villager reasoned, must be why they stopped crying—they remembered the meat simmering slowly and improving with time, so the longer the prayer lasts, the better the meat will be! He too calmed down and stopped crying.
An hour later, the shofar blasts began, and the congregation burst into a fresh round of heartfelt, piercing sobs. The villager, hungry and exhausted, began to think again, trying to grasp the reason for this new bout of weeping.
Enough is Enough!
Why are they crying now?, he asked himself. He strained his mind until he finally found the answer. Yes, it’s true that the meat will become softer and tastier the longer it cooks—but still, how long can one wait?!
And so, he too resumed weeping alongside the congregation.
The Rebbe finished his story, stood up, and returned to his room.
As soon as he left, the chassidim began to discuss the story and its moral. It was clear to them that although the Rebbe had not been present during their earlier conversation, he had addressed its exact content. They understood that the story was a parable.
And the message:
Yes, the longer the exile continues, the greater and more wondrous the redemption will be. But at the end of the day, this situation—where the Jewish people suffer and are persecuted for so many years—must come to an end. For as the simple villager asked: How long can we wait?!
