In a village near Kovno lived a Jew named Yosef, who earned his living from a small inn that he maintained. He was both pious and an accomplished Torah scholar, and was well-respected by everyone. His good name drew people to his establishment, Jew and non-Jew alike.
One day, the Russian army returned from Warsaw after a military skirmish with the Poles. One battalion was assigned to bivouac in Yosef's village for a while. After they got themselves organized and set up, their commanding officer, a general, wished to relax with a glass of good wine. Two soldiers were dispatched to the innkeeper's home. They knocked on the door and announced that they had come to buy a bottle of the most expensive wine for their general.
To their surprise, they were met with a polite but firm refusal. It was Shabbat eve, the sun had already set; Queen Shabbat had arrived. "Sorry, fellows," said Reb Yosef, "no sales today."
When the soldiers returned empty-handed, the general became angry. He was used to his orders being immediately fulfilled. The soldiers insisted it wasn't their fault. "The Jew absolutely refused to sell to us," they explained.
The general blew up. Impudent Jew! Enraged, he ordered the two to go tell the Jew that if he persisted in his refusal, terrible things would happen to him.
The soldiers left. When they came back, they still had no wine. However, they showed the general that they had the keys to the inn. "That Jew is strange," they exclaimed. "First he won't sell to us, no matter what; then he gives us the keys to his shop. He even said we can take whatever we like-and for free!"
The general's fury turned into astonishment. His curiosity piqued, he decided he would go see this strange Jew for himself.
When the door was opened for him, the general remained rooted on the threshold. In the center of the room stood a table covered with a sparkling white cloth. On it were glowing candles spreading their light throughout the entire room. The faces of the small children that turned towards him shone. The delicious smells of Shabbat wafted through the room, filling the general's nostrils. He had never partaken of such a vision in his life.
Reb Yosef warmly invited the general to join them, and instructed someone to bring a bottle of good, aged liquor. The general could contain himself no longer. "I don't understand," he cried out. "Why did you refuse to sell me even a bottle of wine and then of your own will send me the keys to your inn? And now you honor me with fancy drinks to my heart's desire?"
"It's simple," smiled the innkeeper. "G-d, who is infinitely more exalted than any aristocratic noble or other important person, forbids us to do business on the holy Shabbat. But when you honor me by visiting me in my home, then you are my guest, and I will do everything in my power to treat you well."
The general sated himself with meat and drink, and stood to go. He took a gold coin from his pocket and attempted to pay his host for the exquisite meal.
"G-d forbid!" Reb Yosef exclaimed. "I already explained to you that on Shabbat I don't have customers, only guests. And with guests I don't reckon bills or take payments."
The general wrote down the innkeeper's name in his notebook and departed, but not before shaking his host's hand in friendship and thanking him with great warmth.
Several years passed. A black carriage, instantly recognizable as one of those used to transport serious criminals, stopped in front of Reb Yosef's house. Armed policemen emerged, arrested the innkeeper, and took him away to jail.
After a while, Reb Yosef was informed of the reason for his arrest. The leader of the rebels, Jan Kanarki, had been captured. In his journal, Reb Yosef's inn was mentioned as a regular meeting place. The police deduced that, beyond doubt, the innkeeper must be a prominent member of the underground.
Reb Yosef sat in his cramped, dark cell unceasingly murmuring Psalms in a broken, weeping voice. He pleaded with the Master of the Universe to save him from the horror that had overtaken him.
While he was still praying, the door of his cell opened. The chief supervisor of the national prison system was present on an inspection tour. The official's glance took in the sobbing Jew. Much to everyone's surprise he clasped the prisoner's hand, and asked, "My good friend! What are you doing here?"
Reb Yosef's eyes were filled with tears; he could barely distinguish who stood in front of him. Suddenly he recognized the official; it was the general!
Reb Yosef told him the details of his totally unexpected, false arrest. The general pursued the investigators on the case, and firmly asserted that a terrible mistake had taken place. Based on his personal acquaintance with the accused, the general insisted that the innkeeper could not possibly be involved with a revolutionary plot.
Thanks to his position, all charges were dropped and Reb Yosef was freed. From that day on, he lavished even more honor on Shabbat than before. After all, he owed her his life.
Reprinted with permission from the Ascent Quarterly: www.ascent.org.il/
