Reb Meir of Premishlan delivers a passport to keep a Yid out of the army
During the Hungarian Revolution of 1848, in Galicia where many Jews had lived for centuries, the monarchy urgently needed to enlist soldiers for their struggle in suppressing the Hungarian Revolution. This draft affected many young Jewish men. Any man caught without a legal exemption was inducted immediately. The chances of retaining a bond to Kashrus, Shabbos and other fundamentals of Jewish life were virtually none. Many souls were lost as a direct outcome of the draft. This had a grievous impact on Jewish families. In order to escape the soul-destroying draft, many Yidden simply went into hiding, which naturally cast their families into poverty, with their breadwinners absent.
Rav Meir Premishlaner’s court became a place of refuge for numerous young Jews desperately seeking to avoid the cruel conscription. They streamed there and the Rebbe would daven for them, storming the heavens for an exemption for each one in turn. When he became aware through Heavenly channels that his entreaties succeeded, he instructed the young man in question to report to the induction center, where he was handed his deferment, after which he returned home to help support his family.
But there was one case where a young man had been remaining with Rav Meir for the many months from one Shavuos until Purim, waiting for the Rebbe to achieve a favorable verdict for him. Poverty was rampant in the city, and Reb Meir told him with a heavy heart that he would not be able to accommodate him for the upcoming Pesach.
The young man was depressed that he might have to take leave of the Rebbe. There was a clear and present danger of being seized by the military police. Reb Meir’l resorted to a new strategy for shielding the man. “I'm going to produce a passport for you from a country outside Austria, which will automatically exempt you from the Austrian draft. But should any policeman challenge you to show it, tell him that the law only requires you to produce it for the local Chief Municipal Judge and not to any lower-ranking official.”
Reb Meir, although far from being a government-authorized passport agent, set about writing what was to be a unique non-Austrian “passport” for this young man. He sequestered himself and employed a host of Holy Shaimos. He folded up the “passport”, sealed it in an envelope and handed it to the newly-minted “foreign citizen.” The young Yid thrust it deep into his safest inner pocket and set out for his journey home, full of Emunas Tzadikkim.
Events unfolded just as Reb Meir’l foresaw. A military policeman challenged him for roaming the countryside without the proper papers, and prepared to draw him in, but was detered by the excuse of his not being a citizen. The policeman knew that the man was within his rights in insisting on showing his papers only to a judge, but he was not quite so ready to abandon his honor “OK, we'll see if you're right. Get in the wagon and off we go to the district courthouse. You can tell it to the judge,” he teased. After a long ride, which might have been nerve-wracking for someone not a chosid of Reb Meir’l, they arrived at court, where another long stretch in the waiting room greeted the man. When the magistrate got around to calling his case, he unsealed the envelope, peered inside, turned the contents every which way and said that he had to continue his examination in his chambers. The young man started to tremble uncontrollably. Forging a passport is a serious felony which could land me right in prison.“ But reason got the better of him. He said Tehillim feverishly and strengthened his emunas tzadikkim, certain to the core that his Rebbe’s strategy would pan out in the end. He calmed down for the rest of the hour it took for the judge to summon him into his chambers.
The judge delivered his decision. “I've been a judge for many years and I know a fake passport when I see one -- and this one takes the cake. Still, there's something intriguing and mysterious about it. Name me the person who wrote this document and I'll issue you a full exemption from the draft and you can go home free as a bird. I just have to know who produced this unique document. I promise nothing bad will happen to him, but I just have to know.” The young man resumed quaking in his boots and ordinarily would never have identified the Rebbe, but in fear for his life, he answered “The Rabbi from Premishlan wrote this.” “I've heard of him. If so, then I see that he is indeed a holy man of G-d. Only someone like that could write a paper that keeps changing its language before my eyes. The first time I read it, it was written in German used in Austrian governmental circles. I had to authenticate it, of course, but the second time through the language was formal High German written in a very ornate style. I kept on reading it again and again since, I had to be sure it was real, but each time the language shifted -- one time to Swiss German, then to Bavarian style, then to something like Dutch and so on. I'm giving you a lifetime deferment from the army but you must leave this document in my possession. It is absolutely unique and it has to stay in my collection.”
The Yid let out a sigh of relief. He firmly took hold of the draft deferral before the judge could change his mind, and set out for home, freed from all worries about a devastating stint in the army, all thanks to the wondrous miracle he merited to have from his holy Rebbe, Reb Meir Premishlaner.
