"Oh, are you qualified to recognize lofty souls?" remarked the Rebbe. "Here, let me tell you a story that I heard from my father about a simple Jew in the Land of Israel:
"There was once a Jewish farmer who lived just outside of Jerusalem. He did not know how to study Torah, nor did he understand the words of the prayers he said every day. In fact, even the order of the prayers and that some prayers are added on certain days and left out on others left him hopelessly confused. So, once a week, when he came to the city to sell his produce, he would go to a certain local rabbi, who would write down for him the order of the prayers for each of the seven days to come.
"One year, in the month of Cheshvan, when the rainy season usually begins, he asked the rabbi to make the list for the next two weeks. He explained that because of the bad road conditions caused by the winter rains, he would now come only once every two weeks.
"It turned out, however, that he came to Jerusalem the next week anyway. He had something pressing to attend to, and besides, it hadn't rained. When he arrived, he halted his donkey in shock: all the Jewish stores were closed!
"The simple fellow was seized by anxiety. Could he possibly have miscounted the days? G-d have mercy! Was it Shabbat today? He stood motionless. What to do?
"Looking around, he saw a solitary Jew on the street, walking along with his talit (prayer shawl) and tefilin under his arm. 'Thank G-d!' the farmer intoned; 'It can't be Shabbat if he is carrying tefilin!'
"But if so, why were the stores closed and the street deserted? He approached the strolling Jew he had spotted and asked him what was going on. The man told him that it was a public fast-day.
"Now he felt distressed again. A fast day? But he had already eaten! And failed to say the appropriate extra prayers too. Why hadn't the rabbi warned him the week before?
"Abandoning his donkey and wagon right in the middle of the marketplace where he had stopped, he rushed over to the rabbi's house. There he was told that the rabbi was still in the synagogue, so off he ran again, his heart pounding from both fear and exertion. 'Rabbi!' he cried out, bursting into tears. 'How could you do this to me!'
"The sage couldn't understand why he was so upset. 'What happened, my friend?' he asked gently.
" 'What happened?' you ask. 'Today is a fast day, I just found out, but your honor didn't write it down or even mention anything about it to me last week, and so I already ate and said the wrong prayers. Woe is me!"
"The rabbi smiled, relieved. 'You can relax, my friend. This is not a regular fast day. We just recently decreed this special fast-day for the residents of Jerusalem because of the possibility of a serious drought due to lack of rain, but you don't live here and so were in no way obligated.'
"The farmer looked perplexed. 'When you need rain, you decree a fast?' he asked, puzzled.
" 'That's right,' the rabbi replied.
" 'Really?'
" 'Of course. Why? What do you think we should do?'
" 'Well,' answered the farmer, innocently, 'when my fields don't have enough rain, I go out there and say to the One Above, "Father! I need rain." And then it starts to rain.'
"The rabbi looked at the simple fellow intensely and saw that he was sincere. 'If that's so, why don't you try and see if your methods will work here in the city, too!?'
"The farmer turned and went outside to the courtyard. He began to weep. Through his tears he cried out, 'Father! Can it possibly be that the people of Your holy city will expire from famine? Don't You see that they need rain?'
"Immediately the sky darkened and rain began to fall.
As he completed the story, the Rebbe Maharash said to his visitor from the Holy Land, "So do you really think you are able to distinguish who in the Holy Land is a lofty soul?"
