Parshat Tetzaveh
“Don’t You Recognize Me?”
By Rabbi Dovid Caro
One Friday night in Kuzmir, a man arrived at the Shul of Rebbe Yechezkel of Kuzmir (founder of the Modzitz dynasty) whom none of the hundreds of Chassidim that were present recognized. For the duration of the entire evening, this man stood opposite the Rebbe and stared directly at him. The Rebbe continued in his usual way with Shabbos songs. At the end, the Rebbe wished his guests "Shabbat Shalom" and went off to his room.
The strange man left as well. No one asked about his unusual behavior; in fact, no one spoke to him. This strange behavior repeated itself on Shabbos morning after the prayers, with the man again standing opposite the Rebbe and staring at him for the entire time. And at Shalosh Seudos, again this man came and stared at the Rebbe.
At nightfall, the custom was to have candles brought to the table (either by a non-Jewish attendant, or by one of the Chassidim who was prepared in advance to daven Maariv immediately at nightfall, and then is permitted to light a fire). This unusual guest then positioned himself where he could see the Rebbe's face directly from the light of the candles, and stared at him once again. The Rebbe then said words of Torah. His lofty words, said in a very sweet and pleasant voice, causing everyone present to forget their own problems.
But suddenly, the Rebbe's voice rang out, "Why are you staring at me so much? Don't you recognize me?" Immediately thereafter, the Rebbe blessed Birkat Hamazon, davened Arvit and made Havdalah.
There was one Chassid present who was really curious about what the Rebbe intended with his words to this strange man that nobody knew. Surely there was more than meets the eye. He was so intent in finding out that he followed this man out of the Shul, and when they reached an isolated spot, a dark alleyway, he asked him what this encounter with the Rebbe was all about.
"Oh, this is an old story," replied the man, trying to avoid a full answer. But the Chassid wasn't satisfied with this, and insisted on hearing all the details. "In that case," replied the man, "you'll have to come with me to my place of lodging, and I'll tell you the whole story."
Over a cup of tea, the man began: "I left this world for the World of Truth, where the Neshama (soul) goes after death, some twenty-two years ago."
The Chassid began to tremble, seized with a terrible fright. Could it be that he's speaking to some kind of spirit or ghost? Reassuring him, the man said, "allow me to speak, and then you'll understand everything."
"Twenty-two years ago, I was a melamed (a teacher of young children). Even though my livelihood only allowed us to have some black coffee and dry black bread, no meat, fish or fancy clothes, my wife, our two children and I were happy with our lot and never complained. We accepted our lot in life with love.
"Around that time, I contracted a severe case of pneumonia. The doctors attempted to treat it with medicine, but I could tell by the look on their faces that they didn't hold out too much hope for me, my days on earth were limited. Nevertheless, they informed my family that I was improving and that I would be able to return home in a few days. You can just imagine what it's like for a young man to leave this world and leave behind a young widow and two small children!
The man continued, "You know, when a person departs from this world, he still thinks he's alive. So, it was with me, I merely thought that I didn't have the strength to get up. I thought my family didn't want to hear what I wanted to say to them. They invited the Chevra Kadisha [Jewish burial society] to begin their holy work on me, preparing the body for burial. My wife and children were crying bitterly. It was then that I realized that I had left this world, and I thought to myself, what a tragedy, a young man leaves behind young orphans. Who’s going to care for their welfare, that they receive a proper Jewish education? Who is going to care for my little children?
"Perhaps I should have been concerned over what is happening to my soul, but maybe because I was a melamed, all I could think about was the education of my children and I was broken hearted thinking about their future.
My soul began to feel the absence of the body, and it began to rise, higher and higher, turning and rising, and I began thinking, 'What will happen now, who knows me, and how will I end up?'
"Suddenly, I felt different than before, and didn't understand why I had risen so high. I saw thousands upon thousands of souls, and tried to stop myself, when suddenly the soul of another young man came up to me and asked, 'Who are you, and where are you going?' I felt as if I knew him, and asked, 'Perhaps you can tell me where I can find out why my soul was taken from the world below at such a young age, and who's going to watch over my children that they should go in the ways of Hashem?'
“‘You are in the World of Souls,' the man answered. Pointing off into the distance, he said, 'Over there, the Heavenly Court sits, and judges who are cleansed from Olam Hazeh, and who are fit to enter Gan Eden. I will tell you something that can be very helpful to you. You should go to that distant place where the judges are. Among them is one judge who is one of the living Tzaddikim in the world below. He was chosen to be on the tribunal because he is so righteous; in fact, he is the only one from Olam Hazeh, with a body and soul that is on the tribunal. Since he is still involved with the world below, he can find merits for your case, and fully understand it.
“Upon finishing his advice, the Neshama of this man vanished. "So, I went to the place which the man had told me about, and tried to find the living Tzaddik. Not before long, the judge who was sitting in the middle called me and asked in a very pleasant and sensitive voice, 'What do you want?'
"I began to cry profusely, and was so overcome with emotion that I could not utter a word. The Tzaddik reassured me, in the same voice, that he would listen carefully to every word of mine. It took all my strength to rein in my emotions, and I was finally able to cry out to the heavenly court: 'How could it be that I was taken away at such a young age from the world below, leaving behind young orphaned children without any guidance?'
"The Tzaddik then asked me, 'Do you mean that your only concern is for your children, that they should grow up to be good Jews?'
"And I responded, 'Of course! My whole life was dedicated to chinuch; we lived in abject poverty only so that I could give the proper chinuch to my children.'”
"I watched as the judges discussed my case, and then the Tzaddik called me over to give their decision, 'The clear and pure words that you have uttered before us indicate that they are completely true, and we have decided to allow you to remain in the world below for another twenty-two years.'
"Back at my funeral, the Chevra Kadisha, my family and all those who attended were astonished to see me sit up suddenly, and in their extreme fear, they all fled from the cemetery. I was left alone in the cemetery with hundreds of graves, but I remembered everything that had happened. At nightfall, I got up and walked home. Of course, there was a great tumult throughout my town and country about this awesome Techiat Hameitim [revival of the dead], but over time, things quieted down and it was forgotten.
"But I never forgot! I always wanted to know who this Tzaddik was, who was part of the Heavenly Court, and in whose merit I was granted more years of life. I wanted to see his face and thank him personally. I began to travel throughout Galicia and Hungary in search of the Tzaddik, whose image was always before my eyes. But I didn't find him! I gave up my search and returned home, but whenever someone from out of town came to our town, I told him my story and described the Tzaddik, perhaps someone would know where I could find him.
"Over the course of time, I began to forget exactly what the Tzaddik looked like. When I reached my forty fourth birthday, I realized that the additional time allotted to me by the Beis Din was soon to expire. It upset me very much that I still hadn't found him in order to thank him.
So, I began again to inquire in all the Shuls, until I found a Polish Jew who had come to my town. I told him the story, and he asked for a description of the Tzaddik. I remembered that his most distinguishing feature was that he was extremely tall; in fact, he was a 'head taller' than the other judges.
'It must be Rebbe Yechezkel of Kuzmir, who is indeed very tall,' he told me. 'In fact, when he needed a new hat, they needed to make a special order for it; and also for his walking stick.'
"I left everything and went to Kuzmir, Poland. On Friday night, I couldn't remember if the Rebbe's face was same as the judge who was on that Heavenly Court. However, his pleasant voice was somewhat familiar. Similarly at the second meal, I still wasn't sure if this Tzaddik was the judge who had helped me. But at Shalosh Seudos, when I heard his awesome Divrei Torah, I remembered clearly that this was exactly how his voice sounded when he was discussing my case in the Heavenly Court.
"It was at that very moment, when I was certain that he was that Tzaddik who had saved me that I could live for another twenty-two years, that when he finished his Divrei Torah and said to me: 'Why are you staring at me so much? Don't you recognize me?'"
Reprinted from an email from Inspired by a Story.
