Pesachya could never get used to it. Every year, he would go to the shelf, take down the family Menorah, and place it carefully in his suitcase. Then, with a bitter sigh, he would say to his wife, "So I won't be with you and the children for Chanukah once again this year. What can I do. I must be in the forests to supervise the wood-cutting."
"Maybe this year will be different," his wife had said, for this past summer Pesachya had received a special blessing. It had been quite unexpected. Pesachya was paying his yearly visit to Rabbi Sholom Dov Ber of Lubavitch. "Pesachya," the Rebbe had said quietly, "no doubt it is hard for you to be away from home at Chanukah time.
"This year, be sure to take along a supply of big candles. May the Al-mighty bless you with a bright Chanukah, and give you much success in the business too."
Pesachya was astonished, speechless. It was as if the Rebbe had looked into the hidden areas of his heart to discover that old pain. The Rebbe had spoken very naturally, but his words were puzzling. As Pesachya dutifully went to purchase "the big candles," he wondered what the Rebbe really had in mind.
When Chanukah came, Pesachya remembered the Rebbe's instructions. Every morning he rose early to study and pray. Then, before leaving the cabin, he would check to make sure that he had the right number of candles with him to light that evening.
One morning, Pesachya awoke a little later than usual. Hurriedly he bundled himself up, and ran down the forest path. Suddenly he realized that he had forgotten the Chanukah candles. Another delay, he thought. Maybe he should leave them until later. No. Better go back and get them after all.
Despite the late start, the day turned out well. Finally, as it grew dark, Pesachya dismissed his workers and began to trudge toward his lonely cabin.
"Stop Jew!" said a gruff voice, sending a chill of fear down his spine. Pesachya looked up, as a rough band of woodsmen laid hold of him, the tallest brandishing a large axe.
"Robbers! Help!" he cried, but no one heard a sound. One grabbed him from behind. Another stunned him with a blow. "Don't fight or we'll kill you!" they said. Roughly they search him, taking his jacket and his money belt. Then with a shove, they threw him down on the icy dark road.
Pesachya's head pounded as he heard a voice say, "Hold him steady. Let's get it over with."
"Wait, wait!" cried Pesachya desperately. "Don't kill me, Please. Spare my life. I beg you. I have a wife, children. Mercy!"
"Quiet!" a voice growled. "You can forget about them."
"Master of the World," said Pesachya to himself, and cried out the Shema Yisrael prayer.
Suddenly he remembered the candles. "Wait, listen," he begged. "If these are my last minutes, let me at least light the candles for the holiday of Chanukah."
"All right, if that's your last wish. But make it quick," the robbers said.
With trembling fingers, Pesachya took out the candles and stuck them in a mound of snow by the roadside. With tears streaming down his face, he recited the blessings, and kindled the tall candles.
As he watched them he thought of his family, his poor children, so many miles away. The he remembered the way the Rebbe had looked at him that last summer, and his mind was full of the vision of his holy face.
Suddenly he heard a shout. "Stop where you are, all of you." The forest was bristling with armed men. "You're all under arrest."
The Duke's private soldiers rushed forward, grabbing the robbers, and holding them at gunpoint.
"At last we'll make these woods safe," said a man dressed in warm furs, whom Pesachya recognized as the wealthy Duke, owner of the forest.
"You...you saved my life," cried Pesachya. "How did you find me?"
"Why, your candles," said the Duke. "We noticed them from the main road as we rode by. They led us right to you.
"They're for your holiday, aren't they?" the Duke said curiously. "It just shows, a bit of religion never hurts, does it?"
Pesachya smiled gratefully. "I..I can never thank you enough."
And as he spoke, his eyes filled with a look of wonder, as he realized at last what the Rebbe had meant.
Reprinted from The Moshiach Times magazine.
