The melamed sat in misery and despair. For two years he had worked and saved and now what would he do? Visions of his smiling family members dressed in their new clothes, anxious to greet him, were quickly replaced by images of his creditors: How would he repay all his debts? From where would his salvation come? As he sat and cried, he remembered how he had landed in this mess to begin with.
Originally, he was a wine merchant. While he was not well off, he was able to provide for his family’s needs. Then disaster struck. That year’s entire crop of grapes failed to thrive. As a result, his wine was poor in quality. The wine produced was weak and tasteless—definitely second-rate-- and would ruin his first-rate reputation. It had no color, no body, and no aroma. He was ruined!
Not wanting his family to suffer poverty and shame, he left for Hungary. He borrowed funds to cover his family’s expenses and hired himself out as a melamed to a wealthy wine merchant.
Two difficult years passed. Far from his family whom he missed so much, he dutifully taught the wine merchant’s sons Torah. In his spare time, he helped at the winery, using his many years of experience in the profession to advise the Hungarian wine merchant about his wine production. As a result, his employer’s business prospered. The merchant happily paid his melamed and even gave him a nice bonus.
Before Pesach, the merchant-turned-melamed from Vizhnitz, approached his employer and said, “I miss my family and I have worked dutifully for two years; please let me return home.” The merchant consented and added a barrel of good wine for him to bring back for the Yom Tov. “I shall hide my money in the barrel,” the melamed reasoned. “That way, once it’s sealed, no thieves can try and steal it from me on my way back home.”
Since it was before Pesach, another merchant from his home town had arrived to do business with the Hungarian winemaker and he decided to purchase many barrels for sale back in the melamed’s home town of Vizhnitz.
“Can you do me a big favor and take my barrel back with yours as well?” asked the melamed hopefully.
“Of course,” the merchant from Vizhnitz said with a smile.
They arrived back in Vizhnitz and the melamed collected his barrel only to open it and find it . . . empty! It was full of wine actually, but his carefully hidden stash of money was gone!
“That merchant either switched barrels on me or stole the money from this barrel,” he concluded. When our melamed confronted the merchant, the accused denied switching anything or having any knowledge about hidden cash. Our melamed was sick to his stomach with worry and dread. Now what would he do?
Finally, he struggled to his feet and went outside to breathe some fresh air and try to decide what to do. As he walked, he passed by the Rav of Vishnitz, Rav Areyh Leibush.
“Shalom Aleichem!” said the rav. “Why so glum? I haven’t seen you for years and here you arrive and you don’t even come in and say Shalom Aleichem! What’s wrong? You look so down and worried!”
“Oh rebbe,” the melamed burst into tears, “rebbe, please help me! The local wine merchant stole all my money I worked so hard to earn these past years. He denies it all. What am I to do? How will I face my family? How will I face my creditors and repay the debts?!”
“Tell me the entire tale,” urged the tzaddik.
After hearing the sad story, the rav replied, “Don’t worry; I have a plan!”
The very next day, a proclamation went out from all the gabbaim to all the shuls, batei midrashim, and Jewish businesses. By strict order of the Rav, the wine brought back from Hungary was under suspicion of being yayin nesech (wine handled by gentiles which rendered it not kosher); no one was to purchase any of this wine for Pesach or the entire year. Its kashrus status was suspect and the rav ruled it as forbidden!
The wine merchant heard the news and was shocked. “I am ruined! I invested a fortune in buying the finest Hungarian wine! What will I do? This must have something to do with that melamed! I have to go straight to the rav and complain!”
When he arrived at the rav’s door, Rav Aryeh Leibush was waiting calmly, anticipating his guest. “Ka...Ka...Kavod HaRav there... there must be some kind of mistake here,” the upset wine merchant spat. “This wine is kosher! I purchased it from a Jewish Hungarian merchant known for his honesty and integrity. Here is the kosher certificate from the town’s rav.”
He stood nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot while the Aryeh Dvei Illay slowly examined the certificate and sighed. “I am afraid there has been no mistake; while the kashrus of the product’s origin is impeccable there is the question of your gentile workers who transported these barrels. The wine has been rendered unfit and forbidden by their handling and though it once was kosher, it no longer is. And now I have other matters that need my attention today.”
Pretending to conclude the meeting had the desired effect.
“What?! Rabbi how can you say such things? These barrels are sealed and have never been opened!” argued the wine merchant.
“Then the gentile workers must have switched them on you” stated the Rav Aryeh Leibush. Do you deny that the melamed gave you a barrel to bring back for him? Do you also deny that he says that his money was in that barrel and is now missing? Since you denied all knowledge of the incident this is what must have happened. Surely they switched all your barrels and opened them and stole his money and now all the wine is not kosher!”
Seeing that he was about to lose his entire investment, the nervous and ashamed merchant hung his head low and admitted his guilt. “No rebbe. I admit it; it was I who switched the barrels. But I am no thief; I didn’t steal any money. I thought he was just making that part up. I simply figured I would switch wines. You see, that melamed is friendly with his Hungarian employer and I assumed he would get some first rate, expensive wine. I figured, ‘Let me give the melamed one of my barrels of wine; he surely won’t know the difference anyway. I didn’t mean to cheat or steal. Please Rabbi, believe me. I will go and find his barrel and get him back his money. Please rescind your ruling; I will be left penniless! Think of my poor family!”
“It is you who would have left the melamed penniless. Did you think of his family? Still, if your claim is proven to be true and you return the barrel, it will be proof that the barrels are sealed and were never out from under your supervision. I will then make sure the town knows that your wine supply is kosher indeed,” the rav concluded.
By that evening, the melamed had his money back. He thanked Rav Aryeh Leibush profusely and paid off his debts to his creditors. He sat smiling and rejoicing with his family as a new proclamation went out in Vishnitz: The rav had examined new evidence and concluded that the wine was now kosher. It was safe to purchase it for Yom Tov. (Ari SheBaChabura p.79)
