"I Don’t Need To Fast For Rain…”

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R’ Zalman (not the actual name) was one of the distinguished Chabad Chassidim in Eretz Yisrael. There weren’t many Lubavitcher Chassidim in Eretz Yisrael at that time, during the nesius of the Rebbe Maharash, and R’ Zalman was one of them.

When he yearned to see the Rebbe, he packed a few articles of his clothing, took his tallis and tefillin, bundled them on his shoulder and set out on the long journey, to Lubavitch in Russia. The trip in those days wasn’t at all easy but R’ Zalman made the effort in order to placate his burning desire.

When he arrived in Lubavitch, he was received especially warmly by the Chassidim who lived there. It wasn’t often that a guest came from distant parts, especially from the Holy Land. Of course, the Rebbe Maharash’s aide was willing to let him in to see the Rebbe at the earliest opportunity.

The Rebbe welcomed him warmly. As they spoke, the Rebbe asked about the Jews of Eretz Yisrael and about the land. He asked what was happening in Yerushalayim and in the settlements where G-d fearing people lived.

The conversation turned to the great qualities of the Jews who lived in Eretz Yisrael. At this point, the guest said, “Rebbe, it says in the holy sefarim that in Eretz Yisrael live Jews with lofty souls, the likes of which you find nowhere else. I live there and I personally know many Jews in Eretz Yisrael and I never saw among them people with lofty souls, different and higher than those of Jews outside the land.”

The Rebbe’s face turned serious and he became lost in his thoughts.  The Chassid recoiled. Perhaps, he had said something improper though he hadn’t meant to. He just wanted to understand …

The Rebbe finally raised his head and gave his loyal Chassid a long look. Then he said, “Are you capable of knowing who has a lofty soul and who has a ‘regular soul?’ For that, one needs to understand the soul of a Jew …” The Rebbe went on. “I will tell you a story that I heard from my father, the Tzemach Tzedek.”

The Chassid was relieved as he understood that the Rebbe wasn’t upset with him. On the contrary, now he got to hear a story from the Rebbe.

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This is what the Rebbe said to the Chassid who listened in astonishment and trepidation:

In one of the yishuvim on the outskirts of Yerushalayim, between the surrounding mountains, lived Boruch’l with his family. Who was Boruch’l? Not many knew, for he was a simple man who worked hard to support his family, from morning till night. Boruch’l did not know how to learn Torah and did not even know the meaning of the davening. How should he know when, from his youth, he had to work to help support his parents’ household? To show you how ignorant he was, not only did he not know the meaning of the words of the davening but he did not even know the order of the tefilla, what you daven and on which day.

Nevertheless, Boruch’l had a warm heart for the service of Hashem and love for Him. He wanted to connect with Hashem with all his heart. Despite his ignorance, his heart burned with longing to daven to his Creator like every other Jew. This is why, every week, when he went to Yerushalayim to sell his produce in the market, he would afterward go to the house of one of the rabbanim of the city and upon making his request, the rav would write down the order of the tefillos for the rest of the week. With great patience, the rav would write each paragraph in order so the man would understand what to say. This sufficed until his next visit, with the weekday tefillos separately and the Shabbos tefillos separately.

One year, at the end of Cheshvan, Boruch’l the villager arrived in Yerushalayim as he did every week. After selling his produce, he hurried to the rav’s house, a modest building hidden in one of the alleyways of Yerushalayim replete with old-world charm. Despite this, the house was a bustling center of activity as many of the best and finest of the legendary city would beat a path to its door.

Boruch’l approached the rav with reverence, but this time, he had a new question. “In previous years, Eretz Yisrael merited plentiful rain. As a result, the mud prevented me from reaching Yerushalayim as I used to do. May the beloved Creator of the world provide rains of blessing this year too. Therefore, I am afraid that the paths leading to the holy city will fill with mud and block me from passing. What will I do? Am I not a Jew? Don’t I need to daven during this time?”

The rav understood. “What do you suggest?”

Boruch’l cleared his throat. “This might be asking too much of the rav, yet it would be of great help to me if you could write down the order of the tefillos for the next several weeks and whatever will be, will be.”

The rav gave a goodhearted smile and with his Yerushalmi cleverness he appreciated what Boruch’l really wanted. He took out a piece of paper and carefully wrote down the order of the tefillos for the next few weeks.

The advance concerns of Boruch’l did not come to pass as the rains did not begin early that year. The skies remained clear and the temperature remained somewhat spring-like. The Yerushalmi cold failed to arrive.

Therefore, Boruch’l continued to go to Yerushalayim, but a great surprise awaited him when he arrived there. When he entered the street of the marketplace, he was surprised to see that what was usually a bustling area with Jews and local Arabs, was quiet. All the stores were locked. Boruch’l was frightened and a cry escaped his lips. “Is is Shabbos or a Yom Tov and I did not remember?” He rubbed his head with both hands in disbelief. He was beside himself.

Looking here and there, he noticed a Jew hurrying to shul with his tallis and tefillin bag under his arm. The locals always tended to walk quickly and this man too, walked hurriedly to the Zaharei Chama beis medrash. Boruch’l calmed down when he realized it was not Shabbos or a Yom Tov.

He looked around again and saw someone else walking quickly, wrapped in pensive thought. Boruch’l jumped over the Yerushalmi stones and grabbed the man by the lapel of his Yerushalmi garb. The man looked at him in astonishment but Boruch’l did not relent, “Please tell me, Reb Yid, why are the stores closed today?”

The Yerushalmi raised his hand in a motion that Boruch’l did not understand and said, “Today is a public fast day. This is why everyone is gathering in the shul now to daven.”

Boruch’l was flabbergasted. How could the rav not have written this down for him? Boruch’l looked at the paper that he had and searched for a mention of a fast day but did not find one. He was upset that he had eaten on a fast day. He blushed and turned pale in shame.

Without another word, Boruch’l left his donkey and merchandise on the wagon on the street. With tears in his eyes, he entered the shul where everyone was assembled and went right over to the rav, and in tremendous agitation he asked loudly, “Could it be?”  Sobbing he said, “What did you do to me? It’s a fast day today and you did not write it down! Here, look!” He handed the list to the rav. “That is why I transgressed by eating and not davening the correct prayers.”

The rav looked at Boruch’l lovingly and softly said, “Becalm yourself my son, the fast today is not a set fast day in the usual roster of fasts. This fast day was just declared by the chachmei Yerushalayim because of the lack of rain. Since it is winter and we have had no rain, there is the danger of famine. We are afraid for the wheat kernels that were planted, lest they rot and not give forth any produce.  So the rabbanim decreed a fast on the Jews of Yerushalayim. Today we are praying with broken hearts to Hashem that He open the gates of prosperity and send down rains of blessing.”

The villager reacted with surprise. “Rebbi, I don’t understand. Do you need to declare a fast day for this?”

This time, it was the rav’s turn to be surprised. “Well, what do you think we should do?”

Boruch’l waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, when I need rain in my fields,” he said with the utmost sincerity, “I go out to my fields and address Hashem and said, ‘Dear Father, I need rain!’ I know I don’t have to say much because I merely make my request and it starts to rain.”

The rav’s eyes narrowed in deep thought and then immediately opened wide. The furrowed creases in his forehead seemed to miraculously smooth themselves out. “Then, go and try to do that here now.”

The villager shrugged and without another word said he left the shul for the yard. He began to cry and he raised his hands heavenward and said, “Dear Father. Is it possible that Your children in the holy city will perish, G-d forbid, from starvation? You see that they need rain. Why don’t You make it rain to water their fields and fill their wells? Do You need their fasting?”

Just a few minutes passed and black clouds gathered from afar and darkened the skies over Yerushalayim, hovering over the small houses. Within the hour, rain began to fall.

***

The Rebbe Maharash concluded his story with this lesson, “You see, R’ Zalman, this is the power of a simple Jew from Eretz Yisrael. If so, who can understand what is a lofty soul that dwells within a Jew from the Holy Land?” ■