TEFILLAS GESHEM OF THE TZADDIK

Our story took place two hundred years ago in the city of Teveria in northern Eretz Yisrael. In those days, the Jewish settlement there began to flourish. At first, Jews from Sefardic countries moved there. They slowly began to breathe new Jewish life where before there was only a spiritual wasteland.

The local ruler, Dahr el Omar, encouraged the development of the Jewish yishuv and more and more Jews moved to Teveria. These were G-d fearing people; even many tzaddikim moved to this holy city.

The Jews all lived near one another and thus, a large Jewish community was formed.

One day, a new Jewish group arrived in the city. They were Ashkenazic Chassidim. The local Sefardim, who were very warmhearted Jews, welcomed them and helped them settle in. They suggested to the new arrivals that they rent homes from the Moslems who lived near the Jewish neighborhood and this enlarged the Jewish area.

The group of Chassidim included Torah scholars and G-d fearing people. Their rabbi was Rabbi Nachman of Horodenka, a disciple of the Baal Shem Tov. All immediately recognized his greatness. His holy face and refined behavior inspired great respect.

Not surprisingly, on Simchas Torah of that year, R’ Nachman was honored to be the chazan for the Prayer of Rain. This honor was reserved for great men.

R’ Nachman prayed with great intensity. It was apparent that he saw things in heaven that others did not see. When he reached the words, “For his sake, do not withhold water,” he burst into tears.

Also, when he proclaimed the requests: “For a blessing; not for a curse. For life; not for death; for satiation; not for leanness,” he looked very perturbed.

The congregation understood that there was a difficult decree and they joined in fervent prayer with tears.

The tefilla was over and people went home and the event was quickly forgotten and faded into the past.

The holiday season was over and people slowly got back to their routines. Three times a day, in the Shmone Esrei, they continued to mention, “mashiv ha’ruach u’morid ha’geshem” (the One who makes the wind blow and the rain descend). On 7 Cheshvan they asked, “v’sein tal u’matar livracha” (and give dew and rain for a blessing), but the skies were clear of clouds and the sun shone brightly as though the summer refused to end.

Cheshvan passed and even Kislev and not a drop of rain fell. People began to worry. What would happen to the wheat? How would they have water to drink? They concentrated on the blessing of rain when they prayed and begged Hashem to send rains of blessing, but there was no rain.

If that wasn’t enough, another troublesome matter came up. The Moslems saw how the Jewish quarter was growing and their hatred grew.

“Let us go to the ruler and say that the Jews are causing destruction in the city,” they said. And that’s what they did. One delegation and then another spoke to the ruler. They tried to bribe him to expel the Jews from the area, but he refused.

The ruler was a pleasant man and he loved the Jews. He did not want to accept the lies he was being told and he continued to treat the Jews well.

Then, an evil idea occurred to them. Some of the ruler’s advisers, who were sworn Jew-haters, said, “You should knew, dear ruler, that the Jews are to blame for the drought.”

The surprised ruler said, “Really?! How can Jews prevent the rain from coming?”

The advisers said, “Lately, you must have noticed how the Ashkenazic Jews came here. They are very strange. They must have done magic and caused the drought. For many years we have not had a drought. It was only when these Jews came that the rains stopped falling.”

The ruler thought and thought and it seemed that the distress of not having rain and the pressure they exerted on him, had their effect.

“Then call for the leader of the Sefardic community,” he ordered.

When the head of the community, Abu Yusuf, arrived, the ruler thundered, “Stop the drought you brought upon us! I order you to make sure it rains. If you don’t, the Jews will be sent away from Teveria!”

The head of the community was distressed. Not only were they suffering from lack of rain but the Moslems were blaming them for it!

“Our master and ruler, the rain is not under our control,” he said pleadingly. “Please, have mercy on us!” But his words fell on deaf ears.

The news quickly spread among the Jews and they all intensified their prayers to Hashem to save them from this trouble.

Only the rabbi from Horodenka was not nervous. “Do not worry. Salvation will come,” he said reassuringly.

He gathered his students and said to them, “Tomorrow, let us go together to the grave of Rabbi Akiva and pray.”

The next day, they went to the tzaddik’s grave. Rabbi Nachman took a stick and drew a large circle in the ground as Choni Ha’Me’ageil did. He asked his students to enter the circle and he stood in the center.

The sun was high in the sky and beating down strongly on them. The skies were clear blue and not a cloud could be seen.

R’ Nachman began to pray with tears to Hashem to open the gates of heaven and his students joined him in a whisper. When he finished his heartfelt prayer, he left the circle and began to quickly descend the mountain.

His students followed him, each one immersed in his thoughts and prayers.

They were so immersed in their prayers that they did not notice the changes happening around them. The color of the sky began to darken and slowly fill with clouds. A wintry wind began to blow.

When they arrived in the city, they were surprised to see a large crowd come to welcome them. Who led them? The ruler himself who came to give honor to the tzaddik who had done a miracle. A strong rain began to fall and soak the dried earth that so thirsted for water.

The ruler, not minding the rain, got off his horse and bowed to the tzaddik and said, “Go up on my horse and I will lead you to your home.”

The story became known throughout the city and caused a great kiddush Hashem. ■