thecommunityconnections.com 845-371-2222 | January 8, ‘25 44 difficult ones for Berel. The formerly gregarious chosid couldn’t eat, sleep, or function. He walked around in a daze, bitter and morose. His family sympathized, but couldn’t begin to imagine what this meant to Berel. The Rebbe arrived on a clear and cold Wednesday afternoon. The entire village turned out to greet the Rebbe. Berel joined the crowds, but remained on the sidelines, out of sight. The streets were festooned with torches and a special decorative arch. Men, women, and children were dressed in their Shabbos clothes as they waited impatiently for their visit. From afar, the first clouds of dust could be seen, as the Rebbe’s entourage approached. When the Maggid of Chernobyl arrived at the town in a gilded carriage, the men and young boys began singing “boruch haboh” in a spirited tune. Berel was mesmerized by the scene, and momentarily forgot his hesitations, until a tap on his shoulder brought it all back. He wheeled around to find Rav Wolf, a prominent chosid from Chernobyl, who looked at Berel with sympathy. “I am sorry, my dear friend,” said Rav Wolf, “But you have not obeyed the Rebbe’s wishes. The Rebbe has sent you a messenger with precise instructions.” Berel’s face fell as he quietly slunk away. The next few days were more bitter than any Berel had ever experienced in his life. While the townspeople milled around the Rebbe’s station—he was staying at the home of Reb Peretz, the spice merchant, a wealthy chosid, Berel remained closeted in his home, weeping and remorseful. The Rebbe was available during the evening hours to see people privately, and each morning, throngs of Yidden gathered for minyan at Peretz’s house. Yet Berel remained secluded. In a small town, every person’s absence is noted. Soon, the townspeople began to whisper about Berel’s whereabouts. Rav Wolf mentioned the story to one person, and before long, everyone knew what had occurred. While all had sympathy for the kindly grocer, no one could help him. Shabbos was the hardest nisayon of all. The Rebbe davened Shacharis in the spacious shul, and delivered a rousing drasha after davening. Berel davened in a corner, near the oven, and did his best to remain inconspicuous. After davening, the entire town was invited to Peretz’s home for kiddush with the Rebbe. Berel went to his lonely cottage, his heart literally breaking in two. “What sin did I commit that the Rebbe is pushing me away?” he mourned. “Am I so unworthy that I cannot even stand in the same proximity of the Rebbe?” He spent the rest of Shabbos engrossed in soulsearching, trying to come up with a sin that needed a tikun, but couldn’t think of anything he had done. Finally, the longest Shabbos of Berel’s life was over. On Motzoei Shabbos, the village turned out into the street to accompany the Rebbe with a parade. It was late by the time the Maggid of Chernobyl left the village, and life returned to normal. After the Rebbe’s departure, the villagers were still on a ‘high’, excited and elevated by the Rebbe’s visit. Many people had received brachos and eitzos from the Rebbe, and all had been inspired. For Berel, too, it took a while to crawl out of his ‘tisha b’av’ mood, but eventually he put the incident behind him. However, Berel was still painfully aware that he was not allowed to go to Chernobyl or make contact with the Rebbe until he had the 2,000 rubles. Since that was unlikely to occur in his lifetime, was he destined to suffer for the rest of his days? For the first time in his life, Berel began to daven earnestly for wealth. “Ribono Shel Olam!” he cried. “I have never desired wealth or the nisayon that accompanies it. Yet I can’t bear to be without my Rebbe. Thus, I beseech You to send me ashirus so that I can fulfill the Rebbe’s requirements, and once more be allowed to visit Chernobyl.” Berel davened fervently for “What sin did I commit that the Rebbe is pushing me away?” he mourned. “Am I so unworthy that I cannot even stand in the same proximity of the Rebbe?”
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