Reb Meir of Premishlan and the Chazzan

In a town not far from Premishlan, there lived a wealthy man, who one day decided that he was going to be the chazzan (cantor) for the Yomim Noraim (high holidays) that year. Now this man had an explosive and violent temper, and all in the town were afraid of confronting him and attempting to dissuade him from this unusual decision of his. A delegation was set up, and it was decided that the issue would be taken to Reb Meir of Premishlan, who would certainly come up with a solution. A messenger was sent to nearby Premishlan, and the Rebbe sent back word that he this man would come to him on his own, and that he would deal with him personally. There was a local custom in which the chazzanim from the surrounding towns and villages would visit Reb Meir before Rosh Hashanah for a blessing of success in leading the congregation during the holy days.

And so, it was. As Rosh Hashanah approached, and Reb Meir had finished giving brachos to the local chazzanim, he was approached by the wealthy man of our story. After all, this was the custom in the area, and he wanted a visit with the tzaddik no less than anyone else.

Reb Meir said to him, "their are three types of tefilla (prayer): Tefilla le'Moshe (the prayer of Moses), tefilla le'Dovid (the prayer of King David) and tefilla le'oni (the prayer of the poor man). Now Moshe Rabbeinu was kevad pe uchevad lashon (heavy of mouth and heavy of speech), but he was our greatest prophet and the teacher of all Israel. King David was a sweet singer, and full of emotion. And the poor man is lowly and humble, and we know that G-d will look favorably on a broken and repentant heart.

"Our chazzanim," continued Reb Meir, "fall into these three categories. There are those who are not particularly musically inclined, but they are righteous and wise, so their prayers are accepted like tefilla le'Moshe. And there are those who are not quite as righteous, but they are gifted ba'alei tefilla (prayer leaders), and move people with their sweet singing. Their prayers are accepted like tefilla le'Dovid. And last, there are those who are not particularly righteous and wise, and have no affinity toward singing, but they are poor, and their hearts are humble, so their prayers are accepted like tefilla le'oni.

"And as for you," said Reb Meir," you are neither a tzaddik (righteous person), nor are you musical. And you are certainly not poor. So if you still, in fact, want to lead your congregation in prayer, you know that I will have to pray for one of these three things in heaven. Now you should know that there is no point in praying to heaven to tell them to make you a tzaddik or a good singer, just like that. The only option is that I pray to heaven that they make you poor. And that way, at least your prayer will be teffila le'oni, the prayer of the poor man."

"No, no!" said the man. "I don't want to be chazzan! I changed my mind!" And he went running out of the room.

Neki Chapai'im - A Lesson on Theft

I read this story recently, and found it VERY, VERY significant. With Spinka Rebbes running around, and with Lakewood roshei yeshiva accepting hundreds of thousands of dollars in dirty money, and so on, and so on, and so on, the common belief is that if the money comes from a non-Jew, then it is mutar (permissible). Yes, this is what many in our community believe: that it is permissible to steal from a non-Jew. I have gone over this subject over and over again with talmidei chochomim over the past ten months and in the final analysis, what I've learned is that if you study the gemara alone, relating to this matter, it may seem as though theft is mutar. But if you study it with the poskim (those who makes decisions on the law), it is clearly, clearly asur (prohibited) to steal money from a non-Jew. And so we have the following story that takes place on Rosh Hashanah.

Reb Shmuel Abba of Zichlin was davening for the amud (leading the prayers) on the first night of Rosh Hashanah. When he got into the 24th chapter of Tehillim (Psalms), the chassidim looked up from their siddurim (prayer books). "Mi ya'ale b'har Hashem...neki chapai'im uvar leivav (Who will ascend to the mountain of G-d....those with clean hands and a pure heart)." "NEKI CHAPAI'IM, NEKI CHAPAI'IM!" shouted Reb Shmuel Abba. He began running up and down the aisles shouting these words (CLEAN HANDS, CLEAN HANDS!). Just then, a man in the back of the shul hurried out the door. The Rebbe went back to the amud, and continued where he left off. The chassidim were baffled.

The day after the close of Rosh Hashanah, everything became clear. This man had stopped in to a neighboring town of Zichlin to pay off a debt he owed to a non-Jew. After giving over the money, this non-Jew wrote the man a receipt, placed his money on the table, and walked out of the room. Now this Jew's yetzer harah (evil inclination) got the best of him, and he couldn't help but grab the money from the table and run. Since he was near the town of Zichlin, he decided to spend Rosh Hashanah with the Rebbe for what he thought would be a memorable New Year. He didn't know just how memorable it would turn out to be. The non-Jew had meanwhile sent out a large contingent to look for the man, but the Jew had already reached Zichlin.

As the man was on his way home from Zichlin at the close of Rosh Hashanah, he was caught by the police, and arrested. Remembering that the Rebbe was already aware of the incident, he sent him a desperate telegram while being detained. He figured that if he denied the charge, the police might rule that the non-Jew was a liar. Besides, this way he would get to keep the money because, after all, this wasn't real theft. It was theft from a non-Jew, and that doesn't count. This man had mentioned in his message to the Rebbe that he was afraid he would be put into jail. The Rebbe responded, "it says in our Torah that one is required to pay back double or even four or five times the amount for theft. But it doesn't say anything about imprisonment. Return the money AT ONCE, and you will be a free man. But you must return it at once. The money does not belong to you." The man reluctantly returned the money, and was freed.

We have no doubt about Reb Shmuel Abba's opinion on the matter of theft.

Dubno Maggid on Chodesh Elul

The Dubno Maggid gives a mashal (parable) on the month of Elul, the penitential Hebrew month leading into Rosh Hashana, the New Year. Elul is a time of teshuvah (repentance), introspection, and the recounting one's deeds from the past year. Because when Rosh Hashanah is upon us we are already asking to be inscribed in the book of life for the coming year. There are many stories of tzaddikim from yesteryear who literally walked around with frozen faces, frozen with fear during the month of Elul, because Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur were almost at hand, and they knew that soon they would be judged for the past year's activity. A man once came to the chassidim of the Chozeh of Lublin on motzei Yom Kippur (evening following the holiday), and saw the chassidim dancing festively with the utmost joy. The man asked the Chozeh, "what are they so happy about? Yom Kippur just ended!" The Chozeh replied, "they're dancing because they know that they've been inscribed in the book of life. You see that man sitting in the corner over there crying?...." And now to the mashal.

The king had decided that he wanted a new goblet. He was looking to out-due royalty. No expense would be spared in the making of what would become the true treasure of the palace. And so a master craftsman was called in for the job. The craftsman was given gold, silver, emeralds, diamonds and rubies. He was given one year to fashion out of the materials what only an expert craftsman could conceive of. One year, and no more.

The craftsman had been in debt. During the first month he got the idea into his head that he could sell a couple of the diamonds, and quickly work his way out of it. This worked out quite well, and without really thinking too hard about the consequences, he began to sell off some of the rubies. At the same time, he became lax in constructing the goblet. In fact, it was three months through, and he had not yet begun his royal work. More time had passed, but he had only gone about his daily routine, thereby not fulfilling king's wishes. In fact, the goblet really wasn't much on his mind at all. As the months passed, he sold off a few more jewels, and continued his humdrum life of laziness and laxity.

One month before the end of the year he caught the date, and smacked himself on the head. "Woe is to me! The goblet for the king!" And he frantically began working with the few resources he had remaining. When the month was up he came to the king. The entire king's retinue was standing around the king's royal table. The craftsman unwrapped the goblet, and presented it to the king. "What a sight!" they said. The king picked up the goblet, and remarked on how intricate the silver pastoral scenes etched into the goblet had been. The goblet shined so brightly. But just then, the treasurer walked over. "The goblet is all silver," he remarked. He went over to treasury books, and saw that gold, silver, diamonds, rubies and emeralds had been allocated. "This goblet is only made of silver!" he shouted. And at his shout, the craftsman fell down on his knees, and began to scream, "please, please, spare me my life!" And this is us on chosdesh Elul and Rosh Hashanah, says the Dubno Maggid. A whole year goes by, and we waste our resources that Hashem has been gracious enough to send down upon us. We don't pray like we should, we don't learn Torah like we should, we don't visit the sick like we should. Then comes the months of Elul, and fear sets in. We try the cram all the year's deeds into one month in penitence of what we've missed out on throughout the year. Then comes Rosh Hashanah, and we fall down before the king, and we beg for our lives. We beg to be inscribed in the book of life for the coming year.

One more mashal. There was once a businessman who went into a shop to buy goods at wholesale prices. He asked for one of these, one of these, and one of these. The storekeeper wrote up an invoice, and handed it to the businessman. The businessman said, "please sit down. I'm sorry to say that I don't really have the money to pay you right now, so what I'm asking is that you give it to me on credit." And this is what we ask of Hashem on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. "Avinu Malkeinu, chaneinu va'aneinu ki ein banu ma'asim." "Our Father our King, grace us and answer us even though we don't have worthy deeds." Even though we did not live up to our potential in our relationship with you, and in our relationship with others, and in our relationship with ourselves, please extend our life for yet another year. We don't have the deeds to make such a request, but please give it to us on credit, so that in the coming year we may exert ourselves and form a truer bond with you Hashem.