Eighth Tale Of a Rabbi and his Only Son
Eighth Tale
Of a Rabbi and his Only Son
A story:
O nce there was a rabbi and the rabbi had no children.
Later, he had a son and the rabbi raised this only child of his and prepared him for marriage.
The rabbi’s son would sit in the garret of the house, studying the holy books, as is the custom among illustrious families.
There he could be found, continuously engaged in study and prayer.
The rabbi’s only son was so skilful that he performed a worthy deed that allowed him to attain the brilliance of the moon, the lesser luminary of the universe.
Still, he carried with him a sense of emptiness whose cause he did not know. Learning and praying held no appeal for him. He opened up to two of his young friends and they advised him to go and travel to a certain tzaddik.
The son went to tell his father about how his service to God and his devotion to study held no appeal for him, that he felt something was lacking but did not know what.
For this reason, he wished to travel to the tzaddik that his friends had suggested.
His father replied, Why would you ever want to go to such riffraff when you are more learned than he is and come from a far 64 better family?
It would be unseemly for you to go to him, so lay off this path.
The father thus prevented his son from going to see the tzaddik, and the rabbi’s only son returned to his studies.
Yet he still felt the same sense of emptiness as before.
He again sought the advice of others and again they counselled him to travel to that particular tzaddik.
So he returned to his father, who, yet again, dissuaded him and would not allow him to go.
This happened several more times. The rabbi’s only son kept feeling that he was lacking and he longed to fill the void in him, even though he did not know how.
Once more, he went to his father and earnestly pleaded with him until, at last, his father relented and allowed him to go.
His father did not wish to let his son travel alone, however, since he was his one and only child.
The father said, Now look, I shall travel with you and then I will show you that this tzaddik is a worthless nobody.
They harnessed the wagon and headed off.
The father continued, Now I shall set this as a test. If things go according to plan, it is a sign that this was meant to be.
But if they do not, we were not meant to make this journey and we will head back.
So off they went. As they were travelling, they came to a small bridge. One horse slipped and fell. The wagon was overturned and they all nearly drowned. The father declared, You see, things are not going to plan at all! This journey is not meant to be. So they headed home.
The rabbi’s only son returned once more to his studies and again felt something lacking.
But he did not know what it was. He exhorted his father once more, and his father once more was 65 obliged to join his son on the journey to the tzaddik.
As they went, the father again declared this to be a test and, as before, they would see if everything went according to plan.
On the road, both of the wagon’s axles suddenly broke.
The father said, You see, our travelling is not meant to be.
Is it an everyday occurrence that both axles just happen to break?
This wagon has travelled many times and never before has such a thing happened. So they headed home again.
The rabbi’s only son once more resumed his studies and, again, felt that same lack as before.
His young companions kept pressing him to journey to the tzaddik.
So the son went back to his father and implored him, as before, to allow him to travel.
The son said, But we shall not set a test this time.
Indeed, horses slipping and axles breaking are everyday occurrences.
Such things are not in the least extraordinary.
So they set out and arrived at an inn to spend the night.
There they met a merchant who struck up a conversation with them, as is the way of travelling merchants.
But they did not tell him that they were travelling to the tzaddik, since the rabbi was ashamed to be on a journey to a so-called saint.
Instead, they spoke of worldly affairs until the conversation turned to the subject of the tzaddikim of the Hasidim and where these were to be found.
The merchant told them about the tzaddikim in one place after another.
So they began to tell the merchant about the one they were travelling to see.
The merchant replied in a surprising manner that this was no respectable saint but rather an impious rogue.
I am returning from visiting him now, the merchant said, and I was with him when he committed an outright sin. 66
The father exclaimed to his son, You see, my child, how plainly he states it! How this merchant disparages the tzaddik! And he has just come from him. So the rabbi and his only son headed home.
Thereupon the son died and came to his father in a dream. The father saw his son yelling in a rage, and he asked him, Why are you so angry?
The son answered that he should go to the holy tzaddik they had intended to visit and the tzaddik would explain why he was so angry.
The rabbi awoke and thought that this was simply a dream and that it was of no significance.
Then he dreamt the same thing again. And, yet again, he thought that this was just a fancy of his imagination.
But when he dreamt it a third time, he understood that this was no trifle. So he set off to visit the tzaddik.
On the way, he came across the merchant he had met before when he was travelling with his son. The rabbi recognized him and said, You are the one I saw at the inn.
He answered, Indubitably I am. Then he yawned his mouth wide and said, Now, if you wish, I shall devour you.
The rabbi replied, What are you talking about?
He responded, Remember when you were travelling with your son and first the horse slipped on the bridge?
Then, the wagon’s axles broke? And then you met me and I told you that the tzaddik was a rogue?
Now that I have rid you of your son, you may travel on to the tzaddik.
For your son had attained the brilliance of the lesser luminary, and the holy saint he wished to visit has the brilliance of the sun, the foremost luminary of 67 the universe.
If the two of them were to have joined together, the Messiah would have come.
But now I have rid you of him and you may go…
Then, in the midst of speaking, the merchant suddenly vanished, leaving the rabbi by himself with no one to respond to.
The rabbi travelled on to the tzaddik, crying: Help me, Help me! Woe to those who are gone and are never to be found!
May Blessed God save us from
our inclination towards evil and return us to the
rightful truth.
Amen 68