The Baal Shem Tov and the Doctor

by Doug Lipman

Once, a famous doctor met one of his patients on the street. Without a word of greeting, the doctor said, "I told you not to walk on that leg until it heals!"

"But it IS healed," said the man.

"Impossible! I saw the wound in that leg. It will take months!"

"I went to another kind of healer, doctor. I went to a mystical rabbi, the one they call the Baal Shem Tov."

The doctor narrowed his eyes, then simply walked away.

A week later, the doctor rapped loudly on the Baal Shem Tov's door. When the door opened, he said, "I hear you claim to be a healer!"

The Baal Shem Tov looked at his visitor. "God is the healer, my friend. Come in!"

The doctor did not move. "Let us examine each other," he said. "Whoever best diagnoses the sickness of the other will be proved the better doctor."

The Baal Shem Tov smiled. "As you wish. But please do me the favor of coming in!"

Once inside, the doctor began his examination of the Baal Shem Tov. The doctor poked him, pinched him, gazed in his ears, and tapped on his knees. After an hour, the doctor said, "You have no sickness that I can find."

"I am not surprised that you could not find it," said the Baal Shem Tov. "I so desire the presence of God that my heart cries out in pain when I can not feel it. My sickness is this constant yearning for God." The Baal Shem Tov looked at the doctor a long while. "Let me now examine you."

The Baal Shem Tov took the doctor's hands and gazed into his eyes. At last the rabbi said, "Have you ever lost something very valuable?"

"As a matter of fact," said the doctor, "I once had a large jewel, but it was stolen from me."

"Ah! That is your sickness!" said the Baal Shem Tov.

"What? Missing my diamond?"

"No. My sickness is yearning after God. Your sickness is that you have forgotten that you ever had that desire."

The doctor sucked in a breath. In a moment, a tear flowed down his cheek. One tear turned to many. Still holding the hands of the Baal Shem Tov, he began to sob. "Please," he said. "Teach me how to yearn!"

"With God's help," said the Baal Shem Tov, "your healing has already begun."

The Blood Brothers

adapted by Doug Lipman

One day, an expensive carriage pulled up outside the home of the Baal Shem Tov. The owner emerged, carrying a velvet sack that clinked as he walked to the door.

When the visitor entered the study of the Baal Shem Tov, the holy mystic said heartily, "Welcome!" The visitor mumbled a greeting, then walked silently to the Baal Shem Tov's desk and set the bulging velvet sack on it. He turned to leave.

The Baal Shem Tov said, "Not so fast. Please sit down." Awkwardly, the visitor complied. The Baal Shem Tov looked carefully at his visitor. "So many people have visited me over the years, seeking advice or a blessing. Yet you, my own cousin, have never come. What brings you?"

The cousin did not look up. "I have heard of your good work. You help people who are suffering. I just thought I should give you these gold coins. To support your work. With the poor."

The Baal Shem Tov looked at his cousin for a long time. At last, the cousin looked up into the eyes of the Baal Shem Tov. The Baal Shem Tov's gaze seemed to look into the depths of his soul. Quickly, the cousin looked away.

The Baal Shem Tov lit a candle on his desk. When the flame was burning strong and bright in the small study, he said, "I will tell you a story." Then the Baal Shem Tov began:

Once there were two boys who became fast friends. They played together, studied together and treated each other like brothers.

One day, they decided to become blood brothers. They pricked their own fingers and mixed their blood. They vowed, "Whatever success comes to one of us will belong to both. Whatever pain comes to one of us will be felt by both."

When the time came, they celebrated their Bar Mitzvah's together. In fact, they each got married on the same day.

But one of the blood brothers married a young woman from a distant village, and went to live with her family. Tearfully, the two friends parted.

At first, they wrote each other every day. As they settled into their new lives, their letters became less frequent. In time, they stopped writing altogether.

One day, after many years, the blood brother who had stayed behind received a letter from the other. It said, "I have lost my family and all my wealth. I have nothing."

Immediately, he penned a reply: "My coachman will leave tomorrow, to bring you back here as my guest. I will take care of everything."

Two weeks later, the coach returned. The blood brother who had stayed behind escorted his oldest friend into his house. First, he showed him a room decorated with beautiful wooden objects, all of the finest workmanship. Then he showed him a room filled with sculpture made of silver. Finally, he showed him a room filled with masterfully worked gold. "All success and suffering belongs to us both," he said. "Therefore, I will sell half of my possessions, and give the proceeds to you. That way, you will be able to start your business life again."

A few years later, the blood brother who had stayed behind experienced a series of setbacks. First, he lost his family when his house burned to the ground. Then the ships from which he made his wealth were lost at sea. His attempts to begin new businesses all failed. Within a year, he had lost everything except a few gold coins.

Having nowhere else to turn, he wrote to his blood brother in the distant city, to whom he had given half his wealth: "I have lost my family and all my wealth. I have nothing." Then he waited, confidently, expecting a coach to arrive within the week.

After two weeks, he wrote again. "A week from now, I am beginning a journey to visit you. I will be traveling on foot." Another week passed with no reply. At last he wrote, "I leave today, carrying my last gold coin."

Each day, he expected to see his blood brother's carriage drive up to him on the road. After a week, he had no money left for lodging or food. He begged for food and slept in doorways. He thought, "Surely, my blood brother's carriage must have taken a different route. When I arrive in his village, he will welcome me and help me recover from the distress into which I have fallen."

By the time he reached the distant city, he was haggard and weakened from weeks of travel in the rain and cold. His clothes were ragged and dirty. Asking directions to his blood brother's house, he was warned, "Do not go there. Beggars are not welcomed."

Nonetheless, he went to the address of his blood brother. Arriving at night, he saw a high brick wall surrounding a tall tower. The tower was dark, except for a single lit window near the top.

He knocked at the heavy wooden door. No one answered. He knocked again. At last, a tiny window in the door opened. A servant said, "No beggars are tolerated here. Take your poverty elsewhere!"

The blood brother said, "Tell your master that his blood brother has arrived." The servant closed the window and began to climb the many steps into the tower, to the room where his master sat day after day, managing his many accounts.

When the owner of the tower heard the message, he thought to himself, "If I see him, I will be overcome by my love for him. I will do what he did - I will give him half of my wealth. But then the same thing may happen to me that happened to him - I will lose everything and become poor again. I cannot bear the pain of that poverty! Not again!"

Turning away, he said to the servant, "Tell him to leave."

Every day after that, the blood brother in the street begged for food by day and slept in his wealthy friend's doorway by night. Every morning, he knocked on the door. "Let me have even one word with him," he told the servant. Every day, he was turned away.

At last, realizing he was deathly ill, he thought, "It would be a disgrace upon him if I were to die in his doorway." With the last of his strength, he dragged himself to an open field. There, he died.

As it happened, the wealthy blood brother caught a fever and died within a few weeks. So the two souls appeared before the Heavenly Tribunal at the same time.

It took the administering angels only a short time to admit the one who had died poor to Paradise - and to deny Paradise to the one who had died rich. But the poor one, hearing the sentence, objected. "All successes belong to both of us. Therefore, I will not enter Paradise without him."

This created a commotion in the Heavenly Court. At last, a compromise was reached. The angel in charge said, "You shall both be reborn. The one who died poor shall be reborn poor. The one who died rich shall be reborn rich. In this lifetime, the wealthy one will have a single chance to give to the poor one. If you give something - no matter how little - then you will both enter Paradise. But if you refuse, the decree made today will stand."

All happened as the angels predicted. The blood brother who died rich was born to a fabulously wealthy family, and knew every advantage.

The blood brother who died poor was born to a family of beggars. While he was small, his presence was a benefit to his mother, who could plead on behalf of her helpless child. But as the boy began to mature, people refused to give. "Why doesn't your son get work?" Reluctantly, his mother told him to find his own way in the world.

He became a wandering beggar, working when possible, but mostly forced to beg, then travel on. After many years, his wanderings brought him to the town where, unknown to him, the other blood brother was living.

Entering that town, the beggar was seized with a sense of an important task he needed to complete there - but he had no idea what his task was. So he lingered even after the sources of charity for travelers had begun to turn him away. Day after day, he begged on the streets, wandering from one part of the city to the next.

One day, he came to a vast estate, surrounded by a spiked fence. An urgency came over him: he MUST get alms at this estate.

He knocked at the front gate. A liveried servant spoke through the bars, "No beggars are welcomed here. In fact, I have orders to turn the dogs on you if you do not leave at once."

But the beggar had a sense of importance about him, saying, "Please, let me have just a moment inside. It is more urgent than alms!" In exchange for swearing not to reveal who had let him in, the servant directed him to a hole in the outer wall that led to an enclosed garden.

Once inside, the beggar waited. At last, a man his own age entered the patio. "Please," said the beggar as he approached him, "give me something - even a crumb!"

The wealthy man, shocked by the beggar's presence and forcefulness, looked into the beggar's eyes. There, he saw the pain of the beggar's life. He perceived the ease of his own life, and the injustice of the difference. He was frightened and dismayed.

The beggar saw his fear. He reached out to grab him. "Please, just give me something!"

The wealthy man grabbed the importunate beggar by the shoulders. He pushed him backwards. "No! I cannot! I cannot!" The beggar tripped. He fell. His head struck a stone. He died there, in the wealthy man's garden.

The wealthy man concealed the corpse. Then he tried to buy forgiveness for this accidental murder, without revealing what he had done.

The candle on the desk of the Baal Shem Tov had burned to a stub. The Baal Shem Tov stopped his story and looked at his cousin.

The cousin was weeping. "How did you know all this? Hearing your story, I felt, this is the story of my life! I didn't mean to harm him!" He sobbed like a child. "What must I do now?"

The Baal Shem Tov stood, picked up the bag of gold coins from his desk, and walked over to the sobbing man. "There is only one course of action that may avert the decree passed when your previous lifetime ended. It may not succeed. But if you are to have any chance of success, here is what you must do."

The Baal Shem Tov handed his cousin the bag of coins. He said, "Leave your wealthy life. Give instructions to have your estate made into a haven for the poor. Take these coins into the world, giving them to any who are in need. Perhaps, after many years of this, your prayers will be heard."

The wealthy cousin wept a long time. Then he arose and went outside. He spoke a long while with the driver of his carriage.

The carriage drove off without him. Then the wealthy man, carrying the bag of coins, walked off in the opposite direction. He walked resolutely and a little awkwardly, like someone unsure of himself but determined - like someone entering a new, frightening, yet somehow hopeful life.

The Forgotten Story

adapted by Doug Lipman

Once, the Baal Shem Tov came to his disciples and said, "This is the last year of my life. Each of you will have a role to fill after I'm gone." He pointed to one of his followers, saying, "You will be the leader of the community here." To another he said, "You will explain the teachings to those who come here and ask." One by one, he told each of the disciples what they should do.

The last he turned to was Reb Yaakov. "You will be the storyteller. You will travel from village to village and spread the stories of what has happened here among us."

Reb Yaakov cried out, "Holy master, I would do whatever you want, but please! Give a different task to me! As a storyteller, I would be poor! And travelling from place to place, I would never have a home or a family."

The Baal Shem Tov replied, "As for your poverty, perhaps you will be surprised. And as for settling down, one day there will be a sign - and then you will know that your job is completed and you may cease your wandering."

It all happened as the Baal Shem Tov said. Within the year, he had died. One by one, the disciples began to fulfill the roles he had given them.

The last to start his new task was Reb Yaakov. Sadly, he said goodbye to all those in that community where he had lived so long. Then he left, alone - to go from place to place spreading the stories.

But when he arrived in a village, and announced that he had stories to tell of the Baal Shem Tov, he found that the word of the Baal Shem Tov had preceded him, and people were hungry to hear these stories. And after the stories were told, people were happy to feed him and give him lodging. "Reb Yaakov," a villager might say, "That coat you are wearing is threadbare. Please, allow me to give you this new one!"

One day, Reb Yaakov heard word that in a distant village there was a rich man who so loved stories of the Baal Shem Tov, that anyone who told him a story of the Baal Shem Tov would be given a gold coin!

Reb Yaakov thought, "I know thousands of stories of the Baal Shem Tov! I will tell them all. I will be rich!"

And so, working his way from village to village by telling stories, Yaakov came at last to that rich man's home.

He was greeted enthusiastically. "You not only know stories of the Baal Shem Tov, but you knew him personally? Welcome! In your honor, tonight I will give a banquet. I will invite all the people of this village, and they will share in your stories."

That evening, Yaakov sat at the head of a long table. When the dinner was done, his host turned to him. Yaakov stood up to tell a story.

For the first time, Yaakov could not think of a single story of the Baal Shem Tov. Unaccustomed to being tongue-tied, at last he said, "Dear host, perhaps someone else should tell first."

A villager stood and told a story of the Baal Shem Tov. Yaakov had told that same story many times - in fact, he had been there when it happened. Yet the story did not make him think of others. Listening to the story, every word seemed new.

He tried to do what he always did whenever he was troubled. He tried to imagine his master's face, smiling at him. But this time, he could see only the outline of the Baal Shem Tov's head - with no features.

"Gracious host, perhaps someone else should go next."

After four more stories told by the assembled villagers, Reb Yaakov said, "I feel like an impostor. You must allow me to leave!"

"Please, Reb Yaakov. Stay here tonight. Perhaps in the morning you will remember a story."

But in the morning it was the same, and Yaakov wished to leave. His host pleaded, "I beg of you! Stay the day. You don't know what your presence here means to me."

The next morning, Yaakov could still remember nothing. Again, his host insisted that he stay. But on the third morning, Yaakov said, "No, I cannot continue to accept your hospitality without giving a story in return. I must go."

"Then please, Reb Yaakov, allow my coachman to take you on the first leg of your journey."

Soon, Yaakov sat in unaccustomed splendor ... and in unaccustomed humiliation. After four hours of travelling in the coach, suddenly a story of the Baal Shem Tov emerged in Yaakov's mind. "Driver! Driver! Turn around quickly!" He told the story over and over to himself, so that he wouldn't forget it.

Standing outside the wealthy man's door, Yaakov began to speak. "Kind host, I have remembered a story. No, we will not wait for the banquet. I will tell you now, lest I forget.

"It is a very strange story. I do not even know the end of it. But I can promise you that you will not have heard it from anyone else. For only my master and I were there. And I have never thought of it from the day it happened until this day."

Yaakov paused a moment, then began his part of the story.

One night, the Baal Shem Tov woke me from my bed and asked me to come with him on a journey. This was not unusual. But this time, he asked only me. I sat facing him in his carriage. He drew the curtains over the windows, and I could hear the wheels rattling over the cobblestones. Then I could not hear that sound, but only the wind rushing by. And then, after hours, I heard again the sound of wheels on pavement.

When the Baal Shem Tov drew open the curtains, I could see that we were in a land completely unfamiliar to me. The buildings were of an unusual architecture.

I could see, too, a great square, with tens of thousands of people gathered. But our carriage continued beyond it to a small, winding alley, where every door and every window was barred.

"Yaakov, this is the street of the Jews."

And it was here that the carriage stopped. My master got out and knocked on one of these boarded-up doors. "It is I, Israel ben Eliezer, known as the Baal Shem Tov. Open the door!"

Then we heard whispers. "Go away! Are you mad?" But at last the door opened part way, and we were ushered up a narrow stairway. Once on the second floor, we saw only a boarded-up window, but my master strode to the window and threw open the shutters.

Our host became agitated once again. "Do you not know? This is the day of the year they will kill the first Jew they see. We will be murdered!"

"It is safe." My master pointed out over the square.

I could see the crowd. I could see a great dais at the far end - and on it, those who must have been the priests of that country. And in the center, rising to address the crowd, was the one who must have been their high priest.

The Baal Shem Tov turned to me. "Yaakov, bring me that man."

Our host cried out, "Don"t send him there! He"ll be killed!"

But if my master asked me to walk on fire, I would do it.

I went out onto the square. The people were standing shoulder to shoulder. But somehow, a pathway opened for me. Soon, I stood looking up at that high priest.

I spoke to him in my language: "My master, Israel ben Eliezer, known as the Baal Shem Tov, wishes to speak to you."

And to my amazement, the high priest spoke back to me in my own language. "Tell him I will be there in two hours."

For the second time, a pathway opened for me through the town square. But my master was furious. "Tell him to come now!"

For the third time, I made my way across that square. When the high priest saw me coming, he interrupted his speech - and he followed me back to the Baal Shem Tov. The two of them went into a room, and they talked for three hours.

Kind host, that is all I can tell you of that story!

When Yaakov looked at the wealthy man, there were tears streaming down the man's face.

"Yaakov, I can tell you the rest of that story. For I was that high priest." And now the wealthy man began his story:

You see, my parents raised me as a Jew, and they raised me well. But when I was a young man, something came over me and I converted to the religion of that distant country. I found that by speaking ill of my people, the Jews, I rose in my new countrymen's esteem. In time, I began to speak with hatred of the Jews. And they made me a priest.

Then, one year, I had the idea for this annual festival, during which we would sacrifice the first Jew who we saw. Then they made me the high priest.

Every year, I stood and I addressed the crowd. I incited them to murder. I felt the power of my words.

Then, one night, I had a dream. I dreamt of a room with a long table. And seated around it were people I knew, in my dream, to be my ancestors. They were looking at a thin, dried object. In my dream, I knew this object to be a human soul.

One of my ancestors spoke, "Is it not clear that the force of evil has completely overcome the force of good in this soul?"

Then one man spoke who - I knew in my dream - was not one of my ancestors, but was the Baal Shem Tov. He stepped forward and touched his finger to that dried soul. Where his finger touched it, it became moist. Slowly, the moisture began to spread. "Is it not clear," he said, "that there is still hope for that human soul?"

When I woke, I knew that the dream meant that one day the Baal Shem Tov would intercede for me. And so, Yaakov, when you came across the square to me that day, I knew I must go with you. But I wished to feel the power one more time.

When you came the second time, I knew I could put it off no longer. In that little room above the square, I asked the Baal Shem Tov, "What must I do to be redeemed?"

"Your sin is very great. There is no guarantee that your prayers can ever be answered. But if they are ever to be heard, you must do what I say. Sell all your property. Divide the proceeds into three parts. With one part of that money, buy your freedom from your obligations as high priest. The second third you must immediately give to those around you in need. With the third portion, you must go to some distant village and set up a home where it is known that anyone may come and be given food, shelter, and clothing. Perhaps, after years, you will be made whole again."

"Holy master, how will I ever know if my prayers have been heard?"

"You will know that your prayers have reached the Gates of Heaven the day that some one ... tells you your own story."

And so, Yaakov, when you came to my home, I recognized you as the messenger who had come across the square so many years before. I knew that you alone could tell me that story. And I took it as a sign that my prayers had been answered.

When you could think of no story to tell, I was certain that my prayers would never be answered. But now ... you have told me the story I have waited all these years to hear.

Within the week, the rich man had sold his home. He gave half of the value to Reb Yaakov.

Yaakov took that money and bought his own home. He started his own family. He stopped his life of wandering - just as his master, the Baal Shem Tov, had always intended.

The Three Laughs

adapted by Doug Lipman

Once, the disciples of the Baal Shem Tov decided to prepare him a special Sabbath. They worked for days to make sure that everything would be just as it should be, so that the spirit of the Sabbath would descend as it never had before.

At last, a few minutes before sundown on Friday night, they were all seated around a long table with the Baal Shem Tov at the place of honor at the head. The disciple who had been chosen for the special honor of lighting the Sabbath candles stood up and began to light the candles and say the blessing.

"Ha! Ha-ha!" Suddenly, the Baal Shem Tov gave a loud laugh.

The disciple lighting the candles looked around to see what was wrong--if there was something amiss with his clothing, perhaps--but everything was as it should be.

Later, they began the Sabbath meal. They gave the Baal Shem Tov the first bowl of the soup that they had labored so long over.

He tasted it.

"Heh, heh, heh, heh!" He laughed and laughed.

The disciples were appalled. They rushed to taste the soup, but there was nothing in it that tasted...humorous.

Still later, they were singing the Sabbath songs.

Oh, what strength a righteous woman has!
There is no treasure rarer than this!
Happy is the heart that relies on her,
For such a heart can lack for nothing....
Yai, dai, dai, dai, dai, dai, dai, dai....

As they sang, the Baal Shem Tov began to laugh and laugh, as though he could not contain himself.

It was the custom of the disciples that, on Saturday night, after the spirit of the Sabbath had departed, they would choose one question between them, and present it to the Baal Shem Tov.

This Saturday, there was no debate as to what question they would ask. "Holy master, why did you laugh during the Sabbath--three times?"

In answer, the Baal Shem Tov said, "Come with me."

All the disciples crowded into the Baal Shem Tov's carriage. He drew the curtains over the windows, and they began to travel swiftly.

Several hours later, when he opened the curtains, they were in a distant village. None of them had ever been there before.

The Baal Shem Tov went to the leaders of the village. "Bring everyone to the village square. Now."

When the Baal Shem Tov stood looking out over that crowd of faces, he said, "There is still one family missing."

After a few minutes, the people realized, "It must be the old bookbinder and his wife. They live on the edge of town; they must not have gotten the word."

When this old man and this old woman entered the village square, and the old man saw who it was who was calling for him, he began to wring his hands. "Oh, Holy Master. I know I have committed a great sin. I only ask forgiveness."

"Bookbinder, tell my disciples and these people gathered here how you spent your Sabbath."

Fearfully, the old man glanced at the illustrious students of the Baal Shem Tov and began to speak. "I am an old bookbinder. In my youth, I could earn enough that we had what we needed during the week, and something special to greet the Sabbath. But as I have grown older, there has been less and less.

"Finally, this Sabbath--for the first time--we had no Sabbath candles--and only a few crusts of bread for a Sabbath meal.

"My wife was determined that we would observe the Sabbath as well as we were able. And so, just before sundown, she went through the motions of lighting candles that were not there.

"As she did, I saw...a flash of light. And I understood for the first time that the light that I had thought came only from the candles was also coming from her. I shouted out, 'I love you'--in the middle of the holy blessing!

"I got control of myself, and went back to observing the Sabbath with due respect.

"But then later, we were beginning our humble meal. We had only warmed water for soup. But I tasted it. I felt...nourished.

"At that moment, I realized that the nourishment--which all these years I had thought came only from the soup--actually came also from her, from our being together through so many Sabbaths.

"And before I realized what I was doing, I jumped up. I kissed her!

"Shocked at my own behavior, I sat back down. I stayed in my seat properly until later, when we sang the Sabbath songs.

Oh, what strength a righteous woman has!
There is no treasure rarer than this!

"Singing these words, I realized what a great strength she was in my life.

Happy is the heart that relies on her,
For such a heart can lack for nothing....

"Suddenly, I knew that, in spite of our great poverty, while I had her in my life, I lacked for nothing.

"And then, before I knew what I was doing, I jumped up. I grabbed her by the arms. We began to sing and dance together.

Yai, dai, dai, dai, dai, dai, dai, dai;
Yai, dai, dai, dai, dai, dai, dai, dai....

"At last, I got control of myself and sat back down.

"Holy master, I know I have defiled the Sabbath. Please, tell me: what must I do to be forgiven?"

The Baal Shem Tov looked at his disciples. "When this man and this woman spent their Sabbath in such deep and holy love, I was there with them, and I shared in their joy.

"And when he spoke his love for that woman, not only I but the angels in heaven heard--and they smiled. And when he got up and kissed that woman, acting on that deep love-the angels in heaven saw them, and they laughed.

"And when the two of them joined their hands and sang and danced their joy, the angels themselves began to sing and to dance. And the Eternal Heart itself heard them, and it was warmed.

"'On a Sabbath of such perfect joy, who wouldn't laugh?"

What is the Problem?

retold by Doug Lipman

This story is presented as part of a bouquet of three stories about questions:

1. What is the Problem?

2. How Do We Know?

3. Who Has the Answer?

A downcast hasid came to his rebbe. "Rebbe, I am in serious financial trouble."

"So, what is the problem?"

"Rebbe, I lost my job. I lost every job I ever had."

"And why do you keep losing them?"

"Well, whatever job I take, it seems my heart is not really in it."

The rebbe looked hard at his disciple. "You are an outstanding student of the Torah. You work well with people. Why don't you become a rabbi?"

The hasid grimaced. "Rebbe, I have yearned to be a rabbi. But rabbis interpret the Law for people. Their judgements might affect the destiny of a person's soul. I can't be a rabbi. I'm afraid I might make a mistake!"

The rebbe met the hasid's eyes. "So? Who should become a rabbi? Someone who is not afraid of making a mistake?"

This story is told of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter - who was not a Hasidic rabbi, but whose stories are told by Hasidim.

Who Has the Answer?

retold by Doug Lipman

Some Hasidim of the Maggid of Mezheritz came to him. "Rebbe, we are puzzled. It says in the Talmud that we must thank God as much for the bad days, as for the good. How can that be? What would our gratitude mean, if we gave it equally for the good and the bad?"

The Maggid replied, "Go to Anapol. Reb Zusya will have an answer for you."

The Hasidim undertook the journey. Arriving in Anapol, they inquired for Reb Zusya. At last, they came to the poorest street of the city. There, crowded between two small houses, they found a tiny shack, sagging with age.

When they entered, they saw Reb Zusya sitting at a bare table, reading a volume by the light of the only small window. "Welcome, strangers!" he said. "Please pardon me for not getting up; I have hurt my leg. Would you like food? I have some bread. And there is water!"

"No. We have come only to ask you a question. The Maggid of Mezheritz told us you might help us understand: Why do our sages tell us to thank God as much for the bad days as for the good?"

Reb Zusya laughed. "Me? I have no idea why the Maggid sent you to me." He shook his head in puzzlement. "You see, I have never had a bad day. Every day God has given to me has been filled with miracles."

How Do We Know?

retold by Doug Lipman

Some students of the Baal Shem Tov came to him one day with a question. "Every year we travel here to learn from you. Nothing could make us stop doing that. But we have learned of a man in our own town who claims to be a tzaddik, a righteous one. If he is genuine, we would love to profit from his wisdom. But how will we know if he is a fake?"

The Baal Shem Tov looked at his earnest hasidim. "You must test him by asking him a question." He paused. "You have had difficulty with stray thoughts during prayer?"

"Yes!" The hasidim answered eagerly. "We try to think only of our holy intentions as we pray, but other thoughts come into our minds. We have tried many methods not to be troubled by them."

"Good," said the Baal Shem Tov. "Ask him the way to stop such thoughts from entering your minds." The Baal Shem Tov smiled. "If he has an answer, he is a fake."