Chapter 48: Baruch the Young One in Liozna

00:02 We continue the story of young Baruch, the son of Rabbi Schneur Zalman—that is, Schneur Zalman son of Rabbi Moshe. So now we know. After wandering through several towns, Baruch arrived in Liozna. He settled in the large beis midrash and began studying diligently. Baruch had a small bundle of money that he had saved from the jobs he had done in the towns he passed through. Though his earnings had been very meager, his daily needs were even smaller. A piece of dry bread, something to spread on it or eat with it, and he was satisfied. Clothing and shoes—well. And so he managed to bring to Liozna an amount of money that he considered a treasure, enough to last him quite a while. Baruch sat in the beis midrash, free of worry and distraction, and studied with great diligence. He was already seventeen, and for him this was a time of genuine happiness: he could devote all his time, day and night, to learning. But a young man Baruch’s age, arriving from elsewhere, sitting and studying Torah day and night without asking anyone for anything, was bound to attract attention. The first to take an interest in the diligent young man’s way of life was Reb Ezra, the beis midrash attendant. He approached Baruch and asked whether he needed help with food or anything else. Baruch said no. Having made the beis midrash his lodging, Baruch would help the attendant with his various tasks: sweeping the beis midrash, bringing clean water to the washbasin, replacing the bowl of used water, and helping to light the candles. Reb Ezra wanted to pay Baruch for his help, but Baruch would not accept. He explained to Ezra that he did it for the sake of the mitzvah and had no need of money at all. Reb Ezra shrugged. He had never encountered

02:47 such an unusual fellow. Astonished, Reb Ezra told the beis midrash’s gabbai, Rabbi Eliezer Zundel, about young Baruch, and word reached the other people who came to pray there every day. They too had noticed the young scholar. “Who is he? Where is he from?” the gabbai, Eliezer Zundel, asked the attendant. Ezra shrugged. “I haven’t managed to get any details out of him. Apparently he doesn’t want people to know about him.” Rabbi Eliezer tried to draw Baruch out and learn something about where he had come from, his family, and why he had come to Liozna. He also offered to provide for all his needs, but Baruch refused to give any details and told the gabbai that he needed no help. Still, worried about Baruch and afraid that he might, G-d forbid, starve to death, Rabbi Eliezer again gave Reb Ezra the task of persuading him to accept help and support. Baruch insisted that he needed nothing. But when he saw that he would not be able to escape the generosity of the people at the large beis midrash, he left and settled in a small beis midrash on the edge of town. There he would be a burden to no one and could continue living as he wished. Eventually, though, Baruch realized that the little money he had brought to Liozna was dwindling. So he began cutting his expenses. He reduced his already scant ration of bread and, at the same time, began looking for some kind of work. At first he thought of working as a porter, carrying loads, but he soon noticed that Liozna had many porters with families. “I won’t take away their livelihood,” he thought, and looked for other work. Water-carrying was not a common trade in Liozna, since most people of limited means went down to the well themselves

05:27 and filled their buckets there. The well-to-do people who used water carriers already had regular carriers. Baruch certainly would not, G-d forbid, try to compete with them. Chopping wood in the forest to heat homes or cook food was also work that poor people depended on. And of course Baruch did not want to encroach on their livelihood. Well. Distress and sadness filled Baruch’s heart. He began rationing his bread even more strictly, and whole days went by without his eating. At the same time, he studied with even greater enthusiasm. The people who prayed at the small beis midrash on the edge of town were all poor and needy, preoccupied with their own worries. None of them noticed the young man sitting and studying Torah, and it never occurred to any of them to wonder how he lived or where his food came from. Nor did his drawn, pale face from hunger attract any special attention; the people there were used to seeing faces like that. The only one who paid close attention to Baruch’s way of life was an elderly Jew who frequented that beis midrash. Since most of the people who prayed there were poor and could not afford an attendant, this old man cleaned the beis midrash without pay. From time to time, though, one of them would give him a little something, and he lived on those gifts. The old man knew how diligently young Baruch studied, and he could also see that Baruch was very hungry when he observed what little food he lived on. He could not understand it. Yet he could do nothing to help Baruch. Besides, the old man felt a certain hesitation about approaching Baruch and striking up a friendly conversation with him. After all, he was a simple Jew who could barely read, while Baruch was a young man,

08:07 a learned and diligent student. So winter passed and spring arrived. Because he was on the edge of town, Baruch was once again close to the nature he loved. He began taking long walks outside town. The sun shone on the earth and all who lived upon it. The sky was clear, the ground had donned a green coat, the trees were beginning to bud, and the forests and fields gave off pleasant scents that filled the air. Songbirds chirped from the treetops, and the tiny creatures on the ground made their buzzing sounds. This was the season when Baruch could stretch out on the grass beneath a tree and immerse himself in his thoughts. It was also a fitting time to devote himself to learning with even greater enthusiasm. It was easy for Baruch to forget his hunger and become absorbed in reflections and thoughts of the higher sefiros. As Shavuos approached, Baruch saw that his last few coins were running out. For the holy festival, he had to obtain at least challah for Kiddush. The time of the Giving of Our Torah must not be profaned. What, then, could he do? Baruch fasted for several days in a row so that his money would cover the essentials for the festival. But what would happen afterward? His last coin would be gone. Would he have to ask people for help? Baruch was deeply distressed, but then he began to reproach himself. Why had he lost his trust in Hakadosh Boruch Hu so quickly? Baruch had learned in works of mussar about the value of trust. Still, he asked himself: Can a person attain that measure of trust even in a state of utter helplessness? Baruch thought that he had to rise to a level where, whatever his circumstances, he would neither doubt nor lose his absolute trust in the Creator of the world, Who sustains the entire world in His goodness. And besides, Baruch told himself, is this a time for sadness? We are in the midst of spring, so close to nature. One need only leave town, put its noise and bustle behind [unclear], and connect completely

11:01 Hashem’s wondrous creation. How glorious, how beautiful this world is! Endless richness and joy fill the heart. What is sorrow to me? What is worry? The world and all it contains sing and burst into song for its Creator. At such moments, Baruch felt as though he were part of creation and, through it, connected to Hashem Himself. In hours of such spiritual elevation, it was impossible to think about the body’s small needs. This was the hour when the soul held complete sway over the body. Let us pause for a moment and reflect on the experiences of young Baruch, who, as the father of the future founder of Chabad, contributed no small measure to its character through his righteousness and distinctive way of life. As we can see, Baruch forged a path for himself that few people could follow without coming to harm. Young Baruch astonishes us, especially since he took this unusual path on his own, without a companion or teacher. He gave up all help or assistance from others, placing his firm trust in the Master of the Universe to protect him from every danger, including starvation. The details of Baruch’s many hardships are not only interesting but deeply instructive: they show us how difficult the path of a tzaddik is, how much suffering he must bear, and what he must go through before reaching his lofty level. Young Baruch can serve as a clear example to all of us of consistency, upright conduct, strength of character, determination and righteousness—qualities that connect body and soul, heaven and earth, the spiritual and the physical. Let us continue Baruch’s story. Shavuos has passed, and young Baruch is now in dire straits, without a penny in his pocket. He is fasting now not to save money, but because he has no choice: he has

13:52 nothing at all to eat. Still, he asks himself, how long can a person fast without a break? Baruch tries to spend his days out in the fields under the open sky, absorbed in lofty thoughts. From memory, he reviews everything he has learned, but hunger takes its toll and torments him badly. His strength steadily fades, and his senses grow clouded. Baruch can only refresh himself now and then with the cold water of the river. But after two or three days without any food, even the cold water no longer helps. Baruch is gripped by hunger. He puts several handfuls of grass into his mouth and eats them, washing them down with water. But such a meal after a long fast brings on severe stomach pain. The pain lasts for hours. When it finally passes, the hunger returns. Baruch can find no rest in the field and decides to go back into town. His thoughts trouble him. Is he doing the right thing, endangering his life like this? “Here I am,” he thinks, “walking toward town. Perhaps I’ll knock on someone’s door and ask for a piece of bread, and my strength will return.” Baruch immediately has second thoughts. “After three years of not accepting a gift from another person, will I change my ways? No,” he tells himself. He will withstand this test. He is certain that even now he relies only on Hashem and does not want to depend on a gift from another person. Hungry, weak and suffering, young Baruch makes his way in slow steps toward Liozna. He is now walking along a new road, unfamiliar to him. He passes Jewish homes surrounded by gardens. Several Jewish families have chosen to live in this part of town, tending and working their own land. As he walks, Baruch happens to pass a vegetable garden. Through the fence, he notices a Jewish man tending seedlings, hoeing his crops and watering the vegetables. The gardener notices Baruch

16:52 and asks whether he would like to help him with the work. “I’ll pay you what you’re due,” he says, “because it’s hard for me to do all the work myself.” Baruch is overcome by this happy surprise. It is the first time anyone has offered him work in Liozna. This is just what he has been seeking. Of course, Baruch accepts at once. The gardener gives him a slice of bread and some fresh vegetables as an advance. Baruch satisfies his hunger, and his senses slowly begin to function normally again. The gardener wants Baruch to become his regular helper. It is the season for gathering vegetables from the garden and bringing them into town to sell. For three weeks Baruch does this work, receiving lodging and food in return, as well as a little money. When the vegetable harvest is finished, the gardener—who has naturally taken a liking to Baruch because of his dedication and diligence—asks him to keep working for him. The gardener has an orchard that he leases, together with another Jewish man, from the owner of a nearby estate. The fruit in the orchard is beginning to ripen, and the time has come to post guards to protect it from thieves and birds that might spoil it. After that comes the work of picking the fruit, packing it and taking it into town. There is, then, work for quite some time. Baruch is well suited to such tasks and is pleased with the offer. He stipulates only that he be able to go into town every morning and evening to daven with a minyan. The gardener, of course, agrees. Baruch’s period of hunger is behind him. His great trust in Hashem has not been in vain.