Episode 95: The End of the Story of Lipa Baruch and the Beginning of the Story of the Holy Ascetic of Dubrove

00:00 We continue the fascinating story of Lipa Baruch, who at first strayed from the path of Judaism and later returned in teshuvah. His return came about through a Jew named Azriel Yosef, a shliach of the Baal Shem Tov, whom the Baal Shem Tov had charged with bringing Lipa Baruch back. As soon as Azriel Yosef returned from Mezhibuzh, the Baal Shem Tov’s town, he began planning how to gain entry to Lipa Baruch’s estate. The estate was twenty versts from Horki. Lipa Baruch lived and behaved like a nobleman and associated only with members of the nobility, so Azriel Yosef knew he could not approach him directly, much less influence him. But the Baal Shem Tov had given him a mission, and he had to find a way to carry it out. Azriel Yosef was a great scholar, deeply G-d-fearing, a kabbalist, and wise in worldly matters. Nevertheless, he earned his living through manual labor, taking whatever work came his way so as not to depend on others. He therefore decided simply to hire himself out as a day laborer on the estate. Once he was hired, he began doing his work faithfully. All the while, he kept an eye on the landowner—as Lipa Baruch was known to those on the estate—and found various ways to draw the landowner’s attention to himself, seemingly by chance. It was difficult, but he succeeded, gradually. First he caught the attention of the estate manager, and then of Lipa Baruch himself. Lipa Baruch saw something intriguing: a man who plainly had the bearing of a Torah scholar, yet did backbreaking work to earn his bread and flatly refused every offer of help or better conditions at work. Lipa Baruch, a former scholar who had fallen into sin,

02:37 knew how to recognize a scholar. He saw not only that Azriel Yosef was learned, but that he was different from every scholar he knew. So he struck up a conversation with him, followed by more conversations, during which his admiration for Azriel Yosef’s learning and sharp mind kept growing. At the time, Lipa Baruch was steeped in heretical ideas he had picked up from various scientific books he had read. For some time, he had enjoyed discussing matters of faith with Jewish Torah scholars in order to demonstrate his knowledge. As we know from the earlier stories, he was very proud and wanted to prove both his knowledge of these subjects and that his chosen path was right. Most of the scholars he approached refused to listen. Those who agreed to hear him did not know how to answer. Azriel Yosef, by contrast, listened—and listened closely—to what Lipa Baruch had to say. At the start of their conversations, he even showed an understanding of Lipa Baruch’s views, and in that way won his trust. But just when Lipa Baruch was sure he had convinced Azriel Yosef, he was surprised to hear incisive answers grounded in logic, broad knowledge, and great depth. Each such conversation ended with Lipa Baruch bewildered and astonished. These conversations happened again and again, with similar results, until within a few months Lipa Baruch understood that he had indeed been mistaken. He concluded that he had had no justification for leaving the path of Judaism. Azriel Yosef’s influence over him continued to grow, until Lipa Baruch began speaking openly with him about returning in teshuvah. At a certain point, Azriel Yosef, the Baal Shem Tov’s disciple, felt that this mission was complete. So one day he told Lipa Baruch that he was leaving the estate to continue his wanderings and carry out other missions for

05:06 the Baal Shem Tov. Lipa Baruch declared that he would join him in a period of self-imposed exile. He wandered with Azriel Yosef for three months, after which they parted ways. Lipa Baruch then went to Horki to see his former teacher, Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak, and ask him for a path of teshuvah and guidance about his future. In the end, after consulting with Rabbi Nissan, Rabbi Nachman Yitzchak advised him to return to his estate, sell it, and settle in Minsk, which was then a major center of Torah learning. Lipa Baruch lived with his family in Minsk for ten years, devoting himself to Torah study and serving Hashem. Afterward he bought the Sitchin estate near Horki and was in daily contact with his former teacher. Once, while Lipa Baruch was in Horki, he met Azriel Yosef in the street and rushed to embrace and kiss him, thanking him for helping him become a baal teshuvah. But Azriel Yosef was then carrying out a secret mission, and the chassidic group in Horki was still operating in secret, so he could not reveal himself. He pretended not to know what Lipa Baruch was talking about and denied being the man who had worked for him and moved him to return in teshuvah. Perhaps Lipa Baruch understood that Azriel Yosef had a reason not to reveal himself; or perhaps he became convinced that he had indeed mistaken the man’s identity. He parted from him and went on his way, while Azriel Yosef continued his chassidic work in secret. Now, alongside this story, we continue with the story of Shmuel Nachum, son of Eliezer Reuven, the blacksmith from Dobromysl. As we know from what we have already told, Shmuel Nachum had returned from the yeshivah with some very interesting stories. He had studied at the yeshivah in Dubrovna and had stories to tell. At the same time, we will tell of the emergence of the chassidic movement in Horki, the town of Yitzchak Shaul, the son-in-law of Eliezer Reuven, the blacksmith from Dobromysl. So we have two parallel stories. One of the stories Shmuel Nachum told Baruch was the story

08:00 of the recluse from Dubrovna. When Shmuel Nachum traveled to Dubrovna to study at the yeshivah there, he had to take an entrance examination. He had some time before the exam, and Avraham Moshe, the shamash, advised him to make a place for himself in the meantime at the synagogue known as the Old Recluse’s Synagogue, on a street called Cold Alley in Dubrovna. When Shmuel Nachum arrived there, he found an elderly recluse and tzaddik named Rabbi Chaim. At first, Shmuel Nachum thought the synagogue was named for him, but he later learned that it was older than Rabbi Chaim, and that the recluse for whom it was named belonged to an earlier generation. This is that recluse’s story. It happened eighty or ninety years earlier, Shmuel Nachum was told. In Dubrovna there lived a boy named Feivish Henich, who was remarkable for his fear of Heaven. He had not, however, managed to study and acquire much Torah knowledge, because he lacked the ability to grapple with difficult passages in the vast sea of the Talmud. Instead, he spent most of his time saying Tehillim with great eagerness and a distinctive sweetness. He said Tehillim often, with ever-growing fervor and an outpouring of the soul. Feivish Henich had a beautiful voice, as well as a sturdy build and a handsome appearance. The beis midrash where he sat saying Tehillim rang with his voice. He recited the psalms joyfully, and everyone felt the joy in his voice. But when he reached psalms in which the poet pours out his bitter anguish before the Master of the World, Feivish Henich’s voice filled with bitterness and pleading. Everyone who heard him felt their heart break with sorrow, and tears filled their eyes. When Feivish Henich turned sixteen, he decided to withdraw from worldly affairs. He stopped speaking to people. He plugged his nostrils so that he would not

10:45 The smell of food would reach him. He plugged his ears so he would not hear people talking, and tied a scarf over his eyes. He knew Tehillim and all the prayers by heart, so every weekday he fasted, and in the evening he sustained himself with a piece of dry bread and water. On Friday night, he made Kiddush over a loaf of bread and ate a little more than he did during the week. He did the same on Shabbos day. Beyond that, he ate nothing more, even on Shabbos or Yom Tov. He also slept as little as he could. In every way, Feivish Henich did all he could to deny his body any pleasure. Yet, remarkably, his body remained healthy and strong, and he looked well. Feivish Henich lived this way for many years. His name became known not only throughout Dubrovna but also in all the surrounding towns and villages. Even the non-Jews in the villages spoke with admiration of the young man who recited Tehillim. But then the following happened. Not far from Dubrovna was an estate managed by a man who hated Jews. An idea occurred to him. What was it? He wanted to play a cruel trick on the ascetic Feivish Henich, whom everyone was talking about. How would he do it? He would have him brought to the estate by force, gather everyone there, and make a mockery of him. So the estate manager ordered one of his men to go to Dubrovna and bring back the ascetic. The man rode to Dubrovna and approached the beis midrash where Feivish Henich sat reciting Tehillim with great fervor. When the estate manager’s messenger heard the ascetic reciting Tehillim, he was overcome with fear. He did not dare go inside. Feivish Henich’s voice, rising from the beis midrash as he recited Tehillim with fervor and deveikus,

13:18 was enough to send him back to his master, the landowner, frightened. He told him that this was a holy man whom no one could approach. There was no question, he said, of insulting the tzaddik, let alone bringing him to the estate by force. The cruel estate manager flew into a rage. How could one of his servants dare refuse an order to bring the ascetic to the estate? He immediately ordered the disobedient servant to be given fifteen lashes in public, so that all would hear and see, and his every command would be carried out without question. Horsemen with trumpets rode throughout the area, announcing the manager’s order that everyone come to witness the punishment of the messenger who had failed to carry out his mission. The estate manager planned to show the crowd, once the disobedient messenger had been dealt with, that he had no regard for the ascetic at all: he would still bring him to the estate and torment him. To that end, he ordered a large wooden platform built in the open air. Two spectacles were to take place on that platform that very day before all the residents gathered from the surrounding area. They would watch the errant servant being flogged, and immediately afterward the ascetic would be brought onto the platform to be ridiculed. The servant was led onto the platform and tied to a thick wooden beam, his bare back facing the crowd. Serfs carrying special whips prepared in advance began the flogging, while the estate clerk stood by counting the lashes: one, two, three, four. The blows followed one after another. The crack of the braided whip split the air.