Episode 132: Young Baruch Hears Stories About His Family

00:01 The story continues with Baruch’s stay in Dobromysl and the stories he hears about his family, about his grandfather Reb Moshe, the former head of the Poznan community. We have heard a great deal so far. But Baruch had not expected that, while staying in Dobromysl and helping Yitzchak Shaul in the smithy, he would also hear about his brother-in-law Yosef Yitzchak, the husband of his sister Devorah Leah, whom we know as the prodigy from Sherei[?]. We know that after his marriage, Yosef Yitzchak was appointed head of a yeshiva in Vitebsk. Baruch was surprised to hear a story about his brother-in-law, especially under the circumstances in which it was told. In fact, while working in the smithy, Baruch witnessed an argument about his brother-in-law in Vitebsk. In keeping with his particular way of doing things, he listened without revealing that the prodigy from Sherei[?] they were discussing was his brother-in-law. Baruch never spoke about his family. His whole aim was to listen and learn from anyone he could learn from, and he avoided hinting at his own scholarship or that of his family. All the same, Baruch was happy in his heart that his brother-in-law’s reputation had reached even the small town of Dobromysl. He was especially happy because the story he heard showed him that his brother-in-law was not merely a scholar whose wisdom exceeded his deeds, but a man of good character and good deeds—and, as Baruch gathered from the story, also one of the Baal Shem Tov’s chassidim. This is what happened. At the beginning of spring, the smithy was open for many hours because so many farmers came to repair their tools, shoe their horses, and fix their wagons. Jews with varying amounts of time on their hands would also gather to exchange a few words with the owner and the workers. From time to time, learned Jews joined them, among them a man named Yerucham Fishel. This Yerucham Fishel was steeped in opposition to the new path of Chassidus. He did not know

02:41 that Yitzchak Shaul himself, whom he admired for his scholarship, was a chossid. Yitzchak Shaul, for his part, understood that he would not succeed in influencing Yerucham Fishel, so he limited their conversations to intricate Torah discussions. Young Baruch did the same. Yerucham Fishel liked the smithy because its owner, Eliezer Reuven, though a fairly simple Jew, had married off his three daughters to scholars and sent his only son, Shmuel Nachum, to yeshiva. To him, therefore, the smithy was a gathering place for scholars. Shmuel Nachum, the blacksmith’s son, had gone to study for the new term after Pesach at one of the yeshivas in Vitebsk. The man who took him there was Zevulun Binyamin, the skinner we have already heard about. He had once been profoundly ignorant, but through the friendship of Eliezer Reuven the blacksmith, he had gained some knowledge of Torah. Now Zevulun Binyamin returned from Vitebsk and told the people in the smithy that, of all the yeshivas there, Shmuel Nachum had chosen the yeshiva of Yosef Yitzchak, the prodigy from Sherei[?]. And so Baruch’s brother-in-law came up in conversation, without Baruch giving any hint that they were related. A discussion about Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak then began. Zevulun Binyamin, that simple Jew, started praising the young Torah scholar and said, “As far as I’m concerned, a scholar like that deserves his standing—even a simple person like me can understand his Torah teachings.” Zevulun Binyamin explained that at the start of every term, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak would deliver his opening lesson to a broad audience, because very many Jews attended it, including simple Jews. People came to listen because Yosef Yitzchak would weave ethical teachings from the stories of our Sages into these lessons in a way that even simple people could understand. Zevulun Binyamin went on enthusiastically: when he brought Shmuel Nachum to the yeshiva, he stayed to hear the opening lesson. “It was simply a delight, an experience that refreshed the soul,”

05:18 Zevulun Binyamin said. “Imagine: I find myself sitting among yeshiva students and learned Jews, listening to the words of the scholar Yosef Yitzchak—and understanding every word. I could hardly believe that I really understood him. Let me tell you a story I heard, and you’ll see that I grasped it.” And Zevulun Binyamin told them: “A great sage came to a town and met Eliyahu Hanavi. The sage asked Eliyahu Hanavi which of the local people was assured a share in the World to Come, so that he would know who was worthy of being his companion. Eliyahu Hanavi told him, ‘On the contrary, go into the town, look at what people do, and tell me which of them, in your view, has a place in the World to Come.’ Eliyahu Hanavi intended to test the sage’s ability to discern people’s character. The sage set out to look for those who had a place in the World to Come, beginning, of course, with the town’s study halls. When he entered a study hall and saw Jews sitting and studying Torah with great diligence, he thought to himself, ‘Surely the person assured a place in Gan Eden is here.’ While he stood wondering which of the people before him had a place in the World to Come, Eliyahu Hanavi approached him and said, ‘True, these Jews deserve a fine reward for their Torah study. But come, and I will show you who is worthy of being your companion in Gan Eden and is assured a share in the World to Come.’ Eliyahu Hanavi set off, with the sage following him, and they reached the marketplace. There Eliyahu Hanavi pointed to two poor Jews whose faces were drawn and closed off. They had ropes tied around their waists and looked no different from the ordinary people walking through the market. These two Jews gathered around them older and younger people weighed down by poverty and suffering, and began speaking to them. They told them various stories and amusing things, and the Jews began to laugh and smile. Joy spread across their faces. ‘Do you see these two Jews?’ Eliyahu Hanavi said to his visitor.

07:47 ‘These two Jews have a place in the World to Come. Their place in Gan Eden is assured, and they are worthy of being your companions. They have no money with which to sustain the poor, but the help they give the downtrodden and the embittered is greater than any other help. They bring joy to the brokenhearted; because of them, the poor forget their poverty and those who suffer forget their worries. Great is their merit, and fortunate is their lot.’ Zevulun Binyamin told the story in his own words, as he had absorbed and understood it, and drew the conclusion that every Jew can merit life in the World to Come through good deeds. Zevulun Binyamin’s eyes shone with joy and satisfaction, for he saw that a path had opened before him in life to reach Gan Eden through good deeds. Yitzchak Shaul listened with pleasure to Zevulun Binyamin’s story, which accorded with his own outlook and frame of mind. Baruch, too, was very happy, both because the story accorded with his way of thinking and because its central figure was, in fact, his brother-in-law. From Zevulun Binyamin’s account, Baruch understood that his brother-in-law, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, was not only a great scholar; he had also found a distinctive path in serving Hashem. Yerucham Fishel, the scholar we mentioned earlier, was also in the smithy when Zevulun Binyamin told his story. Yerucham Fishel had known Zevulun Binyamin for many years and considered him ignorant of Torah. Hearing him tell such a story therefore greatly irked Yerucham Fishel. His anger grew at Zevulun Binyamin’s audacity in passing judgment on scholars by expressing his appreciation for scholars like Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak. So when Zevulun Binyamin finished his story, Yerucham Fishel burst out at him with insults and rebukes: how dare he presume to assess the greatness of the scholar from Sherei[?] and relate in his name some simple story from the Aggadah that spoke to the understanding of the unlearned? Only an ignorant and contemptible person could appreciate

10:05 “You can’t judge the greatness of a Torah genius by the standards of a simple story,” Yerucham Fishel argued heatedly. He added disparaging remarks about how little the man who skinned carcasses understood of Torah scholars and geniuses. The torrent of insults that burst from Yerucham Fishel’s mouth in anger stunned everyone at the smithy, especially Yitzchak Shaul and Baruch. They watched the learned Yerucham Fishel grow redder and redder and lose control of himself, uttering words that even an ordinary person would not normally use. Afterward, Yitzchak Shaul and Baruch tried to comfort and encourage Zevulun Binyamin. Among themselves, though, they saw the incident as further proof of the shortcomings in the way of Torah scholars who were distant from the teachings and path of the Baal Shem Tov. While in Dobromysl, Baruch also learned more about distinguished members of his family. This same Baruch, whom Divine Providence had destined to become the father of the founder of Chabad Chassidus, was so distant from his family that he had to learn details of his lineage from other people. As we said, this was especially true in Dobromysl, where he spent time with Yitzchak Shaul and learned a great deal from him, both about Chassidus and about his family. Baruch was surprised, but also pleased, to hear details about his uncle Kadish, who lived in Vitebsk and in whose home Baruch’s sister Devorah Leah had stayed until her marriage. Kadish, Baruch’s uncle, was the son of a Jew named Dovid. This Dovid was the brother of Reb Baruch Batlan, whom we have already met: Baruch’s maternal grandfather, after whom he was named, who lived in Pozna. Like his brother Reb Baruch Batlan, Dovid belonged to the circle of kabbalists and was also a student of Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem of Zamość, about whom we have spoken at length. Dovid’s way of life differed from that of his brother Reb Baruch. Dovid lived in a village fifteen miles from Pozna, together with several other Jews, and they worked

12:45 there as farmers. All of them were kabbalists who followed the ways of Kabbalah as they had learned them from their ancestors, descendants of Jews from Spain and Portugal, most of whom had been kabbalists. In those days, kabbalists tended toward asceticism and seclusion. The kabbalist farmers near Pozna did not cut themselves off from the world completely, but their way of life was, to a large extent, one of seclusion: they prayed all the daily prayers together as a congregation, yet had almost no social contact with one another. Dovid was among Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem’s students, but he traveled to see him only rarely, unlike his brother Reb Baruch, who visited his teacher regularly. Dovid and his fellow kabbalist farmers were well known in the area. They did not need to take their produce—their grain, fruit, and wool—to the nearby towns to sell it. Their regular customers came to the village and collected the goods themselves. Once, about ten years after the kabbalists’ farming settlement was established, a merchant from Prague came and offered to buy all the village’s produce at once, at a very high price. The kabbalists gathered to decide whether to accept his offer. Opinions were divided. Those who opposed it argued that the proposed deal would hurt the regular small-scale merchants who bought from them in smaller quantities. In the end, the matter was left to the elders of the settlement and its two teachers. They ruled that the offer should be rejected, tempting though it was, so as not to harm the livelihood of the merchants in the area. In time, the real reason for the merchant’s offer became known. Word had spread in Prague about the produce of this farming settlement of kabbalists, called Eretz Hachayim. People in Prague said its produce had a special blessing. Word passed from person to person that anything harvested in that village

15:12 brought success with it. Among the wonders told was the case of Peretz, a distiller of spirits, who got four or five times the usual yield from the potatoes and grain he bought from the kabbalists. What was more, the liquor he produced was finer and tastier than other liquors. Another story concerned Shimon the shopkeeper, who grew wealthy from the wool and flax he bought in Eretz Hachayim. As these stories spread through the area, demand for Eretz Hachayim’s produce grew. People almost raced to the settlement to buy it. The kabbalists could have named any price they wished and grown rich, but they preferred to keep selling to their regular merchants at the old prices. One merchant in Pozna came up with a clever scheme. What did he do? He bought a plot of land bordering Eretz Hachayim and offered to let the kabbalists farm it for themselves. All the proceeds from its produce would be theirs; they would give him only a certain percentage of the profits in return for his investment. But the kabbalists rejected the offer. Two teachers lived in Eretz Hachayim and taught Torah to the village children. One was Reb Naftali, who taught the youngest children. The other was Reb Shimon, who taught Gemara. There was also the elderly Rabbi Yaakov Kaplan, who gave lessons to the older boys. All three were kabbalists and followers of Rabbi Yoel Baal Shem of Zamość, as we know. The boys did not study Kabbalah before the age of eighteen, but the teachers instilled its spirit in their students long before then. This found expression in the teachings of our Sages that the teachers told them and in the good character traits they planted in them. From the moment his students began learning the alef-beis, Reb Naftali, the teacher of the youngest children, tried to give them a sense that the letters themselves were holy. “My precious little flock,” Reb Naftali would tell the children, “you are learning the alef-beis. These are the very holy letters

17:40 with which Hakadosh Boruch Hu created the world, and with these letters He gave the Torah to His people Israel at Mount Sinai through His servant Moshe Rabbeinu.” Reb Shimon, the Gemara teacher, would tell his students that when Torah insights are repeated in the name of someone who is in the World of Truth, his lips move in the grave and his soul delights in Gan Eden. “That is why our Sages, of blessed memory, told us that when someone repeats a teaching in its author’s name, he should picture its author standing before him. The holy Tannaim and the holy Amoraim, whose Torah we study, are here with us, and we must stand in awe and reverence in their presence.” It was here, in the settlement of Eretz Hachayim, that Kadish was born to Dovid. Dovid was considered one of the settlement’s leading kabbalists and was recognized as great in both the revealed and hidden dimensions of Torah. He was a spiritual man, but cold and calculating. He never grew angry. He took part in another person’s joy or sorrow only because the Torah commanded it, not because he felt it. Another Jew’s happiness or pain did not touch his heart. He was almost incapable of laughing or crying. Reb Dovid acted according to what was written in the holy books and what his understanding and reasoning dictated, but without feeling or warmth. He observed the mourning of Tisha B’Av and the rejoicing of Simchas Torah. In everything he had the appropriate kabbalistic intentions, but inwardly and outwardly he remained cold. Dovid’s son Kadish showed great talent from childhood. His mother, Tzvia, doted on him because he was an only child. The boy’s nature was different from his father’s and more like his mother’s; she was cheerful, warm, and kindhearted. Still, as he grew up under his father’s influence, he too became restrained, reserved, and serious, contrary to his nature. Kadish’s education was no different from that of the other children of Eretz Hachayim. At first he studied with Reb Naftali, the teacher of the youngest children. After that

20:13 He continued studying Gemara with Reb Shimon, the teacher. After some time, he was accepted into Yaakov Kaplan’s class and excelled in his studies. When Kaddish turned sixteen, his father passed away. His mother, Tzvia, now a widow, decided to leave the settlement and move to Pozna. She wanted Kaddish to study at the large, thriving yeshiva there, but above all she wanted him under the supervision of her brother-in-law, her husband’s brother, Baruch Batlan. She planned to sell her property in Eretz Hachaim and use the money to buy a shop in Pozna that would provide her with a livelihood. But the leaders of the settlement explained that, under its rules, the members were to study and pray for the elevation of the deceased’s soul for a year. During that year, the members would take turns, as determined by lot, working the widow’s and orphans’ land to support them, so they would be free to devote themselves to Torah and good deeds for the sake of the deceased’s soul. Tzvia therefore agreed to remain in the settlement for another year. During that year, Kaddish was permitted to study Kabbalah, even though he was not yet eighteen. Something remarkable happened that year. The entire surrounding area suffered a drought: all the crops and fruit in the nearby villages were blighted. Only in Eretz Hachaim did rain fall, and its crops and fruit flourished wonderfully. Everyone understood this to be a sign of the great merit and righteousness of the settlement’s people. Naturally, the drought drove up food prices throughout the region, but the Kabbalists did not ask even a penny more than they did in any other year, despite being offered enormous sums. They also made it a condition of sale that the merchants who bought from them would not charge their customers more than the usual price. A year later, Tzvia sold her property to one of the settlement’s members. Under the settlement’s rules, property could be sold only to a member or a member’s descendant. Tzvia and her orphaned son Kaddish then left the settlement.