Chassidic story & lesson

 

The Minister and the Melamed[1]

A Story of Faith Beyond Reason

What follows is a remarkable story from the well-known chassid and philanthropist, Reb Shlomo of Vilna. It is a tale that shines with the quiet wonder of true faith — the kind of faith that walks forward even when the road ahead seems to make no sense at all.

 

A Dream to Spread Torah

At a certain time, the renowned chassidic rabbi of Slavita was occupied with a bold and noble undertaking: he wished to establish a printing press. In those days, such a venture was no small matter. A printing press was not merely a business enterprise; it was a sacred instrument, a means by which Torah could be spread to distant communities and preserved for generations. To print holy books was to open channels of spiritual life for countless Jews.

Yet before taking any practical steps, the rabbi understood that a project of such importance required more than financial planning and logistical preparation. It required guidance from one whose eyes saw deeper than the visible world. He therefore traveled to the Alter Rebbe, of blessed memory, to seek his counsel and blessing.

When he presented the matter before him, the Alter Rebbe listened and then responded with simple, confident words:

“Go ahead — and you will succeed.”

Those brief words filled the project with hope. A blessing from a tzaddik is not merely encouragement; it is direction, strength, and promise. Still, the rabbi of Slavuta felt compelled to speak honestly about the difficulties before him.

 

The Obstacle That Seemed Too Great

With humility, he explained the problem. His financial standing, he said, was not strong enough to carry such an undertaking through to completion. The expenses would be enormous. Equipment, labor, materials — all of these would demand substantial sums. But beyond the regular costs lay an even heavier burden: the official license required from the government ministers and authorities. Obtaining that license would itself cost a great deal of money, perhaps more than he could afford.

It was a practical concern, a very real one, and by all ordinary standards it should have given anyone pause. Without means, without influence, and without access to the corridors of power, how could such a dream possibly be realized?

But the Alter Rebbe answered him in a manner that immediately lifted the weight from the entire matter.

 

An Unlikely Instruction

“Do not worry at all about the license,” the Alter Rebbe told him. “I will advise you, and G-d will help you. Travel to Mohilev. There you will find a melamed, a schoolteacher, by the name of Reb Yisrael. Take him with you to Vilna, and there you will obtain the license easily, without any expense at all.”

These were the holy words that emerged from the lips of the tzaddik.

The rabbi’s face filled with joy. And yet, at the same time, the instruction was utterly bewildering.

Vilna was not the place where the government ministers sat. It was not the center from which such permissions were normally obtained. From the standpoint of ordinary logic, the advice seemed not merely unlikely, but almost impossible to understand. If the issue was government authorization, why travel to a city where the ministers were not even located? And what role could some unknown melamed from Mohilev possibly play in securing an official license?

Reason had no answer. Faith did.

Faith That Does Not Argue

Because of his deep and unwavering trust in the words of the tzaddik, the rabbi allowed no skeptical thought to take root in his mind. He did not pause to dissect the advice. He did not measure it against political realities or worldly calculations. He did not say, “Perhaps I misunderstood,” or “Surely this cannot mean exactly what it sounds like.”

Instead, he did what true chassidim have always done when receiving clear direction from a holy master: he acted.

Without delay, he set out for Mohilev.

This itself is worthy of reflection. There are moments in life when obedience to truth requires a person to move before he understands. The mind lingers; faith walks. The rabbi journeyed not because the path was logical, but because the source of the guidance was holy.

 

Confusion in Mohilev

When he arrived in Mohilev and related the matter to the local people, they were astonished.

The whole thing sounded strange to them. Everyone knew that Vilna was not a seat of government ministry. If one needed permits, licenses, or official authorization, Vilna would not be the obvious destination. The instruction alone was already difficult to comprehend.

But there was an additional complication: no one seemed to know of any melamed named Reb Yisrael.

The townspeople were perplexed. They searched their memory, considered the various batei midrash and neighborhoods, and still could not identify anyone who fit the description. Was there such a person at all? Had there been some misunderstanding? Could the name have been mistaken?

Yet because the matter had come from such a source, they continued investigating. They inquired more carefully. They asked in more places. They searched not only among the prominent and learned, but among the ordinary, overlooked corners of the town.

And after enough searching, they found him.

 

The Hidden Man

Yes, there was indeed a melamed named Reb Yisrael.

But the discovery only deepened the mystery.

This Reb Yisrael was not known as a chassid. He was not a man of worldly sophistication. He was not one of the town’s distinguished figures, nor was he someone with connections, influence, or political experience. He belonged to the simple folk. He was, as people would say, an unassuming Jew — one of those plain men who pass through the world unnoticed by nearly everyone except Heaven.

More than that, he had no familiarity with worldly affairs at all. He did not understand how governments worked, did not know how officials were approached, and could not conduct himself in different languages. The only language he knew was Yiddish.

This was not the sort of man one would choose to accompany a difficult legal mission.

If anything, he seemed the least likely candidate imaginable.

And yet, this was the man the Alter Rebbe had named.

 

The meeting

At first, when they approached him and told him the entire matter, the melamed burst out laughing.

“Is there no one else you can make a joke out of?” he said. “You all know me. I don’t know even a single other language. How am I supposed to speak to great ministers?”

They told him that to them as well the entire thing seemed astonishing — yet since it had come from such a source, they wanted to see how it would all turn out.

The melamed hesitated.

“And what will happen to my household?” he asked. “If I abandon my teaching in the middle of the term, how will my family live?”

Those around him immediately assured him that whatever income he would lose, they would replace in full. With that, and partly out of curiosity to see what would come of this strange matter, the melamed agreed.

 

The Journey to Vilna

They set out together and eventually arrived in Vilna, where they went to the home of the well-known philanthropist, Reb Meir Raphael’s. The rabbi of Slavita recounted the entire story to him. Reb Meir listened with astonishment, remarking how far removed the idea seemed from ordinary understanding, yet expressing full confidence that it would ultimately end well.

The melamed, hearing their certainty, turned aside and laughed quietly to himself. In his eyes, the entire matter seemed absurd.

They arrived in Vilna on a Wednesday and remained there until Shabbos. During all that time, nothing happened. No opportunity arose, no contact appeared, no direction became clear. The matter stood completely still.

The melamed grew increasingly unsettled. Throughout Shabbos he sat weighed down, wondering why he had come at all.

After Shabbos, Reb Meir suggested they go out for a walk to lift his spirits. Together, the three of them went out to the large city square, walking back and forth.

As they were walking, a high-ranking minister approached from the opposite direction.

As he came near, he fixed his gaze intently upon the melamed.

He passed them, yet turned again, looking closely at him once more.

This happened several times. Each time he drew near, the minister would look directly at the melamed, studying his face.

They were bewildered.

At last, Reb Meir stepped forward and addressed the minister.

“Sir,” he said, “it does not appear to us that your repeated attention toward this man is without reason. If it pleases you, perhaps you will tell us what causes you to look at him in this way?”

The minister replied, “You are correct. It is not without reason. I recognize this man from long ago.”

Turning to the melamed, he asked, “Do you recognize me?”

The melamed answered simply, “How could a poor and humble man know great ministers?”

The minister pressed further.

“Are you from the town of Shklov?”

The melamed shook his head. “No, sir. I am from Mohilev.”

“No,” said the minister with certainty. “You are from Shklov.”

The melamed paused. Then gradually, he remembered.

“Yes… it is true. Around twenty years ago, I lived in Shklov. Since then I have moved to Mohilev.”

The minister’s face lit up.

“Yes,” he said. “It has indeed been about twenty years. I know you well.”

Then he leaned closer and said, “You must come to me tomorrow, at the tenth hour, to my lodging. There we will speak further.”

He wrote down his name and address and handed it to him, requesting earnestly that he not fail to come.

And with that, the minister departed.

 

The Revelation

The next day, at the appointed time, the melamed arrived at the minister’s residence.

The moment he entered, the minister rushed toward him, threw himself upon him, embraced him, and kissed him.

“You are my dear friend!” he cried. “It is you who gave me life and brought me to all the honor I now possess!”

The melamed stood frozen, overwhelmed and confused.

The minister began to speak.

“You should remember,” he said. “I was once a Jew, living in Shklov. This was my name, and this was my father’s name.”

The melamed nodded — he now remembered him clearly.

The minister continued.

“I sinned in a grievous way and was punished by the community. They flogged me severely until my blood flowed, and then they bound me to the pillar of shame outside the great synagogue. I was locked there, and every person who passed by spat upon me and cursed me. From the humiliation and suffering, I was near death.

“But you… you saw me. You were moved with compassion. You broke the lock, freed me, and saved me from death.

“Afterwards, overcome with shame, I fled. I journeyed far, until I came to Petersburg. There I abandoned my faith and rose in power, until today I have become a minister, with great authority.

“And now — you. You saved my life. You are the cause of everything I have become. Tell me, what can I do for you? I wish to bestow upon you great benefit.”

He offered to arrange for him a large government contract, promising wealth and success.

The melamed answered, “I thank you for your kindness, but I have no ability to conduct such matters. I do not know how to speak or write in Russian, and I would not be able to manage dealings among officials.”

The minister said, “It grieves me that I cannot do more for you.”

Then he asked, “What is your occupation?”

“I am a melamed,” he replied. “It is a modest livelihood.”

“From now on,” the minister said, “you will no longer struggle. I am giving you one thousand gold coins. With this, you will open a business in your home. And every year, I will send you the same amount again.”

He handed him the money.

 

The License

After this, the minister asked, “And what is your business here in Vilna?”

The melamed explained everything — the journey, the printing press, and the need for a license.

The minister responded immediately.

“This is a small matter.”

At once, he wrote and signed the official license and handed it to him.

“There is no need for your rabbi to travel to Petersburg,” he added. “The authority is in my hands. Without me, he would not have been able to obtain it there.”

The melamed took his leave. The minister embraced him again and told him that if he would ever need anything further, he should write, and he would assist him.

 

 

 

Return

When the melamed returned, they gathered around him, eager to hear what had happened.

At first, he could barely speak from excitement. But after composing himself, he told them everything — from beginning to end — and showed them both the gold coins and the signed license bearing the minister’s seal.

They saw clearly that it was indeed the hand of a powerful minister.

The melamed refused to take even a single coin in return for the license.

The rabbi of Slavuta went on his way, and the printing press was established successfully.

The melamed returned home in joy and prosperity. Over time, he became closely connected to the Alter Rebbe. He grew into a person of great learning and fear of Heaven, and he remained wealthy all his days.

And this entire account, from beginning to end, was told by Reb Shlomo of Vilna, who witnessed these events himself.

[1] Sippurim Noraim p. 131