How Much Is Mud Worth?

Rav Mottele of Chernobyl arrived in a certain town and was dismayed that one of its wealthiest Jews had not come to visit him. He sent his gabbai to ask the wealthy man why he had not yet called on the Rebbe. The baal habayis answered rudely, "I would gladly welcome the Maggid into my home. It is not the Rebbe I don't want, it is the Chassidim. Listen, I have a fine home, expensively and tastefully furnished and decorated with fine silks and elaborate, finely woven rugs and carpets, and the Chassidim will come in and ruin them with their heavy, muddy boots. Tell the Rebbe that he is welcome without his Chassidim."

The attendant relayed the message. The Maggid, who was collecting, as usual, on behalf of the thirty-six hidden Tzaddikim, agreed. As was customary, the host was expected to give the Tzaddik a sizable donation, but the Rebbe stopped at the threshold and explained that he had agreed only to enter the house and no more.

"I agreed to enter, but if you want me to climb the stairs and enter your sitting room, you will have to increase the donation for each stair I climb."

The wealthy host agreed, and by the time the Rebbe sat at the table he was looking at a large sum of money indeed. "Now," said the Maggid, "I hear that you fear mud and dirt. Let me see if I cannot change your mind and shift your perspective just a bit with the following story.

"There was once a wealthy merchant who traveled in a fine coach pulled by strong, healthy steeds. As he traveled through the forest one day, he came upon a rundown, rickety old wagon stuck in the mud. The poor Jew was struggling to dislodge it, but his two broken-down old mares, with their bony, weak bodies, could not pull the wagon out of the squelching muck. The wealthy merchant dismounted and harnessed his own horses to the wagon, but this too was insufficient. Finally, he took off his fine overcoat and silk gloves, and the two climbed into the mud side by side, pulling and pushing, until he had saved the sinking Jew and his wagon from certain death in the swampy mire.

"After many years, the merchant left this world and came to the world of judgment. As he stood before the heavenly tribunal, the black prosecuting angel brought wagons full of sins to weigh on the scales of justice, while white-robed angels of mercy and defense also brought wagons full of merits and mitzvos, attempting to balance the scales and tip them in his favor. To his horror, it was not enough. The scales tipped to the side of judgment against him. Then the defense brought the merit of saving the life of the Jew in the swamp. They took the whole wagon, with the Jew and the horses, and the weight of them all balanced the scales as they swayed to and fro. Just then another angel piped up and called out to the Bais Din Shel Maala, 'You forgot to add all the mud. This wealthy, refined man got down in the squelching, stinking mud, sullied his fine waistcoat and breeches and stank of filth to save his fellow Jew. Surely all that mud counts for something.'

"And they heaped on all the mud, which tipped the scales in his favor," concluded the Rebbe, his eyes dancing.

The merchant froze. He understood the message all too clearly. The man in the story was himself in a past life, and the Maggid meant his previous gilgul. He got up, walked to the door, swung it open wide in welcome and declared to the Chassidim outside, "Come in, come in. Welcome, and do not forget not to wipe your muddy boots on the mat. In fact, the more mud the better."