The Rebbe's Debt to a Hitchhiker

As he approached Chernobyl, the Chassid was in a happy mood. And why not? Silently he counted his blessings: a loving wife and children, a flourishing business, and soon he would be in the presence of his holy Rebbe, the famous Rav Mordechai of Chernobyl.

With these thoughts in mind he was enjoying the scenery when he suddenly spotted a poor Jew trudging along with a bundle on his shoulders. He stopped the carriage and offered the traveler a lift, which was gratefully accepted.

For the first few miles both men were silent. After a few minutes, the poor Jew turned to the Chassid and asked where he was headed. "To Chernobyl," the man replied, "to my holy Rebbe."

"Aha," the traveler said with a smile. "So you are going to Mottele."

The Chassid was immediately offended. How dare this shabby-looking fellow refer to his holy Rebbe in such a familiar manner, as if they were intimates? On second thought, he decided to remain quiet.

"Are you indeed one of Mottele's Chassidim?" the stranger persisted. "Yes," the man replied curtly, in an attempt to end the conversation. "What chutzpa," the Chassid thought to himself. Under other circumstances he would have put this impudent clod in his place, but he had no wish to spoil the journey further.

But the stranger was clearly in the mood to talk. "How do I know that you are really a Chassid?" he inquired. The Chassid was very surprised by the question and said nothing.

"A man is measured by his deeds, and especially by his pocket," the stranger continued. "I will tell you what. If you pay me the twenty gold coins your Rebbe owes me, I will believe that you are his Chassid."

The Chassid was shocked. What kind of nonsense was this? "If you can prove to me that my Rebbe owes you the money, I will gladly pay his debt," he blurted out. The stranger smiled and fished around in his knapsack until he found a piece of paper, a promissory note for twenty gold coins, signed by the Tzaddik of Chernobyl. The Chassid examined it carefully. Yes, it really did appear to be the Rebbe's signature, and try as he might he could find no evidence of forgery. Nodding his head, he folded the note several times and placed it in his snuffbox. He then took out his moneybag, counted out exactly twenty gold coins and pressed them into the stranger's hand.

The rest of the journey was conducted in silence. On the outskirts of Chernobyl they reached a crossroads and the stranger asked to be let off. Before he climbed down from the carriage, he thanked the Chassid for his kindness and blessed him with success.

The Chassid watched the stranger walk off into the distance. Within minutes the man and his bundle were no bigger than a tiny dot that eventually disappeared over the horizon.

The Chassid took out the promissory note and inspected it even more closely, but again could find no fault with it. By that time, however, he realized that he had arrived in Chernobyl. With more important things to attend to, he slipped the note back into his snuffbox and promptly forgot about it.

It was a busy Friday when he arrived, and Chernobyl was filled with hundreds of other Jews who had come to bask in the Rebbe's presence. Shabbos was spent in a state of spiritual elevation. To the Chassid, the opportunity to daven with the Rebbe and hear his words of Torah was nothing less than a foretaste of Paradise.

When Shabbos was over, the Chassid requested a private audience with the Rebbe. Oddly, the first thing the Rebbe asked was whether he had any snuff with him. "Certainly," the Chassid replied, immediately offering his snuffbox. As he opened it he saw the note he had forgotten about, and after a moment's hesitation handed it over to the Rebbe, who had noticed him pause.

"How did this come into your hands?" the Rebbe asked. The Chassid related the whole unlikely story of the stranger who had claimed that the Rebbe owed him money, and was shocked when the Rebbe confirmed that it was true. "As Divine Providence has led the two of you to meet, I can reveal to you that the stranger is one of the thirty-six hidden Tzaddikim in every generation, in whose merit the world exists," he explained, adding that he had taken it upon himself to support him financially.

An involuntary shiver passed through the Chassid's body. A hidden Tzaddik had traveled in his carriage, and he had not known. He had even mistaken him for an impudent clod.

Seeing his distress, the Rebbe eased his mind. "Don't worry, you have done nothing wrong," he reassured him. "If you were chosen to share in the mitzvah of supporting a hidden Tzaddik, there is no doubt that it is a good sign."

From that day on, each year during his annual visit, the Chassid gave the Rebbe twenty gold coins for the hidden Tzaddik. For the rest of his life he hoped to meet the stranger again, but it never happened.