The Trusting Chassid
It is told that a chassid named Reb Zalman was all set to travel to nearby Berdichov on business. With his money in hand, he went to the market to find a wagon driver who could take him to Berdichov and back. He had just begun talking with one of the wagon drivers when Reb Leib Sarah's came up to him.
“What brings you here?” Reb Leib Sarah's asked. Zalman explained that he was on his way to Berdichov to buy merchandise. “I am in desperate need of a large sum for three months,” said the tzaddik. “Please lend me your money.”
It was impossible to refuse the tzaddik, especially knowing that he used his money to support tzaddikim nistarim. Zalman handed over the sum, down to the last coin he owned. Reb Leib Sarah's saw the struggle on his face. “Do you have any merchandise left in the shop?” he asked. “A little,” Zalman admitted. “Very well. Go and sell that.”
Zalman went back to his shop. When his wife asked why he had not gone to Berdichov, he gave a weak excuse. Over the following days he managed to borrow enough to make the badly needed trip to Berdichov and restock his shop.
Some three months later a stranger came into the spice shop to make a purchase and took out a purse full of silver coins. In his hurry he left the purse on the counter and rushed out with his goods. Zalman ran after him, but the man was gone. He searched everywhere without finding a trace of him, so he put the purse away for safekeeping in the hope that its owner would return, and went to shul for Mincha.
On the way, whom should he meet but Reb Leib Sarah's. “Did you get your money back?” the tzaddik asked, speaking of the loan. Zalman shook his head, but then he realized that the tzaddik must mean the purse left in his shop. He hurried home and asked his wife whether anyone had come to claim it. “No,” she said. Zalman took out the purse. It held exactly the sum he had lent Reb Leib Sarah's.
Zalman hurried to find the tzaddik and thank him for repaying the loan. “Now is a favorable time,” said Reb Leib Sarah's. “Ask me anything you wish.” Zalman thought for a moment. “I would like to see one of the lamed vav (thirty-six) hidden tzaddikim,” he said at last. “That is a very difficult thing for me to grant,” the tzaddik replied, “but I must keep my promise. Go home now and prepare food for several days. You will be going on a journey with me.”
They set out, crossing hills and valleys and passing through many villages, until at last they came to a city. “Ask for the tailor whose mending shop is on that street,” Reb Leib Sarah's said. “That tailor is one of the thirty-six hidden tzaddikim. Tear your coat and go in to have it mended.”
Zalman did as he was told. As he reached the shop, he noticed a fine coach standing at the door, and inside he found a distinguished rav sitting and talking with the tailor. “What can I do for you?” the tailor asked. Zalman showed him the tear, and within minutes the coat was mended perfectly.
When Zalman put down a ruble in payment, the tailor objected. “That repair is not worth even a few pennies. Why do you pay me so much?” He refused to take the coin. Zalman insisted just as firmly: “I am traveling through these parts, and your quick service is worth at least that much to me. I will not take any change.”
The rav seated at the side now spoke up. “If this man says that in his circumstances the job is worth a ruble, then you may surely take it.” The tailor finally accepted the payment, and Zalman went back to Reb Leib Sarah's. “Do you know who the tailor's visitor was?” the tzaddik asked. “It was Rav Mordechai of Chernobyl.”