The Baal Shem and the Bishop

It is told that Rav Yitzchok Aryeh, the Baal Shem of Michelstadt, known to many as Rav Zekel Leib Wormser, had an extremely talented talmid who was converted by missionaries to Christianity. The former talmid rose through the ranks of the priesthood until he was appointed a bishop in Austria. Nonetheless, the Baal Shem never gave up hope. He stayed in touch with his former talmid, sending him letters of heartfelt rebuke, and hoped that one day he would repent and return to his people. And one day, that hope materialized.

A letter arrived from the penitent priest, expressing regret over his conversion and a desire to come back to Judaism. Rav Zekel Leib immediately packed his belongings and, together with a trusted gabbai, travelled to Austria. They arrived while a holiday was being celebrated, and the streets were filled with thousands of celebrating Christians. Their lives were in danger, for any Jew caught in the streets during such a gathering was risking his life.

Rav Zekel Leib sent the gabbai forward through the throngs of worshippers with a letter demanding that his former talmid meet him. Despite the danger, neither the Baal Shem nor his emissary was met with interference or malice. The letter warned the former talmid to step down from the podium and come see him at once.

“Tell the Baal Shem that I am about to conduct mass, and after the prayer service I will come.” The Baal Shem heard the message and sent his emissary back with the demand that the bishop appear immediately, without delay. When the priest heard this, he paled. Claiming that he suddenly felt ill and could not conduct the ceremonies, he excused himself, stepped down from the podium and followed the emissary away from the crowds.

After meeting with the Baal Shem at his lodgings, he vanished, and all knowledge of his whereabouts vanished with him.

After the Baal Shem of Michelstadt passed away, his gabbai travelled across Ashkenaz, relating tales and wonders of the Baal Shem to all his hosts, as the Baal Shem had asked of him. One day he heard that in faraway Italy there lived a wealthy banker who paid handsome sums to anyone who could relate a story about the Baal Shem. The gabbai, who had been the Baal Shem’s right-hand man, made his way to Italy, sure that if anyone could tell tales of his rebbe, it would be him.

When he arrived, Menashe the banker welcomed him with open arms, smiling. After making him comfortable at the Friday night Shabbos table, he asked the gabbai to regale his family with tales. To his dismay, the gabbai suddenly could not remember a single story. His memory had been wiped clean by some strange phenomenon. “I apologize, but somehow I cannot remember anything to tell.”

His host calmed him. “Don’t worry; you are surely tired from your long journey. Rest now, and tomorrow you will try again.”

Though the gabbai could not explain it, all Shabbos long he could not recall any story about his rebbe, Rav Zekel Leib. On motzei Shabbos he apologized and prepared to leave. The banker was sorely disappointed, but nothing could be done. Still, he said, “Will you perhaps try once more to remember some small tale before you depart tomorrow morning?”

After Shacharis, as the gabbai was about to take his leave, it happened. He remembered one story, the tale about the former bishop. He told it to Menashe the banker, and Menashe’s face shone with a curious delight, as if his soul had been soothed. “Here, my good man, you have earned your reward,” he said, “for I was that bishop. It was I, all those years ago, whom you and the Baal Shem rescued from apostasy in Austria.

“This is what happened after my clandestine meeting with the Baal Shem. He commanded me to do teshuvah and to escape quickly. The Baal Shem explained that the sign that my misdeeds were atoned for would be the day I heard my own story told to me by another. That would show that my teshuvah was complete. I have been searching for that special someone, sending out word, asking for tales of the Baal Shem and offering rewards, and then you came. When you arrived, I recognized you and thought my teshuvah had finally been accepted on High. But when I saw that you could remember neither me nor my story, I realized I had not tried hard enough. Apparently my teshuvah was still incomplete. All Shabbos long I strengthened my resolve to do true teshuvah. I spent all Shabbos and motzei Shabbos davening and crying out to Hashem. And finally the sign has arrived from your very lips. Your mouth speaks my salvation.”