Besoros Tovos

The Zutshka Rebbe had always told his family and gabbaim that if they wished to serve him, he would let them do so lovingly, on one condition: his door must always remain open. Helping him meant never preventing anyone, any Jew, from reaching the Rebbe, no matter the circumstances. "Even if you have to wake me at night," the Rebbe pleaded, "what is my life for if not to bless and help Yiddin?"

Among the visitors was a kind Sefardi neighbor named Meir, who came to the Rebbe every other day. This displeased the Rebbe's family and gabbaim, especially because he came with a peculiar minhag of his own making. Each day he would empty his mailbox, take the bundle of letters and place them on the table in front of the Rebbe. Then he would ask the tzaddik to bless him that the mail should contain only good news. Day after day the Rebbe gave him a berachah that he should have only besoros tovos (good news), and today was no different.

On this particular day, an official army letter had arrived directing Meir to appear for duty on erev Pesach, no less. The order was for one full week, far from his family. Having received the Rebbe's berachah, Meir was unmoved. "Do they think that I would leave my family to go spend the Seder night among tanks on some base?" he said, laughing. "No sir, I am planning on spending the chagim with my family right here at home. I placed the letter on the tzaddik's desk along with the rest of the mail, and he gave me his berachah as he does every day. He said, 'besoros tovos,' and that is what will be."

One of the Rebbe's chassidim, Leibel, heard this and could hardly believe it. "What do you mean you don't have to do anything about it? This is the army. You can't just ignore a letter ordering you to report for active service. At the very least you need to apply for a deferral, so they might push off the date, don't you think?"

But Meir only shrugged. "I already told you," he explained, as if it were something simple. "The Rebbe gave me the usual berachah that I get from him every day, that I should have only good tidings. That's what he said today, as he says each day, even though the official letter was on his table." Meir stared at the chossid, incredulous. How could someone who called himself a chossid not accept the Rebbe's berachah with full faith? What would make him not take the Rebbe's holy words at face value?

The matter soon became the talk of the Rebbe's shteibel. The Rebbe's family heard about the conversation and, in somewhat panicky tones, told it to the Rebbe. His smile widened with every added detail. When he learned about Meir's confidence that the berachah would keep him home, he nodded and said, "Peshita (obviously), this is exactly what shall be."

A day or so later, Meir arrived once again with a bundle of letters and placed it on the Rebbe's table. The tzaddik lifted his head from the sefer he was studying and blessed him that everything would go as it should, with good news and glad tidings. Little did Meir know that this bundle also contained an official letter from the army, this time with a dispensation. In the same nonchalant manner in which he had described the first letter, he mentioned that he had received a second one. It contained an apology from the army: due to technical difficulties they had no choice but to postpone his active service until further notice. They were sorry, but he was deferred.

When the Rebbe was told how the story ended, he said, "That is why it is often so much easier to be poel a yeshuah (bring about salvation) for those who have emunah peshutah (simple faith), since their emunah is tehorah (pure and refined). They don't impede the process by making calculations, and in that way it is so much easier to help them."