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No one could get Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev
angry. No matter what anyone did, he would always find something nice
to say. He believed in treating all Jews kindly, no matter how much
his patience was tested.
Rabbi
Levi Yitzhak’s neighbor had a son who did not want to keep any of
the mitzvot. One year, during the seder, the family was about to make
a sandwich of matza and maror for korekh. To everyone’s surprise,
the boy pulled from his pocket two slices of bread and some meat,
and made himself a sandwich. His father started to cry: “How dare
you bring bread to my seder?”
“But
father,” the boy answered, “I’m hungry after reading the Haggadah.
What difference does it make if I eat bread or matza? I’m sure Rabbi
Levi Yitzhak wouldn’t mind. The father jumped up from the table and
grabbed his son. “Oh wouldn’t he? Lets go ask him.” The whole family
marched next door, the father leading the boy by the ear. “Rabbi,”
the man said, “even you would not tolerate what my son just did. He
ate bread at our seder. I have four sons, rabbi, and I don’t have
to tell you which one he is.”
Everyone room was shocked; everyone, that is, except for Rabbi Levi
Yitzhak. He smiled at the boy and asked if it was true.
“Of course, Rabbi. I was hungry so I made myself a sandwich.”
“Don’t you know that on Pesach Jews don’t eat bread,” Rabbi Levi Yitzhak
continued.
“Well, Rabbi,” the boy answered, “to be totally honest, I don’t really
believe in all this. What difference could it possibly make if I eat
bread or matza?”
The entire room was silent. Only the boy’s mother could be heard sobbing
in the doorway. “Please come here,” Rabbi Levi Yitzhak called to the
boy. The boy walked slowly, afraid that this time he had gone too
far.
As
he approached the table, the rabbi hugged him. “Such a fine boy,”
he said to the father, “and so honest too,” he added to the mother.
“He’s ready to admit what he did and he’s acting according to his
beliefs. Such a fine, honest boy must sit with me at my seder. I have
so much to learn from him! Just one thing though.” The rabbi turned
to the boy and said, “There’ll be no sandwiches at the seder table
- unless you make them with matza.”
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It happened in Jerusalem in 1915 -
the “Year of the Great Drought.” There was no grain in the entire
city. Pesach was only days away, and the Jews of Jerusalem wondered
whether they would have matzot for the holiday.
Rabbi Yisrael, the leader of the Jewish community, was walking on
the outskirts of town, praying that God would help them, when he noticed
a cloud of dust winding toward the city. As it approached, he saw
that it was a long caravan of camels. “Halloo there,” he called to
them. In just a few seconds, an Arab merchant rode up to him. He looked
worn and tired, but from his clothing, Rabbi Yisrael knew that he
was quite wealthy.

“Salaam Aleikum, the merchant greeted
him, “Is this the road to Damascus?”
“No,” Rabbi Yisrael answered, “This road leads to Jerusalem. What
a magnificent caravan.”
“Magnificent?” he snorted, “It’s only trouble. I’ve been carrying
flour for weeks, but no one buys it. I just want to get home.”
“Flour?” Rabbi Yisrael answered, “I would gladly buy it all, only
I don’t have the money. Our holiday of Pesach is just three days away
and we need flour to bake matza.”
“Maybe we can help each other,” the merchant suggested. “What if I
give you the flour now, and you pay me back when I return here in
a month.” Rabbi Yisrael quickly agreed, and the Jews of Jerusalem
had matza for Pesach. During Hol HaMo’ed he wrote letters to the Diaspora
describing what happened and asking for help to pay for the flour.
In just a few weeks there was enough money to pay for it all, but
the merchant never showed up, so Rabbi Yisrael put the money in a
bank. A year went by, and then another, but the merchant never returned.
After a few years, the sum in the bank doubled and tripled. No one
could touch it though, because it belonged to the Arab merchant.
Many years later, when Rabbi Yisrael was dying, he told his son what
to do: “Wait ten more years for the merchant to return. If he does
come back, you must pay him for the flour, but if he doesn’t, you
must take the money and share it among the poor people of Jerusalem
before their holidays. This way, everyone will benefit from the merchant’s
kindness.”
Ten years later, Rabbi Yisrael’s son took some of the money to buy
food and clothing for the poor people of Jerusalem. He did that before
every holiday for many years.
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