One of the great Tzadikim, Reb Michel Zlochivor, had many Chassidim, including a devoted follower, Moishe. Wherever the Rebbe went, Moishe followed – completely dedicated to his teachings. However, his business partner, Gershon, was not only not a Chassid, but was a strong Misnaggid. Despite their differences, the two men maintained a successful partnership.
Moishe frequently invited Gershon to visit the Rebbe, but Gershon always refused. One day, their business took them to Zlochiv, the town where the Rebbe lived. Moishe saw an opportunity.
“Gershon, we’re here anyway. You have to daven. You have to eat. Just come with me to the Rebbe. What do you have to lose?” Gershon hesitated but found it hard to refuse now that they were in town. “Fine, I’ll come,” he conceded.
That Friday night, they attended davening and the Rebbe’s tish. During the tish, R’ Moishe kept glancing over at his friend, curious to see how he was handling the experience that he was so resistant to. To his surprise, Gershon was captivated. He couldn’t take his eyes off the Rebbe.
After the tish, R’ Moishe turned to him. “Nu, Gershon? What did you think?”
Gershon, almost breathless, admitted, “Moishe, I regret not coming sooner. This was unbelievable. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
Moishe smiled. “What was it that moved you so much? The davening? The Torah? The zemiros?”
“All of it was beautiful,” Gershon replied, “but what truly amazed me was how the Rebbe ate. I can’t explain it, but every bite of food—fish, soup, whatever it was, was such a holy avodah, I felt like I was seeing the avodah of the Kohen Gadol!
Moishe was astonished. He had followed the Rebbe for years, yet he had never noticed anything particularly special about the way his Rebbe ate. Why had Gershon, the Misnaggid, been able to see something so profoundly holy that he himself had never noticed?
This thought troubled him. Before leaving town, he requested a private audience with the Rebbe.
“Rebbe, my friend Gershon, who never believed in Tzadikim, came to the tish for the first time and saw the holiness in the way the Rebbe eats. But I—who have been your Chassid for years—never saw it. Why?”
The Rebbe smiled. “For someone like Gershon, who is not a Chassid, I had to reveal something extraordinary to convince him of the truth. But you, Moishe, are my Chassid. You don’t need to see anything to believe. Our bond is deeper than something visible. If I had shown it to you, your connection to me would be based on what you saw, rather than on pure emunah. And that would have diminished our relationship.”
Take it to Go:
The Zlochivor Rebbe then told Moishe what he wanted him to take away from all this: The Rebbe continued, “This is what it means to be a Chassid of Hashem. A Jew believes—whether he sees or not, whether things make sense or not. Those who are distant need to be shown miracles, but for a true believer, no proof is necessary. A Jewish heart has simple faith that Hashem is always present, watching over us. Seeing might even lessen our connection.”
“May we all strengthen our emunah,” the Rebbe concluded. “And through that, may we merit Hashem’s abundant blessings and the coming of Moshiach, speedily in our days. Amen.”
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 32.