Rav Mordechai Twersky of Chernobyl zt"l
הרב מרדכי בן מנחם נחום טווערסקי זצ"ל
Iyar 20 , 5597
Rav Mordechai Twersky of Chernobyl zt"l
Rabbi Mordechai Twersky was born in Chernobyl to the famous Rabbi Menachem Nachum of Chernobyl (author of the book Ma’or Einayim and a disciple of the Ba’al Shem Tov and the Maggid of Mezritch). When he was required to choose a surname, Rabbi Mordechai chose the name Twersky, for the city of Teveria where Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk and his disciples had settled. Chasidim flocked to Rabbi Mordechai and many nearby towns appointed him as their maggid. He conducted his court with wealth, which had not been his father’s custom. Nonetheless, he ate very little and felt practically no enjoyment from material pleasures. Rabbi Mordechai of Chernobyl passed away in Kiev on the 20th of Iyar 5597 (1837).
https://www.inner.org/spiritual-masters/rabbi-mordechai-of-chernobyl-out-of-the-closet
Stories of Rav Mordechai Twersky of Chernobyl zt"l
Rav Mottele of Chernobyl arrived in a certain town and was dismayed that one of the wealthiest Jews did not come to visit him. When he sent his gabbai to see the wealthy resident and ask him why he hadn’t yet called on the Rebbe, the baal habayis responded rudely, “I would gladly welcome the Maggid into my home! It’s not the Rebbe I don’t want, it’s the Chassidim! Listen, I have a fine home expensively and tastefully furnished and decorated by fine silks, elaborate, finely woven rugs and carpets, and the Chassidim will come in and ruin them with their heavy, muddy boots! Tell the Rebbe that he is welcome without his Chassidim!”
The attendant relayed the message. The Maggid, who was collecting, as usual, on behalf of the thirty-six hidden Tzaddikim, agreed. As was customary, the host was expected to gift the Tzaddik a sizable donation, but the Rebbe stopped at the threshold and explained that he had only agreed to enter the house and no more.
“I agreed to enter, but if you want me to mount the stairs and enter your sitting room, you will have to increase the donation by each stair I climb!”
The wealthy host agreed and by the time the Rebbe sat at the table he was looking at a large sum of money indeed. “Now,” said the Maggid, “I hear that you fear mud and dirt! Let me see if I cannot change your mind and shift your perspective just a bit with the following story:
“There was once a wealthy merchant who traveled in a fine coach pulled by strong, healthy steeds. As he traveled through the forest one day he came upon a rundown, rickety old wagon stuck in the mud. The poor Jew, struggling to dislodge it, had two broken-down old mares, whose bony, weak bodies struggled unsuccessfully to pull the wagon out of the squelching muck. The wealthy merchant dismounted and harnessed his own horses to the wagon but this too was insufficient. Finally, he disrobed, divesting himself of his fine overcoat and silk gloves, and they climbed together into the mud side by side, pulling and pushing, until he finally saved the sinking Jew and his wagon from certain death in the swampy mire.
“After many years, the merchant left this world and came to the world of judgment. As he stood before the heavenly tribunal, the black prosecuting angel brought wagons full of sins to weigh on the scales of justice, while white-robed angels of mercy and defense also brought wagons full of merits and mitzvos, attempting to balance and tip the scales in his favor. To his horror, it wasn’t enough! The scales tipped to the side of judgment against him! Then the defense brought the merit of saving the life of the Jew in the swamp. They took the whole wagon, with the Jew and the horses – and the weight of them all balanced the scales as they swayed to and fro. Just then another angel piped up and yelled to the Bais Din Shel Maala, ‘You forgot to add all the mud! This wealthy, refined individual got down in the squelching, stinking mud, sullied his fine waistcoat and breeches and stank of filth to save his fellow Jew – surely all that mud counts for something!’
“And they heaped on all the mud, which tipped the scales in his favor,” concluded the Rebbe, his eyes dancing.
The merchant froze; he understood the message all too clearly. It was his past life in the story; the Maggid meant his previous gilgul. He got up, walked to the door, swung it open wide in welcome and declared to the Chassidim outside, “Come in! Come in! Welcome and don’t forget not to wipe your muddy boots on the mat. In fact, the more mud the better!!!” (Yehi Ohr #230-231)
Weekly Chassidic Story #805 (s5773-34 / 19th of Iyar 5773)
As he approached Chernobyl, the Chassid was in a happy mood. And why not? Silently he counted his blessings: a loving wife and children, a flourishing business, and soon he would be in the presence of his holy Rebbe, the famous Rav Mordechai of Chernobyl.
With these thoughts in mind he was enjoying the scenery, when suddenly he spotted a poor Jew trudging along with a bundle on his shoulders. Stopping the carriage, he offered the traveler a lift, which was gratefully accepted.
For the first few miles both men were silent. But after a few minutes the poor Jew turned to the Chassid and asked him where he was headed. “To Chernobyl,” the man replied, “to my holy Rebbe.”
“Aha!” the traveler said with a smile. “So you’re going to Mottele.”
The Chassid was immediately offended. How dare this shabby-looking fellow refer to his holy Rebbe in such a familiar manner, as if they were intimates! On second thought, he decided to remain quiet.
“Are you indeed one of Mottele’s Chassidim?” the stranger persisted. “Yes,” the man replied curtly in an attempt to end the conversation. “What chutzpa!” the Chassid thought to himself. Under other circumstances he would have put this impudent clod in his place, but he had no wish to ruin the journey further.
But the stranger was clearly in the mood to talk. “How do I know that you’re really a Chassid?” he inquired. The Chassid was very surprised by the question and said nothing.
“A man is measured by his deeds, and especially by his pocket,” the stranger continued. “I’ll tell you what – if you will pay me the twenty gold coins your Rebbe owes me, I will believe that you are his Chassid.”
The Chassid was shocked. What kind of nonsense was this? “If you can prove to me that my Rebbe owes you the money I will gladly pay his debt,” he blurted out. The stranger smiled and fished around in his knapsack until he found a piece of paper: a promissory note for twenty gold coins, signed by the Tzaddik of Chernobyl. The Chassid examined it carefully. Yes, it really did appear to be the Rebbe’s signature, and try as he might he could not find any evidence of forgery. Nodding his head, he folded the note several times and placed it in his snuffbox. He then took out his moneybag, counted out exactly twenty gold coins and pressed them into the stranger’s hand.
The rest of the journey was conducted in silence. On the outskirts of Chernobyl they reached a crossroads and the stranger asked to be let off. Before he climbed down from the carriage, he thanked the Chassid for his kindness and blessed him with success.
The Chassid watched the stranger walk off into the distance. Within minutes the man and his bundle were no bigger than a tiny dot that eventually disappeared over the horizon.
The Chassid took out the promissory note and inspected it even more closely, but again could find no fault with it. By that time, however, he realized that he had arrived in Chernobyl. With more important things to attend to, he slipped the note back into his snuffbox and promptly forgot about it.
It was a busy Friday when he arrived, and Chernobyl was filled with hundreds of other Jews who had come to bask in the Rebbe’s presence. Shabbos was spent in a state of spiritual elevation. To the Chassid, the opportunity to daven with the Rebbe and hear his words of Torah was nothing less than a foretaste of Paradise.
When Shabbos was over the Chassid requested a private audience with the Rebbe. Oddly, the first thing the Rebbe asked him was whether he had any snuff with him. “Certainly,” the Chassid replied, immediately proffering his snuffbox. As he opened it he saw the note he had forgotten about, and after a moment’s hesitation handed it over to the Rebbe, who had noticed him pause.
“How did this come into your hands?” the Rebbe asked him. The Chassid related the whole unlikely story of the stranger who had claimed that the Rebbe owed him money, and was shocked when the Rebbe verified it as true. “As Divine Providence has led you two to meet, I can reveal to you that that stranger is one of the thirty-six hidden Tzaddikim in every generation in whose merit the world exists,” he explained, adding that he had taken it upon himself to uphold him financially.
An involuntary shiver passed through the Chassid’s body. A hidden Tzaddik had traveled in his carriage – and he hadn’t known! He had even mistaken him for an impudent clod…
Noting his distress, the Rebbe eased his mind. “Don’t worry, you’ve done nothing wrong,” he reassured him. “If you were chosen to share in the mitzva of supporting a hidden Tzaddik, there is no doubt that it is a good sign.”
From that day on, each year during his annual visit the Chassid gave the Rebbe twenty gold coins for the hidden Tzaddik. And for the rest of his life he hoped to meet the stranger again. But it never happened.
Source: Supplemented by Yerachmiel Tilles from the rendition on //lchaimweekly.org (#668), with permission.