The holy Bach was a very powerful rav who led his community with wisdom and dedication. He did not get scared off by the wealthy or influential activists in the community who tried using him to promote their own agendas, and instead remained true to his convictions.

While he was revered by the vast majority of the community, from old to young, his strict adherence to his values in the face of tremendous pressure from some of the city’s most influential individuals caused him to earn some powerful enemies. These were obviously people who valued money over Torah, and they were furious at the Bach for not enabling their whims.

Using all their connections, they waged war against the Bach until they succeeded in having him ousted from his position as rav. Besides the dishonor to the holy tzaddik and the Torah he represented, this move also caused the Bach to lose his source of income, and he became penniless.

His financial situation was so bad that there was absolutely no food in the house. For a full week, the Bach and his wife did not have what to eat. Friday arrived, and even with Shabbos quickly approaching, they did not have what to prepare for the seudos.

The Bach went outside to his backyard, where he had a well, and washed his face carefully for Shabbos. As the cool water refreshed and revitalized him somewhat, he cried out, “L’kovod Shabbos kodesh!”

Suddenly, a few birds flew overhead and perched themselves not far away from him, chirping merrily. At the sound of their peeping, the Bach began to chuckle.

He hurried back inside and turned to his wife. “In about two hours, three rabbanim will be coming to our house, and they will be joining us for Shabbos. They are going to offer me the position of rav in such-and-such city.”

His wife’s mouth fell open. “Who told you this?”

“I heard it from the birds, when I was outside,” the Bach responded.

“From the birds?” she laughed, somewhat incredulous.

“Yes, the birds told me,” he reiterated, and turned briskly to an urgent matter. “We have no food for Shabbos, but if we are to host these three rabbanim, we need to prepare a seudah worth of gedolei Torah of their stature. Please borrow some money to purchase enough food so that we can make beautiful seudos.”

His wife immediately stopped laughing. “I can’t,” she said quietly. “We already owe so many people money. No one is going to be willing to lend me anything.”

“But the rabbanim will come along with money for us,” the Bach said. “So we’ll be able to pay back all the loans immediately.”

His wife hesitated, feeling very uncomfortable, but her husband did not give her a choice. “These are talmidei chachamim,” he reminded her. “It’s not for ourselves that we are borrowing money, but to honor the talmidei chachamim.”

Feeling very uncomfortable, his wife went to borrow money and then to the market, where she bought everything she needed to make a beautiful Shabbos meal. Soon, the delectable aromas of Shabbos food filled the Bach’s home. Beds were prepared for the guests, and the table was beautifully set.

Just a half-hour before Shabbos, a wagon pulled up in front of the Bach’s home. Three distinguished rabbanim disembarked, each a gadol b’Torah in his own right. The Bach greeted them warmly and led them inside, serving them tea and cake. The rabbanim were exhausted from their travels, and they gratefully enjoyed the refreshments.

To verify that their host was indeed the famed Bach, the men asked him a difficult question on the Gemara. Soon, the four gedolim were deeply engaged in rigorous debate over how to understand the sugya, their tea all but forgotten. If not for the Bach’s wife, who entered the room and quietly reminded them that it was time for Minchah, they would have likely not noticed the time.

Being that Bach had been thrown out of the main shul, where he had served as rav, they went to daven in a small shul on the outskirts of the city. After davening, they returned to the Bach’s home for the seudah, where they continued their Torah argument with vigor. They ended up staying awake the entire night, arguing back and forth.

The following morning after davening, the same thing happened. The four gedolim spent the entire seduah, and the hours after it, in rigorous milechmtah shel Torah. By the time Shabbos ended, all four of them were both exhausted and exhilarated. It had been a Shabbos like none other.

Immediately after Havdalah, the three visiting rabbanim broached the subject that had brought them to the Bach’s home. “We want you to be the rav,” they told him.

The Bach accepted their offer, and they provided him with money to pay off all his debts. When they left the city the next morning, the Bach and his wife went along with them. The Bach became rav of their city, where he led the community for many years until he passed away.

Many years passed.

One day, in a small city not too far away from the Polish city of Belz, the local gentiles began to vandalize the Jewish cemetery. They broke headstones and trampled on graves, disgracing the resting place of many Jewish people.

In an especially vicious and brazen act, they unearthed the bones of fifteen graves and displayed them in the middle of the town. “If you don’t pay us an exorbitant amount of money to ransom these bones, then they will remain where they are, in the center of the town square,” the gentiles taunted.

The broken Jews went to the cemetery to take stock of the devastation, which was horrific. Those whose ancestors were among the fifteen kevarim that had been dug up were inconsolable. Adding to their anguish was the fact that it was impossible for the community to raise the sum that the gentiles demanded, and they did not know how long it would take before they could rebury the bones that were now lying disgraced in the town square.

With aching hearts, they went to see the Alter Belzer Rebbe, who was known for his ruach hakodesh, hoping he could shed light on the difficult decree hanging over their heads.

“You should know that many years ago, the holy Bach was rav in your city,” the Belzer Rebbe informed them.  “The fifteen people whose bones were so shamefully desecrated are the people who kicked the Bach out of his position. Ever since they passed away, their neshamos were burning in Gehinnom, and it is only now, after all these years, that they are finally nearing the end of their punishment. The final payment for their terrible deed is shame, and they are paying that now, with their bones displayed in the market square.

“You will see,” the Belzer Rebbe continued, “That as soon as the time comes and they finish atoning for their misdeed, their bones will be returned – without a single coin being paid in ransom.”

It was unbelievable, but it was true.

Just a few days later, the gentiles decided to release the bones back to the Jews, who hurriedly returned them to their graves. As they secured the headstones back onto the graves, the Jews noticed something chillingly similar about the inscriptions written on the fifteen stones.

All fifteen Jews had passed away within a single year.

They had disgraced a talmid chacham, and for a short time it might have looked like they’d gotten away with it, but Hashem did not forget. Each of the fifteen men paid in full for his terrible actions.

Have a Wonderful Shabbos!

This story is taken from tape #A387