The holy Shaagas Aryeh had a shamash who served him devotedly for many years. However, he was an elderly man, and soon the time came for him to depart from the world. When the Shaagas Aryeh was notified that his faithful shamash was on his deathbed, he immediately went to visit him.

The shamash, once so strong and robust, was now weak and frail, and two thin rivers of anguish bled from his eyes as he lay on the bed.

“Why are you crying?” the Shaagas Aryeh asked his devoted assistant. “Now is the time to recite viduy. Come, I’ll help you.”

The two recited viduy together, and then the shamash spoke. “What will be with my little Refael’ke, my ben zekunim?” the elderly man asked through his tears. “I am worried about my Refael’ke. He will grow up without a father to guide him, to teach him, to assist him as he grows up. Who will teach him Torah?”

Before the great sage could respond, the dying man continued, “I have served the rav faithfully for many years without asking for anything in return. Now, as I depart from this world, I beg of you: please take care of my Refael’ke and ensure that he becomes a talmid chacham.”

The Shaagas Aryeh readily agreed. “I promise you that not only will I make sure that your son becomes a talmid chacham, I personally will learn Torah with him. He will live with me, and I will take care of him.”

The shamash instantly relaxed. He recited shema and passed away soon thereafter, a peaceful expression on his face.

The Shaagas Aryeh wasted no time fulfilling his promise to his departed assistant. Just a few days later, the grieving Refael’ke moved into the Shaagas Aryeh’s home, where he was treated as a beloved son. Refael’ke learned together with the Shaagas Aryeh and with his quick grasp and talented mind, he quickly became one of the rav’s closest talmidim. The special bond between them was mutual; the Shaagas Aryeh had a lot of affection for Refael’ke and cherished their learning sessions together as much as the boy did. 

One day, however, the close relationship between the elderly rav and the young genius was suddenly severed. From one moment to the next, Refael’ke disappeared. He was not in his room, he was not in the bais medrash, and even after a search committee combed the streets in search of the bachur, they could not find him.

The Shaagas Aryeh was heartbroken. He donned sackcloth and painstakingly prayed for Refael’ke’s safe return. In addition to his own sorrow over the loss of a close disciple, he also bore the failed promise he’d made to his late shamash shortly before he passed away. He had pledged to protect and care for the boy, and now the responsibility of Refael’ke’s disappearance rested heavily upon his shoulders.

A few days later, the bitter news arrived. Refael’ke had not wandered off and gotten lost, nor had he injured himself and was too unwell to return home. Something far more sinister and dangerous had taken place.

Refael’ke had been kidnapped by the Catholic Church.

When the Shaagas Aryeh was informed of this fact, he collapsed in a faint. Just the sight of the tremendous sage, a tall and well-built man, lying on the floor was frightening to see. But when he came too, he stood up like a lion, determination written firmly across his face, and turned to his assistant. “Please send for the tailor.”

The tailor was a fine craftsman, and his skilled hands sewed the garments of many of the Jews in town. But Jews were not his only clients; he also sold clothes to the missionaries who ran the large monastery that stood at the outskirts of the city. When he heard that the Shaagas Aryeh was looking for him, he dropped what he was doing and immediately hurried over.

When the tailor approached, the Shaagas Aryeh minced no words. “I want you to rescue Refael’ke from the monastery,” he said urgently. “I promised his father that I would look after him, and now he was kidnapped and is being held in the monastery. I know you have connections with the missionaries.”

The tailor bowed his head.

“I know exactly where in the building the boy is,” the Shaagas Aryeh continued. “It was revealed to me from Heaven that he is standing by the window on the left side of the building, crying. Are you willing to do this favor for me and rescue Refael’ke?”

“Yes,” the tailor agreed.

“You will do it with mesiras nefesh?” the Shaagas Aryeh pressed.

The tailor gave a small nod. “Yes.”

“Then I want you to go fetch him tonight, late at night,” the Shaagas Aryeh explained. “You are perhaps the only Jew who will be able to gain entry into the building, because you sell the missionaries their clothes. When you get inside, take Refael’ke by the hand.”

“What if he doesn’t want to come with me?” the tailor asked.

“You’ll tell him, ‘Ta’us chozeres l’olam’, which is the last sugya that the two of us learned together in Bava Metziah,” the rav said. “This code will show him he can trust you, and when he hears it, he will come willingly.”

“And where will I take him, after we leave the monastery?” the tailor wanted to know.

The Shaagas Aryeh thought for a moment. “Don’t come back here; it is much too dangerous. Bring Refael’ke to the home of Reb Yudel in the neighboring town. Tell him that he should send the boy to yeshiva. And remember, for the safety of everyone involved, never reveal to a soul that you did this.”

The tailor nodded, his expression grave. It was clear that he understood the very real dangers involved in his mission, but there was a resolute look in his eyes that showed how determined he was to carry it out regardless.

“What would you like me to give you in return?” the Shaagas Aryeh inquired.

The tailor was somewhat taken aback by the request, and could not think of anything to ask the Shaagas Aryeh. “Whatever the rav wants,” he finally said.

“I will give you something big,” the Shaagas Aryeh responded. “I promise you that you will be buried next to me.” Indeed, this was a priceless gift. Being buried near a tzaddik means that there will be no chibut hakever.

Late that evening, in the stillness of the night, the tailor crept out of his home and walked toward the monastery. His hands were trembling and his lips did not stop moving in silent prayer, but he walked with the fortitude of a soldier on a mission. He had been sent by the Shaagas Aryeh to rescue the soul of Refael’ke, and he would not cave to the fear threatening to burst up from inside him.

The monastery was dark and forbidding. Everyone, it seemed, was sleeping. The tailor scaled the tall fence surrounding the building and then quietly crept inside the building. Being familiar with the layout and surroundings, it was not difficult for him to find the window that the Shaagas Aryeh had described.

Sure enough, there was a young bachur standing at the window, crying. Refael’ke!

“Ta’us chozeres l’olam,” the tailor whispered, loudly enough for the boy to hear him.

Refael’ke whirled around in astonishment as the beloved words reached his ears. The Shaagas Aryeh had sent someone to save him! His face lit up as he recognized the tailor, and the two tiptoed out of the building as fast as their legs would carry them.

Ten minutes later, they were on the other side of the monastery fence, running as fast as they could away from its hated walls. They made their way out of Vilna and toward the home of Reb Yudel, who agreed to take Refael’ke in.

By the time the missionaries awoke the next morning to discover that Refael’ke was missing, the tailor was sound asleep in his own bed. Refael’ke was safely hiding in a different city, and the Shaagas Aryeh was learning serenely in his home as though he knew nothing of the previous evening’s drama.

The missionaries wasted no time sending out a search committee, furious that their juicy fish had escaped their net. The Shaagas Aryeh’s home was turned upside down, and they combed through Vilna with a fine-tooth comb, but they did not find the boy.

Under Reb Yudel’s direction, Refael’ke established a new name identity for himself. He went to yeshiva, where he grew tremendously in Torah, eventually becoming a great gaon. The Shaagas Aryeh would correspond with him by post, with many halachic queries and responses going back and forth between them. No one but the Shaagas Aryeh knew that the young genius he would correspond with was none other than his close student, Refael’ke.

On his end, the tailor never told anyone about the mission he’d fulfilled for the Shaagas Aryeh and the reward the rav had promised him. He continued his life as an unassuming tailor, and as the years passed by, largely forgot the dramatic story.

The Shaagas Aryeh, who had already been elderly at the time of the kidnapping, lived many more years until a ripe old age, when he was buried in the local cemetery. For the next twenty-five years, the tailor continued to guard his secret, though he knew that the time would come when he would have to reveal it to the chevrah kadishah, to ensure that he got his just reward.

A quarter of a century after the Shaagas Aryeh passed away, the tailor took to his deathbed. With his time coming near, he called the chevrah kadishah in and relayed the entire story, beginning with the Shaagas Aryeh’s promise to his dying shamash, and ending with the Shaagas Aryeh’s pledge to him when he undertook the rescue mission. “I want you to promise me that after I die, you will bury me near the Shaagas Aryeh, which is my rightful place.”

The members of the chevrah kadishah, however, were skeptical. It was hard for them to believe that the story had ever occurred, let alone that the holy Shaagas Aryeh had promised a lowly tailor the spot right beside him in the cemetery. And being that the tailor did not have any proof to corroborate his words, they were reluctant to promise the tailor that they would fulfill his request.

The tailor saw that the chevrah kadishah was unwilling to promise, and he sighed heavily. “The Heavens and Earth will bear witness that I am saying the truth,” he declared.

With that, he recited kriyas shema, and then he passed away.

It was already late on Thursday afternoon, and the funeral took place on Friday. After the deceased’s family eulogized him, the procession walked to the cemetery, where the chevrahh kadishah would bury him.

Suddenly, the sky darkened and it began to rain. It rained so heavily that it was impossible to see anything. The sky was unusually dark, and the rain blinding. With Shabbos approaching, the chevrahh kadishah did not have the luxury of waiting until the rain let up; they needed to bring the tailor to burial before Shabbos.

They felt with their hands and their shovels, trying to find an empty plot between the sodden gravestones. The driving rain did not allow them to see where they were burying the tailor, but they quickly dug up the first empty plot they found and laid the tailor’s aron inside. As soon as they shoveled enough dirt over the grave to cover it, they hurried home to change and get ready for Shabbos, grateful that they’d managed to bring a Jew to burial despite the torturous weather.

After Shabbos, the chevrahh kadishah returned to the cemetery to find the spot where they’d buried the tailor. Much to their horrified disbelief, they found that due to the invisibility caused by the rain on Friday, they’d buried the simple tailor just to the left of the holy Shaagas Aryeh.

Anxiously, they hurried to the rav of the city to discuss the problem with him, and indeed it was a thorny and complex issue. In the twenty-five years since the Shaagas Aryeh’s passing, only one tremendous gaon had been buried to his right, but the plot to the left of the holy rav had remained open. No one worthy enough had passed away and claimed the spot. Now, a simple tailor had been buried there – a simple Jew, an ignoramus. Were they supposed to dig up his remains and bury him elsewhere?

As the rav weighed the question, he investigated into the life and lifestyle of the tailor, aiming to learn as much as he could about the man. Perhaps there was a hidden merit in which he had become worthy of lying beside the Shaagas Aryeh.

Over the course of his questioning, the rav discovered what the tailor had told the chevrah kadishah on his deathbed. He heard the story of Refael’ke, and the role the simple tailor had professed to have taken in it. And then he heard the tailor’s final words before he passed away, in which he declared that the Heavens would bear witness to ensure he received his rightful claim near the Shaagas Aryeh.

When the rav heard that, he knew that the case of the tailor’s burial had been no mistake on the part of the chevrah kadishah, but the fulfillment of the testimony of Shamayim, proof that the tailor had indeed been promised the plot near the holy Shaagas Aryeh.

Indeed, the tailor had claimed his just reward for his mesiras nefesh in fulfilling the Shaagas Aryeh’s directive.

Have a Wonderful Shabbos!

This story is taken from tape #A143/CG31