Rabbi Eliezer, the Baal Shem's father, lived in Moldavia, and in his
youth he was captured by the Tartars, but his wife escaped. He was
taken to a far country where no Jew lived, and was sold to a Prince.
He soon found favor with his master by dint of faithful service, and
was made steward of his estates. But mindful of the God of Israel, he
begged the Prince to excuse him from work on Saturdays, which the
Prince, without understanding, granted. Still the Rabbi was not happy.
He prepared to take flight, but a vision appeared to him, bidding him
tarry a while longer with the Tartars. Now it happened that the Prince
desired some favor from the Viceroy's counsellor, so he gave the Rabbi
to the counsellor as a bribe.
Rabbi Eliezer soon found favor with his new master. He was given a
separate chamber to live in, and was exempt from manual labor, save
that when the counsellor came home he had to go to meet him with a
vessel of water to wash his feet, according to the custom of the
nobility. Hence Rabbi Eliezer had time to serve his God.
It came to pass that the King had to go to war, so he sent for the
counsellor, but the counsellor was unable to give any advice to the
point, and the King dismissed him in a rage. When the Rabbi went out
to meet him with the vessel of water, he kicked it over wrathfully.
Whereupon the Rabbi asked him why he was in such poor spirits. The
counsellor remained dumb, but the Rabbi pressed him, and then he
unbosomed himself.
"I will pray to God," said Rabbi Eliezer, "that the right plan of
campaign may be revealed to me."
When his prayer was answered he communicated the heavenly counsel to
his master, who hastened joyfully to the King. The King was equally
rejoiced at the plan.
"Such counsel cannot come from a human being," he said. "It must be
from the lips of a magician."
"Nay," said the counsellor; "it is my slave who has conceived the
plan."
The King forthwith made the slave an officer in his personal retinue.
One day the monarch wished to capture a fort with his ships, but night
was drawing in, and he said--
"It is too late. We shall remain here over night, and to-morrow we
shall make our attack."
But the Rabbi was told from Heaven that the fort was almost
impregnable in the daytime. "Send against it at once," he advised the
King, "a ship full of prisoners condemned to death, and promise them
their lives if they capture the fort, for they, having nothing to
lose, are the only men for a forlorn hope."
His advice was taken, and the desperadoes destroyed the fort. Then the
King saw that the Rabbi was a godly man, and on the death of his
Viceroy he appointed him in his stead, and married him to the late
Viceroy's daughter.
But the Rabbi, remembering his marriage vows and his duty to the house
of Israel, made her his wife only in name. One day when they were
sitting at table together, she asked him, "Why art thou so distant
towards me?"
"Swear," he answered, "that thou wilt never tell a soul, and thou
shalt hear the truth."
On her promising, he told her that he was a Jew. Thereupon she sent
him away secretly, and gave him gold and jewels, of which, however,
he was robbed on his journey home.
After he had returned to his joyful wife, who, though she had given
him up for dead, had never ceased to mourn for him, an angel appeared
unto him and said, "By reason of thy good deeds, and thy unshaken
fidelity to the God of Israel throughout all thy sufferings and
temptations, thou shalt have a son who will be a light to enlighten
the eyes of all Israel. Therefore shall his name be Israel, for in him
shall the words of scripture be fulfilled! 'Thou art my servant
Israel, in whom I will be glorified.'"
But the Rabbi and his wife grew older and older, and there was no son
born unto them. But when they were a hundred years old, the woman
conceived and bore a son, who was called Israel, and afterwards known
of men as the Master of the Name--the Baal Shem. And this was in the
mystic year 5459, whereof the properties of the figures are most
wonderful, inasmuch as the five which is the symbol of the Pentagon is
the Key of the whole, and comes also from subtracting the first two
from the last two, and whereas the first multiplied by the third is
the square of five, so is the second multiplied by the fourth the
square of six, and likewise the first added to the third is ten, which
is the number of the Commandments, and the second added to the fourth
is thirteen, which is the number of the Creeds. And even according to
the Christians who count this year as 1700, it is the beginning of a
new era.
The child's mother died soon after he was weaned, and Rabbi Eliezer
was not long in following her to the grave. On his death-bed he took
the child in his arms, and blessed him, saying, "Though I am denied
the blessing of bringing thee up, always think of God and fear not,
for he will ever be with thee." So saying, he gave up the ghost.
Now the people of Ukop in Bukowina, where the Master was born, though
they knew nothing of his glorious destiny, yet carefully tended him
for the sake of his honored father. They engaged for him a teacher of
the Holy Law, but though in the beginnings he seemed to learn with
rare ease, he often slipped away into the forest that bordered the
village, and there his teacher would find him after a long search,
sitting fearlessly in some leafy glade. His dislike for the customary
indoor studies became so marked that at last he was set down as
stupid, and allowed to follow his own vagrant courses. No one
understood that the spirits of Heaven were his teachers.
As he grew older, he was given a post as assistant to the
school-master, but his office was not to teach--how could such an
ignorant lad teach?--but to escort the children from their homes to
the synagogue and thence to the school. On the way he taught them
solemn hymns, which he had composed and which he sang with them, and
the sweet voices of the children reached Heaven. And God was as
pleased with them as with the singing of the Levites in the Temple,
and it was a pleasing time in Heaven. But Satan, fearing lest his
power on earth would thereby be lessened, disguised himself as a
werwolf, which used to appear before the childish procession and put
it to flight. The parents thereupon kept their children at home, and
the services of song were silenced. But Israel, recalling his father's
dying counsel, persuaded the parents to entrust the children to him
once more. Again the werwolf bounded upon the singing children, but
Israel routed him with his club.
In his fourteenth year the supposed unlettered Israel was appointed
caretaker in the Beth-Hamidrash, where the scholars considered him the
proverbial ignoramus who "spells Noah with seven mistakes." He dozed
about the building all day and got a new reputation for laziness, but
at night when the school-room was empty and the students asleep,
Israel took down the Holy Books; and all the long night he pored over
the sacred words. Now it came to pass that, in a far-off city, a
certain holy man, Rabbi Adam, who had in his possession celestial
manuscripts (which had only before him been revealed to Abraham our
Father, and to Joshua, the son of Nun) told his son on his death-bed
that he was unworthy to inherit them. But he was to go to the town of
Ukop and deliver them to a certain man named Israel whom he would find
there, and who would instruct him, if he proved himself fit. After his
father's death the son duly journeyed to Ukop and lodged with the
treasurer of the synagogue, who one day asked him the purpose of his
visit.
"I am in search of a wife," said he.
At once many were the suitors for his hand, and finally he agreed with
a rich man to bestow it on his daughter. After the wedding he pursued
his search for the heir to the manuscripts, and, on seeing the
caretaker of the Beth-Hamidrash, concluded he must be the man. He
induced his father-in-law to have a compartment partitioned off in the
school, wherein he could study by himself, and to monopolize the
services of the caretaker to attend upon him.
But when the student fell asleep, Israel began to study according to
his wont; and when _he_ fell asleep, his employer took one page of the
mystic manuscript and placed it near him. When Israel woke up and saw
the page he was greatly moved, and hid it. Next day the man again
placed a page near the sleeping Israel, who again hid it on awaking.
Then was the man convinced that he had found the inheritor of the
spiritual secrets, and he told him the whole story and offered all the
manuscripts on condition Israel should become his teacher. Israel
assented, on condition that he should outwardly remain his attendant
as before, and that his celestial knowledge should not be bruited
abroad. The man now asked his father-in-law to give him a room outside
the town, as his studies demanded still more solitude. He needed none
but Israel to attend him. His father-in-law gave him all he asked for,
rejoicing to have found so studious a son-in-law. As their secret
studies grew deeper, the pupil begged his master to call down the
Archangel of the Law for him to study withal. But Rabbi Israel
dissuaded him, saying the incantation was a very dangerous one, the
slightest mistake might be fatal. After a time the man returned to the
request, and his master yielded. Both fasted from one week's end to
the other and purified themselves, and then went through all the
ceremony of summoning the Archangel of the Law, but at the crucial
moment of the invocation Rabbi Israel cried out, "We have made a slip.
The Angel of Fire is coming instead. He will burn up the town. Run and
tell the people to quit their dwellings and snatch up their most
precious things."
Thus did Rabbi Israel's pupil leap to consideration in the town, being
by many considered a man of miracles, and the saviour of their lives
and treasures. But he still hankered after the Archangel of the Law,
and again induced Rabbi Israel to invoke him. Again they purified and
prepared themselves, but Rabbi Israel cried out--
"Alas! death has been decreed us, unless we remain awake all this
night."
They sat, mutually vigilant against sleep, but at last towards dawn
the fated man's eyelids closed, and he fell into that sleep from which
there could be no waking.
So the Baal Shem departed thence, and settled in a little town near
Brody, and became a teacher of children, in his love for the little
ones. Small was his wage and scanty his fare, and the room in which he
lodged he could only afford because it was haunted. When the Baal Shem
entered to take possession, the landlord peeping timidly from the
threshold saw a giant Cossack leaning against the mantelpiece. But as
the new tenant advanced, the figure of the Cossack dwindled and
dwindled, till at last the dwarf disappeared.
Though Israel did not yet reveal himself, being engaged in wrestling
with the divine mysteries, and having made oath in the upper spheres
not to use the power of the Name till he was forty years old save
four, and though outwardly he was clad in coarse garments and broken
boots, yet all his fellow-townsmen felt the purity and probity that
seemed to emanate from him. He was seen to perform ablutions far
oftener than of custom; and in disputes men came to him as umpire, nor
was even the losing party ever dissatisfied with his decision. When
there was no rain and the heathen population had gone in a sacred
procession, with the priests carrying their gods, all in vain, Israel
told the Rabbi to assemble the Jewish congregation in the synagogue
for a day of fasting and prayer. The heathen asked them why the
service lasted so long that day, and, being told, they laughed
mockingly. "What! shall your God avail when we have carried ours in
vain?" But the rain fell that day.
And so the fame of Israel grew and reached some people even in Brody.
One day in that great centre of learning the learned Rabbi Abraham,
having a difference with a man, was persuaded by the latter to make a
journey to Rabbi Israel for arbitration. When they appeared before
him, the Baal Shem knew by divine light that Rabbi Abraham's daughter
would be his wife. However, he said nothing but delivered adequate
judgment, according to Maimonides. So delighted was the old Rabbi with
this stranger's learning that he said:
"I have a daughter who has been divorced. I should love to marry thee
to her."
"I desire naught better," said the Baal Shem, "for I know her soul is
noble. But I must make it a condition that in the betrothal contract
no learned titles are appended to my name. Let it be simply Israel the
son of Eliezer."
While returning to Brody, Rabbi Abraham died. Now his son, Rabbi
Gershon, was the chief of the Judgment Counsel, and a scholar of great
renown; and when he found among the papers of his dead father a deed
of his sister's betrothal to a man devoid of all titles of learning he
was astonished and shocked.
He called his sister to him: "Art thou aware thou art betrothed
again?" said he.
"Nay," she replied; "how so?"
"Our father--peace be upon him--hath betrothed thee to one Israel the
son of Eliezer."
"Is it so? Then I must needs marry him."
"Marry him! But who is this Israel?"
"How should I know?"
"But he is a man of the earth. He hath not one single title of honor."
"What our father did was right."
"What?" persisted the outraged brother; "thou, my sister, of so
renowned a family, who couldst choose from the most learned young men,
thou wouldst marry so far beneath thee."
"So my father hath arranged."
"Well, thank Heaven, thou wilt never discover who and where this
ignoramus of an Israel is."
"There is a date on the contract," said his sister calmly; "at the
stipulated time my husband will come and claim me."
When the appointed wedding-day drew nigh, the Baal Shem intimated to
the people of his town that he was going to leave them. They begged
him to remain with their children, and offered him a higher wage. But
he refused and left the place. And when he came near to Brody, he
disguised himself as a peasant in a short jacket and white girdle. And
he appeared at the door of the House of Judgment while Rabbi Gershon
was deciding a high matter. When the Judge caught sight of him, he
imagined it was a poor man asking alms. But the peasant said he had a
secret to reveal to him. The Judge took him into another room, where
Israel showed him his copy of the betrothal contract. Rabbi Gershon
went home in alarm and told his sister that the claimant was come.
"Whatever our father--peace be upon him--did was right," she replied;
"perchance pious children will be the offspring of this union." Rabbi
Gershon, still smarting under this dishonor to the family, reluctantly
fixed the wedding-day. Before the ceremony Israel sought a secret
interview with his bride, and revealed himself and his mission to her.
"Many hardships shall we endure together, humble shall be our
dwelling, and by the sweat of our brow shall we earn our bread. Thou
who art the daughter of a great Rabbi, and reared in every luxury,
hast thou courage to face this future with me?"
"I ask no better," she replied. "I had faith in my father's judgment,
and now am I rewarded."
The Baal Shem's voice trembled with tenderness. "God bless thee," he
said. "Our sufferings shall be but for a time."
After the wedding Rabbi Gershon wished to instruct his new
brother-in-law, who had, of course, taken up his abode in his house.
But the Baal Shem feigned to be difficult of understanding, and at
length, in despair, the Judge went stormily to his sister and cried
out: "See how we are shamed and disgraced through thy husband, who
argues ignorantly against our most renowned teachers. I cannot endure
the dishonor any longer. Look thou, sister mine, I give thee the
alternative--either divorce this ignoramus or let me buy thee a horse
and cart and send you both packing from the place."
"We will go," she said simply.
They jogged along in their cart till they came far from Jews and
remote even from men. And there in a lonely spot, on one of the spurs
of the Carpathian Mountains, honeycombed by caves and thick with
trees, the couple made their home. Here Israel gave himself up to
prayer and contemplation. For his livelihood he dug lime in the
ravines, and his wife took it in the horse and cart, and sold it in
the nearest town, bringing back flour. When the Baal Shem was not
fasting, which was rarely, he mixed this flour with water and earth,
and baked it in the sun. That was his only fare. What else needed
he--he, whose greatest joy was to make holy ablutions in the mountain
waters, or to climb the summits of the mountains and to wander about
wrapt in the thought of God? Once the robbers who lurked in the caves
saw him approaching a precipice, his ecstatic gaze heavenwards. They
halloed to him, but his ears were lent to the celestial harmonies.
Then they held their breath, waiting for him to be dashed to pieces.
But the opposite mountain came to him. And then the two mountains
separated, re-uniting again for his return. After this the robbers
revered him as a holy man, and they, too, brought him their disputes.
And the Baal Shem did not refuse the office,--"For," said he, "even
amid the unjust, justice must rule." But one of the gang whom he had
decided against sought to slay him as he slept. An invisible hand held
back the axe as it was raised to strike the fatal blow, and belabored
the rogue soundly, till he fell prone, covered with blood.
Thus passed seven years of labor and spiritual vision. And the Baal
Shem learned the language of birds and beasts and trees, and the
healing properties of herbs and simples; and he redeemed souls that
had been placed for their sins in frogs and toads and loathsome
creatures of the mountains.
But at length Rabbi Gershon was sorry for his sister, and repented him
of his harshness. He sought out the indomitable twain, and brought
them back to Brody, and installed them in an apartment near him, and
made the Baal Shem his coachman. But his brother-in-law soon disgusted
him again, for, one day, when they were driving together, and Rabbi
Gershon had fallen asleep, the Baal Shem, whose pure thoughts had
ascended on high, let the vehicle tumble into a ditch. "This fellow is
good neither for heaven nor earth," cried Rabbi Gershon.
He again begged his sister to get a divorce, but she remained
steadfast and silent. In desperation Rabbi Gershon asked a friend of
his, Rabbi Mekatier, to take Israel to a mad woman, who told people
their good and bad qualities, and whose stigmatization, he thought,
might have an effect upon his graceless brother-in-law. The
audience-chamber of the possessed creature was crowded, and, as each
visitor entered, a voice issued from her lips greeting them according
to their qualities. As Rabbi Mekatier came in: "Welcome, holy and pure
one," she cried, and so to many others. The Baal Shem entered last.
"Welcome, Rabbi Israel," cried the voice; "thou deemest I fear thee,
but I fear thee not. For I know of a surety that thou hast been sworn
in Heaven not to make use of the Name, not till thy thirty-sixth
year."
"Of what speakest thou?" asked the people in bewilderment.
Then the woman repeated what she had said, but the people understood
her not. And she went on repeating the words. At length Rabbi Israel
rebuked her sharply.
"Silence, or I will appoint a Council of Judgment who will empower me
to drive thee out of this woman. I ask thee, therefore, to depart from
this woman of thine own accord, and we will pray for thee."
So the spirit promised to depart.