Sometime we don’t realize the effect that our prayers or actions can have on people we don’t even know.
One day in a little shtetl in Eastern Europe it was time for mincha afternoon prayers. The Hasidism of Reb Aharon of Karlin said “Rebbe, it’s time for mincha!” The Rebbe said – “Wait, we have to do something first. Get in the carriage.” They said, “But Rebbe, can we daven first and then go?”
“No, we need to go now,” he said.
Apprehensively, almost 20 hasidim piled in a small horse drawn carriage. They were inside, on the roof, hanging off the sides and as they went out of town, they were a spectacle to see. The day got darker and the hasidim got nervous that they would miss the appointed time for the prayer. They traveled through forests and you could almost see the glow from what seemed like moonlight. It was magical.
Finally, the Rebbe and Hasidim stopped at a little Jewish owned inn. The innkeeper didn’t seem surprised when 20 Hasidim all showed up at once. The innkeeper was old – he might have been 70, 90, or even 120. The Rebbe asked if they could use a place to pray mincha.
“Of course,” the old man said with a smile. “You are most welcome to use this room here.”
Something that is important to know about how the Karliner Hasidim daven. It’s very loud. They scream, they cry, the move around. Rabbi Aharon of Karlin the second, asked his father – “Aba, when we pray, are we supposed to do it loud like there is someone with a knife coming at us?” His father said, “Louder.”
So, the Hasidim are davenning. And it’s especially loud because they know that they are in a special place for a special purpose. The Rebbe wouldn’t have them daven so late in a totally different place if it wasn’t important. Now, in this small Polish village, the peasants go to sleep early and the only reason there would be screaming in the village is if there was a fire.
So the peasants are woken up by the screaming at the inn and they rush out of bed, grab buckets of water, and head to the inn. Well they don’t see a physical fire, but they come into the presence of a spiritual fire. This was a fire that didn’t destroy, but one that uplifts, one that breaks open one’s heart. Without knowing what exactly is happening, they feel something deep in their hearts let go and they are davenning along with the Hasidim – crying, praising, whispering in their own language. After the prayer, they began dancing and singing with the Hasidim. The Karliner Rebbe, standing off to the side whispered, “This is what will be like when the Mashiach comes.”
After they finish with their prayer, the peasants go back to their homes to bring some fruit and liquor back to the inn and they end up talking and laughing with the Rebbe and Hasidim for a couple of hours.
Finally, the Rebbe says it’s time to go and they all pile back in and around the carriage. But before the Rebbe get in, he turns to the old innkeeper and asks, “Do you have something to tell me?” The innkeeper tells him that he is 107 years old and when he was a young boy – about 7, a hundred years ago, the Baal Shem Tov came rushing in before dark with his Hasidim, to daven mincha. And, the exact thing happened – the peasants came rushing to look what was going on, and ended up dancing and singing and drinking. And as he was marveling at this incredible scene, the Baal Shem Tov turned to him before he left and said, “Sweet boy, in a hundred years another Rebbe with his Hasidim will come just like tonight, and the same thing will happen. Mashiach is not just something that will happen in the future, it can happen in our days.”
“And then they left. And we got along with our neighbors. It didn’t matter that we were Jewish. And I grew up. And after 20 or 30 years, people started to blame their problems on the Jews again and we didn’t talk to our neighbors. Everyone around me kvetched about antisemitism and the fate of the world. But I remembered what the Baal Shem Tov told me. I knew that you all would come. I knew that the walls could come down again.”
For me, this story teaches that the deep truth of connection – to truth, to each other, to the One Presence that all of creation is a part, is eternally available to all of us. The more that we reach for it, grow into it, and most importantly share it, the more that others will discover the love that is in that truth and in them. It’s easily to look around and see all that divides us – the ways that we are different from others, the ways that people buy into anti-semitism and other forms of hate. But in their own way, everyone is looking for a way to connect. As the prophet Amos says – “There is a hunger in the land, not for bread or water, but for the word of God.” The more that we courageously share the truth of our connection, through a smile, a kind word, an offer to help, an openness, the more that others will discover or remember that truth that their soul knows and have a better chance to direct their own footsteps in that direction.