Many years ago, in a little village deep in the Carpathian Mountains, there lived a simple Jewish man named Reb Dovid. Although he was extremely poor and far from a Jewish scholar, he had strong faith in God and was happy with his lot in life.
One morning, Reb Dovid was davening (praying) in the simple shule of his village. The time had long passed since the rest of the Minyan (ten men) had finished their prayers and left for work. On this day, he felt a warm glow fill his heart as he slowly mumbled his way through the prayers in the siddur (prayer book).
Just then, Rabbi Israel – The Holy Baal Shem Tov (Master of the Good Name) happened to be walking in the countryside past the village. With his spiritual vision, he saw heavenly light streaming out from this tiny village shule.
“My Lord, what’s going on in there?” he wondered.
He quickly walked to the shule and looked in the window. There, he saw Reb Dovid davening and wearing his Tallis (prayer shawl) and Teffilin (phylacteries). Rabbi Israel went in, sat down, and immersed himself in the study of a holy book while he waited for Reb Dovid to finish his prayers.
Hour after hour passed and it was already late in the afternoon when Reb Dovid finally finished his prayers and took off his Tallis and Tefillin.
“Shalom Aleichem (Peace be to you), Aleichem Shalom” they greeted each other.
After speaking to each other for a while, Rabbi Israel asked Reb Dovid, "Tell me my friend, why were you davening so long?"
“Rabbi," he answered in a hushed tone, "I don’t really know the meaning of the words in the siddur or even the right prayers to say. So, usually I just start at the beginning of the siddur and stop when the rest of the minyan finishes. But today, I felt particularly inspired so I didn't stop until I reached the end of the siddur.”
“My dear friend," asked Rabbi Israel, "Would you like me to teach you what prayers to say and when to say them?”
“Oh Rabbi, I can’t tell you how much that would mean to me. But I don’t want to be a bother to you.”
“Oh no Reb Dovid, it wouldn’t be a bother at all,” said the Baal Shem Tov. “In fact, I would be honored to teach you the prayers.”
And so the two men sat together for several hours while Rabbi Israel taught Reb Dovid about the different prayers in the siddur. They started with the morning prayers, than those said before and after eating, for the afternoon prayers, for the evening prayers, for Shabbos and Yom Tov, and so on. Between the pages of the siddur, separating the different prayers, Rabbi Israel placed small pieces of paper with notes to remind Reb Dovid about each of the prayers.
Finally, when he completed explaining the entire siddur, Rabbi Israel bid farewell and left, walking at a fast pace down the road leading from the town.
Reb Dovid was so thrilled. He danced around hugging his siddur filled with the small pieces of paper between the pages. Suddenly, OH NO, he accidentally dropped the siddur. The pieces of paper scattered everywhere.
He stood, bewildered and dismayed. On one hand, he thought, "I so want to know the proper prayers and when to say them." On the other hand, he felt extremely embarrassed when he thought, "Can I really run after the Rabbi and ask him to take the time and show me again?" Finally Reb Dovid decided. He gathered up the siddur and the pieces of paper and started running as fast as he could down the road after the Rabbi.
For quite a while, he couldn't see the Baal Shem Tov. Then, Reb Dovid reached the top of a hill where he could just barely make out the Rabbi far in the distance. "Whew," he signed in relief and started running even faster as the Baal Shem Tov again disappeared into a forest. Suddenly, Reb Dovid found himself standing high above a wide, raging river and there next to the river stood the Baal Shem Tov. “Thank God,” Reb Dovid thought.
Reb Dovid had already started walking down toward the river when he saw the Baal Shem Tov take off his gartle (a special prayer belt) from around his waist, stretch it out, and seemingly dance on it across the river. As soon as he reached the other side, the Baal Shem Tov put his gartle back on and continued walking away without even a glance back.
When Reb Dovid reached the edge of the river, he stood in disbelief watching the Rabbi walking away on the other side of the river. He yelled out, "Rabbi! Rabbi!" but the roar of the river drowned out his voice.
Without a thought, Reb Dovid took off his gartle, stretched it out, and he seemingly danced on it across the river. As soon as he reached the other side, he started running as fast as he could after the Baal Shem Tov.
“Rabbi, Rabbi wait for me," he yelled.
The Baal Shem Tov turned around and was startled to see Reb Dovid. “What are you doing here?”
Reb Dovid held out the siddur and the pieces of paper. “Rabbi, I’m so sorry. I dropped the siddur and all the pieces of paper fell out.”
“But what are you doing here?” asked the Baal Shem Tov.
“Rabbi. I’ve come to ask you to please put the pieces of paper back into the siddur.”
“But how did you get across the river?”
“Rabbi, I crossed on my gartle just like you.”
“You know”, said the Baal Shem Tov, putting his arm around Reb Dovid, “you don't need my papers. The way that you’ve been davening is just fine.”
And so it was.
Adapted by Tzvi Meir HaCohane (Howard M. Cohn. Patent Attorney) from a story in SHIVCHEI HABESHT and translated in IN PRAISE OF THE BAAL SHEM TOV by Mintz and Ben Amos.
