“You’re missing the point here,” R’ Leib said softly, but his eyes were piercing. “There is no poritz, there is no tax, there are no gentiles in this entire city — there is only Hashem”

O

ne morning, R’ Leib Sarah’s heard someone banging on his door. Calmly as always, he opened the door to find the town gabbai standing there, red in the face.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was sent by the other shul members with an urgent message. May I come in?”

“Of course, of course. Have a seat right here, and please tell me what is going on.”

“Thank you. I’ll get right to the point. The brutish poritz of our village is threatening to levy an enormous tax against the Jewish citizens of the city. This is on top of  all the other extra taxes they already force us to pay for the “privilege” of living here. The poritz knows how this will end. Many of us will not be able to pay the required amount of money to satisfy his lust for money, and then he’ll start hauling us in for beatings, or worse, he’ll send us off to some labor camp. This rasha is going to ruin our lives, which are already so difficult under the yoke of these cruel gentiles. R’ Leib, what do we do?”

“I will go immediately to speak to him.”

“With all due respect, we’ve already spoken to him multiple times. We’ve pleaded with him, practically groveled at his feet, but his heart is made of stone. He’s going to cause so much harm to us, R’ Leib…”