“You know what? If there’s any chance of the king granting you an audience, it would be through your daughter”
The aristocrat who welcomed Rabbi Shmuel and his daughter, Rochel, into his home was one of the king’s closest advisers. How had he come to know an elderly Jew from the Jewish quarter in Prague?
“Your father is a saint, do you know that?” the adviser told Rochel. “Many years ago, I had gone on a very big trip and almost all my savings were packed into a bag. Somehow, I lost the entire bag, and your father happened to have found it. Instead of stealing this tremendous amount of money, which almost certainly any other person in this world would have done, he tracked me down and returned the entire sum to me. Truly, there are no people as honest and righteous as the Jewish nation.”
“I’m glad I was able to help,” Rabbi Shmuel said softly. “I have come today to ask a favor. You may know that the king is planning to levy a large and cruel tax upon the Jewish people, which we cannot afford to pay, and we will all be in mortal danger. I want to speak to the king and need someone to help me get into his private chambers. Can you assist me in this task?”
“Ah. You do know that the penalty for a Jew showing up in front of the king without a specific invitation is immediate death, don’t you? Especially if all you are trying to do is beg for mercy and convince him to forgive the tax. There’s nothing I can do for you. I’m sorry.”
Rabbi Shmuel’s daughter interjected, explaining to the adviser, in the most clear and clever way, how they could change the king’s mind. The adviser was taken aback at this clearly brilliant and well-spoken young woman. He tried to explain how the palace system worked and basic politics, but Rochel matched him every step of the way. She displayed an incredible knowledge of worldly matters and grasped the nuances of everything the conversation touched on, no matter the topic.
“You know what? If there’s any chance of the king granting you an audience, it would be through your daughter. The king is a foolish man, but he is highly educated and learned in the best schools. I think he would be very impressed with your daughter’s knowledge and may allow you into his presence, even for just a moment or two. Let’s go now and see what happens. I’ll do my part to convince him to grant an audience to your daughter. If that works, then we’ll see if he allows you in as well, Rabbi Shmuel.”
The three of them set off for the king’s palace. The adviser went into the palace first. He did not return for a few hours, during which Rabbi Shmuel and his daughter prayed very hard to the Master of the World. They knew the matter was literally pikuach nefesh for the lives of the Jews in their community.
The adviser finally reappeared, looking triumphant.
“He’s agreed to speak to you.”
Rochel was led into the throne room, while Rabbi Shmuel stood by the door, anxious to see if the king would grant him an audience.
The king began to converse with Rochel, and he, too, was astounded at her knowledge and genius. The conversation covered the gamut of worldly topics; philosophy, science, and politics.
“This was very enjoyable for me, and I’m glad I let you in today.” The king reached for his goblet and drank heavily from it. “But now my brain is bursting. I haven’t thought so much for many years… I’m much more comfortable leaving the academics to my advisers and sticking with what I do best.”
The king slurped from his goblet again, splashing some on his chin.
“So, tell me young lady, what is your request?”
“That you grant my father a few minutes of your time. He is standing right there by the door. He is a wise man filled with wisdom. He has an important message to deliver.”
“Message or request?” The king sneered. “I don’t have time for conversations with old, Jewish rabbis.”
“Please, just grant him a few minutes of your ti—”
“No!” The king slammed his goblet down. “I don’t have time for him!”
“Please!” Tears fell from Rochel’s eyes. “Just one minute of your time!”
“Fine!” The king laughed. “You know what? Bring him in. But I will only allow him to say four words!”
Rabbi Shmuel was brought before the king.
“Listen closely, old man. You can say only four words. Any extra word will get you killed!”
Rabbi Shmuel was silent for a moment, and then he said,
“Vayomer Hashem el hasatan…”
“What” The king shook his head. “What does that mean?”
Rabbi Shmuel kept his lips closed.
The king found himself burning with curiosity.
“All right, all right. You can speak more than four words! Explain what those words mean and why you said them, or I’ll kill you!”
“Those words are from our Torah, from Iyov. They mean, ‘and Hashem said to the satan.’”
“But what in the world does that have to do with anything? You’re here to ask something of me, right? Why waste your four words on that?”
“The message I was trying to hint to you is contained in those words. If G-d, the Creator of the entire universe, master of all, controller of all, infinite, all-knowing, all-powerful, whose kingdom and rulership last forever and ever, would lower himself to speak with the lowest of his creations, the satan, whose job is only to entice mankind to sin, then all the more so should you — a king of flesh and blood, whose reign does not last forever, whose rulership doesn’t extend over even the entire land, and who will one day go the way of all men and be buried in the earth — certainly lower yourself to speak to one of your constituents and hear him out for a moment or two.”
“I should really kill you for your impudence, but my heart knows you are right. Truly, you are indeed wise. Speak, old man, and I will listen.”
Indeed, Rabbi Shmuel did speak, and the king agreed to abolish his evil decree. And Rabbi Shmuel was appointed to a special position in the royal palace, so that he would always be able to speak up for and defend his people. Thanks to Rabbi Shmuel and his daughter, Rochel, the Jews of Prague were saved. And years later, Rabbi Shmuel’s descendant would be the renowned tzaddik, the Chasam Sofer. Truly, Rabbi Shmuel was the perfect emissary for the Jewish people in their time of need.
May the day come when the ultimate messenger and Redeemer is sent to us, the righteous Mashiach, to lead us to Eretz Yisrael and rebuild the third and final Beis Hamikdash!
The End
“Listen closely, old man. You can say only four words. Any extra word will get you killed!”
