“What can I say?” Rebbe Nachman raised his hands. “What is it you want from me?”

1798

It was time for Rebbe Nachman’s tormentors to leave Istanbul and return home. They ridiculed and heaped scorn upon his head even as they packed their belongings.

“Please, my brothers, take this letter back home for me.” Rebbe Nachman held out a sealed envelope to them. “It won’t take up any space in your bags.”

“You couldn’t pay me all of the money in the world to take that for you! Your family will have to wait until you return in order to learn about your well-being…. Then again, perhaps you won’t end up returning at all!”

“I have a letter…. May I send it with you?” The Rebbe’s attendant held out his own envelope.

“Of course!”

Rebbe Nachman pulled his attendant close.

“Give them provisions from our own belongings for their return trip. Make sure not to be stingy. A little of everything. Quickly now, before they leave!”

The attendant did as he was told.

The two chassidim boarded their ship for home and almost immediately ripped open the letter the attendant had handed them.

“Now we’ll find out the truth once and for all!”

“Yes, open it, open it! I’m sure we will be able to learn the true identity of that young, wicked man! Surely there’s some clue inside the letter.”

They unfolded the parchment and began to read. A gasp escaped both at the same time and their faces turned white as their hands trembled in fear. They raised their eyes and gazed at the vast sea and they knew they were much too far away to return and ask mechilah now. A terror seized both of them as they recalled the harsh warning Chazal administers to those who denigrate tzaddikim.

Upon their arrival at home, the chassid who had taken the lead in antagonizing Rebbe Nachman fell to the floor, dead. It was not chas v’shalom something Rebbe Nachman had caused, as the Rebbe would explain later when asked, but something entirely out of his hands.