“He is no prophet, Reb Bentzion.” Rav Moshe shook his head. “Is that what people are saying about him?"

Damascus, 17th Century

Rav Moshe stood up and announced to the two men seated before him, “I want to travel to the sheik and learn his secret.”

“But our master, we have already told you: He will not tell anyone his secret method. He trusts no one with the information, and certainly he will not trust a Jew, even a righteous one like our master.”

“I have already made up my mind. This sheik is stubborn, I am sure, but I will find out how he is discovering what will happen in the future. One way or another, he will tell the truth behind his great secret. Please call for Reb Bentzion, and have him come to me immediately.”

Reb Bentzion was very wealthy, and even the Arabs greatly respected him. Within half an hour, he entered Rav Moshe’s chambers and lowered his head.

“Shalom aleichem, Rebbi. How can I be of assistance?”

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Reb Bentzion. Please arrange a meeting between myself and this sheik whom everyone is talking about.”

“The Arab prophet?”

“He is no prophet, Reb Bentzion.” Rav Moshe shook his head. “Is that what people are saying about him? No, he certainly does not have nevuah, but there is definitely something very powerful that he is accessing. I intend to find out the whole truth, but first I must make my acquaintance with him and build a relationship of trust and respect.”