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Rabbinic Insights:  In the Inn

San Diego Jewish Times, December 16, 2005

By Rabbi Wayne Dosick

I heard this story from Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach zt”l. It is a story of Reb Aaron, who, in the mid-1800s, was the second Karliner Rebbe.

One afternoon, Reb Aaron said to followers, "Prepare the wagon, we're going for a ride." One of the chasidim replied, "But, Rebbe, it's time for mincha. Shouldn't we daven mincha first?"

"We're not davening here today," said Reb Aaron. “We're going to another place. Quick, get on the wagon.”

All the chasidim got on the wagon. Can you imagine? There were more than 20 chasidim, in a wagon so small that it wasn't built for more than 10. As they rode, everyone was hanging on, and everyone who watched them pass stared at the amazing sight.

Now, the Karliners always davened mincha very late. Some daven early; some daven late. The Karliners always davened late. But, it was getting darker and darker, and the chasidim were getting worried. Finally, one said, "Rebbe, we've got to daven mincha before it's too late. Maybe it's already too late." The Rebbe said, "Soon. Soon. Don't worry. We're almost there.”

The wagon driver kept driving, passing towns, and villages; he kept driving over hills, and past thick forests. The day was becoming darker and darker; there seemed to be almost no more light. The moon was rising in sky; the stars were beginning to twinkle. It was a beautiful ride. But, it was getting later and later. Finally, one chasid said, "Rebbe, we've got to pray." The Rebbe said, “One more minute. We'll get to next village and then we'll stop."

The wagon driver entered next village, and the Karliner told him to stop in front of a cretchma, a little inn. The chasidim jumped down, and ran to knock on door. A very old man came out. It was impossible to tell how old he was, but he was really old, maybe 90, maybe 100, maybe 120. And, yet, he didn't seem at all surprised that 20 strangers were knocking on his door so late.

 "Shalom, friends. What can I do for you?"

"We're chasidim of the Karliner Rebbe. He's here with us, in the wagon. We need a place to daven mincha. Could we possibly use your inn to daven mincha?"

"Of course. It would be my greatest honor."

Now, there is one more thing you should know about Karliner chasidim. They pour heart and soul into all their davening. And, their voices, Oy, how they use their voices. They sing and shout and yell when they pray.

The holy Reb Aaron once asked his holy father Reb Aaron Karliner the first, "I know that it is important to pray really loud, but how loud is loud enough? Suppose someone is coming at me with a knife, and I scream really loud. Is that loud enough for prayers?" His father answered, "Well, that's all right for the beginning. But after that, you have to pray harder and much louder. So, the chasidim of the holy Karliner — both Reb Aaron the first, and this Reb Aaron the second, prayed really, really loud.

So, here they were, coming into this old Yiddle's inn, and they started to pray. The chasidim knew that this must be a very special mincha, because they had come so far, and they started so late. And they knew that this must be a special place, because the Rebbe had gone to so much trouble to get here. So, they prayed with all their hearts, and all their strength. They prayed really, really hard, and really, really loud — even more than usual. They were crying, and shouting, and yelling at the tops of their lungs.

And, you know, that it is very quiet in a little village at night. The Russian peasants living around the inn went to bed very early. It was a warm summer evening, and all the windows of the cretchma were open, and all the windows of the Russian peasants’ houses were open. And the chasidim were davening so loud that their voices carried clearly in the still night air, and they could be heard from far away. So the sounds woke up all the peasants. They couldn't understand the words; all they heard was shouting. And, to these peasants, shouting in the middle of the night meant only one thing — fire. Because a fire in a Russian village, in those little wooden houses, was the greatest danger. It could destroy everything; it could destroy the whole town.

So, the peasants jumped out of their beds, grabbed buckets of water, and ran toward the cretchma. But, when the peasants got there, they dropped their buckets in amazement. They stood staring, because before them was, indeed, a fire. But, it was not a fire of flames that destroy or drive you away. This was a fire of joy and love. This was a fire that draws people close and draws them together. This was a fire of prayer.

And, everyone knows that when someone is davening, when someone is praying with all his heart and soul, then even someone who doesn't understand the words is so moved that he also has to pray. So, when the peasants saw the Karliner chasidim pouring out their hearts in prayer to the Master of the Universe, they also started yelling and shouting, crying out to God as they had never done before. And, when the chasidim were done davening, they began to dance and sing. They danced and sang with all their hearts, and the peasants joined them. There was absolute unity; there was so much joy and love in the air.

Reb Aaron stood watching his chasidim dance hand in hand with the Russian peasants, and he said, "Ribbono shel Olam, this is surely what it will be like when Mashiach comes."

After a while the peasants ran home to bring fruit and drinks for the Rebbe and his chasidim, and they all ate and drank together. Then, Reb Aaron announced that it was time to leave. The peasants all hugged and kissed the chasidim and accompanied them to the wagon. It was so beautiful; it was almost not to be believed. And you know, if there is still some love here in our broken world, maybe, just maybe, it's from that one mincha davening.

But, that's not the end of the story. The inn innkeeper who accompanied Reb Aaron and the chasidim out to the wagon, and just as they were about to leave, Reb Aaron turned to the innkeeper and said, "So, What do you have to tell me?"

"Rebbe, I've been waiting so long for you to come. You know, today is my 107^th birthday. Exactly 100 years ago, the holy Baal Shem Tov came to this very cretchma with his followers. I was just a little boy then; my grandfather ran the inn. And it was just the same as it was today. The chasidim arrived very late, and they wanted to daven mincha. They davened with all their hearts. They shouted, and yelled, and danced and sang. And the peasants came running and joined them. And they all danced and sang together, and their voices became one voice. And I thought that the sound of their love for each other must have broken through to the highest Heavens. They all ate and drank together, and hugged and kissed one another.

"Finally, the Baal Shem said that it was time to leave. And just before he drove away, he came over to me — remember, I was just a little boy, seven years old — and he put his hands on my head, and he said, 'My dear little boy. Listen to me. Exactly 100 years from now, another great Rebbe will come with his chasidim. They will also daven mincha. They will shout and cry and sing like we did today. And the peasants will come running to join them, and they will all pray, and sing, and dance together. Please remember, my sweet child. Please tell the holy Master. We were also here — before.'"

So, we come, as did our parents and our grandparents, and every generation that came before us — to sing, and dance, and pray. We come for every generation that will come after us — our children's children yet unborn, in houses and lands that we can barely imagine — we come for them to sing, and dance, and pray. And. we come to envision that day when every person on this Earth will join hands, and sing, and dance, and pray; the day when all the world will be together, and Mashiach will be knocking at the gate.

Rabbi Wayne Dosick, Ph.D., the spiritual guide of the Elijah Minyan, an adjunct professor at the University of San Diego and the Director of the 17: Spiritually Healing Children's Emotional Wounds. He is the award-winning author of six critically acclaimed books, including Golden Rules; Living Judaism; and Soul Judaism: Dancing with God into a New Era.