The visitor from Hungary stopped a passerby on a street in the town of Lisensk with the query: "Can you please direct me to the home of the great Rabbi Elimelech?"
The man raised his eyeslids in astonishment: "You mean to tell me that you journeyed all the way from Hungary to see this 'Rebbe of Lisensk'?! Have the exaggerations and embellishments about this man traveled that far already? I know this Rabbi Elimelech personally, and the man is an absolute zero. I'm afraid that you've wasted your time and money on these silly rumors."
The visitor was outraged. "You lowly, despicable man!" he thundered. "What do you know! You obviously have no understanding of anything holy and spiritual!" Still fuming, the visitor stormed off.
Later that day, when he entered Rabbi Elimelech's study for his appointed audience, he nearly fainted in shame and remorse. The man he had derided earlier on the street was none other than Rabbi Elimelech himself! With tears in his eyes, he begged the Rebbe's forgiveness.
"Why are you so upset?" asked Rabbi Elimelech. "There's no need to apologize. I told you the simple truth, and everything you said was also true..."

A Rich Man's Hospitality
As told by Yanki Tauber
For many years the two saintly brothers, RabbiElimelech of Lizensk and Rabbi Zusha of Anipoli, wandered the back roads of Galicia. Disguised as simple beggars, they journeyed from town to town and from village to village, refining their souls with the travails of exile and inspiring their brethren with words of wisdom and encouragement.
Late one evening, the brothers arrived in the town of Lodmir. Seeing a lighted window in a large, well-appointed home, they knocked on the door and asked for a place to stay the night. "I don't run a hotel," was the irate response of its large, well-appointed resident. "There's a poorhouse near the synagogue for wandering beggars. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding accommodations there."
The heavy door all but slammed in their faces, and Rabbi Elimelech and Rabbi Zusha walked on. Soon they came upon another lighted home, whose resident, the town scribe, welcomed them in and put his humble hut and resources at their disposal.
Several years later, the two brothers again visited Lodmir. This time, they were official guests of the community, which had requested that the now-famous rabbis come for a Shabbat to grace the town with their presence and teachings. At the welcoming reception held in their honor and attended by the entire town, a wealthy gentleman approached them. "Rabbis!" he announced, "the town council has granted me the honor of hosting you during your stay. G-d has been generous to me, and you'll want for nothing in my home. I've already explained to your coachman how to find my residence, though he's sure not to miss it--everyone knows where 'RebFeivel' lives..."
The gathering dispersed, and Rabbi Elimelech and Rabbi Zusha went to pay their respects to the town rabbi and meet with the scholars in the local study hall. The rich man went home to supervise the final arrangements for the rabbis' stay. Soon the coachman arrived with the brothers' coach and luggage. The horses were placed in the stables, the luggage in the rabbis' rooms, and the coachman settled in the servants' quarters.
Hours passed, but still no sign of the two visitors. Growing anxious, the host sought out their coachman. "What happened?" he asked. "When are they going to come here?"
"They're not coming," said the coachman. "Rabbi Elimelech and Rabbi Zusha are staying at the scribe's home."
"At the scribe's?! What are you talking about?! You're here, aren't you?"
"Those were the rabbis' instructions. 'Take the horses and our luggage to Reb Feivel's,' they said to me. 'We'll be staying with the scribe.' "
Reb Feivel rushed to the scribe's hut and fairly knocked down the door. "Honored Rabbis," he cried, finding Rabbi Elimelech and Rabbi Zusha before the fire, having a cup of tea with their host. "Why have you done this to me? It was agreed that I would host you. You must tell me what I have done to deserve such humiliation!"
"But you are hosting us," said Rabbi Elimelech, "at least, that part of us that you desire to host. Last time we were here, but without a coach, horses, coachman and bundles of pressed clothes, you turned us away from your door. So it is not us you want in your home, but our coachman, horses and luggage--which are currently enjoying your hospitality..."

A Bundle of Greens
By Yerachmiel Tilles
Reb Eliezer Lippa was a simple but devout Jew who lived in the town of Taranow in Galicia. He was not well versed in Torah and didn't know the meaning of most of his daily prayers, but he always prayed with the minyan(prayer quorum) and he was scrupulous to say all the proper responses to the prayer leader. He never conversed about worldly matters in the Shul and he accorded the Torah scholars and Rabbi their due honor.
Reb Eliezer Lippa was a laborer who knew many trades, but he was most well known as a water carrier. He worked hard, and managed to make a decent living, as he had four steady customers who were well-to-do merchants and paid him above the average rate for his services.
One day, Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov arrived in Taranow. This was before the Chassidic master had revealed himself to the world, and he appeared as a simple itinerant, but with a gift for telling stories. He used to congregate with the other laborers and tell them stories from the Talmud. He would also speak to them about how much G-d was pleased with the sincere prayers and straightforward faith of ordinary Jews.
Reb Eliezer Lippa was guiding his wagon with its full barrel of water through the center of town when he spotted his friend and fellow water carrier Reb Zalman Dov along with some other men, gathered around a simply dressed itinerant and listening intently with heads inclined to catch his every word.
His interest sparked, Reb Eliezer Lippa went over to join the circle of listeners. The Baal Shem Tov was telling the story related in the Talmud of a wealthy man who lived in the days when the Holy Temple in Jerusalem still stood.
"The wealthy man was taking a fattened ox to the Temple for a sacrifice. It was a massive beast, and when it decided, for reasons of its own, to stop still in its tracks, nobody was able to convince it to walk further towards their destination. No amount of pushing and prodding could make that animal budge.
"A poor man who was on his way home was watching the scene. In his hand was a bunch of freshly picked greens. These he now held to the muzzle of the ox, and when the animal began to nibble, he drew them away and thereby led the animal to its destination at the Holy Temple.
"That night the owner of the ox had a dream. In his dream he heard a voice which called out, 'The sacrifice of the poor man, who gave up the bundle of greens he was bringing to his impoverished family, was a more desirable sacrifice than your fattened ox.'
"The wealthy man brought a large fattened ox for a burnt offering. He was so joyful at being able to bring such an animal that he also brought a sheep for a peace offering and made a huge feast for his family and friends. He also distributed the proper gifts from his sacrifices to the priests. His joy was so intense that he held back nothing. The poor man, on the other hand, had only a bunch of greens to bring home for his family. What were his few stalks compared to the fattened animal of the wealthy man?
"Nevertheless," concluded the Baal Shem Tov, "G-d desires the heart. Any mitzvah a person may do, whether great or small, simple or difficult, is judged by how it is performed. A mitzvah done for G-d's sake, with great joy and purity of heart, is very precious to the Creator. G-d cries out to the angels, 'Look at the mitzvah my son/daughter has done!' G-d, from his place in the heavens saw that although the wealthy man had offered much, the poor man had offered much more."
Reb Eliezer Lippa's mind knew no rest. How he longed to be able to do a mitzvah like the poor man in the story, with pure intention and a joyful overflowing heart! The weeks passed and still Reb Eliezer Lippa knew no peace as his heart ached with the desire to be able to do such a mitzvah.
One day, as Reb Eliezer Lippa was delivering water to one of his wealthy customers, he had an idea, an idea so perfect that his whole being became flushed with a great sense of pleasure and relief. Reb Eliezer Lippa's four wealthy customers provided him with half of his livelihood since they paid him far more than the going rate for a barrel of water. On the other hand, his friend Reb Zalman Dov supplied the town's four synagogues, which paid him half price for their water. "I can exchange four of my customers for four of his," thought Reb Eliezer Lippa. "Four wealthy homes for four synagogues." He was anxious to serve G-d by providing the water that the congregants would wash their hands with. Certainly the mitzvah was of more value than the profits he would give up.
He went home and told his wife about the story he heard from the visiting storyteller, and how doing a mitzvah with joy is like bringing a sacrifice in the Holy Temple even though it no longer stands. His wife readily agreed to the idea, as did Reb Zalman Dov who sorely needed the extra income. The deal was struck and the exchange of customers was made. No one but Reb Eliezer Lippa and his wife knew what had happened and they were overjoyed at the prospects for their new "business." There were days when Reb Eliezer Lippa's wife went to the river to participate in the mitzvah of drawing the water for the synagogues. As they hauled the water, they would concentrate on the mitzvah of preparing the water for the congregants to wash their hands with before prayers, and their joy was boundless. For they understood that G-d desires the heart.
Amongst Chassidim there is a tradition that it was in the merit of their mitzvah, Reb Eliezer Lippa and his wife were blessed with children, for she had formerly been barren. They gave birth to two sons, who grew to be luminaries who lit up the Jewish world and inspired tens of thousand to return to G-d and to serve Him with joy: Rabbi Elimelech of Lizensk and Rabbi Zusha of Anipoli, two of the most illustrious disciples of the Baal Shem Tov's successor, Reb DovBer, the Maggid of Mezeritch.

Your Fellow's Place
Ethics 2:4
By Yanki Tauber
"Do not judge your fellow," the great sage Hillel is quoted in the 2nd chapter of Ethics of the Fathers, "until you have reached his place."
One thought that comes to mind when contemplating this statement is that a person can never truly be in his fellow's place. If that be the case, then what Hillel is really saying is, "don't judge your fellow, ever."
But there's also the story about the famous Chassidic brothers, Rabbi Elimelech and Rabbi Zusha. The pair would travel from town to town and from village to village in a quest to bring the hearts of their fellow Jews closer to their Father in Heaven. Dressed as ordinary wayfarers or beggars, they would knock on the door of a Jewish home and ask to be put up for the night. In the middle of the night, their host would be wakened by sounds of weeping coming from the brothers' room. Putting an ear to the keyhole, he would overhear them confessing the day's misdeeds and failings to each other: a bit of dishonesty here, a word of malice there. "Oh, dear brother 'Melech!" Reb Zusha would weep, "I scarcely opened a Jewish book today... What is a Jew's life without a word of Torah? A barren wasteland!" "Oh Zusha!" the other brother would unburden his heart. "Do you think I prayed today? I barely mumbled the words! Is that how a Jew speaks to his dear Father in Heaven...?" With a stab in his heart, the eavesdropping host would recall his own petty dishonesties and badmouthing, his own neglect of Torah and soulless prayers, and resolve to be a better Jew tomorrow.
So perhaps this is what Hillel wants to tell us: You can't judge your fellow, but you can judge the person in whose place you are -- namely yourself. So if you want to help your fellow improve himself, criticize yourself in a way that gets him thinking, too.
Then there's the story told of Rabbi DovBer of Lubavitch. Once, while receiving people in yechidut (private audience), Rabbi DovBer suddenly stopped the yechidut, locked his door, and refused to see anyone for many hours. Chassidim outside his door heard their Rebbe weeping and praying. Following this incident, the Rebbe was so weakened that he was confined to his bed for several days. Later, one of the elder Chassidim dared to ask the Rebbe what had occurred. Rabbi DovBer explained: "When a person seeks my assistance in curing his spiritual ills, I must first find the same failing -- be it in the most subtle of forms -- within my own self. For it is not possible for me to help him unless I myself have already experienced the same problem and undergone the same process of self-refinement. On that day, someone came to me with a problem. I was horrified to hear to what depths he had fallen, G-d forbid. Try as I might, I could not find within myself anything even remotely resembling what he told me. But Divine Providence had sent this man to me, so I knew that somewhere, somehow, there was something in me that could relate to his situation. The thought shook me to the very core of my soul and moved me to repent and return to G-d from the depths of my heart."
In other words, you can't judge yourself, either. If you have a problem, then you're the problem -- you need someone outside of your problem to help you solve it. But if that person is outside of your problem, then he can't truly know it, so he can't solve it, either. What you need is a Rebbe -- someone who is infinitely beyond your problem, yet knows that if you have the problem, he has it too.
One more story, this one told of Rabbi DovBer's grandson Rabbi Shmuel, the fourth Lubavitcher Rebbe:
Rabbi Shmuel was receiving people in yechidut. Scarcely an hour had passed, and already the Rebbe was exhausted; he called a break and asked for a fresh change of clothes.
The Rebbe's gabbai (secretary) emerged from the room carrying the clothes which the Rebbe had removed. They were drenched in sweat. "Master of the Universe!" muttered the gabbai. "Why does he exert himself so? Every hour he needs a new change of clothes. Why does the Rebbe sweat so much?"
The Rebbe's door opened, and Rabbi Shmuel stood in the doorway. "Go home," he said to his secretary. "I will continue to pay your salary, but I no longer desire your services. You have not the slightest understanding of my work.
"Don't you understand? In the past hour twenty people came to see me. To relate to each one's dilemma, I must divest myself of my own personality and circumstances and clothe myself in theirs. But since they came to consult not with themselves but with me, I must re-clothe my self in my own persona in order to advise them.
"Did you ever try changing your clothes forty times an hour?" concluded the Rebbe. "If you did that, you, too would be exhausted and bathed in sweat."

An Etrog from the Garden of Eden
By Nissan Mindel
It was the first day of Sukkot, and all the congregants in the shul(synagogue) of Rabbi Elimelech of Lizensk were in a festive mood. One could feel the "Yom-Tov" spirit in the atmosphere.
As Rabbi Elimelech stood at the lectern and began reciting Hallel, all eyes turned upon him. There was something unusual in his manner this Sukkot. Why did he stop so suddenly in the middle of his swaying as he held the etrog andlulav in his hands to sniff the air? And why did he not go through the Service in his usual leisurely manner? It was evident that something was on his mind, something rather exciting by the look on his radiant countenance.
The minute the davening (praying) was over, Rabbi Elimelech hurried to where his brother Rabbi Zusha (who had come to spend the festival with him) was standing, and said to him eagerly: "Come and help me find the etrog which is permeating the whole shul with the fragrance of the Garden of Eden!"
And so together they went from person to person until they reached the far corner of the shul where a quiet looking individual was standing, obviously engrossed in his own thoughts.
"This is the one," called out Rabbi Elimelech delightedly. "Please, dear friend, tell me who are you and where you obtained this wonderful etrog?"
The man, looking somewhat startled and bewildered at this unexpected question, replied rather slowly, carefully choosing his words:
"With all due respect to you, Rabbi, it is quite a story. Do you wish to sit down and listen to it all?"
"Most certainly I do," answered Rabbi Elimelech emphatically, "I am sure it will be a story worth hearing!"
"My name," began the quiet-looking man, "is Uri, and I come from Strelisk. I have always regarded taking the "four kinds" on Sukkot as one of my favoritemitzvot, and so, although I am a poor man and could normally not afford to buy an etrog according to my desire, my young wife, who agrees with me as to its importance, helps me by hiring herself out as cook. Thus she is independent of any financial help from me, and I can use my own earnings for spiritual matters. I am employed as melamed (teacher) in the village of Yanev, which is not far from my native town. One half of my earnings I use for our needs and with the other half I buy an etrog in Lemberg. But in order not to spend any money on the journey I usually go on foot.
"This year, during the Ten Days of Repentance, I was making my way on foot as usual, with fifty gulden in my purse with which to buy an etrog, when on the road to Lemberg I passed through a forest and stopped at a wayside inn to have a rest. It was time for 'minchah' so I stood in a corner and davenedminchah.
"I was in the middle of my prayers when I heard a terrible sound of moaning and groaning, as of one in great anguish. I hurriedly finished my davening so that I could find out what was the trouble, and if I could help in any way.
"As I turned towards the man who was in obvious distress, I beheld a most unusual and rough looking person, dressed in peasant garb with a whip in his hands, pouring out his troubles to the inn-keeper at the bar.
"From the somewhat confused story, between his sobs, I managed to gather that the man with the whip was a poor Jew who earned his living as a baal agallah (owner of a horse and cart for carting purposes). He had a wife and several children and he barely managed to earn enough to make ends meet. And now, a terrible calamity had be fallen him. His horse, without which he could do nothing, had suddenly collapsed in the forest not far from the inn, and just lay there unable to get up.
"I could not bear to see the man's despair and tried to encourage him, by telling him that he must not forget that there is a G-d above us who could help him in his trouble, however serious it seemed to him.
" 'I'll sell you another horse for fifty gulden, although I assure you he is worth at least eighty, but just to help you out in your difficulty!' " The inn-keeper was saying to the wagon driver.
" 'I haven't even fifty cents, and he tells me I can buy a horse for fifty gulden!' the man said bitterly.
"I felt I could not keep the money I had with me for an etrog when here was a man in such desperate plight that his very life and that of his family depended upon his getting a horse. So I said to the inn-keeper:
"'Tell me what is the lowest price you would take for your horse?'
"The inn-keeper turned to me in surprise. If you pay me on the spot, I will take forty-five gulden, but absolutely not a cent less. I am selling my horse at a loss as it is!'
"I immediately took out my purse and banded him forty-five gulden, the wagon driver looking on, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets in astonishment. He was just speechless with relief, and his joy was absolutely indescribable.
"'Now you see that the Almighty can help you, even when the situation appears to you to be entirely hopeless!' I said to him as he hurried off with the innkeeper to harness the newly-bought horse to his forsaken cart tied to the stricken horse in the forest.
"As soon as they went off, I hurriedly got my few things together and disappeared, as I did not want to be embarrassed by the thanks of the grateful wagon driver.
"I eventually reached Lemberg with the remaining five gulden in my pocket, and naturally had to content myself with buying a very ordinary looking but kosheretrog. Usually my etrog is the best in Yanev, and everyone used to come and make a blessing over it , but this year I was ashamed to return home with such a poor-looking specimen, so my wife agreed that I could come here to Lizensk, where nobody knew me."
"But my dear Rabbi Uri," cried out Rabbi Elimelech, now that the former had finished his story, "Yours is indeed an exceptional etrog. Now I realize why your etrog has the fragrance of the Garden of Eden in its perfume! Let me tell you the sequel to your story."
"When the wagon driver whom you saved thought about his unexpected good fortune, he decided that you must have been none other than the Prophet Elijahwhom the Almighty had sent down to earth in the form of a man, in order to help him in his desperation. Having come to this conclusion the happy wagon driver looked for a way of expressing his gratitude to the Almighty, but the poor man knew not a Hebrew word, nor could he say any prayers. He racked his simple brain for the best way of thanksgiving.
"Suddenly his face lit up. He took his whip and lashed it into the air with all his might, crying out with all his being: 'Dear Father in Heaven, I love you very much! What can I do to convince you of my love for you? Let me crack my whip for you as a sign that I love you!' Saying which, the wagon driver cracked his whip into the air three times.
"On the eve of Yom Kippur, the Almighty up above was seated on His 'Seat of judgment,' listening to the first prayers of the Day of Atonement.
"Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, who was acting as the Counsel for Defense on behalf of his fellow Jews, was pushing a wagon full of Jewish mitzvot to the Gates of Heaven, when Satan appeared and obstructed his path with piles of Jewish sins, so that Rabbi Levi Yitzchak just got stuck there. My brother Rabbi Zusha and I added our strength to help him move his wagon forward, but all in vain; even our combined efforts proved fruitless.
"Suddenly there came the sound of the cracking of a whip which rent the air, causing a blinding ray of light to appear, lighting up the whole universe, right up to the very heavens! There we saw the angels and all the righteous seated in a circle, singing G-d's praise. On hearing the wagon driver's words as he cracked his whip in ecstasy, they responded: 'Happy is the King who is thus praised!'
"All at once, the Angel Michael appeared, leading a horse, followed by the wagon driver with whip in hand.
"The Angel Michael harnessed this horse to the wagon of mitzvot, and the wagon driver cracked his whip. Suddenly the wagon gave a lurch forward, flattening the piles of sins that had been obstructing the way, and drove it smoothly and easily right up to the Throne of Honor. There the King of Kings received it most graciously and, rising from the Seat of judgment, went over and seated Himself on the Seat of Mercy. A happy New Year was assured."
"And now dear Rabbi Uri" concluded Rabbi Elimelech, "you see that all this came about through your noble action. Go home, and be a leader in Israel! For you have proved your worthiness, and you shall carry with you the approval of the Heavenly Court. But before you go, permit me to hold this wonderful etrog of yours, and praise G-d with it."

The Paper Chicken
From the Chassidic Masters
Once, on the evening beforeYom Kippur, one of the chassidim of Rabbi Elimelech of Lizensk asked his Rebbe to allow him to see how he, Rabbi Elimelech, observes the custom of kaparot.
"How I do kaparot?" repeated Rabbi Elimelech. "How do youdo kaparot?"
"I am an ordinary Jew -- I do what everyone else does. I hold the rooster in one hand, the prayer book in the other, and recite the text, 'This is my exchange, this is in my stead, this is my atonement...'"
"That's exactly what I do," said Rabbi Elimelech. "I take the rooster in one hand, the prayer book in the other, and recite the text. Actually, there might be a certain difference between your kaparot and mine: you probably make sure to use a white rooster, while to me it makes no difference: white, black, brown -- a rooster's a rooster..."
But the chassid persisted that his Rebbe's kaparot was certainly no ordinary event. He had been coming to Lizhensk to pray with the Rebbe every Yom Kippur for more than twenty years now, and had always wanted to observe his Rebbe at this most solemn moment.
"You want to see an extraordinary kaparot?" said Rabbi Elimelech. "Go observe how Moshe the tavern-keeper does kaparot. Now, there you'll see something far more inspiring than my own, ordinary kaparot."
The chassid located Moshe's tavern at a crossroads several miles outside of Lizhensk and asked to stay the night. "I'm sorry," said the tavern-keeper. "As you see, this is a small establishment, and we don't have any rooms to let. There's an inn a small distance further down the road."
"Please," begged the chassid, "I've been traveling all day, and I want to rest awhile. I don't need a room -- I'll just curl up in a corner for a few hours and be on my way."
"O.K.," said Moshe. "We'll be closing up shortly, and then you can get some sleep."
After much shouting, cajoling and threatening, Moshe succeeded in herding his clientele of drunken peasants out the door. The chairs and tables were stacked in a corner, and the room, which also served as the tavern-keeper's living quarters, readied for the night. Midnight had long passed, and the hour of kaparot was approaching. The chassid, wrapped in his blanket under a table, feigned sleep, but kept watch in the darkened room, determined not to miss anything.
Before dawn, Moshe rose from his bed, washed his hands and recited the morning blessings. "Time for kaparot!" he called quietly to his wife, taking care not to wake his guest. "Yentel, please bring me the notebook -- it's on the shelf above the cupboard."
Moshe sat himself on a small stool, lit a candle, and began reading from the notebook, unaware that his "sleeping" guest was wide awake and straining to hear every word. The notebook was a diary of all the misdeeds and transgressions the tavern-keeper had committed in the course of the year, the date, time and circumstance of each scrupulously noted. His "sins" were quite benign -- a word of gossip one day, oversleeping the time for prayer on another, neglecting to give his daily coin to charity on a third -- but by the time Moshe had read through the first few pages, his face was bathed in tears. For more than an hour Moshe read and wept, until the last page had been turned.
"Yentel," he now called to his wife, "bring me the second notebook."
This, too, was a diary -- of all the troubles and misfortunes that had befallen him in the course of the year. On this day Moshe was beaten by a gang of peasants, on that day his child fell ill; once, in the dead of winter, the family had frozen for several nights for lack of firewood; another time their cow had died, and there was no milk until enough rubles had been saved to buy another.
When he had finished reading the second notebook, the tavern-keeper lifted his eyes heavenward and said: "So you see, dear Father in Heaven, I have sinned against You. Last year I repented and promised to fulfill Your commandments, but I repeatedly succumbed to my evil inclination. But last year I also prayed and begged You for a year of health and prosperity, and I trusted in You that it would indeed be this way.
"Dear Father, today is the eve of Yom Kippur, when everyone forgives and is forgiven. Let us put the past behind us. I'll accept my troubles as atonement for my sins, and You, in Your great mercy, shall do the same."
Moshe took the two notebooks in his hands, raised them aloft, circled them three times above his head, and said: "This is my exchange, this is in my stead, this is my atonement." He then threw them into the fireplace, where the smoldering coals soon turned the tear-stained pages to ashes.