With heavy hearts, the small group of Jews
watched the ship slip out of sight. On board, a carefully chosen emissary
carried the hopes of their entire community. If successful, he would save his
brothers and sisters from certain ruin. If unsuccessful, they shuddered to
imagine...
Nearly 500 years ago, the Turkish Empire
stretched throughout the Levant and beyond, including the Land of Israel.
Suleiman the Magnificent held the throne, and his kingdom functioned with the
help of numerous local governors he appointed. Some were benevolent, others
tyrants.
Unfortunately, the city of Safed, whose
residents awoke one morning to news of a paralyzing new tax imposed upon them,
fell under the jurisdiction of one such tyrant. Refusal or failure to comply,
he warned, would result in the end of the entire Jewish community.
The elders of the community stumbled out of
his palace, wondering where to find the money. Raising the entire sum would
prove impossible. After some deliberation, they agreed to send representatives
to Turkey to plead their case before the sultan, hoping he would take pity on
them. Among those chosen was Rabbi Eliezer Azikri, who was one of the foremost
kabbalists, a student of Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, and a poet. Modest and
unassuming, few were aware of his virtues. He was widely known simply as the shamash, the synagogue caretaker.
The delegates set out for the port, but before
they boarded the ship to Turkey, Rabbi Eliezer stopped and requested that they
allow him to go alone.
“Pray for me,” said Rabbi Eliezer, “and G‑d
will help.”
He bade them farewell and turned to board the
waiting ship. The moment he cleared the gangplank and stepped foot onto the
deck, sudden winds descended upon the port, wildly churning the seas and
rocking every vessel in sight. Sailors quickly unfurled the sails, and, as
though helped by an invisible hand, the ship scuttled out of the harbor with
ease. Rabbi Eliezer watched Israel’s coast shrink until it was just a fine
jagged line, and before long, that too disappeared from view.
Up above, the clouds, which had turned into
dark turbulent swirls, unleashed a frightening storm. Winds tossed the ship in
towering waves as sailors scurried across the deck attempting to bring it under
control.
“Pray for mercy,” bellowed the captain to
anyone within earshot. Through the lashing rain, he noticed Rabbi Eliezer
wrapped in his tallit and tefillin. “Rabbi, do something!”
Rabbi Eliezer answered by holding out a folded
note and instructing the captain to place it on the bow of the ship, warning
that he should return it once the city of Constantinople became visible. The
effect was instantaneous—the storm immediately subsided, and the sea returned
to its prior calm.
As the marvel of the miracle performed by the
Jewish sage circulated among the passengers, the parted clouds revealed yet
another wonder: They were already, impossibly, approaching the coast of
Constantinople.
Once disembarked, Rabbi Eliezer found a local shamash and asked whether he could stay
with him. Since his home was small, the shamash
could only offer the attic, but Rabbi Eliezer didn’t mind. Tucking some books
under his arm, he ascended to the dusty niche, where he lit a candle and
learned till midnight, when he stopped to recite Tikkun Chatzot, as was his custom.
Shortly before Rabbi Eliezer’s arrival in
Constantinople, the sultan’s daughter had fallen ill. Her condition worsened
with each passing day, leading the doctors to believe she would not recover.
Dread accompanied the sultan wherever he went, robbing him of any sleep,
leaving him pacing his balcony every night.
During one of his sleepless episodes, the
sultan noticed an orange glow in the distance. Tall flames shot into the night,
unnoticed by anyone but him. Heart beating frantically, the sultan ordered the
palace staff to locate the blaze and extinguish it before half the city was
burned.
When the men returned, they reported no fire,
just a lone man reading by candlelight in an attic. When the sultan looked
again and observed the flames raging unabated as before, he demanded the man be
brought in.
Led by the guards, Rabbi Eliezer soon stood
before the sultan.
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
Rabbi Eliezer told the sultan of his departure
from Israel and speedy arrival in Constantinople only hours ago. To corroborate
the man’s tale, the sultan found the captain, who heartily swore to the
veracity of the fantastical journey. Satisfied, the sultan requested the sage
follow him to the throne room.
“Are you able to heal my daughter?” urged the
sultan sadly. “I’m willing to give whatever you wish in return.”
Rabbi Eliezer agreed and asked for a quiet
corner in which to pray. He faced the wall, unmoving, deep in prayer, and the
sultan’s daughter slowly opened her eyes. Feebly, for the first time since her
illness, she whispered for something to eat. Rabbi Eliezer asked for permission
to move closer. For the rest of the day, he stood by the girl’s bed and prayed
for her health. By the time he put his prayerbook down, the sultan’s daughter
had completely recovered, strong enough even to stand unsupported. The royal
household celebrated.
The sultan turned to Rabbi Eliezer, eager to
fulfill his promise. “Anything you want,” he reminded.
Rabbi Eliezer described the unfair decree
looming over the Jewish population of Safed. The sultan immediately called for
a quill and a scroll and wrote an order calling for the governor’s prompt
removal from office. The sultan even offered the position to Rabbi Eliezer, but
he declined. Nevertheless, in the last lines of his letter the sultan noted
that any official appointed in Safed would be required to heed Rabbi Eliezer’s
wishes.
Laden with gifts from the sultan, and the
all-important letter, Rabbi Eliezer boarded a ship back to Israel. To prevent
the delay of good news, he once again placed a note on the bow and accelerated
his journey.
When he reappeared in Safed, the pervading
miserable sentiment turned into jubilation. The elders decided to wait until
the deadline before presenting the sultan’s letter. When the day arrived and
the governor summoned them, the elders appeared before him. They pointed to
Rabbi Eliezer as though he had the money. Quizzically, the governor turned to
him.
“What is that in your hand?”
Rabbi Eliezer removed the sultan’s scroll,
unrolled it, and read in a loud, clear voice.
A new governor was soon instated, and the Jews
of Safed continued living in peace.
Adapted from Sichat Hashavua #1045
