Rabbi Meir ben Aryeh Leib of Premishlan (1783—1850)
Yahrzeit - 29 Iyar - Erev Rosh Chodesh Sivan
Resting place - Lviv, Premishlan
He was the son of Rabbi Aryeh Leib of Premishlan, who was the son of Rabbi Meir the Great of Premishlan, a disciple of the Baal Shem Tov. When Reb Meirl was a small boy, he was already special. His mother said of him: "Such Meirlech don't grow in every garden" (Meirlech means "carrots" in Yiddish).
Reb Meirl and Reb Yisrael of Ruzhin were very good friends, although they had completely different ways of serving Ha-Shem. The Ruzhiner lived in luxury, while Reb Meir lived very modestly. Once Reb Meirl was riding in a simple wagon drawn by a single horse, and he met Rabbi Yisrael of Ruzhin riding in a carriage drawn by four powerful horses. Reb Meir asked him why he needed this. The Ruzhiner replied that if he got stuck in the mud, these horses would easily be able to pull him out. Reb Meir answered: "Since I have one weak horse, I make sure above all not to get stuck in the mud in the first place."
He also had very good relations with the Gedolim of the non-Chassidic world, such as Reb Shlomo Kluger and Reb Yosef Shaul Nathanson.
Reb Meirl was known as a Baal Ruach ha-Kodesh, a man who knows things through the Holy Spirit granted even in our days, when we no longer have prophets. He was also known as a man who could invoke Heavenly help for people, and many Jews flocked to him.
Rabbi Meir was also known as a paytan (poet), as well as for his charity and support of the needy. He was also known for his special love for Israel and his defense of even the transgressors of Israel. He delivered his talks and teachings on a level suited to the common people, and he was always found among simple folk.
His teachings and stories about him were recorded in "Or Meir," "Meir," and "Marganita D'Rabbi Meir."
Sipurei Tzadikim
They tell of the miraculous healing of Rabbi Meir's daughter.
When Rabbi Meir's daughter was dying of "consumption," the doctors said she had no more than a day left. This happened on the festival of Simchat Torah, and, as required, Rabbi Meir danced. He wept, choking on his tears, yet rejoiced, as the holy Torah commands. And suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the hall, raised his reddened eyes to Heaven, and said:
"L-rd! You commanded that the shofar be blown on Rosh Hashanah - Meirka blew it. You said to fast on Yom Kippur - I fasted. You said to build a Sukkah and dwell in it - I did so. And now You command me to rejoice? For it is said in the Talmud that one must rejoice in misfortune as one rejoices in good fortune, thanking You for evil and good in equal measure. Well, I have a great 'joy' - my daughter is dying. For it is said: one may not mix two joys. So which am I to rejoice in - my daughter's illness or the festival"?!
Holiness in Everything
Once a woman was let into his study. As soon as she saw the Rebbe, she burst into tears. "What is troubling you?" asked Reb Meir. The weeping woman could barely speak, but she managed to say the words: "Rebbe, I have no children; please give me your blessing."
The Rebbe was filled with compassion for the woman's pain and answered her: "May it be the will of Ha-Shem that your request be fulfilled."
Armed with the blessing of the holy man, the woman went home confidently and waited for his words to come true. Before a year had passed, Rabbi Meir received a letter from a distant town, from a man he did not know.
When he read the letter and took the papers out of the envelope, he was stunned to find a banknote for the huge sum of 300 rubles. The letter said: "My wife has just given birth to a child thanks to the Rebbe's blessing. I ask the Rebbe to accept this gift as a token of gratitude."
Reb Meir's displeasure was not only unmistakable but was plainly evident when he reached out and placed the banknote at the far end of the table, as if wanting to stay as far away from it as possible. He then called for his children to come to him at once to discuss an important matter.
When they arrived, he brought them into his room and pointed to the letter: "Today I received a letter full of errors and falsehoods. First, it speaks of me as a holy man, which is clearly untrue. Second, the whole premise of the letter is false, for this man attributes to me the birth of his son. How absurd! What business do I have with such lofty matters as birth and death? Am I a holy man, that I could control such things? Therefore, I have decided to return the money to him at once."
His children were shocked. The eldest spoke first. "Father, we are very poor. Perhaps Ha-Shem has taken pity on us and decided to put an end to our poverty through this man. Perhaps it would be wrong and ungrateful of us not to take advantage of it."
Everyone agreed. Only the Rebbe firmly insisted that the money had to be returned to the mistaken sender.
They turned the matter this way and that, but it became clear that no agreement could be reached. The family decided to bring their dilemma before a rabbinical court. The judges heard both sides of the case and then reached their decision - the Rebbe should keep the money for himself. Indeed, Rebbe Meir was such a humble man that he denied being a tzadik whose blessings could help a childless woman, but the woman and her husband evidently thought otherwise. In their view, it was precisely the Rebbe's prayers that led to the birth of their child, and they gave the money purely as a heartfelt gift. Therefore, it was entirely proper to keep the gift.
The Rebbe and his children left the chambers of the Beit Din in completely different moods. The children were satisfied that the judges had supported their view. The terrible poverty in which they lived would be eased, at least for a time. However, this ruling brought no peace of mind to their father. Although the rabbinical court had ruled that he had every right to keep the money, his own heart was uneasy. He decided to bring the problem to his wife, the Rebbetzin. As his life's companion and a woman whose vision was always clear, she was to be the final arbiter in this matter, since he trusted her judgment completely.
The Rebbe and his children entered the house and asked the Rebbetzin to come and sit with them; they needed to discuss something very important with her. When the family sat down at the table, the Rebbe told her all the details of the problem, leaving nothing out, but emphasizing his own concern about the reason for receiving the gift.
Her children, on the other hand, emphasized how much easier their lives would become now, since Ha-Shem had clearly wanted to help them out of their troubles by sending them this money.
She listened silently to both sides, and then turned to her husband. "My dear husband, all your life you have kept yourself even from tasting food whose kosher status was in doubt. Even when you found that it was 100% kosher, you refrained from eating it if its kosher status had been in question. Now we are facing the very same situation, with the only difference that the question concerns the permissibility of money rather than food. Why should you act differently now?"
Rabbi Meir used to say:
"When I was young, I did not want to be the gabbai in charge of distributing charity, but one day I had the following dream: a line was forming for Paradise. The first to approach the gates was a scholar of Torah. The guards pushed him aside: 'Not so fast, we must check whether your Torah study was insincere.'
A Tzadik (righteous man) approaches, and they say to him: 'Wait, we must check whether your prayers were insincere.'
A Jew who had given charity approaches, and the guards say to him: 'Come in, your coins were not counterfeit, and they saved people from starvation.'
Rabbi Meir was asked: Why does the Passover plate contain maror - a remembrance of the bitterness of slavery - but no money - a remembrance of the spoils taken at the splitting of the sea?
Rabbi Meir answered: "The bitterness we still have to this day, but of the spoils of the sea, nothing has remained for a very long time."
May the merit of the Tzadik protect Am Yisrael!
