Rabbi Moshe-Leib of Sasov

Rabbi Moshe-Leib of Sasov was a disciple of Rav Shmuel-Shmelke Horowitz of Nikolsburg. Yahrzeit - 4 Shevat Resting place - When in 1773 Rav Shmuel-Shmelke became the chief rabbi of Nikolsburg (Brno), Rav Moshe-Leib moved to Moravia to be near him. He attained deep knowledge of the laws of Torah - in Rav Shmuel-Shmelke's vivid words, Rav Moshe-Leib "packed the entire Talmud and all four sections of the Shulchan Aruch into his little box." (Gedolei Ha-dorot) After completing his period of study, Rabbi Moshe-Leib became the head of the rabbinical court of the city of Sasov. Rabbi Moshe-Leib was close to the simplest people of his community. Emphasizing the equality of all Jews before Ha-Shem, he would say: "Nine Moshe-Leibs cannot make a minyan for prayer, but ten of the simplest Jews can." Rabbi Moshe-Leib taught that true love for a person consists in understanding his needs. "I learned to love people from a peasant," he related. "This peasant sat with another peasant in a tavern. For a long time they drank in silence, but then the peasant asked his drinking companion: 'Tell me, do you love me?'" "I love you," the other peasant replied. "No, you do not love me," the peasant objected. "If you truly loved me, you would feel what I am lacking!" (Sarei Ha-me'ah 3:7). Rabbi Moshe-Leib always hurried to help a fellow Jew. "Even the worst traits can elevate a person to the service of Ha-Shem - paradoxical as it sounds," he maintained. "For example, when it is necessary to support a Jew, even godlessness can be put to use. For if a person asks for help, it is not enough to say: 'G-d will help, put your trust in Him.'" One must act as though there were no G-d in the world - as though in the whole universe no one but you were able to help this person." Rabbi Moshe-Leib had a great influence on the spiritual development of such outstanding Chasidic mentors as Rabbi Yaakov-Yitzchak of Peshischa (the Yid Ha-Kadosh) and Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Peshischa. Rabbi Moshe-Leib of Sasov ascended to the Heavenly Yeshiva on 4 Shevat. A hundred and twenty years after his passing, manuscripts containing his commentaries on a number of Talmudic tractates were published - the book was called "Chidushei Aramal" (Analytical Notes of Rabbi Moshe-Leib). (Toldot.ru) At Night In his youth, Moshe Leib was in the habit of secretly changing into plain clothes at nightfall, slipping out of the house unnoticed, and having a merry time with his peers, dancing and singing songs. His companions loved him, and even a word tossed off by him became law for them, though he never took advantage of his authority. After Moshe Leib went to Nikolsburg to study with Rabbi Shmelke, his companions gave up these amusements, because without Moshe Leib the merrymaking gave them no joy. Many years later, one of his companions, returning to his native region from a distant journey, stopped in Sasov. Whomever he fell into conversation with, whether in the inn or in the street, everyone was talking about what a wonderful man the great tzadik Moshe Leib was. When he heard this name, so ordinary and common, it did not occur to him that this Moshe Leib was the very same companion of his youth. Still, he was curious to see the tzadik; he went to see the rabbi and recognized him at first glance. His first thought was: "So that's how it is! He really is a master at leading people astray!" But as he looked into Moshe Leib's face, so familiar to him and still commanding the same reverence as before, he recalled those bygone days in a new light, and it dawned on him that even in the hours of youthful merriment he and his companions, without realizing it, had felt Moshe Leib's authority, and that their merriment had had a source of inspiration whose nature they had been unable to grasp at the time. And he bowed before the tzadik, who looked on him kindly, and said: "Rebbe, I thank you." The Switch Moshe Leib's father was very displeased that his son had turned to Chasidism. When Moshe Leib, without telling his father anything, left home and went to Nikolsburg, to the house of study of Rabbi Shmelke, his father, flying into a rage, cut a fearsome-looking switch and kept it in his room, awaiting his son's return. And whenever he saw a suitable branch on a tree, he would cut it, thinking that a new switch would turn out even better, and would throw out the old one. Time passed, and one switch replaced another. Once, while cleaning, the maidservant took the switch and carried it up to the attic. Soon afterward, Moshe Leib asked his teacher to let him go home for a short visit. When he appeared, his father jumped to his feet and, in a fury, began searching for something in the room. Moshe Leib went straight up to the attic, took the switch, and brought it to his father. His father looked intently at his son, met his serious and loving gaze, and understood that he was right. The Robe Moshe Leib spent seven years in the house of study of the holy Rabbi Shmelke in Nikolsburg. At the end of his seven years of study, the rabbi summoned Moshe Leib and said this to him: "Now you may return home." And then he gave him three things: a gold coin, a loaf of bread, and a festive white robe. And he also said: "May the love of Israel dwell in your heart." Moshe Leib walked all day and grew very tired. By evening he reached a village, where he intended to eat his bread and spend the night. And then he heard groans and weeping coming from a barred basement window. Coming closer, he spoke to the man locked behind the bars and learned that this was a Jewish innkeeper who had been unable to pay the landowner three hundred gold pieces in rent. The first thing Moshe Leib did was give the innkeeper his bread. Then, without asking directions, as though in his own hometown, Moshe Leib went straight to the landowner's house, asked to be brought before the landowner, and appealed to him to release the innkeeper. He offered as ransom the one gold coin he had. The landowner looked over the insolent fellow who had dared to offer a single gold coin against a debt of three hundred, and ordered him thrown out. But once out on the street, Moshe Leib was seized even more strongly by the innkeeper's suffering behind the bars; he pounded on the door of the landowner's house, crying: "But you must release him! Take my gold coin and set him free!" In those days every Polish landowner was a king on his estate, with power over life and death. And the landowner ordered his servants to seize Moshe Leib and throw him to the dogs. Moshe Leib saw his own death in the eyes of the dogs rushing at him and at once pulled on his robe, so as to die in festive garb. But at the sight of the white robe, the dogs recoiled and howled in terror. The landowner hurried to the kennel and saw Moshe Leib standing at the entrance, leaning against the wall, while the dogs kept their distance from him, trembling and whimpering. The landowner told Moshe Leib to get out while he still could, but Moshe Leib answered: "Not until you take my gold coin in payment of the debt and release the innkeeper." Then the landowner took the money, went himself to the house in whose cellar the Jewish innkeeper was imprisoned, unlocked the cellar door, and let him go in peace. And Moshe Leib continued on his way. This story was a favorite of the Rebbe of Chortkov, and every time he came to the end of it he would exclaim: "Ah, where could we find such a robe!" A Jew Lives Here The first time Moshe-Leib was a guest of Rabbi Elimelech, the latter honored him by asking him to say words of Torah at the Shabbat meal. That week's Torah portion told of how G-d would pass through the land of Egypt, striking the Egyptians and passing over the houses of the children of Israel. Moshe-Leib said: "This surely cannot mean that G-d passes by some place, for there is no place where He is not present. Rather, when He came to an Egyptian house, He saw the souls of those living there filled with impurity, but when He came to a house filled with piety and kindness, He rejoiced and exclaimed: 'A Jew lives here!'" When Rabbi Elimelech heard this explanation, he jumped up onto the table and began to dance there, singing over and over: "A Jew lives here! A Jew lives here!" Coming Home When Moshe Leib was young, he, his wife, and his children lived in great poverty. One of his neighbors, wishing him every good, offered him money so that he could go to the market, buy goods there, and sell them in his hometown. Rabbi Moshe Leib went to the market together with others. But when they arrived at their destination, everyone else got down to business, while he went off to the house of study. When he finally went to the marketplace, not realizing how much time had passed since their arrival, everyone was already preparing to go home. He said he would like to buy some goods, but they only laughed at him. And he went home together with the rest. Moshe Leib's children, waiting for him by the house, asked: "What did you bring us?" And hearing these words, Moshe Leib fainted. When he came to, the neighbor who had given him the money appeared and asked how things had gone. He could not fail to notice Moshe Leib's wretched look, and asked: "What happened, rebbe? Did you lose the money? But don't let it trouble you, I'll give you more..." To this Rabbi Moshe Leib could only answer: "Ah, what shall I do if, the next time I come home, the children again ask: 'What did you bring us?'" "Well, if that's how it is," said the neighbor, "then you'd better attend to business at home." And after that he told everyone that Rabbi Moshe Leib was a tzadik. No More Strength! Once, many years after the passing of Rabbi Moshe Leib, his son, Rabbi Shmelke of Sasov, was asked to tell something about his father. And he answered: "My father died when I was still a child and could not grasp his deeds. But here is what I will tell you nonetheless. I was about five years old. On Rosh Hashanah my father was praying at the amud. I crept under his tallit and heard how, during the silent Shemoneh Esrei, my father addressed G-d in a tone characteristic of a child - partly pleading, partly directly familiar. He said something like this: 'Good G-d, please send us Mashiach! We have no more strength to languish in exile!'" What the Rebbe of Sasov Learned from a Thief Once the Rebbe of Sasov tried to organize a collection of money to redeem people imprisoned for debt, but he was unable to gather the necessary sum. Then he expressed regret over the time lost, which could have been devoted to studying Torah and to prayer, and resolved never again to occupy himself with such things. That very day he was told about a Jew who had stolen some clothing, had been badly beaten, and was thrown in jail. Rabbi Moshe Leib interceded for him and secured his release from the judge. Rabbi Moshe Leib himself went to the jail to bring the prisoner out, and warned him: "Do not forget the beating you received, and never steal again." "But why not?" the thief asked. "It didn't work out the first time, so surely one can try again." "In that case," the rebbe said to himself, "I too should try again." The Interruption Once at midnight, Rabbi Moshe Leib, absorbed in reading sacred texts, heard someone knocking at the window. It turned out to be a drunken peasant asking to spend the night. For a moment the tzadik's heart filled with anger, and he said to himself: "What insolence! What right does this drunkard have to force his way into my house, and what does he want in my house?" But his anger subsided at once, and he asked himself: "And what right does this man have to be in G-d's world at all? But if the L-rd does not object to his presence, do I have the right to turn him away?" And the tzadik let the drunkard into the house and prepared a bed for him. In the Image of G-d Once the Rebbe of Sasov gave a man of ill repute everything he had in his pocket. His students were astonished at this act. The rebbe answered: "Can I be more demanding than Ha-Shem, who gave me this money?" How the Rebbe of Sasov Learned to Love People Rabbi Moshe-Leib told this story: "I learned to love people from a peasant. He was sitting in a tavern with other peasants, drinking. He sat in silence for a long time, as did everyone else at his table, but when the wine had its effect on him, he asked his neighbor: 'Tell me, do you love me? Or don't you love me?' The other replied: 'I love you very much.' To which the first peasant objected: 'You say you love me, but you don't know what I need. If you truly loved me, you would know what I need.' His companion had no answer, and the first peasant fell silent again. And I understood him. To know what people need, and to take upon oneself the burden of their sorrows - that is what it truly means to love people." His Own Suffering Whenever the Rebbe of Sasov saw a person suffering, whether spiritually or physically, he shared that person's pain so sincerely that the other's suffering became his own. Someone asked him in astonishment how he managed to take upon himself the troubles and sorrows of others. "What do you mean, 'take upon myself'?" the rebbe wondered. "These are my own sufferings; how could I not feel them?" At the Fair Rabbi Moshe-Leib used to go to fairs, and there he would watch closely to see if anyone needed his help. Once it happened that all the merchants left their stalls and ran off to watch a performance by a troupe of jugglers and magicians, abandoning their livestock right there in the marketplace. The calves, left unattended and tormented by thirst, hung their heads low. Noticing this, the rebbe took a bucket of water and began watering the animals, as if he had done nothing else his whole life. Then one of the merchants came back and, seeing a man tending the calves, asked him to look after his animals too. "They're over there, in one of the side streets," he said, "and we'll agree on payment." The rebbe said nothing in reply and went on carrying water until all the animals had been watered. Love of One's Fellow The Rebbe of Sasov used to visit everyone who fell ill in his town; he tended the sick, cared for them, and spent much time with them. Once he said: "If a person is not ready to suck the pus from the sores of a sick child, he is not even halfway to the heights of love of one's fellow." The Delay Once, on Yom Kippur, the Chasidim gathered in the house of prayer awaiting the rebbe, who was to recite Kol Nidrei. But time passed, and he did not appear. Then one of the women said to herself: "They're evidently not going to begin soon, and I hurried here for nothing. And my child is home alone. I'll run over and see if he's woken up. It will only take me a few minutes." She ran home and, even at the door, heard that all was quiet inside. She carefully opened the door a crack - and saw the rebbe, holding her child in his arms. On his way to the house of prayer he had heard a child crying, gone into the house, taken the child in his arms, and sung him to sleep. Midnight Weeping for the Jerusalem Temple Rabbi Moshe Leib was very tall and of powerful build, but a long illness sapped his strength. Yet even when, lying in bed, he suffered pains, he still rose every midnight, walked with a firm step out of his bedroom, and recited the words of lament for Jerusalem. That is why the Chasidim said that the words of the Song of Songs, "My beloved knocks," were spoken of him. It was certain that the voice of the Divine Presence sounded in his heart and woke him from sleep. Rabbi Hirsch of Zhidachov had heard of the unusual behavior of the Rebbe of Sasov at midnight. Once he happened to be a guest in his house, and he decided to take advantage of the occasion. At midnight he saw the Rebbe of Sasov put on peasant clothing, go out into the snow-covered yard, gather several logs, tie them into a bundle, and load it onto his back. Then he left the yard, and Rabbi Hirsch followed him, through the biting frost, to the edge of the sleeping town. There Rabbi Moshe Leib stopped by a wretched little house and set down his load. His disciple crept up to the window and looked into the sparsely furnished room. The stove had burned out and gone cold. In the bed lay a woman, clutching a newborn infant to her chest with a look of despair. Then the Rebbe of Sasov entered the room. Rabbi Hirsch saw him approach the bed, and heard him say to her in Russian: "I have a bundle of firewood for sale, and I don't want to carry it any further. Won't you buy it at a fair price?" The woman answered: "I haven't a kopek in the house." To this the rebbe said: "I'll come back for the money another time. Take the wood, take it." But the woman objected: "What would I do with it? I can't chop it, and I have no axe." The Rebbe of Sasov answered her: "I'll take care of that myself." With these words he left the room, took his axe, and set about chopping the wood. And Rabbi Hirsch heard how, while splitting the logs, Rabbi Moshe Leib recited the words of lament for Jerusalem in the voice of our foremother Rachel. Words reached his ears: "Shake off the dust, arise, sit down, Jerusalem!" (Isaiah 52:2) Then the rebbe took the split wood, stooped through the low doorway, and lit the fire in the stove. And as he fed the fire, he recited under his breath the words of lament for Jerusalem in the voice of our foremother Leah, and finished with the words: "Arise now, have mercy on Zion! Rebuild the walls of Jerusalem" (Tehillim 102:14; 51:20). After which he walked briskly homeward. On Earth and in the Heavens Once the Rebbe of Sasov hosted two singers at his home. They sang beautifully, but - as often happens with such people - they were also skilled in mischief. The rebbe's wife served him coffee, and the singers contrived to drink it and pour plain water into the coffeepot instead. There was no more coffee in the house, and the rebbe was left without his hot drink. His wife was very angry at these rascals and said heatedly: "Why do you keep company with these singers! Nothing but trouble comes of them!" To which the rebbe replied: "Their beautiful songs resound in my heart, after which I am able to hear the singing of the angels." G-d and Man Rabbi Moshe Leib had a neighbor whose children died one after another before reaching the age of one. Once she came to the tzadik's house and began complaining to his wife: "A G-d who gives you children only to take them away right afterward - that's not a good G-d. That's a cruel G-d!" Rabbi Moshe-Leib's wife began to rebuke her: "You mustn't speak that way! You should say: 'We cannot fathom the Divine mercy, and whatever He does, He does for the best.'" "Not at all," said the rebbe, who had overheard the conversation. He came out to the women and said: "You must not resign yourself to this fate. Take heart, woman, and gather your strength. Within a year you will bear a son, and in due time I will hold his wedding celebration." And so it came to pass. When It Is Permissible to Deny the Existence of G-d Rabbi Moshe Leib used to say: "There is no quality of the human soul and no human faculty that was given to man in vain. For even the base and evil traits of a person, if elevated, can be made fit for the service of G-d. Thus, for example, by elevating arrogant self-assurance, we raise it to faith in the justice of G-d's ways. One might ask: and for what purpose was the denial of G-d's very existence given? This too can be elevated - through acts of charity. If someone comes to you asking for help, one must not brush him off with pious words like: 'Have faith in the L-rd and bring your troubles to Him.' No, one must act as though there were no G-d, and as though you were the only person in the world able to help the one asking." The Mead Drink Rabbi Chaim of Sanz told this story: "I was not yet three years old when a great fire broke out in Brody, where I was born and lived, and my nurse, snatching me up, moved to Sasov. She stayed there with me until the end of the Sukkot festival. On Simchat Torah, the last day of the festival, Rabbi Moshe Leib of Sasov used to go out to the marketplace with all his congregants. That day, as usual, tables and benches were set up, everyone sat down at the tables, and the rebbe - may his memory be blessed! - went around serving everyone gathered a mead drink. The women also came to the marketplace to watch this spectacle, and my nurse came along with the others, carrying me in her arms. The rebbe said, 'And the women must stand here' - and they obeyed, my nurse along with the rest. And I craned my neck out from behind my nurse's shoulder and watched closely. I watched so closely that to this day I remember everything I saw." A tzadik among the listeners asked: "Does the rebbe really remember craning his neck out from behind his nurse's shoulder?" Rabbi Chaim answered: "I could not help remembering it, because even as a small child I had a remarkable soul, and if nothing had changed afterward, something would have come of me. That is why I was granted such a memory - to remember how it all was." The Dance of Healing Rabbi Moshe Leib learned that his friend, the Rebbe of Berdichev, had fallen ill. On Shabbat, Moshe Leib repeatedly spoke his friend's name and prayed for his recovery. Then he put on new morocco-leather shoes, laced them up tightly, and began to dance. A tzadik who was in his house at the time related: "His dance simply radiated energy. Every movement of his was filled with mystery. An extraordinary light filled the room, and all those present saw the heavenly powers dancing along with him." The Wedding Dance One Chasid related: "I happened to be at the wedding of Rabbi Moshe-Leib's grandson, where many guests had gathered. When everyone formed a circle for the wedding dance, suddenly a man in short peasant clothes with a short peasant's pipe in his teeth leaped into the very middle and began dancing alone. I nearly grabbed him by the sleeve, thinking that some madman had dared to break into the circle of tzadikim, but I held back when I saw how everyone present was watching him in reverent silence. And I understood that this was the rebbe himself." Now Is the Time to Dance A tzadik, on the very brink of death, rose up and began to dance. And when those around him tried to stop him, he said: "Now is the time to dance." Then he told this story: "When Rabbi Uri of Strelisk traveled through the region collecting money for charitable needs, he stopped in Sasov, at the local rebbe's home. 'I have no money,' the rebbe said, 'but I can dance for you.' He danced the whole night through, and Rabbi Uri could not take his eyes off him, for every step of his was filled with sacred meaning. When morning came, Rabbi Moshe Leib said: 'And now I will go and collect some money in the market and in the streets.' He left and did not return for two days. When asked where he had been, Rabbi Moshe Leib answered: 'Once, in my younger years, I needed money - to ransom prisoners. I began collecting money together with a boy who was to show me where the wealthy people lived. The boy did his job so well that we soon gathered the necessary sum. And I promised him then that I would come dance at his wedding. And now I came to Yelochek and heard the sounds of joyful music, and I followed those sounds, and learned that the very boy with whom we had once collected money was now celebrating his wedding. I danced at his wedding and made everyone merry, and I myself am now merrier than anyone.'" "And that is why I believe," added the tzadik who told this story, "that when someone comes to you with a request - it means it is time to dance." How the Rebbe of Sasov Helped a Woman in Childbirth They tell this story. In a certain village a woman lay in labor for several days and simply could not give birth. So a messenger was sent to the Rebbe of Sasov to ask him to pray to G-d to have mercy on this woman. In the dead of midnight the messenger reached Sasov, but he knew no one there and could not find his way in the darkness. Only in one house was a light still burning. The messenger knocked at the door, and an elderly man let him in. He poured him some brandy to revive him and asked the purpose of his visit. Hearing the whole story, he said: "It's already too late now. Lie down and sleep, and in the morning I'll take you to the rebbe." He fed the messenger and made up a bed for him. Early in the morning the messenger woke and felt uneasy, because he had given in to his tiredness and let the elderly man talk him into putting off his visit to the rebbe until morning. But then the master of the house came into the room and said: "Rejoice! I have just been told that this woman has given birth to a healthy boy. You may go to the neighboring village and inform her relatives." When the messenger left the house, from talking with the neighbors he understood that he had spent the night at the rebbe's own home; however, he did not dare go back to him again. Generations The Rebbe of Ruzhin related: "When the holy Baal Shem Tov saved the life of a sick boy to whom he was very attached, he ordered a candle cast of pure wax, went into the forest, fixed the candle to a tree, and lit it. Then he recited a long prayer. The candle burned all night. When morning came, the boy had recovered. When my great-grandfather, the Great Maggid, disciple of the holy Baal Shem Tov, had to save the life of a sick child, he no longer knew the hidden meaning of the words on which he was supposed to concentrate. He did everything his teacher had done and called upon his teacher's name. And the boy's life was saved. When Rabbi Moshe-Leib, a disciple of a disciple of the Great Maggid, found himself in the same situation, he said: 'We no longer have the strength to do even what was once done. But I will tell how it was once done, and Ha-Shem will help me.' And the boy's life was saved." Love of Israel Rabbi Moshe Leib wished with all his soul to attain even one of the virtues that characterized his teacher, Rabbi Shmelke of Nikolsburg: love of Israel. And he attained this virtue, and to a great degree. When he fell seriously ill and spent two and a half years in bed, tormented by pain, he became ever more convinced that he was suffering for the sake of Israel, and although his pain did not lessen, this gave him strength. The Wedding Melody Once Rabbi Moshe-Leib happened to arrange a wedding for two orphans, and he did everything possible so that the young couple would not feel alone on that day. When the couple stood beneath the chuppah, the rebbe's face lit up with a happy smile, for he felt himself to be a father twice over. He listened with pleasure to the melody the musicians were playing at that moment, and then said to those around him: "When the day appointed by fate comes for me to depart to my eternal home, I would like it to happen to the sound of this melody." Many years passed, and his words were long forgotten, but then one snowy winter day several musicians were traveling to Brody to play at a wedding there. Suddenly the horses strained at their harnesses and broke into a trot of their own accord, so that the driver could not hold them back. They went faster and faster, the sleigh shook harder and harder, and then they found themselves at the cemetery. The musicians asked who was being buried, and were told in answer that Rabbi Moshe-Leib was being buried. And they remembered how, many years before, they had played at the wedding of two orphans, and many others remembered that day too, and all of them cried out with one voice: "Play that wedding melody!" After Death When Rabbi Moshe-Leib died, he said to himself: "Now I am free from the performance of mitzvot. What then can I do now to fulfill Ha-Shem's will?" He pondered for a moment. "Surely Ha-Shem will want to punish me for my many sins!" He broke into a run with all his strength and leaped straight down into Gehinnom. This caused consternation in the heavens, and soon the Prince of Darkness was ordered not to stoke the fires of Gehinnom while Rabbi Moshe-Leib remained there. Then the Prince of Darkness began to plead with the tzadik to go to Gan Eden, since the place where he was standing was surely not meant for him. It was impossible, after all, to halt all the torments of Gehinnom for the sake of one man. "If that's how matters stand," said Moshe-Leib, "then I will not budge from this spot until every soul languishing here is released along with me. On earth I occupied myself with redeeming captives, so I will not allow so many people to languish in this prison." And it is said that they had to agree to his demand. The Dancing Bear After the wedding of Rabbi Shmelke of Sasov, son of Rabbi Moshe Leib, some of the guests, on their way home, stopped in to visit Rabbi Meir of Przemyslany. He began questioning them in detail about how everything had gone at the wedding; their answers did not satisfy him, and he kept insistently asking again and again: "And what else happened?" And at last they told him that during the traditional dances involving the bride and groom, a very tall man dressed in a bearskin had leaped into the circle of dancers and performed a wonderful bear dance. Everyone marveled at his truly astonishing leaps and applauded him for a long time. And then he vanished - as suddenly as he had appeared. And no one present was able to recognize him. "I'll tell you what," said Rabbi Meir with a smile, "that was none other than our holy teacher, Rabbi Moshe-Leib of Sasov - may his memory be blessed! - who came from Gan Eden to make merry in the circle of his family." His Heart Once Rabbi Bunim was asked whether he knew of a tzadik whose heart was broken and yet entirely whole. Rabbi Bunim answered: "Of course I know such a tzadik. It is Rabbi Moshe-Leib of Sasov." The One Who Lives Forever An hour before his death, Rabbi Shmelke of Sasov saw his father, Rabbi Moshe Leib, and his great teacher, Rabbi Michel, the Maggid of Zloczow, standing at his bedside. Then he began to sing the hymn "Glory and faithfulness to Him Who lives forever." On reaching the verse "Knowledge and gratitude to Him Who lives forever," he stopped singing and said: "When a person comes to his end, when he loses the ability to know and to express his thoughts, he must yield up both knowledge and gratitude to Him Who lives forever." (Martin Buber, "Tales of the Hasidim: The Later Masters")