By Nechama Bar
R’ Mordechai Liepler was sad. For a long time already, his son lay seriously sick, deteriorating before his eyes. His son’s bones began to rot and it did not look like he stood a chance of recovering.
But R’ Mordechai, a genuine Chassid who was bound heart and soul with the Mitteler Rebbe, Rabbi Dovber, did not despair. As long as he had not spoken to the Rebbe, there was hope, great hope! R’ Mordechai was already accustomed to miracles. A few years earlier, his daughter had been sick and with the blessing of the Alter Rebbe, her illness had disappeared. Now, in his sorrow, he wrote to the Mitteler Rebbe, the Alter Rebbe’s successor.
R’ Mordechai made a quick calculation – it would be five days until the letter arrived in Lubavitch and then another five days until he received a response. Ten days in all until he received a reply.
These ten days passed in great anticipation and tension. Would the Rebbe respond? Would he bless his son?
On the tenth day, R’ Mordechai waited eagerly for the postman. “Hello,” he greeted the man when he finally arrived. “Do you perhaps have a letter for me?”
The postman looked at the mail and said, “Sorry, no. There’s nothing for you here.” He went on his way, leaving R’ Mordechai disappointed.
“Surely tomorrow a letter from the Rebbe will arrive,” he consoled himself and went back inside his house with renewed hope. But the next day too, the postman told him he had nothing for him. R’ Mordechai still did not despair. He stood there again on the third day and waited for good news.
R’ Mordechai waited and there was the postman. “Do you have news for me today?” he asked.
“Yes, I have a letter for you but I am sorry, I am in a big hurry and I cannot wait for even a short time. I’ll give you the letter tomorrow.”
“Please! Let me look for my letter!” R’ Mordechai pleaded, nearly in tears. But the postman insisted, “Let me be. I have no time. A member of the royal family is sick and they called for the doctor of the king of Austria. Today, the doctor is supposed to return to Vienna, and I am supposed to take care of a horse and wagon for his transportation.” And he ran off.
R’ Mordechai ran after him and caught up. Without asking, he grabbed the postman’s bag and began searching through it. There was the envelope! A letter from the Rebbe! His excitement was indescribable. He could not wait for even a second. He immediately ripped open the envelope, took out the letter and read, “I received your letter and paced the room and saw that salvation will soon come from far and near.” In the margin of the letter the Rebbe added, “Don’t spare any money.”
Before the postman could run away, R’ Mordechai asked for the address of the prince and hurried there, before the doctor returned to Vienna.
Numerous people thronged the house, all of them wanting to take advantage of the presence of this expert doctor to solve their health problems. R’ Mordechai was not put off by the crowd. He pushed with all his might and made his way forward and quickly entered the house. R’ Mordechai was an important and well-known person and therefore, people respected him and did not stop him.
“My son is very sick and his bones are rotting and he urgently needs the doctor to see him,” he said determinedly to the doctor. The doctor did not look impressed. It wasn’t the first request he had heard since he arrived in Russia. He was used to hearing about everyone’s problems and sending them on their way. If he started treating all the residents of Russia, he would never return to his city.
“I am very sorry; I am in a rush. I cannot delay here any longer. I am doctor to the king and the king is waiting for me to return,” said the doctor.
“I beg you, come and see my son who is on his deathbed. Perhaps you can cure him,” R’ Mordechai tried to convince him, but in vain. The doctor was not interested.
Suddenly, R’ Mordechai remembered what the Rebbe wrote in the margin of the letter about not skimping on money. Aha, that was the solution!
“I am willing to pay 1000 rubles for your visit,” he said to the doctor. The doctor’s eyes opened wide in surprise and he said, “1000 rubles is a fortune! Okay, I will come,” he said.
The doctor finished what he was doing, took his medical equipment and began walking with R’ Mordechai to his house. The two entered the sickroom. The sickly appearance and bluish tinge of the sick son aroused pity.
The doctor looked at him with compassion and examined him. Then he thought for a few minutes and got up. “Indeed, he is quite sick. In all of Russia there is no medicine for this illness.”
R’ Mordechai looked pleadingly at the doctor. “So what can be done?” he asked.
“In distant Vienna, where I live, there is the right medication. There is a slight chance that I have it in my bag. If I do, then you’ve gotten your son’s life back as a gift. If not, I will have to leave at this point and wish you success.”
The doctor’s bag of medicine was still in the prince’s house. Hearing what the doctor said, a member of the household immediately ran to fetch it. Everyone watched with heightened anticipation as the doctor opened the bag and began searching. Would a miracle occur?
The doctor’s eyes lit up. “I found it!” he called excitedly. He took out a cream and began smearing it on the son. Much pus began to come out of his body but after several applications of the cream and devoted care, the doctor announced, “A miracle happened for you here! The cream did its job and your son will soon recover.”
R’ Mordechai was overcome with emotion. “See how precise the Rebbe is. He said, salvation will soon come from far and near. The doctor came from Vienna – from far, and the medicine was near – in his bag which was here. But without the Rebbe’s advice not to withhold money, none of this would have occurred.”
