The Rooster's Cry That Pierced the Heavens 

As Pesach approaches, a time when we celebrate the holiday with joy and delight, starting with the sanctity of the Seder night, gathered in holiness and purity around the table, we will thank and praise the Almighty together for all the miracles and wonders He performed for our ancestors in those days, praying to witness salvation in "this time" as well. Together, we will sing the holiday hymns and recite the Haggadah’s teachings as we have received them, generation after generation, a heritage spanning thousands of years.

At the beginning of the Haggadah, we start with the verse: "The Torah speaks of four sons: one wise, one wicked, one simple, and one who does not know how to ask."

The wise son asks: "What are the testimonies, statutes, and judgments that the Lord our God has commanded you?

The wicked son asks: "What is this service to you?" The simple son asks: "What is this?"And to the fourth, you must open for him: "And you shall tell your son on that day, saying, ‘It is because of this that the Lord did for me when I left Egypt.’"

In truth, this is a magazine article I was supposed to prepare for next week ahead of Passover. So why did I think to prepare it a week before the holiday, while Jewish households are busy with cleaning and cooking for the approaching festival of peace? I’ll explain, and I’ll try to be brief…

As is tradition, I’ll start with a short story: This past Monday, I set out for the holy city of Tzfat to celebrate and rejoice in the joy of my dear friend, a soulmate to all living beings, the righteous Rabbi Menachem Mendel Moscowitz, leader of the "Azmera" community in the city and a survivor of the Meron disaster of 5781.

Upon entering the celebration hall in his study house, a heartwarming and soul-uplifting scene unfolded before my eyes: an upside-down world. The tops were below, and the bottoms were above, literally. At the lower end of the table sat the distinguished guests and family members, while at the top, near the eastern table, sat those typically called "simple folk"—the ones who usually participate in celebrations at the homes of the righteous, standing on their feet at the edges or sitting at the table’s end, while the "royal family"—the children of the holy ones—sit at the head of the table, looking down upon them.

I approached the esteemed host, who hurriedly came toward me with joy: not just toward me, but toward every guest who had made the effort to attend his celebration. He hugged and kissed each one, offering abundant blessings. Now, I’m not saying I need all this closeness, God forbid, but it’s something that warms the heart. A Jew makes the effort to come to a celebration, and to give him the feeling of, "I’ve seen you, your presence means so much to me," is special.

Too often, we encounter mass weddings where, after finding parking near the venue and arranging a babysitter for the kids at home, you arrive at the event, and the host, busy with his joy and mitzvah dances, doesn’t even glance at the person who took precious time late at night to leave their home and share in the celebration. It leaves an unpleasant feeling. Usually, such a night ends with a quick stop at the bar, and a minute later, you’re out of the venue, silently vowing never to return to that person’s celebrations. But not here in Tzfat—the host greeted everyone with a smile and a warm embrace, and later even danced personally with each guest.

I participated in the celebration, and at its conclusion, I approached the host again. He thanked me for coming, and I was so glad to have shared in the joy of the bride and groom, despite the long journey I’d made from the center of the country to Tzfat.

On the way back, I gave a ride to one of the closest members of the "Azmera" community in Tzfat—a dear young man with a heart of gold, incredibly sharp, and thankfully earning a good living. I asked him along the way: What’s the secret of Rabbi Mendy’s charm? What drew you to him more than another teacher or a great, exalted Rebbe with eight hundred families? What made you fall in love with this place and consult the rabbi on every step you take?

After a moment, he answered succinctly: "The next generation needs leaders like this—leaders who embrace their followers. Only with an embrace can they capture the attention of their followers, especially the younger generation."

I’m not speaking, God forbid, against any other Rebbe or community leader—we are dust beneath their feet, their words are holy, and we’d follow their commands through fire and water. But for this generation, and the next, we need "hugging leaders"… literally. A leader who embraces me and accepts me as I am, and only after that embrace can he demand of me what other leaders demand without an embrace, through threats, and fail to achieve!!!

He continued, sharing a wonderful parable based on a true story: "In the days of our master, the Baal Shem Tov, the holy light of the seven days, there was a decree of destruction, God forbid, on one of the communities. Seeing the dire situation, the Baal Shem Tov prayed and pleaded fervently during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. During the Ne’ilah prayer at the end of Yom Kippur, his holy disciples noticed that the decree had intensified greatly, and their master was straining in prayer, weeping deeply from the depths of his heart.

The worshippers, in the men’s and women’s sections, saw the Baal Shem Tov and his disciples exerting themselves in prayer. Hearing their cries and pleas, their hearts broke, and they too wept in their prayers. As the time for the evening prayer approached, with the Baal Shem Tov and his disciples still standing firm in their efforts, everyone understood the situation was dire, and the men and women wept profoundly from the depths of their hearts, causing a great commotion.

A simple Hebrew boy, a village cattle and sheep herder, had for some years made it a habit to come to the Baal Shem Tov’s synagogue in the city during the High Holidays. Being completely unlearned, he would stand silently, listening to the cantor’s voice and gazing at his face without a word.

As a villager, he was accustomed to the sounds of animals, goats, sheep, birds, but the most significant to him was the rooster’s crow. Seeing the intense emotion in the synagogue and hearing the weeping from both sections, his heart broke, and he cried out loudly, 'Cock-a-doodle-doo! Lord, have mercy!'

Those in the men’s section were startled by the rooster-like call, and the women were frightened, unsure who was calling out. But when they heard the plea 'Lord, have mercy,' they realized it was the village boy mimicking a rooster. The worshippers near him rebuked him to silence him and even wanted to remove him from the synagogue, but he replied, 'I too am a Jew, and your God is my God!'

Moments later, the Baal Shem Tov’s voice was heard, followed by his holy disciples, hastening to conclude the Ne’ilah prayer, his holy face radiant with joy.

After Yom Kippur, as the Baal Shem Tov sat with his disciples for the meal, he explained the details of the decree that had threatened a Jewish community, God save us. While he labored in prayer to arouse heavenly mercy, he faced a great accusation against himself for encouraging Jews to settle in villages where they might, God forbid, learn from their neighbors’ ways.

When they began examining the villagers’ deeds, the situation seemed dire. But suddenly, in the heavens, the simple village boy’s cry rang out: 'Cock-a-doodle-doo! Lord, have mercy!' This innocent call brought delight to the highest realms, nullifying the accusations against the community and the Baal Shem Tov."

This came from the purity of an innocent heart.

Can you grasp it? A village boy, a cattle herder, with his cry of "Lord, have mercy" accompanied by a rooster’s crow, pierced the heavens, repelled all accusers from our master the Baal Shem Tov and the community, and brought the prayers of the Baal Shem Tov, his holy disciples, and the cries of Israel before the throne of the exalted and holy One, nullifying the decree.

Human intellect cannot fathom this, but so it is, and "Can you find the depth of God?" (Job 11:7). This applies when the action stems from the purity of an innocent heart.

My travel companion continued, building on this true story: "I’m certain the Baal Shem Tov had disciples who fasted from Shabbat to Shabbat, studied 22 hours straight during the Shovavim period, rolled in the snow five times a week, and more. But which story do we remember? Which tale is told in Slutzk? The story of the 'rooster.' Why? Because this is the foundation of the Baal Shem Tov’s path of Hasidism, to uplift the masses, to strengthen and encourage the simple souls of Israel. God forbid anyone is truly 'simple,' but that was his essence, to fortify and inspire them."

Today, we see an upside-down world. The weak are pushed to the margins, their sons and daughters rejected from educational institutions under false pretenses, unimaginable divisions between communities, a Hasid visiting another Rebbe’s brother ostracized by his family, a struggling boy unable to study Shovavim for ten hours daily expelled from yeshiva. And if the 'Cock-a-Doodle-Doo' village boy were here, he’d be thrown out of the synagogue before even thinking of heading there—'Only veteran Hasidim pray here; there’s no place for the margins.'

But this is a mistake. Indeed, there was no place for them then! But today, there is a place, not just in the 'Azmera' community. Here and there, such communities are sprouting and flourishing, communities of simple people who realize the concept of distinguished lineage is beyond them and choose to serve the Almighty alone with a whole heart. The most they’ll ask of their rabbi is a hug, because that’s what’s lacking in our generation. There are hardly any leaders who can embrace and encourage, only those who sit sternly, looking down from above. But not for long, because the next generation won’t need them. The next generation needs leaders with wide smiles, leaders who don’t shame their followers publicly under the guise of 'atonement,' but simply embrace.

I want to emphasize: I didn’t intend to promote the leader of the Azmera community or anyone else. I meant to shine a light on the leaders of the next generation, leaders who will embrace all four sons of the Passover Haggadah, yes, even the wicked one, because only with an embrace will he rise to the level of 'wise.' This way, next year, you won’t sit with just one son, but with all four, because last year, you hugged them!!!

It’s a pity the drive from the north to the center ended, because I felt that if I’d had another hour with him, I’d still be in the middle of writing this magazine…