Lekoved (for the honour of) Shabbos…lekoved Shabbos…. On Shabbos everything you do is lekoved Shabbos. When you eat fish, you say lekoved Shabbos. When you eat soup, you say lekoved Shabbos. But this is what everyone does….
In book written over 200 years ago a holy rabbi shared a story inside the front cover:
When I was seventeen years old, I was desperate to have a holy teacher a true rebbe. A Rebbe is not someone who gives you information, but someone who connects you to the deepest depths of your heart and to the highest place in Heaven. I needed a rebbe. I traveled and met many rabbis, but none could touch my heart.
One day I was told that a holy rabbi was coming to the village I was in for Shabbos. He learned together with the holiest of the holy and that he knew all of the revealed and hidden Torah. I felt in my heart that this was my rebbe even though I never met him before. I remembered that when Eliezer was in search of a wife for our holy Yitzchak Avinu (Isaac our father), he made himself a sign.
In the village there was a Jewish porter called Yankele Lekoved Shabbos. He was a very strong person, but sadly he knew very little.
He would walk around in the market place and whenever someone would buy something which was too heavy to carry he would bring it to their home.
If say on Sunday, Chanah the widow would buy ten pounds of potatoes, she would say, “Hey Yankele, could you carry the potatoes for me?” Yankele would pick up the ten pounds of potatoes, and he would say to Chanah, “Forgive me for asking, but do you think that there will be some potatoes left lekoved Shabbos?” She would say, maybe only to do Yankele a favor, “Ten pounds of potatoes is a lot of potatoes, I’m sure there will be some left for Shabbos.”
Yankele would begin to glow. He would lift up the potatoes to Heaven and he would start singing, “Lekoved Shabbos… For the honour of Shabbos.” You could see that he was in such a holy place when he was singing. He would ask on Monday, and on Tuesday, but on Wednesday he wouldn’t even ask because from Wednesday on whatever you do is for Shabbos. But his day was Friday.
The whole marketplace came alive as Yankele carried apples, potatoes and onions to all the Jewish homes while singing, Lekoved Shabbos… For the honour of Shabbos.
So I decided that this will be my sign. When the holy rabbi comes for Shabbos, after the prayers everyone will say good Shabbos to him. If he says good Shabbos to Yankele like to everyone else, this is not my rebbe; but if he stops and pays special attention to him, then he is my rabbi and teacher.
The praying and dancing of the holy rabbi was so beautiful it touched everyone. After the prayers were over everyone said good Shabbos to the holy rabbi. Only two people were left. I was waiting for Yankele, and Yankele, nebuch (unfortunately), was so used to abuse that he thought that most probably the holy rabbi wouldn’t even shake his hand.
Suddenly the holy rabbi turned around and motioned to both of us. So I lined up behind Yankele and he walked up to the holy rabbi. The holy rabbi held out his hand, and Yankele reluctantly, bashfully, gave him his hand. The holy rabbi closed his eyes and said, “My friend, what is your name?” He answered, “Yankele.” “Do you have another name also?” He said very nervously, “People call me Yankele Lekoved Shabbos.” The holy rabbi had tears running down his face. He said, “Yankele, what an honor! I envy you for your name. People call you Yankele Lekoved Shabbos, what an honour!”
Tell me about yourself” Yankele said, while the holy rabbi was still holding his hand, “I grew up on the street. I never knew my parents. I’m very strong so I became a porter. I don’t have a wife because people don’t think I know enough. All I know is to pray a little bit and to recite the Psalms.”
The holy rabbi asked, “Yankele Lekoved Shabbos, tell me; when you carry something and you sing “Lekoved Shabbos” what are you thinking about?” Yankele began to cry. He held on so tightly to the holy rabbi’s hand and said, “Holy rabbi, I know the beginning, but I don’t know the end. I know in the beginning; G-d created the world. I know of our holy forefathers Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. I know of the Twelve Tribes. I know we built the Holy Temple in Yerushalayim ir haKodesh (Jerusalem the holy city). But I don’t know the end. When will G-d rebuild again, the Holy Temple? When will we all go back to Yerushalayim the Holy City? I sing Lekoved Shabbos, let it be soon. For the honour of Shabbos, let it be today. Lekoved Shabbos….” The tears of Yankele and the tears of the holy rabbi were flowing.
The holy rabbi said, “Yankele Lekoved Shabbos, if every Jewish person would know that everything that happens to us is only lekoved Shabbos, for the honour of Shabbos, The Great Shabbos would be so near and Moshiach (theMessiah) would come.”
One day after holy rabbi left the village, Yankele disappeared. It was clear to me that he went together with the holy rabbi but I never saw him. I became a student of that holy rabbi and after many years I had the privilege of becoming the rabbi of the village. I could never forget Yankele; I was still looking for him.
Then one day, many years later, I came to a faraway shteitele (small village) and I could hear the heavenly music, “Lekoved Shabbos… Lekoved Shabbos.” I looked at Yankele and suddenly it was clear to me: The holy rabbi came to my village, took me as his student, and I was privileged to become a rabbi and teacher.
You know what he did with Yankele Lekoved Shabbos? He became one of the lamed vov tzadikim – the thirty six Holy Hidden saints. Who else would become one of the thirty six Holy Hidden saints but Yankele Lekoved Shabbos?
May you be blessed that your life should be lekoved Shabbos.
May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)
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Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)