The Twisted Path of the Hidden Saint: An Occult Tale of the Baal Shem Tov

The Twisted Path of the Hidden Saint:

An Occult Tale of the Baal Shem Tov

By

Barak A. Bassman

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Twisted Path of the Hidden Saint:

An Occult Tale of the Baal Shem Tov

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ISBN: 978-1-956867-83-1 (eBook)

ISBN: 978-1-956867-84-8 (Paperback)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023923178

Version 2023.12.07

Table of Contents

I. A Most Welcome Guest

II. The Baal Shem Tov’s Magical Journey

III. The Hidden Saint Learns of His Mission

IV. Tzedakah

V. To Cleanse Through Shame

VI. A New Life

VII. When Dreams Come True

VIII. The Fall

IX. A Hidden Saint’s Days of Righteousness

X. The Death of the Hidden Saint

XI. The Nobleman’s Tale

Other Books by Barak Bassman

About the Author

The Twisted Path of the Hidden Saint:

An Occult Tale of the Baal Shem Tov

I. A Most Welcome Guest

Reb Shlomo, the innkeeper in the shtetl of Z, had been sweltering for hours in the heavy late summer heat. At last, however, the air cooled as twilight fell and his tavern, which had been empty all day, now quickly filled with Jews and Poles looking to slake their thirst and rest their legs after laboring hard beneath the boiling sun.

As he was merrily hopping from table to table, filling cups and serving pickled herring and onions and bread, Reb Shlomo spied a man entering his tavern whom he remembered well—a wanderer who told the most marvelous tales, tales that quickened the pulse and exalted the soul and ended with a rich serving of true Torah wisdom. Shlomo put his tray down and shouted out to the crowded room to quiet down, for he had something important to tell them. My esteemed friends and guests, he said, tonight we have been truly blessed. Standing here—and he pointed at the man who had just walked in—is Reb Jacob from the shtetl of Mezhbizh. For many years, Reb Jacob was a disciple of Rabbi Israel ben Eliezer, the holy Baal Shem Tov, may the memory of the righteous be for a blessing and may their merit protect us. And when the Baal Shem Tov was on his deathbed, he commanded Reb Jacob to pick up his staff, travel to wherever Jews can be found, and earn his living telling tales—true tales—of the wondrous and miraculous deeds of the Baal Shem Tov. Reb Jacob has passed through this tavern several times before, and the tales he told of his great tzaddik have elevated my soul and the soul of every other man fortunate enough to hear them. So, come, everybody now, sit with us and listen. I will bring Reb Jacob his favorite Hungarian wine—nothing but the best for my old friend—and we shall hear some tales this evening that will show us the true path of righteousness and Torah.

He led Reb Jacob to a table exactly in the middle of the room, and all the other patrons gathered around in a circle. Shlomo dashed off to his cellar to fill a large pitcher of Tokay, ran back up to the kitchen to grab a plate piled high with freshly baked honey cakes, and then set this sweet repast before his honored guest. Reb Jacob kindly thanked Shlomo for his gracious hospitality, recited two quick blessings, and plunged with gusto into his food and drink.

A Pole stepped forward from the crowd and approached Reb Jacob. This man was elegantly dressed, and appeared to Shlomo to be a wealthy nobleman, although not someone whom Shlomo recognized as a resident of that district—another traveler, the innkeeper supposed.

The nobleman addressed Reb Jacob in fluent Yiddish: Good sir, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I have heard from many Jews about the holiness and wisdom of your late master, the Baal Shem Tov—his death was a terrible tragedy for your people. If our host the innkeeper does not object, I have a request for a particular tale, for which I will pay you handsomely. The Jews who live on my lands tell me that there are thirty-six hidden saints in each generation. But for the merits of these thirty-six men, my Jews say to me, God would destroy the world again in another flood, and this time he might not even find a Noah worth saving. Tell me, Reb Jacob, did your master and teacher ever meet such a hidden saint? What tales can you tell us of these hidden saints?

Reb Shlomo felt his heart swell at these words and he shouted out: Your Honor makes a wonderful suggestion. Yes, Reb Jacob, tell us a tale of the Baal Shem Tov and one of the lamed-vovniks, the thirty-six hidden saints who sustain the world by their righteousness.

Reb Jacob frowned and opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but then stopped, sighed and stared down into his empty cup. After a brief moment of silence, he lifted his head and spoke: I can tell you the tale of when the Baal Shem Tov met a hidden saint. I was there and I remember what happened. But I must warn you, this tale is not simple or joyous. It is filled with mysteries that can cloud even a righteous man’s clear sight. Perhaps you would prefer some lighter fare to feast on tonight? This strangely spiced dish might upset your stomach.

Reb Shlomo replied that he would defer to the wishes of his noble guest. The Pan, in turn, repeated that he wished to hear the tale of the hidden saint and nothing else and stressed again that he would pay quite well—and he named a figure.

The other Jews and Poles audibly gasped at the size of this number.

Reb Jacob then said that, since His Lordship insisted,