The entire Jewish population of Brisk attended the wedding,
each family bringing along some special dish to serve. They
knew that the father of the bride, who was still known as the
gvir, was no longer a wealthy man. He had lost his
entire fortune in the big fire. But he showed no sign of
sadness at the wedding; he danced with the eminent rabbi, R'
Chaim Soloveitchik, and all the townspeople, young and old,
joined in the circle of dancers. And in the middle danced the
chosson and his father. Somehow, this wedding seemed
so much gayer than had been anticipated . . .
The exact same sentiments were felt on the other side, by the
women. A heightened sense of joy filled the air. The
grandmother voiced everyone's sentiments when she exclaimed,
"What a beautiful, joyful wedding! May the couple live long
and happily!"
*
The gvir of Brisk sat behind the desk in his store,
counting the remaining money. It was a skimpy bundle, after
what he had paid out for the new merchandise, but his face
was radiant. "I must rush home and tell my wife what a good
deal I just transacted. Hopefully, the profits from this will
help cover the wedding expenses of our dear daughter and
leave plenty over . . . "
He stood up, put on his coat and hat, and was about to close
the light when he stopped. He heard strange noises. He
listened, but could not put his finger on the source of the
sounds. "It is nothing, only the wind," he concluded, locking
the door and going out.
The wind shrieked and he lifted his collar to cover his ears.
As he turned the corner, a fierce gust of wind blew his hat
off. He rushed after it, but had to run faster and faster.
When he finally intercepted it, he clutched his hat to his
head, shrugged his shoulders and exclaimed, "What a strange
wind . . . " He rushed home, still fighting the wind, eager
to tell his wife about the good merchandise he had just
bought.
He entered his luxurious home and sat down for a cup of tea.
"I think that the transaction will double our fortune," he
told his wife. "By the time of the wedding, we will be very
rich indeed."
"We will need the money," she noted. "The seamstress has just
completed the wedding gown."
"Oh, and where is Tochterel?" he asked.
"In her room, making lists for the other things that must
still be sewn."
Suddenly, strange screams could be heard. "Fire! Fire!" the
young bride-to-be shouted from her room.
Cries of "Fire! Fire!" echoed from all directions. The
gvir and his wife rushed to window and saw flames
lighting up the street below. "Take the cart and wheel it
outside," he called to the frightened maid. Soon the street
was filled with similar emergency carts as people fled from
their flammable wooden homes with the few precious items they
were able to salvage. In these European towns, people always
lived in the shadow of such fires which swept through,
devastating huge sections at a time before they could be
arrested. The wind blew fiercely now, spreading flames and
sparks in all directions.
"Run up the hill! Faster!" called the gvir, helping to
push the cart.
"Let go of the cart," his wife shouted at him above the noise
of people and flames. "Shall we be burned to death for the
sake of a few possessions? Tochterel, come faster.
Let's run up the hill, where it's safe, now. The wind is
blowing in the opposite direction."
They left the cart behind and rushed up the hill at the edge
of town. There, by the blazing light of the huge flames, the
people stood, crowded together, watching the houses of Brisk
being consumed by the fire.
"Why don't they extinguish the flames?" screamed one
woman.
"A little water wouldn't do any good in this case," noted her
husband. "What we need now is a miracle!" And there came a
miracle. Suddenly, it began to rain. A strong, storming rain
poured down from heaven and doused the flames. The wind
gradually subsided and when daylight broke, the people could
see that all that remained of Brisk was smoldering ashes.
*
The eminent Rabbi of Brisk, R' Chaim Soloveitchik, acted
quickly. He gathered the young men of the town and divided
them into groups. Some went to nearby towns to collect food
and clothing for the destitute people. Others began building
makeshift shelters and cabins for the homeless townspeople.
The hard work kept everyone busy, but busiest of all was the
beloved rabbi, who traveled to solicit funds for
reconstruction.
When things had calmed down, the Rov returned from his
fundraising trip to see how everyone, including his family,
was faring. He went to the beis din and found the
dayanim sitting upon a strange case. Two sets of
parents were arguing, while a young girl and a young man sat
by the side, looking downcast and embarrassed. The
kalla was doing her utmost not to cry.
In a flash, the Rov quickly assessed the situation. The
father of the bride, having lost all his wealth in the fire,
was unable to fulfill his part of the wedding agreement and
felt he had to break off the engagement . . .
Before the dayanim could say a word, the Rov
exclaimed, "What is going on here? If this is the case, no
one in Brisk is going to get married! We are all paupers,
now! But that is not going to stop us."
He turned to the young people and declared exuberantly,
"Chosson! Kalla! Mazel Tov!" He shook the hands of the
two fathers, while the women cried with joy.
*
"What a beautiful wedding!" exclaimed the former
gvir.
"What a lovely couple! A match made in Heaven!"
But the music drowned out all the voices and the dancing
carried on more energetically than ever . . .
