This article originally appeared in Yated Neeman, Monsey NY. and is reprinted here with their permission

The ghetto of Rothenberg, a fair-sized city in Germany, was narrow and decrepit. The row houses lined the dismal streets, shutting out the sun. Poverty and neglect were apparent in every corner. Yet the inhabitants of Rothenberg seemed tranquil and content as they went about their business, selling wares in the marketplace or heading to the Bais Medrash to learn.

Their peaceful, content lives revolved around their families, their studies, and their Creator. And why shouldn't they be content? Their city boasted one of the greatest gedolim of that generation. At the center of their communal life, was the famed Rav, a descendent of the Baalei Hatosfos, the esteemed Rav Meir, whose vision and guidance shone from Rothenberg, sending rays of light throughout the Torah world.

During those difficult years in the early Middle Ages, Rav Meir was regarded as the foremost Torah authority, the final word on 'daas Torah' for Jews across Europe. The Rav's house became a gathering place for scholars and Torah greats who discussed the issues troubling world Jewry at the time.

The great Rav Meir, who was no longer a youngster at the time of our story, had established a yeshiva in Rothenberg, where outstanding young men would learn all day and most of the night. In addition to his responsibilities as Rosh Yeshiva and his obligation to lead the community, Rav Meir spent many hours corresponding with Torah giants across the world. These precious letters and responsa were replete with divrei Torah, chiddushim, and the sources upon which difficult shailos were decided.

Rav Meir, whose wife had passed away in her prime, had an only daughter, who was dearer to him than everything else. Sara, for that was her name, was a noble, modest young girl who ran the Rav's modest home and cooked his meals. In addition to keeping house for her father, Sara was responsible for feeding the hundreds of guests who came to bask in her father's pure guidance and Torah insights.

During those turbulent times, Germany was governed by a succession of corrupt princes, each of whom exercised complete control over their dominion. The feudal system of the all-powerful lord who owned his peasants, or serfs, was still in existence. The poritz, or duke, was the ultimate authority over every human and animal in his domain, and could execute a hapless subject at whim. Woe to the commoner who fell out of favor with his prince! Not even the king could save him. At any rate, the kings of Germany were mere figureheads, who were beholden to the princes for favors and money. Thus, the prince's power was absolute.

In those days, the lord of Rothenberg was the Count of Hohenberg, a benevolent and fair-minded ruler. He held his Jewish subjects in high esteem, appointing several to positions of leadership in his kingdom. However, like most of the German lords, he also taxed them mercilessly, squeezing every last pfennig out of his subjects. The wealthy Jewish landowners were made to pay five times as much tax as their gentile neighbors. Every time the prince wanted to host another ball or go on a hunting spree, he would demand an additional tax from his subjects to pay for his extravagant lifestyle.

The hapless Jews under his rulership gritted their teeth and bore this unfair taxation in silence, grateful that they were allowed to keep their jobs and observe their religion. Jews in other communities were not as fortunate. In some instances, the poritz forcibly converted his Jews or drove them out of his territory as penniless refugees. In short, though life was no picnic in Rothenberg, it could have been far worse.

The Count of Hohenberg greatly admired Rav Meir, and often consulted with him about matters pertaining to his kingdom and his ongoing feud with neighboring princes. Rav Meir's advice was always pithy and pertinent, and the Count trusted him implicitly. As a result, the Jews of Rothenberg allowed themselves to become tranquil and lulled into complacency.

Yet Klal Yisroel can never be allowed to forget that we are in golus. Should we become too comfortable and satisfied, we are sent a reminder of our precarious position in this world.

Within several years, the political situation in Germany began to change. A band of ruffians, called the "Iron Knights," terrorized the German countryside, pillaging and plundering the villages in their path. The Kaiser of Germany was determined to be rid of these ruffians, and pleaded with the princes to unite and help drive out this threat. The lazy princes were content to ignore these pleas, until the Kaiser became enraged and mobilized his army. At the same time, the Iron Knights spewed terror and destruction in their path. Faced with no choice, the princes banded together to fight the violent gangs.

However, the spoiled and pampered princes were no match for the ruthless ruffians who roamed the forests. Within a short time, the wild and vulgar bands of Knights had much of Germany in their grasp. The princes, frustrated at their inability to turn the tide, looked for a scapegoat upon which to pour out their helplessness and frustration. And what better scapegoat than the hapless, defenseless Jews?

Within a short amount of time, the blood of entire Jewish communities along the Rhine River flowed freely. Dozens of Jews would be executed for the flimsiest excuse. The classic and easiest way to get rid of the Jews under one's dominion was the infamous "blood libel," where Jews were accused of murdering a Christian child to use his blood for the matzos. Every year before Pesach, the Jews shuddered in dread, wondering in whose backyard the dead body would be found that year. The punishment would be cruel, swift, and usually aimed at the entire community, young and old. Even little babies would be put to death along with their parents for "collaborating" in the blood libel.

The Kaiser, happy that the noblemen had an outlet for their frustration and anger, conveniently looked the other way. Jewish blood was cheap in those times, and a Jew could be punished with impunity.

At first, the town of Rothenberg was an exception to the general mayhem and lawlessness that stalked the rest of Germany. The count regarded his Jews highly, and issued stern warnings to protect them. The slightest offense against a Jew was punished severely. Yet far from remaining tranquil, the Jews of Rothenberg trembled in fear of the morrow. Daily, they received reports from shell-shocked survivors of entire communities who had been destroyed. As Pesach approached, the Jews of Rothenberg held their breath, waiting anxiously to see whether a "blood libel" would occur. Yet, to the relief of the community, the Yom Tov passed without incident.

The weeks between Pesach and Shavous passed uneventfully. Yet on Shavous morning, horrifying news reached Rothenberg. The Jews of neighboring Alsace had been dragged from their homes by a wild, bloodthirsty mob. As the poritz and his retinue looked the other way, the mob tortured and murdered hundreds of innocent men, women, and children. Several strong young men managed to escape with their lives, bearing witness to the devastation that had befallen their community.

When the news reached Rav Meir, the sage announced that the following day, the entire community must gather in the Bais Medrash. The Rav called for a Yom Tefillah and day of fasting, to beseech Heavenly mercy for Klal Yisroel.

When the Rav arrived home, he found his loyal talmid, Asher, awaiting him. Asher looked grim.

"The Count of Hohenburg has summoned the Rav to meet with him tomorrow," he informed the Rav.

Though Rav Meir was used to appearing before the Count, something about the summons made him uneasy. Yet he pushed these worries out of his mind and concentrated on his tefillos. Early the next morning, the elderly Rav, flanked by Asher, arrived at the Bais Medrash, where every man, woman, and child was already gathered. Everyone had closed their stores and businesses to take part in this Yom Tefillah.

The Rav addressed his kehilla, shedding copious tears as he aroused his flock to teshuvah. "The Ribbono Shel Olam must be angry at us," he said, "and is sending us these troubles to arouse us to teshuvah. Who knows what the morrow will bring? Let us daven, repent, and give tzeddakah, as our Sages have taught us that these three things repeal the Heavenly decree."

The Rav's heartfelt words created a storm of weeping. When the cries had subsided, the Rav led the congregation in the recital of Tehillim. Every man, woman and child begged the Ribbono Shel Olam to spare His nation from suffering and harm.

Several hours later, the entire Sefer Tehillim had been said, and the weary kehillah headed for their homes. The adults fasted for the entire day, continuing to daven for a yeshuah.

There was one person, however, who did not join in the general atmosphere of sorrow and despair. Though a Jew by birth, this vicious viper nourished plans of revenge against his Jewish co-religionists. The man's name was Kempe, and he had once been a talmid of the great Rav Meir, many years ago. Kempe had always been a wild and vulgar youth, yet Rav Meir attempted to draw him close and encouraged him to learn.

Kempe tried for a while, but soon became restless and left the yeshiva. When Kempe expressed an interest in marrying Rav Meir's only daughter, he was banished from the Rav's home. Kempe vowed revenge, started mixing with bad company, and went from bad to worse. Before long, Kempe had converted to Christianity and become a meshumad.

In those days, apostates, known as meshumadim, were the most dangerous enemies of the Jews. They used their scanty Torah knowledge and familiarity with Jewish customs to spin a net of danger and suspicion upon their former neighbors. The princes and dukes were eager to accept their slander, hoping to catch several wealthy fish in their net. The apostates were their key to imprisoning the Jews, and demanding a hefty ransom for their release.

During this day of Tefillah and fasting, Kempe took advantage of the empty streets to shadow the Rav's house and observe the going's on. He noted the various entranceways to the Rav's apartment, and peered into the window, getting a good glimpse of the Rav's seforim room. Kempe was sure he would use this information to his own advantage later on.

When Asher, the Rav's devoted disciple, rushed to the Rav's home to help him prepare for the journey to the Count, he noticed Kempe lurking in the shadows. Asher made a mental note to look out for the dangerous apostate and the evil plots he must be brewing.

Yet there was no time to waste. The Rav was expected at the Count's palace. A carriage was quickly ordered, and the elderly Rav headed for the Count's palace in Hohenberg, oblivious to the decree that awaited him.

To be continued..