The Wonders of Harav Yitzchack Kadouri

89 The following day, he started ye- shiva and spent the day focusing on the tractate the yeshiva was learning. Returning to his room, he was hor- ri¿ed to ¿nd the envelope gone. Out of despair, he began to cry. To where could he turn? How could he bring the money to its rightful owner? Miserable, he paced the hallways of the yeshiva, thinking of turning to the police. While sitting on an old bench in the cor- ridor, his head bent forward, he felt a slap on the back. “You need help, my friend?” asked a soft voice. With tears in his eyes, he said, “Something very unpleasant happened, and I don’t know what to do.” “How can I help you?” asked his friend. He sputtered, “I wish you could, but I don’t think that you can.” “Tell me what happened. With G-d’s help, everything will be ok.” The boy told his friend what happened, who listened patiently. Suddenly, his friend had a brainstorm. “I know of a tremendous tzaddik who could help you for sure.” “Who is that?” “Harav Kadouri, the elderly Kabbalist, who lives in Bucharim.” The name resounded in the ears of the young student, and some color returned to his face. “(ven if it doesn’t help, for sure it can’t hurt.” He made his way to the house of the Rav with hope in his heart, and asked the attendant to be admitted. With a quick step, he approached the Rav, who was engrossed in his learning, detached from worldly matters. It seemed al- most as if an angel was sitting there, the Rav’s face beaming brightly. After a second or two, the Rav said, “Sit! What do you need?” With eyes full of tears and a heavy heart, he told the Rav what happened. “Do you suspect anyone?” asked the Rav. “Yes,” he said, “I can think of ¿ve boys. I only hope that I am not making a mistake.” The Rav lifted his eyes for a minute and asked the boy to write their names on ¿ve small pieces of paper. He then asked someone to bring a bowl, full with oil. He took the pieces of paper, whispered something over each one, and put them into the bowl. “The paper which Àoats to the top is the thief!” said the Rav. The young man did not know what to say. He stood there, shaking, awaiting the outcome with bated breath. He knew that whatever the Rav said, he would do. One of the ¿ve papers Àoated to the top. “Take the paper and see who is the thief,” commanded the Rav. His heart beating and his hands shaking, the boy opened the paper. His eyes grew dim. “He is the last one I would have sus- pected. He is a good friend,” he said. The boy kissed the hands of the Rav and ran back to the yeshiva, searching for the culprit. Without fear or hesitation, he told his friend, “I know that you took the money. Don’t try to deny. Return it immediately, or I will call the police! I have no doubts. Harav Kadouri told me that you are the thief.”