“What can I say?” Rebbe Nachman raised his hands. “What is it you want from me?”
1798
It was time for Rebbe Nachman’s tormentors to leave Istanbul and return home. They ridiculed and heaped scorn upon his head even as they packed their belongings.
“Please, my brothers, take this letter back home for me.” Rebbe Nachman held out a sealed envelope to them. “It won’t take up any space in your bags.”
“You couldn’t pay me all of the money in the world to take that for you! Your family will have to wait until you return in order to learn about your well-being…. Then again, perhaps you won’t end up returning at all!”
“I have a letter…. May I send it with you?” The Rebbe’s attendant held out his own envelope.
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