The following story is true. You may have heard it somewhere, whereas I heard it from my Grandfather, son of a Hasid, who heard it from his teacher the Tzaddik of Lodz, direct fourth generation descendent of Yitzchok of Vurka the Holy Rebbe who did not embellish or bend the truth. And because of the way in which I heard this story from my father's father, who herd it in the very language the Rebbe told it in, and did not add a word because he was not a fan of adding cheap frills for the sake of the story, my version is the direct from the original stock.
There is no other way to describe Reb Yitzchok of Vurka’s socio economic status apart from saying plainly that he was extremely poor. It happened one night in early spring just two weeks before Passover, after returning to his home devoid of material possessions from the evening service. It was one of the first nights he was able to walk the streets without fear of getting frostbite from the deathly cold of the winter now past. For fear of getting his dovening trousers dirty he had tucked his pants into his socks much in the style of the Chassidim of today. Feeling drained as he usually does after projecting his voice with words of Torah through the drafty shule, he rested his frail frame by lying down on his bed, upon which one of the planks of wood which had rotten through during the winter gave way leaving an indent in the Rebbe’s mattress. The Rebetzin, being handy as she was, managed to repair the indent cheaply with a bit of straw which left a dense lump in the mattress. Although the Rebbe found it difficult to sleep because of the mound of straw, he thanked Ha-Kadosh-Baruch-Hu for the challenge, and attempted to cope with the blessing in disguise.
After a week of sleeping on this mattress the righteous man had developed a knot in his shoulder which throbbed relentlessly and on the eve of Passover the pulsating pain had escalated to an unbearable point which even two cups of wine could not numb. Surrounded by his disciples the holy man of God understood that he could not halt the reading of the Exodus from Egypt. He thought long and hard and despite fear of appearing immodest he called his gentle wife from the next room to sooth his ailment by rubbing his back. The seder continued and they sang with sorrow the song “we were slaves in Egypt”. The disciples, understanding that the Rebbe would not be openly immodest without deep significance, interpreted the act as a representation of the Talmudic passage “The Jews were redeemed as a reward for their righteous women” (Babylonian Talmud: Tractate Sotah 11b). So mid-song, they too called their wives to rub their backs. And in a crescendo of song and deep tissue back rubbing the passage came to a close in a gentle fade-out at which point a deep groan of relief escaped the Rebbe’s mouth “Yhoy-vey!”.
The students gasped at the sound of the four letter unspoken name of God (י-ה-ו-ה) bounding against their eardrums, but their blind faith of their holy leader accepted it as sign of the spiritual height the Rebbe had achieved through the song.
The Seder ended with “Next year in the rebuilt Jerusalem” and everyone went on their way feeling a sense of elation at having experienced the Rebbe’s spiritual ascent.
It happened that in time, the righteous Rebbe passed on. His successor in remembrance of his beloved teacher maintained his mid-seder minhag of having his back rubbed by his life partner, only after expounding on the Kabbalistic relevance of the act. Is came to pass that generations later, the tradition spread to all of Ashkenaz who to this day recline in their chairs and are massaged by their wives in order to reach the spiritual climax of the Rebbe long gone.
