After giving tz’daka and re­citing the 12 P’sukim, giving heartfelt brachos and making good hachlatos, a special ac­tivity and an interesting sto­ry, the birthday boy asked his mother for one more story. He asked for it so sweetly that his mother found it hard to refuse. “Okay, but this is the last story. It’s late and we all need to go to sleep.” Zalmy settled into his chair decorated with balloons and listened as his mother be­gan her story:

Leib sold wine and other al­coholic drinks. He rented an inn from the squire for an annual sum and made a nice living. The farmers in the area, who loved to drink, always crowded the rough, wooden tables and after drinking away their sor­rows they would leave plenty of money for Leib.

The years passed and hard times began. The inn, which had always been busy, emptied. Leib did not know how he would be able to support his young children. As though that wasn’t trouble enough, a mes­senger from the squire knocked at his door and angrily asked for Leib the Jew. He had a message from the squire, “You must pay up the rent today. If you are late in paying, you will regret it!”

Leib knew there was no fool­ing around with the squire. If he did not show up on time, the squire was likely to throw him into the dungeon. He hurried to the castle and as he stood be­fore the squire he tried to jus­tify himself. “I don’t know the reason, but the income this year was meager. I guess the farmers stopped drinking. Maybe they don’t have the money to pay for it.”

The squire turned red and shouted, “I am not interested in your pathetic excuses! If you don’t pay the full amount due by the end of the week, I will throw you and your family into the dungeon!”

Leib tried getting a large loan but all his efforts failed and at the end of the week, he and his small children were all thrown into the dungeon (their mother had died some time ago).

Years passed and Leib was still in the dungeon. His chil­dren had grown in the mean­time and were unfamiliar with life out of the dungeon. Ev­ery morning, when the guard would open the door and throw in some bread and water, they innocently thought it was an angel who was taking care of them. That is how they lived in the dark dungeon, with no memory whatsoever of the good days when they had lived near the inn and lived well.

One dreary day, Leib did not feel well. His whole body ached and he moaned and groaned. The guard heard him and called for a doctor. The doctor exam­ined him and then threw up his hands and said, “His weak body won’t make it.”

A few days later, Leib died, leaving his children alone. The sad story spread in the area and the few Jews who lived nearby were sorry that they were unable to do anything. The amount of money that was owed, in addition to the inter­est that had accrued over the years, was enormous and be­yond their meager means.

One fine day, the wealthy Shlomo appeared. He heard about the orphans in the dun­geon and decided to have them released immediately. He rushed to the castle and gave the squire a purse full of gold coins. The money loving squire put the money in his pocket and ordered his servant to free the Jewish children from the dungeon.

Shlomo waited a long time in the entrance hall but the servant did not return. He fi­nally went to the dungeon him­self and discovered a strange sight. The servant was standing at the door of the dungeon and was arguing with the children. Shlomo went over and asked the servant what was going on. The man said, “The children don’t want to come out!”

Shlomo addressed the children, “Dear children, I paid the squire the money that was owed. Come out of the dungeon and I will take you home with me.”

But they said, “We don’t want to go. We don’t know what it is like out there. Here we get bread and water daily. How will we get bread and water if we go with you?”

Zalmy’s mother finished the story and Zalmy asked, “Why didn’t they want to go out? Didn’t they understand that they were suffering in the dungeon and outside they would live a good life?”

“You’re right,” said his mother with a smile, “but the story is only a parable. It describes the galus we are in. Just like the chil­dren got used to the darkness and the bread and water, and did not want to go out, we can also get used to galus and think we have it good here, without feeling that we are in a dark dungeon.

“In another few days, it will be Tisha B’Av, which reminds us of our situation and spurs us on to beg Hashem to take us out of the darkness to the light, from the galus to Geula, when Tisha B’Av will become a day of re­joicing.”

“But Ima,” asked Yaakov, Zalmy’s older brother, “I know that Zalmy was born close to Tisha B’Av, but why did you choose this parable? How is it connected with a happy day such as a birthday?”

Their mother’s surprising answer was, “Maybe you can figure it out.”

“I know!” said Sarah, Zalmy’s older sister. “Moshiach was born on Tisha B’Av!”

“That’s right,” said their mother. “Tisha B’Av is the day that Moshiach was born. On a birthday, a person’s mazal is strong, and just like Zalmy’s mazal is strong today, so too, on Tisha B’Av, Moshiach’s mazal is strong. Tisha B’Av, together with the sadness and longing for the Geula, also reminds us that there is a good reason to rejoice, for this is the most suit­able time for the Rebbe to be revealed as Moshiach.”