In the cool forests of Russia, the carriage of Isaac the Elder is limping. The skilled hands of the coachman conquer every storm and repel every tempest. The gentleman, according to our acquaintance, has just returned from the famous fair in Leipzig with hundreds and thousands of rubles in his pocket and joy and gladness in his heart. But then a jerk and an involuntary movement of one of the horses broke the course of his carriages and stopped the carriage. Isaac held his head in both hands and wept bitterly. He was not weeping over the cost of repairing the carriage, nor over the waste of his time. The heaven-fearing gentleman was wailing over the approaching Sabbath.
It is true that he never set out on his journey without making such calculations and always left himself enough time to reach his home before Shabbat, but the situation he found himself in through no fault of his own greatly clouded his joy. And behold, before his eyes was a poor hut with a mezuzah in its reflection, a sign that Abraham's descendants were living here and would surely save him. But when the old man looked again at the dilapidated hut, his face turned pale, how could he ask to spend the night and eat in a place where there was not a penny to be found.
While he was still pondering the matter, the owner of the house came out into his yard and saw what was before him. He understood from the confused words of the stressed coachman what had happened and without hesitation invited them to stay at his house, while the look of "unpleasantness" on the rich man's face did not disappear from his eyes. In his wisdom, the host turned to his two guests and said, "You will dine at my table and eat from my food. But know this, that on the evening of the Sabbath you will have to pay a tip and a tip for your stay in my house, the sum of five hundred silver rubles," he said and left. The gentleman's eyes - who was used to fine restaurants - widened in astonishment. They had never asked him for such a huge sum at the various inns, nor did they even come close to it.
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His anger at the landlord's act of exploitation was great. But he said nothing, he had no choice. And during the Sabbath, which was made pleasant by the landlord's kindness, Isaac instructed his servant to ask for double of every dish and to demand the finest wines. "Perhaps if we do this," he said, "we will arrive at the amount demanded by the landlord." And the host hurried to every request and took their time lest a complaint, God forbid, should arise on their lips.
At the end of the Sabbath, when he was full and satisfied, the chief went to his personal bag and took out ruble after ruble until he reached the amount specified for himself and his calf, and presented it to the owner of the house. How great was his surprise when he encountered the host's refusal to take even a single penny. And this is how the owner of the house explained to them, "Since I was concerned with the mitzvah of hospitality and since your faces were full of shame, I decided in my heart that the only way to prevent your suffering is to demand payment for your hospitality on the Sabbath, so that you will feel like diners and not guests.".
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One of the greatest commandments in Judaism is to 'welcome guests.' Many have wondered and even wondered what is in this commandment that is even greater than welcoming the Divine Presence. And why is there not, in the vastness of Judaism, among the 313 commandments of its commandments, another great and important commandment that rejects the Divine Presence and prefers its existence?
In general, there is a big question mark over the Maimonides' method, which holds that a householder who does not accompany his guest on his departure has not fulfilled the mitzvah of hospitality at all. To that extent? Isn't it enough to fulfill the mitzvah by simply providing the option of eating and sleeping? Does a person who has gone to such lengths, sweating and running between the rooms of his house in order to properly honor his guest but not accompanying him on his departure, no longer fulfill this important mitzvah that rejects welcoming the Shekhinah?
And even Maimonides himself, in reading the parshas of Vayra and the greatness of our forefather Avraham, was puzzled by the place, and did Avraham not actually fulfill any mitzvah? After all, there are not human beings here, but angels of fire and seraphs of G-d who are not at all involved in the parsha of hosting, eating, and sleeping. If so, the puzzlement is sevenfold greater. Is it possible to say that a mitzvah that was not actually fulfilled and not fulfilled is greater than receiving the Shekhinah?
Based on this and more, the Maimonides concludes, and even the moralists agree with him, that the commandment of hospitality is measured precisely by a person's intention and the purity of his thought - and in this it differs from the other commandments, which are primarily about action. Therefore, this commandment is actually greater than welcoming the Divine Presence, and its importance was evident even in the case of our forefather Abraham, because with his pure intention and thought, he fulfilled the commandment in its details, and what does it matter to me whether his guests are Arabs, Jews, or angels.
Therefore, a person who accompanies his guest on his departure proves to him and to the guest that his thoughts and intentions are pure and devoid of any interests. I do not have an opinion about the shiny and clean house here, or about my ironed sheets that were spread out for you. Rather, my opinion is directed at your personal feelings and comforts, therefore I am accompanying you and preventing you from leaving.
