Many years ago, in a great city before G-d, there dwelt a certain man who was an outstanding scholar and very wealthy and charitable and was praised by all. In due course the lights went out at noon and the wheel of fortune turned for him. He lost his property and grew so poor that he had nothing left but his body. But the man accepted the judgment and left his city and set out and wandered through many lands.

On one occasion he lost his way for several days and had no food left and was weary and so starved that he thought his end had already come; and he prayed to the Holy One Blessed be He. While doing so, he saw that he was standing in front of a magnificent palace surrounded by a beautiful orchard. In this palace lived a most wealthy man who was also a great scholar; and he had built himself this palace in the outskirts of the city so as not to be troubled by the city affairs and business. In this palace he also had his House of Study, where wise men studied the holy words of Torah (Scriptures). The poor man entered the House of Study, and the students quickly discovered that he was a learned man and at home with the Torah (Scriptures). They began to ask him many questions, and he answered each one of them according to the Holy Word. News traveled quickly and many students told the wealthy man what a great scholar the wayfarer was and he also came to his House of Study. He turned to the poor traveler and began to question him, and several hours passed in this manner.

When the time for the morning meal came, each of the students went to his home to eat, and the rich man also went to eat, but did not invite the poor traveler. It should be added that the rich man’s household was also conducted on a large scale but its doors were closed to the poor, who received neither food nor even a single copper coin. The rich man looked on the poor as slaves, not as children of the Holy One, blessed be He.

When the rich man finished eating, he went on discussing Torah (Scriptures) with the traveler until the time came for the noonday meal. Again he did not invite him to join, though the finest foods had been prepared. The poor traveler began to faint from hunger. He could feel that he was starving, and he tried to go to the city to find something to eat but fell to the ground and died, all swollen with hunger. The townsfolk found a dead man, and they took him and purified him and buried him without know­ing who he was. The earth covered his body together with the rich man’s sin. But the Holy One, blessed be He knows all secrets and would sooner have the wicked become righteous than have him perish without leaving his wicked way; and He did not wish that the matter should be forgotten.

On one occasion the rich man sat at night in his House of Study, praying the midnight prayers mourning the destruction of the holy city of Jerusalem, though he was hardhearted, he was very religious and G-d-fearing. Hearing footsteps, he began to tremble, for he knew there was nobody with him, and he raised his voice and shout­ed: “Who goes there?” He was prepared to defend himself from the stranger in the dark.

Then he heard a voice: “Move away and do not touch me or you will perish.” He focused his eyes and then he saw a terrifying sight. The poor scholar was stand­ing in front of him just as he had appeared, but he was wearing the shrouds of the dead. The rich man began to tremble and wished to run away, but the dead man said: “Stay here, for I have something to say to you. If you go, you risk your life.”

And then the dead man told him: “I am the poor man you studied the holy words of Torah (Scriptures) with. You forgot the holy words, “If there is a poor man among your brothers in any of the towns …. do not be hardhearted or tightfisted toward your poor brother.” (Deuteronomy 15:7). Not once did you invite me to eat or share a meal, and I died of starvation in the street. I was buried and then I was brought before the Heavenly Court and it was said, ‘He who refuses a beggar the aid which he has the power to give, is accountable to justice.’ (Josephus, Against Apion ii: 27). There they have decided that I shall not come to my rest until I summon you for trial. “It would be fitting,” the dead man went on, “to have you perish in order to stand trial with me, but I have brought it about that instead you will take my place on earth and right the great wrong you have done to me and many like me, since you began and until this day. This you must do: Tomorrow come to the nearby forest where I shall wait for you and tell you the form your teshuvah (repentance) must take.”

Having said his say, the dead man vanished, and the rich man found himself alone in his House of Study, trembling with fear. With a heavy heart, he left the House of Study to go home and went to bed and began thinking of the vision again, turning this way and that on his bed like a sick man.

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The woman raised her voice and began to accuse the Jewish peddler falsely. “This Jewish peddler came to seduce me. He insulted me and attacked me.” The king and his viceroy heard the cries: “Come here Moslems and see what Jewish peddlers can do!^“ 

Soon people who heard the cries of the woman gathered and attacked the Jewish peddler. Who can tell what might have been the fate of the unfortunate peddler had the king and the viceroy not come forward and suggested: “Leave him alone! Do not kill him, ^“ Some answered, ^“This Jewish peddler is an evildoer and should be burned alive in the market place. Take him to the king for judgment. Let all the Jewish peddlers witness his burning and let them learn from his misdeeds!” The king reminded all present, “Justice, justice shall you pursue” (Deut 16:20) from the king.

The Jewish peddler was led to the king’s palace for trial. In the mean-time he was placed in prison.

On the day of the trial a large crowd of people, men, women and children, gathered to see how the infidel would be tried for having insulted an Arab woman.

The king opened the trial saying: “Tell me all about the matter, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

The woman began, saying that the Jewish peddler had attacked her and wished to violate her.

“Have you any witnesses?” the king asked her.

And the entire multitude shouted: “We are the witnesses! We saw all that came to pass! All that the woman has said is true.”

“I believe you,” the king said. “But tell me, do I see rightly at this moment, camels laden high with merchandise in the hea­vens? Do I see rightly?”

The people stared up into the sky and shouted: “It is true, our lord the king! There are camels laden with merchandise in the heavens.”

^“Count me the camels,^“ the king commanded them.

The entire multitude looked up into the heavens. One shouted five camels, another seven and a third ten. Every man declared a different number.

“It is well,” said the king. “Let it be as you have said.” And then, turning to the Jewish peddler, he said: “Lift up your eyes to the hea­vens and count the camels.”

The Jewish peddler stared into the sky but, of course, could see nothing.

“I believe what you have said, my lord the king,” he said. “I believe that you have seen camels laden with merchandise in the heavens, but I cannot see anything.”

The king turned once again to the multitude. “Look up into the heavens again. See if there are any stars there, though it is the full light of day. I pray you, count them for me!”

All those that were gathered there raised their eyes to the heavens and cried out: “It is true! There are stars in the hea­vens!” And one said “Five stars” and the other “Seven stars” and a third “Ten stars”. Each one of them declared a different number.

Then the king turned again to the Jewish peddler: “You, too, look up in-to the heavens! How many stars can -you see?”

The Jewish peddler did as he was bidden and looked up into the heavens, but he could see nothing.

“My lord the king,” he said. “I believe what you have said. But I am not able to see even a single star.”

The king took out of his pocket the worn penny he had been given by the Jewish peddler, when he was disguised and roaming the mar­ketplace together with his viceroy. “Look at this coin,” he said to the Jewish peddler. “Is it of silver or of copper?”

Said the Jewish peddler: “It is of silver, my lord. It is good silver. It may well have been mine, a coin that I spent.”

^“You are right,^“ said the king. ^“It was yours. This coin you gave in charity to two poor men, just before this incident occurred.” The king continued, “These are the things that you shall do: speak the truth with your neighbour; execute the judgment of truth and peace in your gates.” (Zech 8:16)

Then the king and his viceroy brought the perjured witnesses to judgment. Each one of them was given many years in the royal prison and the woman who had falsely accused the Jewish peddler they sentenced to death for lying, gossip and dishonor ti Islam and trhe king. The Jewish peddler they found innocent.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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There was peace between Sultan Muhammad, king of the Turks, and his father-in-law Demetrius, king of the Morea. Sultan Muhammad sent many gifts of precious stones and pearls as befits a king to Demetrius his father-in-law because of his love for his daughter. Then Demetrius sent back to his son-in-law a certain fine golden chest that was closed and doubly sealed with his seals. He ordered his messenger that nobody was to open the chest except the king himself. King Demitrius sent the Sultan Muhammad a certain letter, saying, “Thank you, indeed. Your kindness and goodness has reached me and restored my soul; and now let my lord receive this blessing from your servant. So says Demetrius, who seeks your peace and well-being.”

The sultan was astonished at this closed and sealed golden chest and said to himself, “Maybe it contains precious stones and jewels which are few in number but of high quality and value.” So he opened the chest and in it he found one small taffeta.

The sultan “was furious, his anger boiling inside” (Esther 1:12) at this gift and he exclaimed to his people, “Do you see how this unbelieving wretch repays me, mocking me and sending me this single herb!” In his anger, he showed the taffeta to all his ministers and attendants and they were astonished but feared to say anything. The sultan ordered his people, “Prepare food and swords, for in seven days’ time we shall go to war against him, since he considers that I am worthless.”

The following day the holy rabbi of Canstantinople was seated and learning, as was his custom when the sultan sent for him and told him what had happened and showed him the herb. The sage inspected it with his wondrous wisdom and saw that this matter was of the Holy One, blessed be He. The holy rabbi realized that “the king’s anger is a messenger of death; the wise will calm him. (Proverbs 16:14) The wise man took a deep breath and explained to the sultan, “My lord sultan, listen to me, for you are a wise man and a mighty ruler. He has not sent you this without reason. What have your ministers and attendants said of it?”

“They have said nothing and looked not into this matter,” said the king.

Then the holy rabbi explained, “This small amount here is worth more than all the silver and gold and precious stones and pearls in the world. For my lord the sultan has sent him money, but he has sent my lord some­thing that can deliver you from evil. For when my lord goes to hunt or in some place where there are wild and savage beasts, take the taffeta with you. As soon as any evil beast smells it, they will fall apart limb from limb. And the way to test it is to take it to a place where there are evil beasts.”

So a man whom the king held to be his enemy went and slept with it beneath him in a dangerous place. When he and the others who were with him woke up in the morning, they found that the wild beasts were scattered limb from limb.

When the sultan saw the wisdom of the rabbi, he gave praises to the Holy One, blessed be He. The sultan learned that “one who is slow to anger has great understanding.” (Proverbs 14:29)

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Then he commanded his servant, “This evening bring this man to the place where the king and all his ministers are seated. “But the older brother was full of fear, for he did not know what would befall him. Indeed he was certain that he would be killed.

In the meantime the young man went to his wife and said to her, ^“Ask your father to invite all of his ministers to come here this evening.^”

In the evening all the guests came to the banquet. They were eating and drinking and enjoying themselves when suddenly the young crown prince rose from his chair and said to the king, “Sire, I pray you listen to me, and listen all you who are seated here.” And he commanded the servants to bring the man he had cured of blindness into the room. They brought in his older brother, who was dressed in fine garments, but was trem­bling with fear for he did not know what was to be done to him.

“Come here!” the young man called out to him. “Who are you?” he asked him. “What is your name? Where do you come from? Have you a father? Have you a brother?”

To all of these questions the older brother replied, but to the last question he said: “I had a brother but he is now dead.”

“That is not true! You are a liar,” the young man cried out. All those present listened keenly to hear what he had to say, and he continued. “Look at me! Do you see me? Do you not recog­nize me? I am your younger brother.^“

The older brother was frozen with fear. But the young man said to him, “You have nothing to fear from me, as other people fear you. Only answer me this question: Whom does G-d love more —the good man or the evil?”

“The good man!” the older brother replied. “And I beg you to forgive me and not to do to me as I did to you.”

Then said the young man, “I shall do you no harm, for you are my brother, born of the same mother and the same father. Do not fear!”

The older brother bowed down to the younger, who said: “I shall do you no harm for our father of blessed memory com­manded us never to quarrel.” And he called one of the servants and ordered him to give his brother gold and silver and a house and to send him from the city, in which the young man lived with his wife.

And the two lived together in happiness.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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One may ask: “If a person has done many things that are bad and hurtful, can they ever be forgiven?” The Holy Word teaches: “I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, your transgressions, and, as a cloud, your sins: return to Me; for I have redeemed you.   Seek you the L-rd while He may be found; call you upon Him while He is near. (Isaiah 44:22, 55:6)”

It is told that there was a certain man who had been wicked all his life, and he was well aware that it would be very hard for his repentance to be received in heaven. On one occasion he jokingly asked Rabbi Moshe ben Shem-Tov de Leon of blessed memory (1250-1305 c.e.) whether there was any remedy for his ailment. The holy rabbi thought for some time and answered: “The only remedy and atonement for you is to accept the punishment of death as an atonement for your transgressions.”

Then the wicked man asked him: “If I do accept a sentence of death, shall I have a share in the Garden of Eden?” “Yes,” said the holy rabbi; and the wicked man pleaded: “Swear to me that my place will be near you!” Then Rabbi Moshe ben Shem-Tov de Leon swore to him that he would be near him in the Garden of Eden. When the man heard this, he gathered up his courage and followed him to the central shul (synagogue).

Once there, the rabbi ordered that hot lead should be brought to him. They brought the lead, and he puffed air at it with the bellows until the lead was boiling. Then he sat the wicked man on a bench and tied a cloth over his eyes and said to him: “Confess all your sins to our G-d and accept your death as a return for the sins with which you have angered your Creator all your life!” At this, the man burst into a great and exceedingly bitter gush of tears. Round about him stood many of the community’s elders and sages. And then the rabbi said to him: “Open your mouth wide, and I shall fill it with boiling lead.” And the man opened his mouth very wide in the presence of all the people who stood round about him, in order to accept the fullness of death and so gain life in the World to Come.

At this, the said rabbi took a spoonful of warm rose honey and dropped it into his mouth and said to him: “May your sin depart from you and your transgression be atoned!”

The man, his heart sincere and broken began to cry at once in bitter grief: “Holy rabbi! For the honor of our Maker, the King who is King of Kings, the Holy One, blessed be He slay me now indeed, so that I may not see the evil of losing my soul; for why should I live. My sins have mounted higher than my head, from the sole of my feet to the crown of my head, there is no sound place in me; so what have you done to me? Why have you deceived me?”

The holy rabbi answered him: “We are taught: “The L-rd is near to all those who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth (Psalms 145:18) and The spirit of man is the lamp of the L-rd, searching all his innermost parts. (Proverbs 20:27). As long as the lamp of your spirit burns, there is time to make repairs. Do not dread and have no fear, for G-d has already seen all your deeds.”

Thereafter the man never left Rabbi Moshe ben Shem-Tov de Leon’s house of study and spent his days in fasting and true repentance.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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There were once two brothers who lived in the South, and they were very wealthy. One of them married a wife, while the other devoted himself body and soul to serving the Holy One, blessed be He with all his heart and with all his soul. He went to the site of the Holy Temple and lived there, saying, “The Temple of the Holy One, blessed be He has been destroyed, so I shall likewise be destroyed and shall not take a wife, nor shall I rejoice in the world. Since the Temple of the Holy One, blessed be He is like a mourner, I shall also behave like a mourner.”

On many an occasion he used to go to his brother to wish him well. Once he went to his brother’s house to wish him well and did not find him there. Now that day his brother’s wife was washing clothes and had taken off all of her jewelry which was worth more than ten thousand dinars, and she placed it in front of her when her husband’s brother came to wish his brother well, he entered the courtyard and did not find him there. When his brother’s wife saw him, she felt ashamed in his presence and went away. In the courtyard grew a very tall tree, a kind of palm. A certain bird made its nest in the uppermost fronds of the tree. When she went away so her brother-in-law should not see her, she left her jewels behind. When the good man found nobody there, he went his way, but the bird came down, took the jewels and placed them in its nest.

When the husband returned from the market, he found his wife crying and tearing her hair. “Why are you crying?” He asked and she told him, “I was washing clothes and took my jewelry off and placed it down in front of me. A little later I looked for it but could not find it and I don’t not know who could’ve stolen it.” “Who entered the courtyard?” He asked. “The only one who came in that I know of,” said she, “was your brother and no one else could’ve taken.” “He abandoned and renounced all the contentment of this world,” said her husband, “and his inheritance and his money and all that belonged to him in order to go and serve the Holy One, blessed be He with full love, yet you say my brother was the one who stole your jewels?” At this, she advised, “take him before the sages and let him swear when an oath.” He listened to his wife and went and looked for his brother and then led him to the sages and began to tell them the story, “this is what happened to the best of my knowledge.” They said to him, “if a man abandons all ease and contentment of this world, can he steal your wife’s jewels? Nobody like this saintly person is going to do such a thing.”

The matter came before Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai, and he said to the pious brother, “what do you say? Will you take an oath?” And he answered, “Yes, I will swear truly and have no fear of anything.” Then Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai said to him, “Satisfy him with your money and do not take an oath.” But he answered, “No, sadly, I must take an oath in order that people should not say that I am to be suspected of wrong doing.” And he was prepared to take an oath even though G-d might punish him for doing so.

Then Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai said to him, “Come back to me tomorrow morning.” And when he himself went home, he prayed, “L-rd of the universe, you are well aware of all that is hidden and you know about this matter. Deliver him from his transgression.” Then he heard a divine echo, “Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, go to his brother’s courtyard. There you will see a tree, and in the treetop you can find the thing of which the man has been suspected.” They went and found the jewelry there.

Rabbi Yochanan the Zakkai was very astonished at this. Since the pious brother had merely said that he would swear to the oath that he had not robbed or stolen had been suspected, how much more so one who swears falsely and profanes the Name of the Holy One, blessed be He that is why the Bible says, “And you shall not swear by My name falsely, and profane the name of your G-d” (Leviticus 19:12).

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Dawn came at last. Then the chacham turned to the rich man and said, “Come and see what awaited you outside the house!” 

The rich man looked upon a huge snake whose head was as big as a cask and which was as long as the entire wall encircling the house. But the snake was dead. Then the chacham told him: ^“The voices that you heard during the night were uttered by the snake. He spoke in the voice of your wife and he spoke in the voice of your children, for he had come to kill you all. But I foresaw all this and came here to save you. Had you not given me the piece of bread with your own hand then your end would have been bitter indeed, and the end of the members of your house would have been likewise.” 

The rich man sent his slaves to bring back his wife and his children. When they returned he showed them the snake cut into pieces and told all that had come to pass during the night. The woman and the children had been so far away, that they could not know what had happened in the night. 

From that night the wealthy rich man was a changed man. He gave alms generously to the poor and contributed large sums of money for Eretz Israel and for the scholars who engaged in the study of the torah.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The first friendly rays of sunlight would sneak through a missing slat in the faded shutters to announce a new day to the rugged boards that lined his tumbledown cottage — and Itzik the water-carrier knew it was time to be up. First, he would settle down next to his simple table and study a page or two of Torah. He said his morning  prayers with all his heart and would then leave his simple home to go down to the bank of the river that twisted and turned through the fields surrounding his village. He would fill his two homemade pails, hoist them up to the long bar borne on his broad shoulders, trek uphill, and then down again. He did this for hours on end, bringing a day’s supply to his regular customers. He was not a wealthy man, but at least he earned enough to feed his family. He was content with his life, and loved by almost everyone. 

Then one day, quite suddenly, everything changed. Itzik, the self-respecting water-carrier, was asking for tzedakah (charity) in his spare time. The quiet village quickly filled with whispers and curious looks. This did not prevent those same generous people from filling his little charity box — except for one very angry merchant. That someone who could support himself by his own efforts should decide one fine morning to grow fat at the expense of the hard work of others, was nothing less than shameful. He would inform the local rabbi in person! 

A few days later, sure enough, a messenger of the rabbi sternly tapped his cane three times on Itzik”s creaking door, and sum­moned him to appear before the rabbi. Itzik set out at once, and was greeted warmly. 

“Tell me, Itzik,” asked the rabbi, “are you managing to make a living?” 

“Thanks be to G-d, day by day,” said Itzik, echoing the words of the Psalmist, “I’m happy with my lot, and manage with what I have.” 

“Then why, may I ask, do you collect donations?” 

Silence. 

“Why don’t you answer my question?” The rabbi asked irritated; Itzik remained silent. 

“Listen to me,” said the rabbi. “I must ask you to give me your word that you will stop collecting donations in the marketplace.” 

Silence still. 

The rabbi’s patience ran out and he raised his voice: “Has it occurred to you that it is disrespectful for you not to answer the questions of the rabbi of this village?” 

Itzik blurted out three quiet words: “I can’t promise,” and looked at the floor in silence. 

Now Itzik was not the only person in town to visit the rabbi that day. While their tense conversation was taking place, the richest man in town — “Moshe the Nagid,” the locals called him affection­ately — calmly took a seat in the waiting room. He wanted to consult the rabbi on some important business matter. Surprised to hear the rabbi raising his voice, and what he overheard made him very upset. He became sick to his stomach and began to tremble until he was driven by his emotions and he burst uninvited into the rabbi’s study. 

“Rebbe!” he exclaimed. “This man here is taddik nistar (hidden saint)!” 

For a moment, the three stood in amazed silence. The rabbi, confused, looked first at the one, then at the other. This tightlipped water- carrier — a tzaddik nistar?                                                                        

Moshe burst into bitter tears.               

 ”Itzik,” he sobbed, “you’ve got nothing to hide. Tell the rabbi the whole story.” And with that, he slipped out of the room, leaving the rabbi the task of ordering Itzik to speak up. 

Itzik took a deep breath. “I suppose you know,” he said, “that every day I visit the houses of all those who can afford the luxury; and bring them water right to the door. One of my old customers is Moshe the Nagid. One day, unexpectedly, he stops paying me, and says that when the account reaches a sizeable sum, he’ll pay me all at once. That’s fine by me — except that for two whole months he didn’t give me as much as one little kopek. Then one day Moshe wasn’t at home. So his good wife, begging your pardon, takes me aside and says: ‘Itzik,’ she says, ‘I want to tell you some­thing, but on condition that you don’t breathe a word to a soul.’ 

“Okay, I won’t tell anyone”, I answered, and she told me her story. 

“‘You know our big fancy business?’ she says.”Well, the bottom’s suddenly fallen out of it, and now we’re as poor as the poorest paupers in town. My husband is too ashamed to speak of it, but I can’t hide the truth any more. Our debt to you is growing, and I don’t know what’s going to come of us.’ 

“The tears of that poor soul broke my heart, and I decided there and then that I would do whatever I could to help them out — though without giving away their secret, of course. The next day I started collecting donations. Let people talk behind my back! Let people make fun of me!  I wasn’t going to let that family go hungry!” 

Itzik paused for breath, then added bashfully, “So I ask you
now, Rebbe, could I possibly have promised you to stop collecting: 

The rabbi was in a daze. Before him stood the famil­iar brawny frame of a simple water-carrier who could barely translate the daily prayers or a simple chapter of Torah. Through the rabbi’s tears, he saw before him, in all his glory, the true love of a neighbour. Here was a man who had always held his head erect, yet was prepared to lower it in humiliation — so long as his fellow’s honor would be spared! 

He sprang out of his chair, and embraced the embarrassed water-carrier. 

“Would that there were many like you among Israel!” he ex­claimed. “I pray to G-d that in the World of Truth I be allowed to share your lot in the inheritance that awaits the righteous!” 

And with warm tears he kissed that suntanned brow.

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The greatest gift that the Holy One, blessed be He gave to man was the ability to speak and communicate. Yet it is also the undoing of many, though we may speak the same language and believe that certain things need no explanation we still do not understand one another. It is so common in today’s world for people to talk at one another instead of to one another.

No One Understood

A shepherd was once strolling through a meadow behind his meandering sheep. As he walked, he played a merry tune on his flute. In an adjoining field, a harvester was cutting sweet clover and loading it upon a wagon to take home for cattle feed. The harvester and the shepherd did not know one another, nor could they communicate, since they spoke different languages. And so each tended to his own business, while casting curious glances at the other from time to time.

Noon came and the sun was at its blazing zenith. The shepherd looked longingly in the distance to see if his daughter was approaching with his lunch pail, as she did each day at this time. But there was no one in sight. A long time passed and he began worrying. “I must go home and see if everything is all right,” he said to himself.

He walked towards the harvester in the adjacent field. “Listen here, my friend,” he said, accompanying his words with elaborate gestures to make sure the other understood, “I must go home for a short while and leave the sheep here. I cannot take them with me because it would take too much time to herd them together and get them moving. If I go, I will run both ways and be back in a hurry. Please keep an eye on the sheep. Don’t let them run away. They are resting now. I am sure they will give you no trouble. They are easy creatures to handle.”

The harvester heard the words but did not understand a single one. He interpreted the shepherd’s gestures in a far different manner than intended: “You are harvesting all that hay that grows so plentifully in the field while my sheep lie here where the grass is scant. Won’t you cut some down for them, too?”

This aroused the harvester’s anger. “That is very impudent of you! You sit at your leisure under the tree and expect others to do your work for you under the blazing sun? Go! Begone with you!” and with that, he gave a wave of his hand.

This sign of dismissal was clear to the shepherd. He interpreted it to mean: “Go home, if you must. I will keep an eye on your sheep, since I am here anyway.”

His heart set at ease, the shepherd went home, stayed a while and returned a short while later. How happy he was to see the sheep grazing quietly and contentedly as if he had been there all the while.

“How decent it was of the harvester to look after them,” he thought to himself. “I must give him something in apprecia­tion.” He looked about him and wondered what would be suitable.

His eyes fell upon a little lamb that limped a bit. If he sold it, it would not fetch much. But as a gift…

He tied a rope about its neck and began leading it to the adjoining field.

“Good day, my friend,” he said. “I wanted to thank you for the favor you did to me. Here, take this lamb as a sign of my gratitude.” He held the string out to the harvester.

The harvester did not understand a word, as before, and misconstrued the shepherd’s meaning. He thought he meant: “I asked you to watch my sheep and look what happened! This lamb became lame, thanks to you!”

The harvester was understandably insulted and turned to the shepherd. “How dare you come to me with complaints? Am Ito blame? You are the one who left the sheep untended. What do you want from me?”

The shepherd thought that the harvester was dissatisfied with the gift.

He picked up the lamb to show him that it was really a decent gift, indeed. `See,” he gestured, “it is fat and healthy. The only thing wrong with it is its leg. It will make a tasty meal, I am sure!” He again pointed to the broken foot as if to say that that was its only defect.

Seeing the shepherd harping on the broken foot convinced the harvester that the shepherd was again accusing him of being negligent. Fuming, he shouted, “Leave me be, idiot! What business is it of mine?” And he shoved the shepherd backwards.

Shocked by such coarse behavior, the shepherd stepped forward and pushed the harvester. Before long, the two were pummeling one another with heavy blows.

Along came a traveler, hot and dusty from the road. Noticing a horse wandering in the field untethered, he was curious to see if it belonged to anyone, since he wished to ride it a bit. Seeing no one about, he decided to climb on its back for the time being, and ask questions later. He rode on until he came upon the two quarreling men. When they saw the stranger, they ran up to him, grabbed hold of the reins, and asked him to dismount, so that he could resolve their dispute.

The rider, who did not understand either of the two, was sure that they were the owners of the horse demanding an explanation for his having appropriated their animal. Afraid of punishment, he leaped off and ran away.

The remaining two were sure that he had gone off to get help and were afraid of getting into trouble. Both fled as well; the shepherd urging his sheep forward and the harvester shouldering his tools.

The scene returned to its pastoral serenity, with only the horse left to graze upon the delicious clover.

As for the three men, each ran off in different directions, feeling disappointed and frustrated.

The shepherd could not understand why the harvester had been so insulted at the gift he had offered. Had he owed him anything to begin with?

The harvester did not understand why the shepherd blamed him for the sheep’s broken leg, when he had not been to blame.

And the traveler wondered why the two men had attacked him for taking a ride on an untethered horse. He had not meant to steal it!

Each of the three was convinced that he was right. How, then, had such a misunderstanding resulted?

The reason is very simple: Each one interpreted the other’s actions according to his own way of thinking. No one tried to understand what the other was saying. Lack of communica­tion was to blame for this argument.

We do speak the same language as our friends and acquaintances. Nevertheless, we still misinterpret one another’s true meaning and intent. These misunderstandings can often lead to ill feelings, quarrels and even blows.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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A hungry raven circled above a quiet river. Birds chirped merrily and the wind blew pleasantly. It was a perfect spring day in an idyllic setting.

The raven had no interest in the beauty of nature. It was on the lookout for food. Anything would do — the carcass of a bird, a rabbit or a field mouse.

You can imagine its joy when the smell of a dead cat reached its nostrils. The raven swooped off in the direction of the odor, cawing loudly in eager anticipation.

How happy it was when it came upon its prey.

Just as it was about to feed on this fat meal, a shadow fell across the ground. The raven looked up and saw an eagle flapping its great wings very slowly and swooping down towards him.

“I heard your cheery cawing,” said the king of birds. “Thank you for informing me of this juicy meal. And now, you may leave. I claim this carcass all for myself. If your life is dear to you, you would do well to remove yourself at once, unless you wish to become my dessert.”

Angry and disappointed, the raven lifted its wings and flew away, hunger gnawing at his belly.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” it said bitterly to itself. “It never pays to make too much noise.” For is it not taught:

“A bird of the air shall carry the voice.” (Eccles. 10:20)

“Your secret is your prisoner. Once you reveal it, you are its prisoner.” (Mibhar haPeninim #321)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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