Short Pesach/Passover Stories to Share

Posted on Friday, 3, April, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

On Pesach (Passover) we read the Haggadah

Haggadah means the telling

Here are some Stories of Pesach to share at your Seder

Pesach – Passover begins at sundown on 8 April 2020. People in the Jewish communities throughout the world will read the Haggadah telling of the miracles surrounding the journey of leaving slavery. Bondage takes many forms and the age-old tradition of telling stories in the presence of matzah, maror and the seder plate reminds us of freedom and the hope that surrounds the kos shel Eliyahu (the Cup of Elijah). The stories carry messages of greatness, nobility, and wisdom while at the same time raising the hopes for a better tomorrow.

Please read and enjoy the stories below about many aspects of Pesach – Passover. Share them with others, comment, join in a discussion, or just “like” the stories and tell us which are your favorites.

Will I be Able to Ask the Mah Nishtanah?

Passover, Smugglers and Guards

Creating a Prayer – Shema and Pesach

A Question for Passover Ayecha – Where Are You?

The Passover Haggadah Says Whoever Elaborates on the Story is Praised

Chanukah – Egypt – Passover: Is There a Connection?

The First Question and the Captive Prince

Matzah and Shalom Bayis (Peace in the Family)

The Simple Seder is the Greater Seder

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

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Too Much – Part II The Reward

Posted on Tuesday, 31, March, 2020Tuesday, 31, March, 2020 by Rabbi

“There is no time to rest now. I will have the rest of my life for that, but today I must run. What I work for now will be mine to keep forever.”

Yosef jumped up and began again to run, driven to cover more of the lush, green land. Finally, he stood on top of a beautiful hill and realized he was very hot. Straight overhead the warm afternoon sun was beating down upon his head. He had been working very hard all morning, too busy to notice the sun’s steady progress across the sky.

With the sun high in the sky, he realized, “High noon! It’s midday. I’ve got to turn back. Why I’ve already spent half a day on my journey, and I must be back before sundown. It’s time to turn around. I haven’t a moment to lose!”

Yosef looked ahead of him at what was probably the most beautiful sight he had seen yet. A meadow greener than any he had ever seen lay below him. Surrounded by trees of all types, it seemed a magical place, as animals played in the tall grass and birds flew majestically overhead, singing pleasant songs.

“How can I give up this valley?” said Yosef, looking worriedly over his shoulder at the sun high overhead. “I know I have more time than this. After all, I didn’t leave in the morning until the sun had been up for at least a while. I probably still have more time before I must turn back.”

Greed and envy pushed him on, and Yosef continued through what was truly a splendid meadow. Half an hour later, he stood on the other side and saw sights even more beautiful. This time Yosef admonished himself, “No, I must not be persuaded by thoughts of greed and envy. The hour is well past noon, the sun is past the high point in the sky. I must turn back now, otherwise I will never be back before sundown.”

Yosef took the stick he had been carrying, plunged it deep into the ground, and made sure it held fast. The red handkerchief waved in the wind. He had finally marked off his spot.

Yosef knew that it was definitely time to turn around. He took one last, longing look at the valleys and hills ahead of him, but in a panic said, “No, I can’t have it. I already have hundreds of acres, and now I must stop.”

With a great sigh, Yosef began to run home, one firm purpose guiding him, one goal he could not fail to attain: he must be back before sundown. His heart raced, his blood pulsed quickly, and his legs covered the miles in leaps and bounds. Whereas before he was too preoccupied to look at the sun, now he was almost obsessed by it. He checked its progress constantly.

It seemed to Yosef that he was running with even greater speed than in the morning. No longer distracted by the delightful sights he passed, he sprinted across the grass in the hot summer afternoon. He did not even notice how his body was becoming parched and dry. He had not eaten anything all day, but was unaware of the fatigue that overwhelmed his body. He began to stumble and fall often now, and that could not escape his notice.

“What is happening to me? Am I losing my strength? I can’t slow down now!” Yosef continued ahead. He fell again, harder this time. Yosef picked himself up and felt a stab of pain in his leg. “I’ll have time to deal with the pain later,” he assured himself. “I’ll have the best doctors. I’ll have anything that I could possibly desire. Right now I must work harder than I ever have!”

Yosef reached way down into the storehouses of energy and strength that lay deep within him. He began to recognize where he was. It was just a few miles from his final destination. He looked towards the horizon to check if he could see the Euphrates River in the distance. How sweet a sight it would be to see his master, Mr. Parnas, standing just ahead of him!

“He can’t be far off now,” Yosef consoled himself as he squinted to catch sight of him. The sun was setting and it was quite late already, and Yosef was becoming frantic. His mind vividly played out a terrible scenario over and over: his master stood waiting for him as day turned into night and the sun hid itself from the moon; yet Yosef never returned!

Confusion overcame him. “Perhaps I’ve been running in the wrong direction. But that’s impossible. The sun is behind me. I must be going in the right direction. Or am I?”

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Yosef could not take time to stop and decide. He continued to run in desperation, tripping and falling all the while.

At long last Yosef spotted the welcome sight of the Euphrates River off in the distance. He thought he could make out the shape of Mr. Parnas standing there. But how much time was left?

Yosef was aching, every muscle and joint screamed out in pain. His head throbbed and his breathing was erratic as he fought for control. Yosef was in deep trouble. With still a mile or two to go, the sun began to touch the horizon, only minutes left before sundown.

Yosef shrieked, “No, this can’t be happening.” He ran more frenzied than ever towards the little dot on the horizon that stood on the bank of the Euphrates River. Sadly, the inevitable happened, and Yosef fell. Only this time he had not tripped; his body had given out. This time Yosef did not get up. On that very spot, early the next morning, the people gathered for Yosef’s burial.

We learn that “envy, lust and [the desire for] honor can put a man out of the world” (Pirkei Avos 4:21). The chase after material wealth and the respect that we assume comes with being wealthy can actually destroy a person. Some people spend endless amounts of energy wishing and dreaming about how wonderful it would be to be rich. Some actually spend lifetimes in the pursuit of the riches they think will make them happy. However, the truth is that no matter how much a person already has, there is always more to be gotten, and if we always look for more wealth, honour and fame, we will never be satisfied with what we have. If we can learn to see the good in what we already have and appreciate it, then we will be happy and feel wealthy as well. As we are taught, “Who is rich? He who rejoices in his lot, as it is said: “You shall enjoy the fruit of your labors, you shall be happy and you shall prosper” (Psalms 128:2).” (Pirkei Avos 4:1)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

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Too Much – Part I The Promise

Posted on Sunday, 29, March, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Part II The Reward will be posted Tuesday 31 March

All around them was the beauty and splendor of the valley. At their feet stood the mighty Euphrates River, majestically stretching from horizon to horizon. There they stood, Mr. Parnas and his ever faithful servant, Yosef. “Yosef, my dear man, you have served faithfully in my family for many years now. Over the years you have worked hard and long on our behalf. I know that many times you had to set aside your own wants and needs because your help was necessary on the estate.

“Yosef, I know too that the great wealth which this family possesses has at times overwhelmed you. Perhaps it was difficult to continue working to protect our wealth when your family was not gaining equally from your efforts. I believe you quickly chased away the momentary envy that may have crossed your mind.

“That is why I have always trusted you, and that is why I wish to reward you today. Look around you, Yosef. Look at the beautiful fertile land that surrounds you: hills, valleys, lush green meadows. I would like to share this wealth with you, Yosef; however, I want you to earn the land that will be yours. You will determine how much or how little is sufficient and, therefore, will not have cause to question it in the future. Rather the land will be more precious to you, as it will be acquired through your efforts.”

There was a glisten in Yosef’s eyes. He loved Mr. Parnas. Mr. Parnas had always been so kind, and now Yosef realized with a tinge of embarrassment that Mr. Parnas even understood his secret feelings. It was true. Sometimes it was difficult to continue working for what was not his, even though Mr. Parnas would hint at a reward that would come some day.

“Yosef,” continued Mr. Parnas, “we stand here, the two of us alone, at the great Euphrates River. I want you to look north. What do you see?”

“Why, Master, I see beautiful hills and valleys just like you spoke of.”

“And to the south, what do you see there?”

“I see flowing streams and fields, golden with harvest.”

“And east and west?”

“There I see orchards, heavy with fruit, and gardens, well- tended, yielding delicious produce.”

“Yes, Yosef, and you shall have part of all that. We possess thousands and thousands of acres in almost every direction. Today I will share it with you. Here is what I suggest, Yosef. It’s early in the morning now, just after sunrise, and I brought you here with one purpose in mind. I want you to begin walking, or running if you like, but go as far as you want. Every step that you take will be a step that will represent permanent ownership of that land.

“If you travel one half mile north, then all of the land from here, the foot of this river, until one half mile north will be yours; its boundaries east and west will be as far as your eye can see. If you choose to travel further in this short day, then more land will be yours.”

Then Mr. Parnas reached for a little pole which had a red handkerchief tied to the end of it. “This, Yosef,” he said, “is your flag. I want you to take this and run with it and go as far as you desire; and when you reach that place, put the flag in the ground and then come back to me. All that land will be yours.

“But there is one thing, Yosef, I want you to think about before you begin. When you pass through all this beautiful land, I want you to think carefully about how far you want to go. Then just before midday, I want you to put the pole in the ground and come back to me. You have only until sundown to report back to me here, at the foot of this mountain, and tell me where the flag is. Then we will go out the next day and mark off the boundaries, and all the land will be yours. But you must come back before sundown. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course, Master, I understand.”

“Wait, just one minute,” said Mr. Parnas. And like a loving parent who wants to ensure his child’s success, he repeated, “I want you to take this very seriously. This will affect the rest of your life. Remember, you are to put the flag in the ground and then turn around and come back before sundown! I wish you the best of luck.”

What a moment! Yosef looked all about, almost embarrassed to run. He took a few tentative steps, ever so carefully and slowly at first. Then he turned around again to look at Mr. Parnas who was shooing him on.

Suddenly, Yosef began to sprint. Thirty yards away, Yosef suddenly tripped. He looked back, chuckled at his master, wiped himself off and then continued to run.

Within a short while, Yosef was out of sight. When he reached the top of a large hill, he looked back, but his master was only a dot on the horizon. The beautiful valley that lay ahead of him seemed to stretch on forever.

“I’ve come so far; look what is now mine! How can I ever thank Mr. Parnas,” thought Yosef. “I could stop here and live with my family on this beautiful spot of land forever. There I could plant fields of my own crops, build a beautiful, little house .”

But then a nagging thought crossed Yosef’s mind, a thought that was going to pester and gnaw away at his better judgment. “But there is so much more yet ahead of me. I could be even wealthier,” he reasoned.

Yosef picked up the flag, held it high and decided that he would run a little further. Ahead of him was a whole array of hills. Yosef’s head was spinning with new ideas. “Why at the top of that hill, I could have my lookout tower; that very next hill could be the site of my windmill!” The possibilities seemed endless.

Finally, when it seemed that three quarters of the morning had passed, Yosef stopped to rest at one of the beautiful creeks and took a drink. “One day,” he envisioned, “I will sit here with my children and grandchildren and fish at my creek. It would be nice to own the land on both sides of this creek so that I could build a little summer hideaway for my grandchildren on the other side of the river.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

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The Path to the Monster of the Woods

Posted on Friday, 27, March, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

A young boy slowly hiked through the dark forest, the wind blew so cold it felt as though his very bones would freeze. Shadows of dancing tree limbs frightened the boy and the sounds of the night in the forest terrified him. The heavy rain and howling winds slammed into him, threatening to toss him off of the dirt path. The boy stumbled on, squinting through the dark to see the dim path ahead of him, wishing he was home, wishing he was anywhere but here.

The young boy set out on a journey to visit the Monster of the Woods. As he neared his destination, he became less and less aware of the rain and wind, their importance paling beside the fear welling up inside him. He grew up hearing tales about the Monster of the Woods, of his evilness, of the horrors that befall those who anger him. It’s madness to willingly go to him, but he have no choice. The young boy needed his help.

After what seemed like an eternity, the young boy came to a small clearing. In the center of the clearing stood a small shack, it was barely visible in the stormy night. Soaked to the bone with rain and exhaustion, the young boy slowly walked to the shack. As he got closer and closer, he started to hear the thump-thump-thumping of his heart, its steady beat carrying over the howling winds. The young boy begins to feel sick and his hands tremble with fear.

Then, almost without realizing it, he finds himself by the door.

He took a breath—a shaking, shuddering breath—and raised his hand to knock.

The young boy knocked a few times, hard and loud, before he heard movement in the shack. There is the creaking of a chair, then the sound of something crashing to the ground, and then footsteps slowly approached the door. With a loud squeek, the door swings open.

The old Jewish man looked at the young boy, straining to see him through the rain and wind. He was bent and older than the forest, this Monster of the Woods, The young boy saw that the old man’s eyes were bright, cunning and shrewd, reflecting the evil of his race.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

The young man swallowed. He needed this Jewish man, need what he knew, but he was still afraid. His words tumble over each other, coming out wrong and confused. The young boy stammers, “Medicine. I need medicine. I mean, my father does. He’s sick, you see, and the doctors don’t know how to help him. And you do. That is, I heard that you know medicines—herbs and such? And that I can describe the illness to you and you can cure it? I have money, too. To pay. For the medicine.”

The old Jewish man looked at the young boy. “Well. You’d better come in, then.” He said as he invited the young boy into his very small home.

The young boy filled with fear realizes that he doesn’t want to enter the Monster’s house—a thousand stories detail the dangers to be met, but what could he do? He’s already walked into his house. Plus, the young boy was so cold he had forgotten what warm feels like, and in the corner of the shack he could see a fire.

He slowly took off his coat and laid it over a stool. The young boy hurried over to the fire, crouching low and letting out a satisfied sigh as its heat spreads over him. The old Jewish man walked over and handed him a cup of steaming tea, which the young boy slowly sipped.

Old Jewish man sat down on a stool across from the young boy and said, “So. Start from the beginning. Describe your father’s illness.”

The young boy gave as much information as he could, having made sure to memorize every detail of it. When he was done, the Jewish man looked at him strangely.

“You’re John, right? Paul’s son?”

The young boy feels a stab of terror pierce his heart. “What of it?” He responded as he slowly bent his knees, so could jump up if he had to run.

“What of it?” The old Jewish man shrugs. “Nothing. I remember you, is all. I used to live in the town, years ago. Before they realized the gold mine in their midst—before they realized that they could blame any vices they have on the ‘evil Jews’ and avoid having to take responsibility for their own actions. Anyway, back then, I used to see you around, sometimes. You’re taller now, but I recognize you.”

For the first time, the young boy’s fear overpowered his anger. “Oh, that’s clever. Pretending that you’re the victim. I know what you are; everyone does. You’re the Monster of the Woods.”

The old Jewish man smiled, an odd, sad grin, and for a moment the young boy caught a glimpse of an immeasurable grief and pain in that smile. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? I am the terrible Monster, tricking his visitors and stealing their wealth.” He spreads his arms wide. “Can you not see it—the gold and silver lining my walls? This beautiful throne of diamonds I sit on? Look how majestically I live. Yes, I must be a terrible bandit—a monster, indeed.”

With his anger growing, the young boy answered, “Well, of course you don’t show it. If you lived in splendor, you wouldn’t be able to rob people. You need to appear poor to get them off their guard. When I leave, I’m sure you’ll revert to your true form.”

The old Jewish man responded, “Ah, yes. That is clearly the most logical explanation.” He applauded, slowly. “Well done, John, son of Paul. You have seen to the heart of my nature.”

The young boy glared at him, angry at being mocked, was ready to argue. Before the young boy could speak, the old Jewish man wearily raised a hand, “No, don’t. I’m not interested in arguing with you.” He walked over to a trunk by the wall and started pulling out herbs. As he sorted through them, he speaks over his shoulder. “Do you know why they call me a monster? It’s not because I’m dangerous or particularly frightening. No, I’m a monster because I’m something far worse. I’m different.”

The old Jewish man handed the young boy a packet. “Here—the medicine for your father. I’ve included instructions as to how he should take them. If he follows them, he should heal fairly quickly.”

The young man took them wordlessly and stood to leave. As he reached the door, he turned back to face the old Jewish man and asked, “If it’s so hard for you, why don’t you be like everyone else?”

The Monster of the Woods smiled. “How was the trek on the way here?”

“Difficult. I could barely see the path, and the winds kept trying to blow me off the path into the woods.”

He nodded. “You could have just walked off into the forest. Abandoned the path, stopped struggling through the winds and given up. The trees would have sheltered you; you would have had no need for light without a path. But you didn’t. Because you’d never have found your way here without the path to guide you.

“I could give it up. Live in the forest, be comfortable in this world. But then I’d have to give up my path, my difficult path through the forest. And what would be the point, then? What’s the point of entering the forest if you won’t walk the right path?”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

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The Cries and Blessings of Trees

Posted on Thursday, 19, March, 2020Thursday, 18, January, 2024 by Rabbi

One day the holy rabbi set out on a journey. His students asked where he was going, all he would say was, “Someone needs our help.”

The holy rabbi invited three of his devoted students to join him. They walked down the road discussing Torah and were quite unaware of where they were going. When the sun began to set, the students wondered where they would spend the night. At last one of them asked the holy rabbi, and all he would say was “Der Eybishter vet tsushteln (The One above will provide.)”

Then, just as darkness was falling, the holy rabbi and his students arrived at an inn. The students had never been to this inn before, so they were delighted to find that it was run by a Jewish man and his wife. Now the innkeeper was honored that the holy rabbi was a guest at his inn, and he treated him with great respect.

The holy rabbi and his students joined the other guests for ma’ariv (evening prayers). All together there were ten men, just enough to make a minyan. After that the innkeeper’s wife served a fine meal, and the guests stayed up for many hours discussing the Torah. It was late when the innkeeper showed the students to their rooms. Before the innkeeper left the holy rabbi, he asked, “Rabbi, could I speak to you in private?”

“Surely,” answered the holy rabbi, and he offered the innkeeper a chair. When the man was seated, he told holy rabbi his story:

The holy rabbi answered, “It is late and I am tired. Let me think about this overnight, and in the morning I’ll let you know if there is anything I can do.” The innkeeper was pleased with this reply and took his leave of the holy rabbi. Soon the holy rabbi and his students were all sound asleep, but in the middle of the night, the holy rabbi began to cry out, waking everyone in the inn. They came running to see what had happened.

When they came in, they found Holy rabbi sitting up in bed, with a dazed look. He ignored all those who had gathered there. Instead, he took a book out of his bag, closed his eyes, and opened it, pointing to a passage. Then he opened his eyes, read what was written there, nodded, closed the book, and put it away. Then he turned to everyone gathered there and said, “Everyone can go back to sleep. I will be all right. Goodnight.” Then everyone went back to sleep, except for the innkeeper and his wife, who didn’t get a wink of sleep, for they were very curious to know what the rabbi would tell them.

The next day, after morning prayers, Holy rabbi signaled for the innkeeper and his wife to join him. When they were alone he said, “Tell me, were the walls of this inn built out of saplings that were cut down before their time?” The innkeeper and his wife looked at each other, and the innkeeper said, “Yes, rabbi, it is true. But how did you know?”

The holy rabbi said, “All night I dreamed I was surrounded by the bodies of the dead. I was very frightened. When I awoke and opened that book, the words I read there were ‘Cutting down a tree before its time is the same as killing a soul.’ That is how I learned that it was the souls of the trees crying out to me. So too did I learn why you and your wife can’t have children.”

“Rabbi,” cried the innkeeper, “What possible connection could there be?”

Holy rabbi said, “There is an angel named Lailah, who is the angel of conception. It is Lailah who delivers the soul of the unborn child. But each time Lailah approaches your inn to bring you the blessing of a child, she is driven back by the sighs and moans and cries of the souls of the trees that were cut down too soon.”

“Oh, Rabbi, that is terrible,” said the innkeeper. “Is there anything we can do about it?”

“Yes,” said Holy rabbi. “You must plant trees. Plant twice as many trees as you cut down. Take good care of them and see that none are cut down. If you do this for three years, you will be blessed with a child.”

The couple was overjoyed to hear this and the innkeeper thanked the holy rabbi for revealing this mystery to them. And that very day, even before Holy rabbi and his students took their leave, they began planting trees.

All the trees that the couple planted grew tall and strong. And after three years, Lailah returned to their home. Then the lullaby of the living trees soothed the cries of the trees that had been cut down, so that Lailah was able to reach the couple’s house, tap on their window three times, and bless them with a child. And every year after that the innkeeper’s wife gave birth to another child, until they had seven children, and all of them were as tall and straight and strong as a fine tree.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two.

Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

The Forgotten Melody

Posted on Tuesday, 10, March, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Chaim Leib was a wandering musician. He traveled from village to village playing his violin at every opportunity. His music made others happy, and he asked for nothing more than a meal and a place to sleep.

Now Chaim Leib especially loved playing at orphans’ weddings and at the end of every Shabbos (Sabbath Day). His favorite songs were niggunim – haunting Jewish melodies without words. During the summer, when the windows were wide open, the sound of his violin was heard up and down the roads and byways. Old people as well as young listened to his wonderful playing, which brought joy to a neighborhood that was sad and poor.

At many celebrations, Chaim Leib could be heard playing his violin, which had been in his family for many generations. He played on the eve of Hanukah after lighting the candles, and he played on the eve of Purim.

Each year it was his custom, right after the Purim meal in his house, to take his violin and go to entertain sick and poor people. When he played for poor families, the children would hum along and the women would clap. Before he left each house, Chaim Leib would taste some wine and continue on his way to the next house.

Now one year, Purim took place during an exceptionally cold winter. Deep snow covered the ground, and a strong wind shook roofs and shutters. Chaim Leib was more than sixty years old, and his wife, Feige Chava, asked him not to go out that year. He was determined to lighten the hearts of the sick and poor on Purim, as he had done for so many years.

So Chaim Leib left home and went from house to house playing for the people. He did not refuse any food or drink that the poor gave him in thanks.

When Chaim Leib had not come home by midnight, Feige Chava began to worry. By one o’clock, she started to worry even more. When the old clock showed two, Chaim Leib’s wife woke Shlomo di balegole (the wagon driver) from a deep sleep.

Shlomo di balegole hitched a horse to the sleigh and went with Feige Chava to the house of the village rabbi. They woke the rabbi. With the rabbi’s assistant, the shammash, they lit several lamps and went to search for Chaim Leib. Every place they went, they were told yes, he had been there. He had played his violin, drunk a glass of wine, and gone on his way.

At last they returned home without having found Chaim Leib. The shammash was weary, but he did not return to bed, for it was time to open the old wooden shul (synagogue). He was surprised to see Chaim Leib sitting there. He was playing a beautiful melody on his ancient violin . The melody that the shammash had never heard before.

“Chaim Leib!” cried the shammash. “Are you all right? Where have you been?”

“Don’t bother me,” said Chaim Leib. “I must not forget the melody that I just learned from Moishe the chazzan (cantor).”

“But Moishe the chazzan died many years ago,” the shammash said.

“I know,” said Chaim Leib. as he played the song over and over until he knew it by heart. Then he turned to the shammash. “Let me tell you what happened:

“I went from house to house, playing my violin, as I do every Purim. Everyone was very generous, and perhaps I drank a little too much wine.

“On my way home, I decided to take a shortcut through the yard of the synagogue even though I have heard that the dead pray in the synagogue every night. While passing in front of the gate, I heard a voice from inside the synagogue say, ‘Will Chaim Leib, the son of Yaakov haLevi come forth and pray?’ At that instant I was filled with terror. Who was calling me ? I wanted to escape, but I knew that I had no choice but to go inside. For when you are called to pray before the Torah, you must do it.

“As I approached the door of the synagogue, my legs were trembling. All at once, the door opened as if by itself, and I peered inside. There I saw that the Torah had been taken out of the Ark and lay open. And standing before it I saw ghostly figures as transparent as spider webs.

“Shivering with fear, I took my place before the Torah, made the blessing. and was ready to run away. When suddenly I saw Moishe the chazzan, hurrying toward me. I was very surprised to see him, for I knew that he was no longer among the living.

“‘Chaim Leib,’ he said, ‘please, have mercy. There is something that I must tell you.’ I tried to remain calm, although I could hear my heart beat¬ing. I nodded for him to go on.

“The ghostly figure said, ‘There is a melody I composed just before I died, which I took with me to the grave. I wrote it for the living and it is a great burden for me. The song has never been heard by anyone else. Let me share it with you, so that you can play it for others. As soon as you do, my melody will be set free, and you, Chaim Leib, will be rewarded with a long life.’

“When I heard this, I realized that I had not come there by chance. Even though I was speaking to a spirit, my fear vanished, and I listened carefully as Moishe the chazzan began to sing that niggun. And as soon as he finished, he and all the other ghostly figures vanished, and I took out my violin and played, so as not to forget it. Now I must play it again and again, till my fingers know it by heart.” And so he did, while the shammash listened in amazement.

The next day Chaim Leib sang that magnificent melody for the first time in front of the congregation of the old wooden shul. All who were present agreed that it was truly a haunting melody, the likes of which had never been heard.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

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A Purim Gilgul

Posted on Monday, 9, March, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

A young couple lived in a small village. The husband learned every night when he returned from the yeshiva, his wife enjoyed the melodies of his learning many time late in the night.

Some years went by and the needs for a home and food made the man think about earning a living. He went into business opening a small shop, using his wife’s dowry for his start-up costs. He worked hard and was successful, and within a few years he became very wealthy. As the young man became richer, he spent more and more time in his shop and less and less time learning. His wife missed hearing him learn Torah (Scriptures) late at night. His business was the only thing that was important to him and all that mattered to him was amassing more and more wealth.

The people of the village were hard-working, but sadly there were many who were in great need. Some of the villagers had to beg just keep the body and soul together. There were others in the village who collected money and food to be distributed to the many poor people.

The young wife was very generous, and no one asking for help left the house empty-handed. The husband, on the other hand, became very hardhearted and stingy. The richer he got, the more his wife’s charity bothered him. Eventually, he commanded his wife not to give anything to the needy people of the village.

Of all the Jewish holidays throughout the year, Purim was the hardest for him. On Purim Jewish people are commanded to give gifts of food and charity to the poor (mishloach manos and matanos la’evyonim). He had no interest in giving away his money or any of his delicacies to the poor who knocked on his door. No one sent anything to him—they all shunned him and he didn’t see why he should have to give them anything either. After suffering with these requirements for Purim for a year or two, he found an novel solution. He sent a simple mishloach Manos consisting of a baked potato and a hamantash to his business manager, and he tossed a few pennies to some beggars sitting in the doorway of the synagogue when he came to hear the Megillah reading. In this way, he considered his religious obligation fulfilled.

As he sat at a table that was overflowing with all types of food and delicacies, about to begin his eight-course Purim feast, he heard knocking at the door. He was extremely surprised. It had been a long time since anyone had approached him for money. He sent his wife to see who it was, and as soon as she opened the door he heard, “A Freilechen Purim (Happy Purim!) We’re looking for donations in honor of Purim.”

At the door was a group of masked charity collectors. They were going from house to house collecting money for “Passover wheat (Ma’os Chitim),” the charitable fund that provides Passover supplies for the poor. (Making “Passover wheat” contributions is an ancient tradition that still takes place today.) There is only one short month from Purim to Pesach (Passover), and the needs of the poor at this time of year were great. The village’s young Torah scholars would dress up in costumes and collect money for the poor. No one in the village refused them.

Well, almost no one. When this man’s wife returned to the table and asked her husband to give at least a small donation, he yelled at her and told her to send them away empty-handed. Bowing her head in humiliation, she was forced to turn them away and close the door.

The next day, when the rich man returned to work, he discovered that he had suffered a large loss from an investment that had gone bad. Within a few short weeks, this loss was followed by another sizeable loss, and his fortunes continued to plummet until he was forced to sell everything he had, even his wife’s jewelry. One day, he finally had to admit to his wife that he had no choice but to beg for charity. He gave her a stark choice: either put on the beggar’s cloak and walking stick to collect with him, or accept a divorce and free him of his financial obligations to her. His wife, who had suffered from his stinginess for years, decided to accept a divorce.

In time, she married a young widower, a man with a pleasant personality who was well liked by his neighbors, and they lived a quiet, peaceful life together. They made their home in a nearby village and were known as kind decent, honest people. Her new husband didn’t stop her from inviting guests into their home and even encouraged her, inviting the poor of the village in himself after he saw that she didn’t mind. He was very generous and gave money to charity whenever he could.

Perhaps it was in her merit, or perhaps in his, but his business prospered, and they were also blessed with two beautiful children, a boy and a girl. It was a warm Jewish home, and they lived a happy life together.

The festival of Purim came around one year, and as the family was sitting down to their holiday meal they heard knocking at the door. The wife got up to see who it was and saw a poor stranger standing there. His clothing was tattered, and she could tell just by looking at him that he was starving. She invited him in, and her husband set an extra place at the table.

The beggar could barely keep himself from wolfing down the food. He ate from all the different dishes and delicacies until he couldn’t eat anymore. As he finally put down his fork, there were tears in his eyes. It is unclear whether these were tears of gratitude or tears of sadness at the contrast between this family’s happiness and his own dreadful condition. His hosts did everything they could to cheer him up so that he could be joyful on the happy festival. They also gave him money so that he could buy new clothes for himself.

After Purim, when they had finished cleaning up and putting their children to bed, the husband and wife sat down and talked about the events of the day.

“I really feel for that poor man,” the husband told his wife. “I remember when I used to be poor like that. There was this one Purim when I was starving, and I was going to this rich man, not so far from here, in the hope of getting something to eat. He was supposed to be a real miser, but I figured that he might at least give me something to eat in honor of Purim, even if he wouldn’t give me any money. As I was approaching the house, I met a group of collectors who had been sent away. He didn’t even agree to talk to them. I lost hope of getting anything from him and didn’t bother knocking.

“How wonderful the world is. Now, not only do I have plenty to eat and a happy life with you, but we’re actually able to invite guests and give food and charity to others. At the same time, we should never forget that everything we have comes from above, and is only ours for as long as He wants it to be. He gave it to us as a present so that we can use it to help others, but if He wants He could take it from us and leave us as destitute as that poor man. Who knows? Maybe that man once had money, maybe he was even rich. G d lowers the proud and raises the lowly. G d turns the wheel of wealth, bringing people high and low.”

“You’re right on target, my dear husband,” his wife said, wiping tears from her eyes. “That beggar was not only rich, he was the same miser you wanted to approach that Purim, the one who sent those charity collectors away in such disgrace.”

“How on earth can you know this?” her husband asked in surprise.

“I know because I was there,” she said softly. “As that man left our house today, it struck me. Our guest was none other than my first husband.”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

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A Freilechen Purim Stories

Posted on Sunday, 8, March, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Story Tour shares special Purim stories for all to enjoy and share with others. The threat of violence and a sense of foreboding has led many to prayer and the unseen hand of the Holy One, blessed be He brought hope and peace as heartfelt prayers were said.

A Maggid and Purim – Megillah, maggidim (spiritual storytellers) and the king’s sleepless night. The king could simply have a maggid to tell a bedtime story.

Purim: A Time of Joy – Purim is a Jewish holiday of deliverance from death which served as an inspiration in the ghettos, death camps and forests of nazi Europe and a spark of hope.

Another Purim? – For many Jewish families of Spanish descent, there is a special holiday called Purim Saragossa based on a 15th century event that even fewer people know about.

Purim by the Clock – The day of Purim..the clock showed him that the hands on the clock’s face stood at the same position, the very moment when the king was carried away.

100 Barrels of Wine or the World to Come

Posted on Thursday, 5, March, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The holy rabbi once gathered a select group of his students and told them: “Come, I will show you someone who sincerely and wholeheartedly welcomes guests into his home.”

The horses and carriage were prepared for the journey. The wheels of the wagon flew through fields and forests as well as mountains and valleys. Late in the afternoon, the wagon came to a halt in front of an inn.

There was a small inn tucked away in a small village whose manager was a pious man. Every day he would pray:

As the carriage of the holy rabbi and his students came near the inn the innkeeper ran to meet them, and respectfully bowed saying: “Holy rabbi, if I find favor with you, do not pass by my humble inn. Baruch Hashem (Praised be G-d), that I have the opportunity to serve you and your students.”

The innkeeper went over to the travelers and invited them into his home. “Come, dear rabbis, come into my home. You can rest up and eat something. You will refresh yourselves, and at the same time bring life to me and a blessing upon my house. It’s not every day that I am so fortunate to do the mitzvah of hachnosas orchim [welcoming guests]”

The holy rabbi thought for a moment and answered: “Maybe it would be better that we continue on our way to the nearby city. There we will be able to pray with the congregation and hear the Torah reading.”

“Oh, but I have a Torah scroll right here; and together with all of you, we will also have a minyan [quorum of 10] to pray,” the innkeeper said, entreating them to remain. He added that if they would like to pray in the city on Shabbos, they could walk there, because it was within the permissible area one is allowed to walk on Shabbos.

In the end, the holy rabbi agreed to the request of the innkeeper, and the travelers became his guests.

While the innkeeper lived modestly, he offered his guests his best rooms and did everything he could to make their stay comfortable. After they had prayed, he invited them to a table set with delicious food. He himself stood by to serve them.

On Shabbos morning, they all walked to the nearby city to pray. After Shabbos, the innkeeper prepared a lavish melaveh malkah feast (meal after the conclusion of the Sabbath day), and even invited many more guests from the area. He radiated joy as he greeted his guests and bustled around making sure everyone was cared for.

The holy rabbi and his students spent a few more days with the villager, who took care of all their needs personally and did everything in his power to make sure they felt at home.

Before leaving, the holy rabbi asked their host if he had any special requests.

“My only request is that you pray for me that I merit life in the World to Come,” the innkeeper answered.

“The thing you ask for is dependent upon you,” the holy rabbi responded. “But if you want me to bless you, you must come to me in my city on market day. Allow me to give you some sound advice. There is a shortage of wine in my city, when you come, it would be worthwhile to bring with you 100 barrels of wine of the best kind, so that you can earn a nice profit.”

Some time passed, and the students all but forgot about the innkeeper. One day, the holy rabbi instructed his students, “Today a group of poor people came to our town. Please go and tell them that I am inviting them to my Shabbos meal.”

The students were very surprised to hear this. The local custom was that poor people and passing guests who came to town had all their needs met by the local committee in charge of accommodating wayfarers, who arranged meals and sleeping accommodations. What had changed that the holy rabbi was personally inviting this group to his house.

When the poor people were seated around the table, the holy rabbi turned to one of them and invited him to come sit next to him.

“Do you recognize me?” the holy rabbi asked.

“Yes,” the poor man answered. “I had the merit to host the holy rabbi and his students in my inn.”

The students sitting around the table suddenly paid attention.

“Tell us what happened to you since then,” the holy rabbi continued.

The innkeeper told the following tale:

“When the holy rabbi told me to come to him in his city and bring 100 barrels of the best wine, I firmly believed in the words of the holy rabbi, and set out to do this. I sold everything I possessed, and bought 100 barrels of wine. Then I set out on my way. Toward evening, as we passed through a forest, a big storm broke out and torrents of rain fell.”

“The path was totally flooded with water, and the wagons were unable to move forward. I got off the wagon and, leaving the merchandise with the wagon drivers, I started searching for a house or inn in which to spend the night.”

“After a time, I noticed a small light far ahead in the darkness. I went toward the light. Soon I reached a house in the forest. An old man with a flowing beard greeted me at the door. He invited me in. The house was warm and the old man treated me kindly until I warmed up. In the morning, after I said the morning prayers, I parted from the old man and went back to where I had left my wagons. However, there was no trace of them. It was as if they had vanished into thin air.”

“At first I was very upset and depressed. However, then I began to think that I don’t have any reason to be upset. ‘the L-rd gave, and the L-rd has taken away; blessed be the name of the L-rd.’ (Job 1:21.) Surely it is all for the good, I decided. I began to walk, and then came upon a group of poor people traveling this way. I traveled with them until I came to this city.”

The poor man finished his story, and all eyes now focused on the holy rabbi.

“Do you regret that you asked me to be blessed with life in the world to come? Perhaps you would prefer to get all your lost wealth back?” the holy rabbi asked the innkeeper.

“Heaven forbid!” the innkeeper replied without hesitating. “Is the holy rabbi suggesting that I give up my share in the world to come in exchange for 100 barrels of wine? Absolutely not. I am prepared to remain a poor person all my life, traveling from place to place, if only I can merit life in the World to Come!”

“Indeed that is what I wanted to hear from you,” the holy rabbi said. “A person needs to be ready to give up everything for faith in the Holy One, blessed be He. You accomplished this, and therefore you will merit life in the World to Come.”

A smile of pure happiness spread across the poor innkeeper’s face.

The holy rabbi continued: “You are thinking that now you will have to wander with your friends for a long time. Well, that is not the case. With the help of Heaven, tomorrow the wagons with the wine that you lost in the forest will arrive here. You will sell them for a nice profit, and you will once again be able to guests as before.”

Sure enough, the next day, the wagons arrived as the holy rabbi had said. The villager became wealthy, and continued to host guests in a generous fashion.

You ask, “Who was the holy rabbi?” Maybe one of the Lamed Vov Tzadikim (36 Righteous people who bless and guide the world.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

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Fifty Year Old Honey

Posted on Tuesday, 3, March, 2020Wednesday, 30, August, 2023 by Rabbi

Less than a week after the tzaddik Rabbi Levi Yitzchak moved to Berditchev to serve as chief rabbi, three men knocked on his door to ask him to decide a question of Halachah (Jewish law). It would be his very first case as a rabbinical judge in his new position.

A wealthy merchant from the nearby town of Hemelnick had brought several barrels filled with honey to sell at the big fair in Berditchev. Unfortunately, just then, the price of honey dropped sharply. Not wanting to suffer a loss on his investment, he asked a friend to store the honey for him until the price rose again.

The two were old friends, and the local man was happy to help his friend. Knowing each other to be completely honest, they didn’t write down anything of their arrangement or call in witnesses.

Time went by. The price of honey remained low, so the barrels remained in the Berditchev cellar, untouched.

More time went by. The man on whose property the honey was stored became sick and passed away. Everything happened so quickly, he never had a chance to explain to his family anything about the state of his affairs.

More time passed. The price of honey finally began to climb. When the increase became significant, the owner of the barrels showed up at his deceased friend’s house to claim his honey from the sons who had taken over their father’s business. They, however, having heard nothing about it from their father, refused to honor the merchant’s claim. After some discussion, they decided to proceed to the beis din (rabbinical court) to present the case before the new rabbi.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak listened carefully, even though the law in such a case was clear. Of course he would have to rule against the out-of-town merchant. Even if there had been witnesses or a signed document, Torah law stipulates that no claims against “orphans” (i.e., heirs who are disadvantaged by the fact that they have no way of knowing what transpired between the deceased and their litigant) can be collected without first swearing an oath as to the validity of one’s claim; and here there were neither document nor witnesses.

Nevertheless, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak hesitated to pronounce his verdict and finalize the case. Two nagging thoughts disturbed him. Why, in his first days in his new position, did the G-d arrange for his first religious decision to be something so straightforward and clear-cut, with no room to budge left or right to attempt any sort of compromise?

The other thought that made him uncomfortable was: Why did G-d arrange it so that his very first ruling in this town would be considered bizarre by the entire populace? After all, the merchant from Hemelnick was well-known to everyone as a scrupulously honest man, as someone who was already wealthy and as such immune to monetary pressures, and as far from theft as east is from west. Furthermore, everyone knew that the merchant and the deceased were old friends who trusted each other implicitly, never resorting to documents or witnesses in their transactions. Surely, the entire town would be paying attention to the first ruling handed down by their new rabbi. Everyone was sure to wonder: Why should the law of the Torah be so opposite to common sense? “

He couldn’t bring himself to issue the verdict just yet. The contradiction between the natural sense of what was right and the law of the Torah was too great. Even though the claimant and defendants anxiously awaited his word, he asked them to excuse him for a few more minutes. Turning aside to a corner of the room, he poured forth in silent prayer his frustration, beseeching G-d to enlighten him with understanding.

Suddenly, the owner of the honey jumped off his seat as if struck by a bolt of lightning, and exclaimed: “I remember! I remember!” So struck was he by his recollection, and so convinced of its importance and relevance, he didn’t hesitate to interrupt the Rabbi, who was standing in the corner, absorbed in his personal prayer.

“Honored Rabbi, please forgive me,” he called out excitedly. “While waiting here I had the most amazing realization! An old memory, which I haven’t thought about in many years, just flashed through my mind. Rescued from oblivion! I’m talking about something that happened fifty years ago, when I was just a young lad.

“Our father died suddenly, leaving us a large inheritance. Included in this was a storage room filled with casks of wine and oil.

“One day, the father of these two young men — may his rest be peaceful — came to our home in Hemelnick. He claimed that the wine and oil were his — that he had stored it with our father for safekeeping. My brothers and I were still quite young then, and had never been involved in any of our father’s business affairs. We had no idea what we were supposed to do, but were reluctant to give up the merchandise just like that.

“We all went to the rabbi of the town and presented our case. He ruled in our favor, explaining that nothing can be taken from the inheritance of orphans without absolute proof and an oath. The wine and oil remained in our possession. After a while, we sold the entire lot for a good price.

“What I just realized is that the money we received for that wine and oil is exactly equal to the value of my honey, which is now in the possession of the sons of my departed friend!”

With his apt comparison of the two parallel events fifty years apart, the merchant had conceded his own present case. For the same reason that, as an orphan, he was entitled to keep the wine and oil that long time ago, he had to relinquish his claim on these orphans for his honey today.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

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On Pesach (Passover) we read the Haggadah

Haggadah means the telling

Here are some Stories of Pesach to share at your Seder

Please read and enjoy the stories below about many aspects of Pesach – Passover. Share them with others, comment, join in a discussion, or just “like” the stories and tell us which are your favorites.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

More short Jewish stories can be found in the book, Story Tour: The Journey Begins will remind readers of forgotten stories of faith that strengthen and reaffirm hope for a better world.

Buy a copy of Story Tour: The Journey Begins as a gift for someone special today. Story Tour: The Journey Begins is available from the publisher, Xlibris, Booksamillion, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon

“There is no time to rest now. I will have the rest of my life for that, but today I must run. What I work for now will be mine to keep forever.”

With the sun high in the sky, he realized, “High noon! It’s midday. I’ve got to turn back. Why I’ve already spent half a day on my journey, and I must be back before sundown. It’s time to turn around. I haven’t a moment to lose!”

“How can I give up this valley?” said Yosef, looking worriedly over his shoulder at the sun high overhead. “I know I have more time than this. After all, I didn’t leave in the morning until the sun had been up for at least a while. I probably still have more time before I must turn back.”

Yosef took the stick he had been carrying, plunged it deep into the ground, and made sure it held fast. The red handkerchief waved in the wind. He had finally marked off his spot.

Yosef knew that it was definitely time to turn around. He took one last, longing look at the valleys and hills ahead of him, but in a panic said, “No, I can’t have it. I already have hundreds of acres, and now I must stop.”

Confusion overcame him. “Perhaps I’ve been running in the wrong direction. But that’s impossible. The sun is behind me. I must be going in the right direction. Or am I?”

Yosef could not take time to stop and decide. He continued to run in desperation, tripping and falling all the while.

At long last Yosef spotted the welcome sight of the Euphrates River off in the distance. He thought he could make out the shape of Mr. Parnas standing there. But how much time was left?

Yosef was aching, every muscle and joint screamed out in pain. His head throbbed and his breathing was erratic as he fought for control. Yosef was in deep trouble. With still a mile or two to go, the sun began to touch the horizon, only minutes left before sundown.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

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Part II The Reward will be posted Tuesday 31 March

“Yosef,” continued Mr. Parnas, “we stand here, the two of us alone, at the great Euphrates River. I want you to look north. What do you see?”

“Why, Master, I see beautiful hills and valleys just like you spoke of.”

“And to the south, what do you see there?”

“I see flowing streams and fields, golden with harvest.”

“And east and west?”

“There I see orchards, heavy with fruit, and gardens, well- tended, yielding delicious produce.”

“If you travel one half mile north, then all of the land from here, the foot of this river, until one half mile north will be yours; its boundaries east and west will be as far as your eye can see. If you choose to travel further in this short day, then more land will be yours.”

“Yes, of course, Master, I understand.”

What a moment! Yosef looked all about, almost embarrassed to run. He took a few tentative steps, ever so carefully and slowly at first. Then he turned around again to look at Mr. Parnas who was shooing him on.

Suddenly, Yosef began to sprint. Thirty yards away, Yosef suddenly tripped. He looked back, chuckled at his master, wiped himself off and then continued to run.

Within a short while, Yosef was out of sight. When he reached the top of a large hill, he looked back, but his master was only a dot on the horizon. The beautiful valley that lay ahead of him seemed to stretch on forever.

“I’ve come so far; look what is now mine! How can I ever thank Mr. Parnas,” thought Yosef. “I could stop here and live with my family on this beautiful spot of land forever. There I could plant fields of my own crops, build a beautiful, little house .”

But then a nagging thought crossed Yosef’s mind, a thought that was going to pester and gnaw away at his better judgment. “But there is so much more yet ahead of me. I could be even wealthier,” he reasoned.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two. Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

Then, almost without realizing it, he finds himself by the door.

He took a breath—a shaking, shuddering breath—and raised his hand to knock.

The young boy knocked a few times, hard and loud, before he heard movement in the shack. There is the creaking of a chair, then the sound of something crashing to the ground, and then footsteps slowly approached the door. With a loud squeek, the door swings open.

The old Jewish man looked at the young boy, straining to see him through the rain and wind. He was bent and older than the forest, this Monster of the Woods, The young boy saw that the old man’s eyes were bright, cunning and shrewd, reflecting the evil of his race.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

The old Jewish man looked at the young boy. “Well. You’d better come in, then.” He said as he invited the young boy into his very small home.

He slowly took off his coat and laid it over a stool. The young boy hurried over to the fire, crouching low and letting out a satisfied sigh as its heat spreads over him. The old Jewish man walked over and handed him a cup of steaming tea, which the young boy slowly sipped.

Old Jewish man sat down on a stool across from the young boy and said, “So. Start from the beginning. Describe your father’s illness.”

The young boy gave as much information as he could, having made sure to memorize every detail of it. When he was done, the Jewish man looked at him strangely.

“You’re John, right? Paul’s son?”

The young boy feels a stab of terror pierce his heart. “What of it?” He responded as he slowly bent his knees, so could jump up if he had to run.

For the first time, the young boy’s fear overpowered his anger. “Oh, that’s clever. Pretending that you’re the victim. I know what you are; everyone does. You’re the Monster of the Woods.”

With his anger growing, the young boy answered, “Well, of course you don’t show it. If you lived in splendor, you wouldn’t be able to rob people. You need to appear poor to get them off their guard. When I leave, I’m sure you’ll revert to your true form.”

The old Jewish man responded, “Ah, yes. That is clearly the most logical explanation.” He applauded, slowly. “Well done, John, son of Paul. You have seen to the heart of my nature.”

The old Jewish man handed the young boy a packet. “Here—the medicine for your father. I’ve included instructions as to how he should take them. If he follows them, he should heal fairly quickly.”

The young man took them wordlessly and stood to leave. As he reached the door, he turned back to face the old Jewish man and asked, “If it’s so hard for you, why don’t you be like everyone else?”

The Monster of the Woods smiled. “How was the trek on the way here?”

“Difficult. I could barely see the path, and the winds kept trying to blow me off the path into the woods.”

“I could give it up. Live in the forest, be comfortable in this world. But then I’d have to give up my path, my difficult path through the forest. And what would be the point, then? What’s the point of entering the forest if you won’t walk the right path?”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

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One day the holy rabbi set out on a journey. His students asked where he was going, all he would say was, “Someone needs our help.”

“Surely,” answered the holy rabbi, and he offered the innkeeper a chair. When the man was seated, he told holy rabbi his story:

“Rabbi,” cried the innkeeper, “What possible connection could there be?”

“Oh, Rabbi, that is terrible,” said the innkeeper. “Is there anything we can do about it?”

“Yes,” said Holy rabbi. “You must plant trees. Plant twice as many trees as you cut down. Take good care of them and see that none are cut down. If you do this for three years, you will be blessed with a child.”

The couple was overjoyed to hear this and the innkeeper thanked the holy rabbi for revealing this mystery to them. And that very day, even before Holy rabbi and his students took their leave, they began planting trees.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. (Joel 1:3)

Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Maggid (spiritual Storyteller). He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

Please share this story with family and friends and let us know what you think or feel about the stories in a comment or two.