His Memory Should Be a Blessing

Posted on Sunday, 10, May, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Sometime in the night, as he slept, the soul of the rabbi returned to the Holy One, blessed be He. His son mourned the loss of his beloved father. Day after day, he cried over the loss of his beloved father.

In the moments he was alone he remembered so much he had taken for granted about his father. His father was his model and guiding light. He set the example of what a good father and friend should be. He always saw the good in people, and if he saw the bad, he would overlook it. His father would always help people overcome challenges and problems.

Days turned to weeks and still the son was so overcome by his grief he could not even leave his house. In the silence of the night, his father visited him in a dream and said:

“Show your love by walking the Way, in devotion to the commandments, faith, and people. Are we not taught, ‘No deed is perfect without the impulse of the soul…. Our answer must be given in deeds, not words. (Chovos haLavavos/Duties of the Heart, 1040)’ this is the only memorial that truly honors the departed.”

The son rose from his grief on hearing these words, and went to make his father’s memory a perpetual light to guide him and a blessing to 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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Death of a Pious Man and an Evil Man

Posted on Sunday, 1, December, 2019Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

When good and saintly people perform minor transgressions, these are punished not in the World to Come, but in this world.

It came about that a righteous man and wicked man died at the same time on the same day in the same city. All the congregation went to attend to the requirements of the wicked man and engage in burying him, and no one came to the righteous man.

Now his son-in-law was there and wept bitterly that no man came to bury his father-in-law. Then he fell fast asleep and Eliyahu haNovi (Elijah the Prophet), whom it is good to mention, came and said to him, “why are you crying?” “Because,” answered he, “all the congregation went to honour the wicked man, and no one at all paid any attention to my father-in-law who was such a perfect saint engaged in the study of Torah (Scriptures) day and night.” “Come with me,” said Eliyahu haNovi. So he went with him to Gehenna where Elijah showed him a certain soul crying, “water, water!” The water was next to him, yet he could not enjoy it. Eliyahu haNovi , whom it is good to remember, said, “this is the soul of the wicked man who was shown so much honour in this world.”

After that, he led him to the Garden of Eden where he saw the ministering angels preparing the throne of his righteous father-in-law, and saying, “let us show lovingkindness and grace to the righteous man who is about to come.”

Then the young man asked him, “how was it that so much honour was shown to the wicked man? And why did my righteous and worthy father-in-law have to be punished in that the congregation did not show him the last true kindness?”

Eliyahu haNovi explained, “the wicked fellow only performed one good deed in his whole life. He used to be a tax collector and collected taxes from all the people. On one occasion he took radishes in place of taxes. One radish fell, and a poor man was walking along behind him picked it up. He saw it but pretended not to of seen it, and knew of it and remained silent, while poor man sustained himself with the radish and restored his soul. That is why he enjoyed all that honour, in order that he might afterwards be sent straight to Gehenna, since he received his reward in this world. But your father-in-law was a perfect saint. In all his life he only sinned once. That was when a student of the wise visited him, and afterwards his wife spoke of him rudely and he said nothing. That is why he was punished and the Holy One, blessed be He made him pay in this world for the minor sin he did here, in order that he might be whole and entire in the world to come.”

Then Eliyahu haNovi went his way. The young man woke up from his sleep and saw all the congregation in his home. For after all they had shown last kindness to his father-in-law (when they were done with the other) and had gone to bury him in full honour.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Water Carrier – A Tale from Aleppo

Posted on Monday, 9, September, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The sky was a sad gray. Rain poured down from the heavens and a cold wind blew from the east, chilling everyone to the bone. The Chevra Kadisha (burial Society) was escorting the body of the town’s water carrier, to his final resting place in the cemetery.

For thirty years, the water carrier would carry two buckets on his shoulders, and walk down the hill to draw water from the river. He would then slowly make his way back up the hill, with the heavy weight on his shoulders, and deliver this water to the people in the village. He did this each day, year after year, in order to earn enough money to feed his family.

Looking out his window, the young Chacham (rabbi) was surprised to see his aged father outside in the wet weather, accompanying the water carrier’s levaya (funeral procession).

Later that evening, the young chacham said to his father, “I was very surprised to see you walking the whole way to the cemetery and stay for the whole funeral. I know how busy you are, and how hard it is for you to get away from the bet midrash (house of study).”

“Do not be surprised, my son,” his father answered. “When the funeral procession passed by the bet midrash, I saw thousands of angels singing Tehillim (Psalms) with beautiful voices. Singing in the center of all the angels was a tall majestic figure, larger than the rest, who appeared to be David haMelech (King David). How could I not accompany them?”

But why would a simple water carrier, be accompanied to his grave by David haMelech and so many angels singing Tehillim? thought the young chacham. What was so special about him? That night, he prayed to Hashem to reveal to him the secret of the water carrier.

In the middle of that same night, the water carrier came to the young chacham in a dream. “It is true,” he explained, “in your world I was, indeed, a very simple man.

I could neither read or write. But, as a child, I learned the entire first Sefer of Tehillim (book of Psalms) by heart. Each day after work, I would recite the entire first Sefer in the bet midrash. I could say it slowly with very deep feelings. That is why I merited such a special honor. David haMelech who wrote the Tehillim came to my funeral with the angels that I created through my daily reading of Tehillim.”

The young chacham learned a very important lesson – the power of prayer, even for a very simple man.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Worth of Kaddish

Posted on Monday, 2, September, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

A very wealthy woman adopted the custom of donating money to the yeshivah (rabbinical school, Jewish seminary), on the condition that someone there recite Kaddish (a prayer recited by close relatives of a deceased person) for the souls of those who had no one to say it for them. The rabbis of the yeshivah appointed one of the students to recite Kaddish for those departed souls.

After some time the woman’s husband passed away and his business suffered greatly without his leadership. Things became so bad, that the wealthy woman was forced to close the business down. Without an income, her wealth soon disappeared. As time passed, she was faced with a new problem. Her two daughters had reached marriageable age, but she had no money for their dowries?

The mother and her daughters gave up a lot and accepted their hardships, but there was one thing that the woman was not willing to allow. The saying Kaddish must not stop just because she could no longer donate money to the yeshivah. In great bitterness of spirit, she turned to the rabbis of the yeshivah, pleading with them to continue the Kaddish custom until her fortune turned and she would once again be able generously donate as she did in the past.

The rabbis of the yeshivah, moved by the widow’s sincerity, agreed to do as she asked. The promise filled her with great happiness. She left the yeshivah and started for home with a light heart. Her poverty did bother her so much as she felt that as long as Kaddish would be said, she felt she lacked nothing in this world. She decided that she would place her trust in the Holy One, blessed be He would help her find a way to care for the needs of her two daughters. She whispered a prayer that the merciful Father of Orphans and the Compassionate Judge of Widows would surely see their poverty and supply them with suitable bridegrooms and all their needs.

One day, as the woman stepped out into the street, she saw an elderly Jewish man coming towards her. His beard was full and white, and his face shone with a special brightness. She was startled by the warm greeting from the strange old man. The woman was taken aback when the old man began talking to her about her situation and that of her daughters.

The woman told the old man about her fall from wealth to poverty, to the point that she lacked the means with which to marry off her daughters.

“How much do you think you need for their wedding expenses?” the old man asked.

“Why are you concerned?” she asked. “With all due respect, why do you wish to know?”

The man old man asked her again about wedding expenses and the woman reluctantly gave him an estimate. The old man tore a page from his notebook and wrote instructions to the local bank to pay her the amount she needed.

Since this was a very large sum of money, he suggested to the astonished widow, it was preferable that the note be signed in the presence of witnesses. They would see with their own eyes that he was signing over the money, and would add their own signatures to that effect.

Shocked and shaken, the widow went to the yeshivah to ask that two students witness the old man’s signature on the check. After signing the check, he handed the check to the woman with instructions to cash it at the bank the next morning.

The widow was confused and tried to understand why the old man had, a complete stranger, saw fit to pay all the wedding expenses for her two daughters?

The next morning the widow went to the bank to cash the check. When the bank clerk read the check, he stared at the widow in amazement. He looked at the check again, then again at the widow. In some confusion, he asked her to wait. Check in hand, he went into the manager’s office.

The bank manager took one look at the check and fainted. A sense of distress and confusion erupted throughout the bank. The clerks, hearing of the incident, hustled the widow into a small room and stood guard over her to make certain she did not leave. Clearly, something was wrong.

When the manager regained his composure, he demanded to see the woman who had brought in the check. She stood before him, trembling, as the bank manager demanded an accounting of how she had come by the check.

“I received it just yesterday from a very respectable elderly Jewish man. There were two witnesses to his signature, too,” she fearfully offered.

“Would you be able to identify the man who gave you the check, if you saw a picture of him?” the manager asked.

“Of course I could, and I have no doubt that the two yeshivah students who witnessed his signature could identify him as well.”

The manager reached into his desk and pulled out a small worn picture.

“Yes!” The woman beamed. “That’s the man. He’s the one who so generously gave me the check.”.

Slowly, the manager turned to his clerks. “Give this woman the money,” he ordered. “And then let her go.”

It was only after the widow had left that the bank manager slowly told those present what had happened.

“The man who gave that woman the check,” he said, “was my father who passed away 10 years ago. Last night, he appeared in a dream and told me these words: ‘Know this. Since you turned away from the faith of your family and stopped reciting Kaddish for me, my soul found no rest until this woman, this widow, came and arranged that Kaddish be said for those who have no one to say it for them. The Kaddish they said for me in the yeshivah, on that woman’s instructions, led to peace for my troubled soul.’

‘”Tomorrow morning, this woman will appear in your bank with a check that I have given her to cover her daughters’ wedding expenses.”

“When I woke up this morning, I was shaken by the dream. I described it to my wife, who just laughed. When the woman appeared with the check, I realized that the dream had come true.”

The bank manager’s life was never the same. He repented and found his way back into the ways of the Jewish faith.

Kesubos 8b

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Rabbi Akiva and the Orphan’s Kaddish

Posted on Sunday, 28, April, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Many ask why it is important to say Kaddish. Saying Kaddish goes back to ancient times and has come down through the generations to us today. Many Jewish people have drifted away from many religious observances, yet they feel compelled to recite the Kaddish upon a death in their family. Alas, not many truly know the power of this short prayer.

It is brought down in Seder HaDoros that……

Rabbi Akiva was strolling through a cemetery when he saw a naked man, black as charcoal, carrying much wood and hurrying like a horse.

“Stop!” the rabbi ordered him. And the man stopped.

“What is with you?” demanded Rabbi Akiva, “What is this harsh labor of yours? If you are a slave and your master is so harsh, then I will free you. And if you are poor, let me make you wealthy.”

The man answered, “Please, rabbi, do not delay me! My supervisors may become very angered if I am late!”

Rabbi Akiva responded, “Who are you and what do you do?”

The man replied, “I am dead. Every day, they send me to chop wood upon which they burn me every night.”

Rabbi Akiva asked, “And when you were in this world, what was your work?”

“I was a tax collector,” the man answered. “I would favor the wealthy and persecute the poor.”

“So,” asked the rabbi, “have you heard anything from your supervisors about any way you could be redeemed from your punishment?”

“Yes,” the man replied. “I heard from them, but it is something that could never happen. They said that if I had a son and if that son would stand among the congregation and say Kaddish and the congregation would answer, “Amen! Y’hay shmai rabba m’vorach!”—then they could acquit me from my punishment.”

“But,” he continued, “I did not leave a son behind. True, my wife was pregnant when I died, but I do not know whether she gave birth to a boy. And if she did, who would teach him Torah? I do not have a single friend in the world!”

On the spot, Rabbi Akiva resolved to search for that child. He asked the man for his name.

“My name is Ukba. My wife was Shoshiva. My town was Lanuka’a.”

Immediately, Rabbi Akiva set out for that town. When he arrived there, he asked the townspeople about Ukba.

“May his bones grind in hell!” they replied.

He asked about his wife Shoshiva and they said, “May her name and her memory be erased!”

He asked about her child and they said, “She had a boy and he is uncircumcised.”

The people hated her so much, they hadn’t even bothered to circumcise her child.

Without further delay, Rabbi Akiva took this child and circumcised him. He sat the child before him to teach him, but the child would not learn.

So he fasted for forty days. After forty days, a voice came from heaven: “Rabbi Akiva, what are you fasting for?”

He replied, “Master of the Universe! Have I not already made myself a guarantor before You for the lad?”

Immediately, G-d opened the boy’s heart and the rabbi was able to teach him how to read Torah and how to say the Shma Yisrael and the Silent Prayer and Grace After Meals. Then he stood him before the congregation and he said Barchu and they answered him. He said Kaddish and they answered him, “Amen! Y’hay shmai rabba m’vorach!”

His father was freed and came straight to Rabbi Akiva in a dream. “Let your heart rest assured that you saved me from the judgment of Gehinom.”

For that reason, may every man be found worthy to leave behind children who will say the Kaddish and thereby deliver him from gehinom and bring him into Gan Eden – paradise, as happened to this man.

May the Eternal One comfort you among the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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A Pendant of Memories

Posted on Wednesday, 30, January, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

All was quiet except the sound of a soft breeze. A young boy maybe thirteen stared outside into the endless night sky. Although the boy’s eyes stared at the night his mind was far far away.

All he could think about was his mother, her long red hair, her smile, even the tone of her voice when she told him stories of magical places and great heroes. Suddenly, he noticed something moving outside. It came closer and closer, it looked like his mother. The boy torn with grief had hope for the first time in weeks and did what any curious boy one would do, he ran towards the ghost, sneaking slowly out of the window.

He finally walked so close to the image that he could almost touch it, but felt nothing. The sadness rushed in and his body began to slowly shake as he started to cry to himself. “Why?! Why did you have to die!” The boy screamed in agony, he wished he could hug her, and hear her soothing voice. But nothing happened, he sat there in silence on his knees, tears slowly falling from his eyes. “It’s all my fault! If I had only….” A wave of thought and pain washed over the grief stricken boy.

His heart ached, a mental rather than physical pain, all he wished for was his mother, nothing more. His memory stretched backwards to days of when he was three years old, he remembered his mother carrying him through a fair filled with living legends of kings, queens and nobleman.

Another memory popped into his mind, he remembered when his best friend moved away and he feared he never see him again. His mother sat there stroking his hair saying it would be alright. Soon his beautiful memories vanished as a puff of smoke as his chest began to hurt. Longing just to be with her one more time.

The young boy breathed deeply trying to stop the tears from flowing, it worked for a few minutes. Then he started to feel very depressed, feeling guilty, sad and grief struck through him like a sword.

Stew slopped into the large bowl that he held in front of him. The boy pressed his hand to his mouth, nearly vomiting. He quietly sat down next to his cousins. They sat there eating the food, talking and laughing, the boy tried to join them.

Soon he finished the stew and continued to his room to just lie in his bed. Something was different, he looked at his pillow, and on it was a pendant with the words “carpe diem” (“seize the day) on it. His mother had given it to him when he was worried about a sick friend. How? When? He looked around looking at his cousins. Looking at the pendant, the boy began to accept his mother’s death and realized its okay to be happy about somethings and memories.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Funeral of Yossele di Shiker Shneider of Częstochowa

Posted on Monday, 26, November, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Why was the holy temple in Jerusalem destroyed by the Romans? The answer is quite simple, the Jewish people hated each other without reason.

Why do we hate other people? Because we think we know everything about them — who they are, why they do what they do. Parents think, “These are my children, so I know what’s going on with them.” But sadly enough, much of the time we’re totally wrong…

We so misjudge each other. That’s why the Torah says that if we hate people, or even if we’re only angry — we have to try to find a way to tell them, to talk to them about it. Because really, it might only be a misunderstanding.

Sometimes we meet people who seem to us a little bit crude, a little bit impure — certainly not holy. So we want to ignore and shun them. Sadly, the truth is, we have no idea what a person might be doing when we’re not looking. The rabbis teach us that, even when we see others doing wrong, we have to believe that in the inside of their insides they’re really the holy and deserving of the gifts of heaven.

Everybody is created in G-d’s Image. What does this mean? That just as G-d is so hidden and mysterious — just as we can’t see G-d — so too we can’t really know what’s going on in the depths of other people. And unless we love them with all our hearts, we’ll never know…So we have to remember: don’t ever judge. Because you never know…

Many years ago, in the city of Częstochowa, the Jewish people were good and tried their best to keep Shabbos (the Sabbath day) and ate only kosher food. They all prayed three times a day. The tailor, the schneider Yossele never went to the synagogue or to buy kosher meat. He never joined others in their community gatherings. The only place people ever saw him was in the local inn late at night, drunk. So Yossele was a total outcast.

Sadly, if people’s clothes were torn they had to go to him; after all, he was the only tailor in town. Other than that, nobody ever spoke to him. And nobody cared about him at all.

One day, after the morning prayers, the holy rabbi of Częstochowa saw that a crowd of people had gathered in a corner of the shul. The chevra kadisha (burial society) was trying to gather some people together for something, but nobody wanted to join. The holy rabbi hurried over: “What’s going on here?”

The leader of the chevra kadisha looked embarrassed. “It’s nothing, holy rabbi. Don’t bother yourself about it.”

The rabbi insisted: “Tell me. I want to know.”

“Well … it’s just that that disgusting Shiker Shneider (drunken Jewish tailor), and he was really the lowest of the low — died today, and nobody wants to go to the funeral.”

The holy rabbi stared at the chevra kadisha. “I didn’t know there were any disgusting Jewish people in Częstochowa,” he said coldly. “Just who in our city is considered so unworthy that no one will do the mitzvah of accompanying him to his final resting place?”

So they told him, “Yossele the di Shiker Shneider…”

The holy rabbi turned very pale. The people around him were afraid he might faint. To everybody’s amazement, he started crying from the deepest depths of his heart. “I can’t believe it,” he sobbed. .. My dearest friend, the tailor, has left the world!

What time is his funeral? I, for one, will certainly be there…”

Word quickly spread throughout Częstochowa that the holy rabbi was going to the funeral of Yossele the schneider Now, everybody knew that the rabbi never went to a funeral unless it was for a tzaddik, a holy man. So many began to think maybe Yossele hadn’t been just a tailor; he had been a lamed-vov tzaddik, one of the thirty-six hidden holy people. And suddenly everybody wanted to go to his funeral.

So the Jewish community of Częstochowa turned out for Yossele’s funeral. Everybody was praying, “Tailor, please forgive us for the way we talked about you. We didn’t know you were so holy… Schneider, please bless us…” The mothers were begging, “Holy Yossele, please pray for our children … please bless my daughter so she can get married to a good husband…” Everyone was crying. The holy rabbi walked right behind the casket, with big tears rolling down his holy cheeks.

Many young students of the holy rabbi also went to the funeral. They remained quiet and paid their respects, but after the funeral was over he went up to their holy teacher and asked, “Rabbi, what’s going on here? The tailor was just a simple man, maybe even a little bit sinful. So tell us the truth. Why did you mourn him so much? What did he do to deserve such a funeral?”

“My students, we know so little about other people. Let me tell you the story…”

Do you remember the orphan girl, Feigele, who grew up in my house? My wife and I adopted her when she was only a baby, and took care of her like she was our own daughter. Well, six months ago she was ready to get married. So we arranged a match for her with another orphan — a good boy, from a nearby city. We borrowed money from every single person we know to make her a beautiful wedding. The wedding was a few weeks ago. And just minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start, Feigele’s groom came running up to me and said, “Rabbi, there’s something you forgot! You didn’t buy me a new tallis, a new prayer shawl.” You know, it’s the custom for the bride to give her groom a new prayer shawl.

I said, “You’re right. But please have mercy! I just can’t get you a new prayer shawl right now. A tallis costs ten rubles, and not only don’t I have a single kopek left — I don’t even know anybody I can borrow the money from. Let me get it for you in a few weeks.”

The groom began to cry. “Rabbi,” he begged. “Everybody will laugh at me if I don’t have a new tallis.”

I knew he was right. And he had nobody else in the world but me. How could I refuse him? So I said, “Okay, I’ll do my best. Wait here, maybe G-d will open the gates for me.”

I started walking down the street, trying to think of someone — anyone — from whom I could get the money for the tallis. I didn’t know where to go or what to do, so I decided that I’d just go up to the first house with a light on and ask for the money. As I walked, I saw a light in a window, so I just went right up to the house and knocked on the door. It was the tailor’s house.

When Yossele opened the door and saw me standing there, his face lit up with joy. “Rabbi, I never dreamed you’d come to visit me. It’s such an honor … I know I don’t deserve it … thank you for coming. You know, I’d do anything for you…”

“Gentle tailor, You know, the orphan Feigele is getting married tonight. And I need ten rubles to buy a new prayer shawl for her groom.”

The tailor’s face fell. “Oy, Rabbi,” he almost whispered. “I wish I could help you, but you know how poor I am.” And I did know. Then he said slowly “But, I think I could give you one ruble.”

I smiled at him. “Schneider,” I said. “Thank you so much for whatever you can do. May the Master of the World bless you with everything.”

The tailor gave me the one ruble, and I left. I still didn’t know where to get the rest of the money but somehow I felt lighter. I had so much more hope. I was walking slowly down the street, wondering where else to go, when suddenly I heard someone running after me. I stopped and waited. It was the tailor. And as he came up beside me, I saw that he was crying like his heart was broken.

“Yossele!,” I exclaimed. “What hurts you so much? How can I help you?”

“Rabbi, G-d knows how poor I am. But from time to time I’ve managed to save a few kopeks, and now I have nine rubles that I have saved. Holy Master, it’s my whole life’s savings. But if I gave it all to you … if I gave you all of my money now … do you think…” and he started crying so hard he could hardly speak. “… Do you think that I might … that maybe I could … have a place in the World to Come?”

I put my hands on Yossele’s head, and I said, “Holy Tailor, I know how poor you are, I really do. But Feigele is waiting, her groom is waiting — for them every minute is an eternity. If you do this great mitzvah and give all your money to me now, it will be because of you that their wedding will take place. And I swear to you by the G-d of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, by the G-d of our Four Holy Mothers, that you will have a place in the World to Come…”

“And so, I went to Yossele’s funeral. And I cried as I walked behind his coffin. Because I could see that his soul was wrapped in the tallis he had bought with his last ten rubles for the groom of the orphan Feigele.”

You know, we think we’re so observant. We trust so much in what we see. But the truth is, if we only see with our eyes, we’re sometimes totally blind. Because we can’t penetrate to the deepest depths. Can we ever see in what kind of prayer shawl other people’s souls are wrapped?

We need to look at each other in a different way, not only with our eyes, but also with our hearts. And most of all we have to remember: no matter how wise we think we are, we never know.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Memories, Teshuvah and Chicken Soup

Posted on Thursday, 27, September, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The sun was setting and Rivka looked out the window at the different colours on the horizon, but to her it was all muted. She reluctantly looked at the shiva candle that she set on the table wondering what to do next.

Slowly she mumbled a prayer that the rabbi recommended:

Gray light entered through the faded curtains of the wooden house as Rivka slowly got up. Sadly, she looked at the empty bed beside her – Yosef Simcha was gone.

She put on her warm robe, and then passed by the yahrzeit candle still burning from the night before on the dining room table next to Yosef Simcha’s siddur and tefillin. The flame gave off such a cold light in the small glass. The rabbi had said she could let the candle burn out by itself. Rivka felt like she was as burnt out as the candle.

Slowly she made her way to the kitchen and set a kettle up to boil on the stove. A nice cup of instant coffee like she used only on Shabbos was fine for every day now. Nothing tasted good these days, not even coffee.

Yesterday, shiva over, the rabbi had said, “It’s time for you to go out.” Time was so unforgiving; Rivka was not ready. Especially not ready to see her face in the mirror: her hair grayer, the skin underneath her green eyes darker, face color nonexistent.

Today being Friday, she had to buy food for Shabbos. That’s if she wanted to eat. Rivka forced herself to eat a boiled egg and bagel after the funeral. Then everyone else could eat. For the next few days, she’d eaten to keep up her strength for the visitors.

Today, coffee was all she wanted. Then Rivka put on her black raincoat with a hood. It was only last year Yosef Simcha had said, “Great—a hood, in case of rain.” He put down the paper to admire Rivka as she showed off her new raincoat.

Rivka wondered, had he started to look pale then?

Pulling the hood over her head, Rivka forced herself out the door. Once outside, she was not sure if raindrops or tears were sliding down her cheeks.

No need to get eggless challahs, fresh fish and vegetables which was all Yosef Simcha could eat after his heart surgery. The rain matched Rivka’s mood as she walked up the street, busy with other shoppers scurrying to get what they needed for Shabbos.

she took off her hood and grabbed a small cart as she entered the market. As soon as she entered the first aisle, someone shoved into her with a large wagon.

“Pardon me,” Rivka said, then turned to see Shira, Yosef Simcha’s first wife, surrounded by potatoes, onions and carrots.

Shira whined, “You could at least say hello.”

“Hello.” Picking up some celery, Rivka smelled them. They reminded her of spring, and fresh air, and her mother’s chicken soup bubbling on the stove before Shabbos.

Since Shira had not shown up for the funeral, Rivka hadn’t minded the twin boys standing together, yet apart from everyone else at the graveside. They stood by as Yosef Simcha was lowered into the ground, then escaped without saying a word to Rivka.

How she wished they had said some word of kindness, or an acknowledgment that Rivka existed. How she wished they acted like Yosef Simcha, not just looked like him.

Was it her fault, what happened between Yosef Simcha and Shira? Rivka never really wanted to know. She had such wonderful memories of her husband.

It was still painful that she and Yosef Simcha had no children. No one to whom she could pass on his precious siddur and tefillin. No one to help her through the mourning process.

“I didn’t come to the funeral, because I thought it would bother you.” Shira flung her thick finger, adorned with a huge flashy diamond, into Rivka’s face. “I’m happy now, as you can see.”

Happy was not a word Rivka could even imagine using now. Looking down at her own tastefully small ring, she never would have worn such a flashy piece of jewelry.

Cart filled with chicken and other special food, Shira said, “I told my boys to go, out of respect for their father.”

“It would also have been respectful if they paid their condolences to me.”

“They never forgave their father for abandoning them.”

Abandoning them! After all the weekends we invited the boys and Shira had said no. Shira had no case.

Yosef Simcha was heartbroken so many times, Rivka suspected it added to his strain.

She bought candles to bring in Shabbos by herself.

Thinking about which kind of frozen dinner she should buy, Rivka heard Shira brag about her ring to someone else.

When would Rivka be happy? She pictured her mother lighting candles, white lace scarf covering her head, small hands circling the warm orange flames reflecting off her round face.

Rivka ran around the store, buying chicken, onions and spices, her mother’s secret ingredients to add to the celery hearts and carrots for soup. Smelling the aroma while the soup was bubbling will make a sweet Shabbos.

Looking out the large window, the sun inched out through the clouds, as if it forgave them.

She noticed Shira by the checkout counter. Maybe Rivka should forgive Shira for all her bad behavior. “After all,” the rabbi had said, “not forgiving someone is bad for your heart.”

She stepped over to Susan and said, “A gut’n Shabbos to you and your family.”

Rivka left the store with a heart that felt less heavy. Tonight, when lighting the candles, she would thank G-d for all she had.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Love and Leaves from the Garden of Eden

Posted on Tuesday, 29, May, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The largest stable in the village was owned by Ephraim Dov Ber. From morning until nightfall coaches and carriages of all sorts would arrive, wanting to rest or exchange their tired horses for fresh ones. Ephraim Dov Ber was helped in his work by the boy Chaim, an orphan who made his home with Ephraim Dov Ber and his family. Chaim’s parents died while he was very young, and he lived on the streets until Ephraim Dov Ber took him in. In a very short time, they all regarded him as a member of the family. Chaim was especially close to Ephraim Dov Ber’s daughter, Shaina Leah. They were like brother and sister.

Now Chaim worked hard in the stables, side by side with Ephraim Dov Ber. They worked from early in the morning till way after sundown. One day Chaim left the stable early because he was not feeling well. The next day he could not get out of bead, and each day he seemed to grow weaker. Leah stayed by his bed and cared for him, As he slept, she would hold his hand and pray:

One day Chaim opened his eyes and saw Leah, He smiled at her and took his last breath. Leah was torn by grief, as was Ephraim Dov Ber and the rest of the family.

When the period of mourning had ended, Leah did not seem to recover from her grief. She had loved the Chaim deeply, and she could not bear the loss. Ephraim Dov Ber and his wife sat at her bedside every day, praying for her recovery. One day, while Ephraim Dov Ber was sitting at her bedside, he fell dozed off and began to dream. In the dream, Chaim appeared before him, his face glowing with peace and happiness.

“Where did you come from?” asked Ephraim Dov Ber, who remembered, even in the dream, that the boy was no longer in this world. “And why are you so happy?”

The boy replied, “Let me tell you all that has happened to me. When I left this world, I was brought before the Heavenly Court. I explained that I did not feel as religious as all the people around me because I only knew a few prayers, for that is all I had been taught. I told the Heavenly Court that I had served you with love, respect and honour as faithfully as I could. So too did I tend the horses with gentleness and care. And I always tried to be honest.

“The court ruled that I had earned a place in the Garden of Eden, and that is where I make my home. It was decreed that because I had tended horses in my earthly life, I was put in charge of the heavenly horses that pull the golden coaches of the tzaddikim (holy ones).”

Then Chaim asked Ephraim Dov Ber about his family. And Ephraim Dov Ber broke into tears and told him how much Leah had grieved over his death, and now she too was in grave danger. Chaim gently said: “Don’t worry. There are leaves growing in the Garden of Eden that can heal any illness. Wait, and I will bring some to you.” A short time later, the Chaim brought Ephraim Dov Ber a handful of leaves and instructed him “Boil these in a pot of water and give the tea to Leah to drink.” Ephraim Dov Ber accepted the leaves. No sooner than the leaves were in his hand, he woke up.

Scattered all over the bed were leaves that had blown in from the open window. Ephraim Dov Ber picked them up and saw that those leaves did not grow anywhere in he knew of. So too did they bear a wonderful fragrance, like that in his dream.

Ephraim Dov Ber hurried to boil some of those leaves in water, and he gave it to his daughter to drink. As he did, he told her about his dream, and about the leaves that Chaim had brought her from the Garden of Eden. And when Leah drank that water and learned of that miracle, she began to recover at once—by the third day she was out of bed and walking around.

Soon after that, Leah was betrothed and wed. And she named her first son Chaim, after the stable boy. And it is said that she loved her child as much as she had loved her adopted brother.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Blanket Made By Zadie

Posted on Thursday, 14, December, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Itzik the Schneider was a tailor and everything he sewed was filled with love and faith. When his ainikle (grandson) was born, he sewed a very special blanket that kept the baby warm. As the boy grew, the blanket began to tatter and tear, so zadie took his scissors, needle and thread and made his grandson a coat out of that worn out old blanket.

The coat kept the boy warm as he went to school and played with his friends. The boy loved the coat so much, he was hardly without it. Little boys grow but not coats, and one the coat no longer fit the boy. Again, zadie took his scissors, needle and thread and cut down his grandson’s coat into a vest. The boy loved the vest and wore it almost everywhere, but one day as he was working on a special project for his zadie (grandfather), some paint and glue splattered onto the vest. The vest was ruined and the boy was very upset. Zadie, however, looked at the vest and then to his grandson, told him to not worry, and took the vest, the scissors, needle and some thread and made a wonderful tie for his grandson. The boy wore the tie to school and many special occasions, he loved the tie very much. The boy was visiting his zadie (grandfather) for a holiday and as they sat and ate, zadie was telling stories and singing songs something terrible happened, the tie became stained with soup and food. The boy was very sad, Zadie looked at the tie and smiled.

After the holiday he took the tie, his scissors, needle and a little thread and made a handkerchief for his grandson. The boy used his special handkerchief until it became tattered and worn. The boy was very gloomy, so zadie took the handkerchief, his scissors, needle and some thread and made small cloth covered button. The boy was very happy and he wore it, button every single day and then…. One day, the button fell off. He looked everywhere but could not find the button that his zadie made for him with needle, some thread and a lot of love. He sat down and cried for a very long time. He found it hard to think or even meet with his friends but then…. One day, he took a pen in his hand and some paper and began to draw and write.

He remembered the blanket, the coat, the vest, the tie, the handkerchief, the cloth covered button, and all the good times he enjoyed with each of these items. He drew pictures and wrote stories about each thing and shared them with his friends. He soon began to understand that while the past can no longer be the present he can always remember.

The same is true for each of us when we suffer a loss. The sadness that we experience is very real but with time, and sometimes a lot of it, we can begin to appreciate new things about ourselves, our families, our friends, and our community. This does not mean that the person has been erased, it means that we remember and will never forget them because those memories are forever.

May the memories of all your loved ones be a source of strength and blessing

and

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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