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)

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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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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)

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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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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)

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

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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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Part I The Right Approach – A Challenge

Posted on Tuesday, 25, February, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Part II will be posted on Thursday, 27 February

A huge crowd had gathered in the town square. People were everywhere, cheering, screaming, and clapping. Akiva approached the crowd and wondered what could possibly be at the center of such a huge spectacle. So many people had gathered. Bit by bit, Akiva started to push his way through the growing crowd.

“Whatever’s going on in there must sure be interesting,” thought Akiva. “There are so many people here. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

As Akiva made his way through the crowd, the cheering became louder and louder. The louder the cheering became, the more determined Akiva was to get to the center. Finally, after much squeezing and crawling, he made his way to the front row.

At first glance he did not understand what it was he was seeing. At the center of the crowd was a huge, huge man – the strongest man Akiva had ever seen in his life.

Right behind the man was a strange looking bottle with a strange kind of lid on it. The bottle was surrounded by a circle of mats and carpets. Whatever it was, it certainly looked very valuable.

As Akiva stood there fascinated, a young man stepped out from the crowd and started to walk towards the bottle. The very strong man stood with his arms folded squarely across his chest. He stared unblinkingly at the young man who was approaching.

The air was thick with the tension between them. Neither one dared to break the vicious stare. Akiva was certain that a fight was about to break out. He was not dismayed. Neither were the hundreds of onlookers. They were about to find out that yet another contest would take place.

The young man came forward and began to run right towards the bottle. In a matter of seconds, the huge, strong man lifted him up, almost as if he were a light bale of hay, and threw him twenty feet away from the bottle. The man picked himself up again towards the bottle, trying to grab it. Laughingly, the huge strong man picked him up once more and threw him even further this time around. All the people watching, cheered loudly. He was truly a strong man.

Akiva was puzzled. “What’s going on here? Who is that strong man? Why are all the people watching?” he asked of the elderly man next to him.

“Haven’t you heard? The king has proclaimed that whoever can get into the bottle can keep the beautiful gem inside,” replied the man.

“Any tactic or trick is considered fair,” he continued. “But the catch is to get past the king’s private bodyguard, and no one can get past him! If you could, by some miracle, it was the king’s body guard who tightly closed the lid. There is probably no one in the kingdom but he who can open it!”

“Another ridiculous contest from the king,” said Akiva. “Doesn’t he have anything better to do than think up these things? What’s the gem worth anyway?”

“They say it is worth ten thousand gold coins. It’s a gem so large that it would not even fit on a ring finger. They say it fills up your whole hand when you hold it. No one has ever seen it, but it is inside of that container,” responded a young boy in the crowd.

“Well, no one is ever going to get it. That huge bodyguard could break every bone in a man’s body. And besides, who will ever be able to open it? The material is strong as steel. The lid was tightened by that monster of a man who stands there. No one is ever going to be able to get that gem. No one!” said the old man.

Another man then approached, appearing to have a trick up his sleeve. He had some type of whip; and as he approached the huge guard, he swung and cracked it, making a huge crashing noise that caused everyone to shudder, except the bodyguard.

As the whip came closer and closer, the people cheered. Fearlessly, the bodyguard caught the leather strap with his own hand and tugged at it so hard that the man went flying through the air. And the crowd cheered again.

Next came another man who ran at the bodyguard with a sword. “This is amazing,” thought Akiva. “These people are crazy. They’ll do anything just to get that gem.” As the man came charging towards the bodyguard with the sword, the people waited with bated breath. Nobody knew what would happen next. As the man lunged towards the bodyguard with one very swift movement, the bodyguard ducked, leaned under the attacker and threw him way, way into the air, as the sword went crashing to the ground.

The bodyguard quickly picked up the sword himself and began to wield it in the direction of his attacker. The man scurried away, thankful to still be alive. Again, the crowd roared.

The show went on for hours. The bodyguard seemed to have an endless amount of energy. His attackers came at him with anything one could possibly imagine: little daggers, swords, whips, poisonous snakes, axes, nets, hammers, slippery oil. But nobody was getting past the strong man.

“And that is only the first part of the difficult task,” thought Akiva. “Anyone who got by him would certainly never be able to open that container.”

In the late afternoon, one of the dignitaries of the king stepped out into the town square and blew on a large horn. He then proclaimed in a loud voice, “The contest has now ended for the day. Anyone who would like to participate in this challenge from His Majesty the King is invited to this very same spot tomorrow at sun up. The contest will go on throughout the week. At the end of the week, the contest will be closed forever. The jewel will remain in the possession of the king until the end of time. Until tomorrow then, ladies and gentlemen, the contest is now closed for the evening.”

The crowd cheered as they all began to disperse happily, talking about the great sport they had seen through the day. Akiva overheard many people talking about new ideas to be tried on the next day. Most people were talking, only the very brave, and only a very few, actually had the courage to step forward and challenge the king’s bodyguard. Everyone else just laughed and chuckled and dreamt about ways to open that container.

That night at the dinner table, Akiva sat alone with his mother thinking, “Just think, if I could only get past that bodyguard and open that container, that gem would be enough for us to be secure. We could afford the things we need. We wouldn’t have to worry about holes in the roof or where tomorrow’s meal will come from. We could get a nice place to live. Mom, do you think there is any way that I could get by the bodyguard?”

His mother laughed and said, “Akiva, you are a brave young man, and I really appreciate all of your courage, but it is no use. There is no quick fix to our problems. The strongest people in the land can’t find a way to get to the bottle and you think you can?”

In spite of his mother’s words, Akiva could not stop thinking about the bottle and the gem. After his father died when he was only a little baby, his mother and he always struggled to survive. She worked day and night, and he did odd jobs for local townspeople and farmers. If only he could figure out a way to get to the bottle and open it, their lives would be changed forever.

Throughout the night, Akiva dreamed after dream. He saw in his dreams how hundreds of people saw him overcoming the great powerful bodyguard. He would take the little jug, pop the cork off with one hand and take out the beautiful gem. Everyone would cheer, and the bodyguard would lift him onto his shoulders and carry him victorious throughout the town. He awoke in the morning and realized sadly that it was all a dream.

“I know there is a way I can do it,” he thought. “I just have to figure out what it is that everyone else is missing.”

By the middle of the next day, Akiva had found his way back to the center of the town square to watch the spectacle again. In a panic Akiva realized he had less than a week. Then the contest would be over forever, and his chance to capture the gem, lost.

He decided that he would watch ever so carefully everyday to see all the tricks and watch for the weaknesses of the bodyguard. Perhaps there was a weak spot, a way to get around him. “I know I can do it. Every puzzle has a solution,” thought Akiva determinedly.

So he sat there all day and watched one brave young man after another, one cunning trick after another. No one even came near to the jug. Akiva returned day after day until there was only one day left.

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 Palace of Bird Beaks: An Ancient Yemenite Story

Posted on Monday, 17, February, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The Holy One, blessed be He “gave Solomon wisdom and very great insight, and a breadth of understanding as measureless as the sand on the seashore.” (I Kings 4:29) He could com¬mand the winds and birds to come whenever he called them. He even knew the languages of every bird and animal on earth.

From all nations people came to listen to Solomon’s wisdom, sent by all the kings of the world, who had heard of his wisdom. (I Kings 4:34)

Kings and queens from all over the world came to Jerusalem to pay homage to King Solomon, and he welcomed each one as a royal guest. Once the Queen of Sheba came to visit him. She brought him many precious gifts from her kingdom, and the king asked her what gift she would like in return.

“Oh, I would like something that no other queen on earth has ever had,” said the Queen of Sheba. “Build me a palace of bird beaks!”

“In that case,” King Solomon said, “let such a palace be built.”

Then King Solomon called forth all the birds in the world and commanded them to come to his palace, prepared to give up their beaks. Before even a day had gone by, thousands of birds filled the sky, beating their wings and swooping down to the palace. All came: the strong eagle, the tiny hummingbird, the bluebird, the mockingbird, and every bird that lived on earth. The birds were not very happy at having to give up their beaks. But what could they do? They were among the smallest creatures in the king-dom. Soon every bird had flocked to the palace except one – the hoopoe – a little bird with colorful feathers and a fine, pointed beak. As time passed and it did not arrive, the king became angry.

“Fetch the hoopoe and bring it here!” he shouted to his servants. “Let it be punished for failing to obey the king!”

At last the hoopoe was brought before the king.

“Where have you been?” King Solomon demanded. “Why have you kept me waiting ?”

“Please, your Majesty, do not be angry with me,” said the hoopoe. “I have come here from the ends of the earth. I have flown over gardens, forests, oceans, and deserts, and from all that I have seen, I have gained much wis¬dom. Punish me if you must, but first give me a chance to prove that I have not just been flying lazily about. Let me ask you three riddles. If you can answer them correctly, then do what you will with me. But if there is even one of them that you cannot answer, then spare my life.”

The other birds gasped. How dare a bird bargain with the king! King Solomon admired this bold little creature, and he accepted the challenge. “Very well,” he said, “go ask your riddles. After all, how can your wisdom be compared to the that of a king?”

So the hoopoe spoke. “This is the first riddle. Tell me, your Majesty, who is it who was never born and has never died?”

The king did not even pause to think. “The Holy One, blessed be He, ” he said at once. And as he spoke, King Solomon thought, “The Master of All Life who created all creatures to be free.”

The hoopoe continued. “Here is the second riddle. Tell me, your Majesty, what water never rises from the ground and never falls from the sky?”

King Solomon smiled, for he knew the answer. “The answer is a tear,” he said, “a tear that falls from an eye that cries with sadness.” And as he finished answering, King Solomon looked around and saw all those birds stretched out before him, waiting sadly and helplessly for their beaks to be cut off. The king too was saddened, and a tear came to his eye.

Now a strange thing happened. Although King Solomon was certain that his wisdom was perfect, for just a moment it occurred to him that perhaps he had done a foolish thing in agreeing to build a palace of bird beaks.

Then the hoopoe spoke again, and this time it trembled, for it had only one riddle left, only one more chance to save itself.

“Your Majesty, what is it that is delicate enough to put food in a baby’s mouth, yet strong enough to bore holes in the hardest wood?” It did not take King Solomon long to reply. “Why, a bird’s beak, of course!” he an¬swered. And looking around at that great gathering of birds, he realized how special those creatures were, and how very precious their beaks were to them.

Meanwhile the hoopoe bowed its head. “Punish me as you will, your Majesty, for you have answered my three riddles.” And it waited in silence to hear the harsh punishment of the king.

King Solomon smiled. “Dear hoopoe,” he announced in a loud voice, so that all the birds could hear, “I am known throughout the world for my wisdom, yet you are the one who is truly wise. You have shown me that a king should never be too proud to admit he has made a mistake. I have decided not to build a palace of bird beaks after all!”

At this, all the birds wanted to flap their wings in joy, but they did not dare to interrupt the king. Then the brave hoopoe spoke up and said, “Your majesty, how can we ever thank you? Even though we cannot give the Queen of Sheba a palace of bird beaks, we would be glad to build a palace of feathers for her.”

The Queen of Sheba was delighted by this offer, for such a palace would be just as unique as one built out of bird beaks. And as soon as she agreed, flocks of birds stirred up great winds as they swooped down to donate feath¬ers for the palace. And when there was a mountain of feathers lying before them, the birds built a palace of great beauty out of those feathers. And when they were finished, the Queen of Sheba was speechless, for never had she received such a beautiful gift.

Then King Solomon said to the hoopoe, “For your wisdom, hoopoe, you shall be rewarded.” Then the king called forth the royal jeweler and bade him make the bird a small crown, much like that of the king. And when the crown was finished, King Solomon placed it upon the head of the hoopoe. That is why the hoopoe wears a crown on its forehead to this day, to remind all the birds who see it of the wise hoopoe who saved their beaks.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Katanya – A Jewish Folk Tale from Turkey

Posted on Sunday, 26, January, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Once upon a time there was a poor old woman. All her life she had wished for a child of her own. But though she wished and wished, she never had any children. Her husband died, and still she wanted a child. “Oh, how wonderful it would be if only I had a little boy or girl,” she said. So she prayed ‘with all her heart, with all her soul, and with all her might. (see Deuteronomy 6:5)

Heaven saw how lonely the old woman was and sent Eliyahu haNovi (Elijah the prophet), may his memory be a blessing, to visit her. He came to her as a merchant in the market. Now this old woman had worked hard all of her life, but she had no money left and nothing to sell for food. So each day she went to the market to ask the merchants for what they could spare and many they took pity on her and gave her some fruit. Some days that was all she had to eat.

One day all the merchants were in a bad mood because the king had raised their taxes. When the old woman begged for fruit, each and every one of them turned her away. She did not get anything from them and she was very sad, for it looked as if she would go hungry all day long.

Just as she was about to leave the market, she noticed a merchant she had never seen before, an old man who looked as poor as she was. As she walked over to the old man, she saw that all he had left were six brown dates, dry¬ing in the sun.

“Could you spare just one?” she asked.

“Surely,” said the old man (who was really Eliyahu haNovi). “Take the one you want.”

Now five of the dates were very little, but one was big, and that is the one she chose. “Thank you, kind sir,” she said, and went on her way.

When she got home, the old woman placed the date on the windowsill, where sunlight shone on it. “You know, the old woman said to herself, this is such a beautiful date, I don’t have the heart to eat it.” So she left it there, even though she was hungry, and went out to see if she could find some¬thing else to eat.

The sun continued to shine on the date until it was quite warm. Soon the date began to stir, as if something were inside it. All at once it broke open and out popped a little girl. She was no bigger than a little finger, and she wore a pretty red dress. The little girl stood up on the windowsill and looked around. The house was quite bare. Only a bed and a table and a chair stood in the room and it needed cleaning, for the old woman’s broom had only a few straws left.

The first thing the little girl did was to climb out the window. She saw a ball of string hanging on the wall and, grabbing one end of the string, she lowered herself down to the ground. There she picked some of the short grasses, because she was very short herself, and she tied the bundle together with another piece of straw. “Oh, what a perfect broom for me!” she cried.

Back up the string and onto the windowsill she climbed, and then she started to clean the house. She swept from corner to corner, until the floor sparkled like new.

Meanwhile, the old woman was still walking on the road, searching for some food, when whom should she meet but the old man who had given her the date! The old man smiled and this time he gave her a large shiny olive. She thanked him and he continued on his way. When the old woman bit into the olive, what did she find inside but a golden coin! She hurried after the old man to give it back, but he was nowhere to be found. The golden coin was hers to keep. What a lucky day for me! she thought.

She was even more surprised when she got home, for there was her house, all neat and clean! She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Who did this?” she asked out loud.

“I did, Mother,” said a tiny voice.

The old woman looked around. There on the windowsill, where the old woman had left the date, was the tiniest girl in the world, no bigger than the woman’s little finger. The old woman blinked to see if she was dreaming. “Did you call me Mother?”

“Yes, Mother,” said the girl. And that is when the old woman understood that the kind old man must have been Elijah the prophet. And she hugged the tiny girl very carefully, so as not to hurt her.

Then she asked the girl her name. But the girl did not answer. “No one has given me a name,” she said at last.

“Then I will name you!” said the old woman. She thought and thought. “I will call you Katanya – the little one,” she said.

Katanya and the old woman lived together happily in that little hut. With the help of the golden coin they never had to go hungry. And the first thing the old woman did with the money was to pay back every merchant who had given her fruit to eat.

The old woman loved Katanya with all her heart. She made a little bed for her inside a teacup. She fashioned a fur hat for her from lamb’s wool, shoes out of tiny nutshells, and dresses made of rose petals. Of all her clothes, Katanya loved her red dress the most. It was the one she had been wearing when she first popped out of the date.

Katanya helped her mother by sweeping out the house with her tiny broom. She even cleaned between the boards of the floor, an easy task for her, since she was so small. While she did her chores, Katanya sang. She had a beautiful voice that sounded as if a full grown girl were singing. Katanya’s voice brought joy to everyone who heard it.

One day the prince was riding down the street, when he heard a lovely song drifting from an open window. The voice was so beautiful that he fell instantly in love. When he returned to the palace, he told his father, the king: “Father, I have found a lovely bride, and I wish to be married.”

“Very well, my son,” said the king in surprise, “but who is the bride?” “I wish to marry the girl whose beautiful singing I heard today,” said the prince.

The king sent a servant at once to the house of the old woman and invited her to come with her daughter to the palace. The servant told the woman: “I have brought a tailor with me who will sew dresses for you both.”

But when the old woman told Katanya this, the girl shook her head. “No, no, no! I love my dress of many colors, and that’s what I will wear.” So the tailor fitted the old woman, but when he asked to see the girl, he was told that she already had a pretty dress.

A few days later, the old woman put on her new dress and went to the palace, with Katanya hiding inside the pocket. The king welcomed her, but the prince was very sad. “Your daughter was invited to join us too,” he said.

“Why has she not come?”

All at once a tiny voice came from the pocket: “Here I am!” Then Katanya’s head peeked out.

“Is it you I heard singing?” asked the prince, much amazed.

“Perhaps,” she answered.

“In that case,” said the prince, “could you sing for us now? If you are the girl I heard, then it is you I want to marry, even though you are small.”

Katanya smiled, for what the prince said was very nice indeed. She sang a song more beautiful than any he had ever heard.

So it was that Katanya married the prince and became Princess Katanya. At her wedding she wore her favorite dress of many colors. The blessing at the hand of Eliyahu haNovi was fully realized that “Though your beginning was small, your latter days will be very great (Job 8:7). After the wedding the old woman came to live at the palace along with her. And all of them lived hap¬pily ever after.

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

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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.

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

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.

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.

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.

“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.

“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 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)

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

“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)

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

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.

More Purim Stories Tomorrow and on Purim

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