Zadie’s Tisha b’Av Visit

Posted on Monday, 16, July, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Zadie was so special that when he entered a room the whole room was filled with a peaceful feeling. He made everything special and that’s why everyone loved and respected him. He came for a visit one year a few days before Tisha b’Av. There was a knock at the door and then Zadie came in, it was as though the sun had suddenly come out from behind the clouds. That was Zadie’s special smile. His beard seemed a little whiter, he walked slower, but looking at him made you feel so good.

We were the luckiest, because Zadie was staying in our home. I didn’t want to go to camp that summer—I didn’t want to miss a minute of Zadie’s visit. He told the most wonderful stories and spoke of secrets in the Torah. How proud I was to walk down the street with him.

It was erev Tisha b’Av, the first time I had to fast all day. When we went to shul, and sat down on the floor while listening to Megillas Eichah (Book of Lamentations), it was so sad that I really felt like crying. But then, I started feeling hungry, and was so ashamed of myself. So when we came home I went to sleep right away.

I woke up in the middle of the night and lay in bed, listening to a strange sound. It was someone crying. I put on a robe and, trembling, walked down the hall. The crying was coming from Zadie’s room. I tiptoed down the hall, knocked on his door and went in. He was sitting on the floor holding a sefer (book) on his lap and the pages were all wet from the tears streaming from his eyes.

I ran over and hugged him.

“Zadie, Zadie, what’s the matter?”

Zadie wiped his eyes and sighed. He gently pulled me down to the floor next to him. Putting his hand under my chin, he looked into my eyes.

“Mein ainickle mien tzaddikel (my grandson, my little holy one), I’m so sorry I woke you. It’s Tisha b’Av, you know, and I’m crying because of the destruction of our Bais Hamikdash. (Holy Temple)”

“But Zadie, aren’t things better already? After all, you’ve seen to Israel and many others Jewish people have gone there to live.”

“Please try to understand. No matter how comfortable the Jewish people are, something is missing because Hashem is still angry with us for our sins. If Jewish people all over the world—and in Israel, too—would do teshuvah (Repentance), say prayers from their hearts and give tzedakah (Charity) and do chesed (kindness), then the true geulah (redemption) would come soon. Meanwhile, we are in galus (exile) wherever we live. And it’s such a long, bitter galus. Do you understand mien zissele ainickle (my sweet grandson)? Now go back to sleep, and I’ll also go to sleep now. And do me a favour, please don’t tell anybody I woke you up. All right? I’m sorry.”

The next day, it was not hard for me to fast. I kept thinking about Zadie’s prayers, and his talk with me and I tried to pray better, too.

Shabbos Nachamu (“Sabbath of comfort/ing) came very soon. It was a very special a happy Shabbos! Zadie sat next to Taty at the head of the table, singing zemiros (Shabbos songs) loudly, as happy as I’ve ever seen him. I couldn’t understand it! He must have seen my confusion, because after “bentching” (Grace after meal), he took me out to the back porch and we sat on the top step together.

“Zadie, tell me. First you’re so happy, then so sad, then so happy.”

“But today, on Shabbos Nachamu. We read in the Haftorah how Hashem promises us that soon, very soon, our sins will all be forgiven and the Shechinah (Hashem’s Presence) will come back to our Holy Land. We have to believe that the galus will end soon, very soon—if we first prepare ourselves for it.

“It’s so true, I believe it with my whole heart. But remember, you have to prepare for it.”

Zadie has not been here for many years, but I hope I will never forget what he said as long as I live.

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 Song and a Shabbos Promise

Posted on Thursday, 12, July, 2018Thursday, 27, December, 2018 by Rabbi

Hinda Rivka was gathered up with the Jewish community of Czechowa and forced to make the journey to the a nearby labour camp. She knew full well that many who went on this journey never returned. She seemed to have an inner light that shined with peace and a resolve to remain strong in her faith. Only with such an mindset, she felt, could she maintain her religious lifestyle and cling ever closer to her Creator —her primary motivation in all she did.

Hinda Rivka’s dignity stood revealed from the moment she arrived at the camp. Every morning, she drank only a small portion of her allotted water and used the rest to wash her hands and say a blessing. She saved a measure of her daily bread to barter for a small siddur (prayerbook), from which she whispered her prayers to the Master of the Universe. She frequently shared her precious siddur to others so they too could pray.

The weeks before Pesach, Hinda Rivka and her friends began to save bits of potato and other vegetables, in order to be able to survive the festival without eating chametz. On Yom Kippur, they hid their bread rations until nightfall, but one of the Nazis heard that some girls were fasting and seized the reserved bread so that the girls were forced to fast not one, but two days.

Hinda Rivka was a simple girl with strong faith who steadfastly refused to work on Shabbos at any price. Though many of the other girls were taken out and killed for taking such a stand, her single-mindedness in this area was astonishing. She many times worked a double shift on weekdays instead.

When a truck came to transport inmates from place to place, and it appeared as though the trip would afford opportunity for escape, Hinda Rivka refused to go as it involved traveling on Shabbos. She remained behind in the camp. In her heart, she clung to the promise that had been made to her by the holy Piltzer Rebbe (Chanoch Gad Yustman) a promise that she would be saved in the merit of her Shabbos observance.

She worked in a munitions factory. It was hard backbreaking labour. Throughout the long hours of work, Hinda Rivka would in her pleasant voice sing a Yiddish song entitled “G-tt un Zein Mishpot Is Gerecht” (G-d Is Correct in His Judgment) The chorus of this song may be translated as follows: “G-d, Your decrees are just. The Creator knows what He is doing. No one is punished for naught.”

Her rescue from the Holocaust came about as a result of her Shabbos observance: The death transports were carried out on Shabbos, the day on which Hinda Rivka did not work. The lights from her Shabbos candles and sacrifices burned bright.

She left war torn Poland and went to Jerusalem where she lived for a number of years. As she lay on her deathbed, she called the chevra kaddisha and lifted her hands and sang and sang, “G-tt un Zein Mishpot Is Gerecht” (G-d Is Correct in His Judgment) and then said out loud Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad.

A Gut’n Shabbos mit brochah und Shalom

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(A Good Shabbos with Blessings and Peace)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Sultan and King David

Posted on Monday, 2, July, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

One night the Turkish sultan disguised himself as a merchant and walked about his capital city. When he entered the Jewish quarter, he heard loud singing. As he went closer, he saw that the people were dancing in a great circle. He heard the words of a song, “Dovid Melech Yisrael; Chai, Chai, V’kayam” and asked about the song and was told that the words were “David, king of Israel, lives and endures. (Rosh Hashanah 25a)”

When the sultan heard this, it confirmed his suspicions that the Jewish people were not loyal to him, but to their own king.

The next day the sultan demanded that a holy rabbi who was one of the leaders of the community to answer for the disloyalty of the Jewish community. The rabbi insisted that King David had died long ago, but the sultan would not listen. He demanded that the holy rabbi bring him a gift that could come only from King David. If the rabbi did not, he would banish all the Jewish people and destroy their property throughout his kingdom.

The holy rabbi was very afraid of the treat made by the sultan against the Jewish people. He knew that he had to prepare himself to ask for guidance from heaven. It was clear that only a miracle could make it possible for him to fulfill the king’s command. So he fasted for three days, immersed himself in the mikveh seven times, and prayed with all his heart. Finally he heard a heavenly voice announce that he must travel to the city of Luz in the Holy Land. There he would find King David, who, in truth, was still alive. So too did the heavenly voice reveal the holy name that would make it possible for him to go there.

Now the way to the city of Luz is one of the most closely guarded secrets. The histories of the city, reaching back to the very beginng, are filled with every detail of learning and life. Yet these same histories, though complete, do not record a single death, nor a single flood or fire. All who live inside its walls have never known death, the Angel of Death is powerless and can do them no harm.

Now that heaven had opened a path for him, the holy rabbi set out on his journey. He pronounced the holy name that had been revealed to him, and in a single breath he found himself inside the walls of that city. There he saw an old, old man, far older than any he had ever seen before. He asked the old man if King David could be found there. And the old man said: “No. King David lives in a cave out in the desert, near a spring. Once a year a flock of birds fly in that direction, and today is the day they will arrive here. Follow the birds to the spring, and immerse yourself in the waters before you enter the cave.”

The holy rabbi thanked the old man and left the city. Just as he stepped outside the gates of the ancient city of Luz, he heard a rumble like thunder as thousands of birds filled the sky. Once more he pronounced the holy name that had brought him to that place, and he found himself flying as fast as that flock to the spring the old man had spoken of, with the cave nearby.

The holy rabbi immersed himself in that spring and then entered the cave. There he saw King David reclining on a couch. Above him hung his harp and on a stand sat his crown of the kingdom. King David welcomed him, for he too had heard a heavenly voice announcing the rabbi’s visit. He knew of the danger facing the Jewish people of Turkey.

King David brought forth two pitchers of water and gave them to The holy rabbi. He told him to wash his hands in the waters of the first pitcher. And the instant the waters touched the rabbi’s hands, his skin grew white as snow, as happens with leprosy. The rabbi was very frightened, but King David told him not to worry, just to pour the water of the other pitcher over his hands. And as soon as he did this, The holy rabbi’s skin was restored to its healthy state. Then King David said: “Now that you know the power of the waters in these pitchers, take them to the sultan. He will understand that this gift could come from no one but me. For the waters of the first pitcher are from Gehenna, and those of the second are from the Garden of Eden.”

When The holy rabbi took his leave of King David, he pronounced the holy name for the third and final time. And in an instant he found himself back in the land of Turkey, before the palace of the sultan. There he was granted an audience, and he gave the sultan the two pitchers that he had received from King David.

The sultan wanted to know what was so precious about the water in those pitchers. The holy rabbi suggested that the sultan pour the water from the first over his hands. When the sultan did, his skin turned leprous and the sultan was horrified. He knew that if anyone found out, his reign would be over. People would see the disease as a a sign that he was no longer fit to rule. The sultan pleaded with the holy rabbi to cure him. The rabbi assured him that he would cure him if he promised not to harm the Jewish people of Turkey in any way. The sultan quickly vowed to do so, and the rabbi told him to wash his hands in the water of the second pitcher. And as soon as the sultan did, he recovered. Then the sultan knew that none could have sent him those enchanted waters but King David himself, and never again did he threaten the Jewish people of his kingdom.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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A Virtuous Woman’s Ring

Posted on Sunday, 17, June, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

A wealthy merchant was aboard a ship that carried his wares, when a violent storm struck. The wind and waves put all aboard the ship in peril of death. The wealthy merchant prayed to be delivered on account of his modest wife. A stranger stood nearby and was amazed to hear the merchant praying and mentioning the merits of his wife. The wealthy merchant answered that indeed she was worthy of all praise. The stranger challenged the merchant: “No woman is so perfect. I shall go and seduce her. What sign do you require of me?” The husband answered that she wore a fine ring on her hand, and if he brought it, then the husband would know that he had indeed seduced her. They risked all their wares on this bet.

The stranger went to seduce the wife of the wealthy merchant and could not even come near her. He returned several times but she paid him no attention. At length he hired her maidservant to steal her ring from her. The stranger presented the ring then took all the wares of the wealthy merchant as agreed.

The wealthy merchant returned home empty-handed. When the woman heard that her husband had returned, she adorned herself and happily came to meet him, with all their long-established words of love and affection. Her husband did not even embrace her, but turned away from her and sent her away from him on the ship which had brought him across the sea.

He disguised himself, changed his manner of speech and behaved as a stranger so that she should not recognize him, and acted as the ship’s captain. The woman spent several days on board ship without food and drink, and entreated the captain to give her some food. “Kiss me and I shall give you whatever you wish,” said he, but she refused.

The woman lived on dried bread crusts and water and when land was spotted from the ship, she begged to be let go.

the ship came to land. The woman went ashore and sought for food and found two trees. The fruit of one made the eater leprous, while the fruit of the other cured the disease. She took some of the healing fruit in her bag and came at last to a royal palace. The king needed this remedy and she cured him, and the king gave her riches in plenty. Then she went back home and rebuked her husband for having suspected her. Thereupon her husband investigated the matter, and it was found that the Stranger had lied about her, and he was brought to judgment.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Special Prayers, Sins and Rain

Posted on Saturday, 2, June, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

It was dry and the sun was hot as the drought went into its second month. The rabbis decreed a fast day and special prayers and psalms be recited. During the time of drought the whole community is invited to join in prayer so that the rain will come. Hopefully the non-observant will be moved by the serious condition caused by the drought join the community in prayer.

In one community which was in a drought area, the rabbis proclaimed a fast day. Strains of Psalm 130 (traditionally said in times of drought) were heard from the old synagogue. “Out of the depths I call You, Hashem….”(Psalm 130: 1)

One of the rabbis tried to urge a non-observant person named Yonah to join in the public prayer. Yonah adamantly refused. “You certainly do not think that the prayers of someone like me will have any effect on G-d,” Yonah offered.

The rabbi tried to impress upon Yonah that the prayers of every person are important, and that on the contrary, when someone who is distant from religious observance turns to the Holy One, blessed be He, their prayer is very special and effective.

“I take it from this,” the Yonah said, “that you are implying that it is my sinfulness that made G-d angry and caused the drought. I resent that!”

“No need to worry about that,” the rabbi said. “I could not possibly think that you caused the drought. In fact, we know that it was people like yourself who once caused “the rain fell on the earth forty days and forty nights. (Genesis 7: 12)”

The voices from the synagogue continued, “O Hashem, listen to my cry; let Your ears be attentive to my plea for mercy. (Psalm 130: 2). The prayers went up to the very Throne of Mercy and That evening the sky grew dark and the rains came in answer to the prayers of the people. But this was very displeasing to Yonah, and he became angry. (Yonah 4:1)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Rabbi Asenat and a Flock of Angels: A Tale From Kurdistan

Posted on Thursday, 31, May, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Asenat was the daughter of the holy rabbi Shmuel b. Netanel HaLevi of Kurdistan who founded a number of centers of learning and was head of the yeshiva in Mosul. He lived in great poverty and was regarded as a saint. He had no sons, but had a daughter who he loved dearly. The holy rabbi was a master of the written and oral Torah, agaddah, and Jewish mysticism. He lovingly taught his daughter every day until he had to leave to the World of Truth.

The holy rabbi taught his daughter the secrets of the revealed and hidden Torah and many of the secrets of heaven. Asenat adored her father, and regarded him as a King of Israel. In a letter, she described her upbringing:

Long ago, in the Kurdish town of Mosul, there lived a young woman named Asenat who was known for performing wonders. Her blessings were often sought by women who wished to be blessed with children, or by sick people who wished to be cured. Her touch had healing powers, especially for children.

It was whispered among the people that the spirit of her father rested upon her, and for this reason she was known as Rabbi Asenat.

After Rabbi Shmuel died, he often came to his daughter in dreams. He would reveal dangers to her and tell her how to avoid the threats, saving many lives. One night Asenat dreamed that her holy father told her to go to the Kurdish town of Amadiyah for Rosh CChodesh, the celebration of the new moon. He told her that the Jewish people of Amadiyah needed her protection.

When it became known that Rabbi Asenat was planning to travel to Amadiyah, the people of her town pleaded with her not to go, for things had become dangerous for the Jewish people living there. “All Jewish people have been warned to stay away from Amadiyah,” they warned her. “If you go, you will surely be risking your life!” Asenat could not overlook her holy father’s message. She took leave of her town and began her journey.

When Rabbi Asenat reached the town that she had visited so often, she was given great respect as a holy woman. The people seemed to be upset when she told them that they should celebrate Rosh Chodesh outdoors, so they could see the crescent of the new moon, as was their custom.

The people wanted to stay in the safety of the synagogue, for they knew they were surrounded by enemies and that their very lives were in danger. “Don’t be afraid,” she told them. The emunah (faith) in the Holy One Blessed, be He and their trust in her were so great that they agreed to keep to the tradition of greeting the new moon as in the past, despite the danger.

The night of Rosh Chodesh saw almost all the people come out to celebrate the new moon and the new month. At first they were cautious, yet soon they were singing and dancing in the town square with abandon. Suddenly, shouts disrupted the celebration as people saw flames leaping towards the sky. The synagogue had been set on fire! Baruch Hashem – Blessed be G-d that no one had been inside. The people were heartbroken to see their synagogue consumed in flames. Many men had to be held back so they wouldn’t run inside and be burned to death while trying to save the Torah scrolls. Everywhere people wept, falling to their knees, for they knew the flames were fast approaching the Aron haKodesh (Holy Ark) where the Torah scrolls were kept.

Rabbi Asenat closed her eyes in prayer and whispered a secret name of Hashem, one that she had learned from her father. All at once the people heard a loud flapping and a great wind swirled around them, and they thought that a flock of birds must be overhead. But when they looked up, they saw a flock of angels descending to the roof of the synagogue. The angels beat the flames with their wings, until every last spark had been put out. Then they rose up into the heavens like a flock of white doves and were gone.

The people were fascinated. They cried out, “Angels! Angels!” And when the smoke cleared, they saw that another miracle had taken place: the synagogue had not burned. Nor was a single letter of any of the Torah scrolls touched by the flames.

When the enemies of the Jewish community learned of the miracle of the angels and saw how the synagogue had been saved from the fire, they dared not harm the hair of even a single Jewish person.

A day opf celebration was declared as the people prayed and thanked the Holy One, blessed be He for saving this day for them and their beloved synagogue. The Jewish community was so grateful to Rabbi Asenat that they renamed the synagogue after her, and it is still standing to this day.

And all this came to pass because of Rabbi Asenat’s courage and loyalty in honoring her father’s wish, conveyed in a dream, that she go to that town for the celebration of the new moon.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Innocent are Delivered from the Fiery Furnace

Posted on Monday, 28, May, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

There was once a pious man who was wealthy and of the king’s company. He had a handsome, fine-looking, and wise son. Before he died, the father told his son not to leave daily prayer until the whole service was over. Also, if somebody who had not been present were to rise and recite the daily prayer he should stay there until he had finished as well. The dying man added: “I have done this all my life and I have prospered. And if you pass through a city and you hear the cantor, enter and do not leave until he has finished his prayers.” Then the pious man passed away.

Now the son was well thought of by all who saw him. He served the king and was the wine bearer to the king and queen and sliced them their bread and meat. They loved him very much and praised him to the skies. Now the king’s chief advisor saw this and was very jealous. He came to the king and said: “Your majesty, you have eyes yet you do not see that this young man loves the queen, and they fornicate together.” But the king rebuked him and did not believe him, yet he repeated it day after day until the king grew jealous. “For jealousy arouses a husband’s fury, and he shows no restraint when he takes revenge.”(Proverbs 6:34)

One day the king went to inspect the workers who were preparing a limekiln, and he said to the master of the workers: “Take the first man who comes here tomorrow and fling him into the kiln at once. If you do not do so, you will pay for it with your own life.” “Your majesty’s order will be obeyed” ,” answered the master of the workers. Then the king returned to his palace. That night while the young man was serving him, he called him and ordered: “Rise early tomorrow morning and go where they are preparing the lime and tell the man in charge to make a great fire.” “I shall carry out your orders,” answered the young man.

In the morning he mounted his horse, but as he passed the synagogue he heard the cantor’s voice. He dismounted, entered the synagogue, and prayed. When the cantor had finished, another man who had not heard the prayers rose and began to pray, and he waited until he finished as well. And so he was delayed until it was broad daylight.

The innocent was saved from the fiery furnace

Meanwhile, the king summoned his chief advisor and ordered him: “Go to the place where they are making the lime and ask the man in charge: Have you obeyed the king?” Then the vizier mounted his horse and rode off and asked the man in charge: “Have you obeyed the king’s orders?” Thereupon they seized him and tied him up and flung him into the kiln. The young man arrived just then and saw them flinging the king’s advisor into the kiln, and he said to them: “If the king knows this, he will slay you.” But the man in charge answered: “Yesterday the king ordered me: ‘Take the first man I send to you tomorrow, and fling him into the kiln.’ And this is the man who came first.”

Then the young man returned to the king and said: “Your majesty, why did you order the chief advisor to be burned?” At this, the king shuddered and shook with astonishment and said to the youth: “Now I know that you are G-d-fearing, and your Creator loves you. This is what the chief advisor said about you and the queen. So I ordered that the man whom I first sent to the limekiln should be flung into the fire; and it was you I first ordered to go. After that I told the chief advisor to go and see whether my orders had been obeyed. But you were delayed, so they flung him in instead. Now I know that you are innocent. The ancient words “The righteous is delivered from distress, and the wicked comes in his stead.” (Proverbs 11:8) are so true”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Sweet Prayers

Posted on Sunday, 29, April, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Sweet Prayers come from the inner being of each person. The Ohr Zarua (Rabbi Yizchak ben Moshe of Vienna, 1180-1250) tried to impress upon the Jewish community the importance of reciting the praises of Hashem sweetly and with concentration, thereby acquiring a lofty portion in Gan Eden (the Garden of Eden – Heavenly reward).

There was a wealthy merchant in Vienna who was very respected and a leader of the chevra kaddisha (Burial Society). His hand was open to anyone who came to him. One early morning as the wealth merchant was making his way to shul (synagogue) to daven (pray), he saw a man who was wearing a wreath of freshly cut flowers on his head sitting on the bench outside the shul. As the wealthy merchant got closer, he recognized the man, he froze from fright. He would have turned and fled but his legs didn’t cooperate and they wouldn’t move.

After a few moments, he composed himself and asked the man, “Is it possible that you are the person we buried just yesterday?”

“Yes. Yes, I am”, the man calmly replied.

Doubting, the wealthy merchant asked, “I don’t understand. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere in Shamayim (heaven)? What happened with you after we buried you yesterday?”

“I was welcomed warmly and placed on a very high level in Gan Eden”

“Why did you merit such a high level in Gan Eden? After all, when you were alive, you were but a regular member of the community.”

“That is true”, the man replied, “I was just a simple member of the community. However, I was careful to always recite the brachos (blessings) in shul in a very sweet manner. That mitzvah (religious deed) itself is held in very high esteem in Heaven and I was therefore rewarded with a lofty level in Gan Eden.

“As proof that you just buried me, look at the sleeve of my burial shrouds. It is ripped in the same place that it tore as you placed me in the ground.

The wealthy merchant then asked him why he was wearing a wreath of flowers on his head, to which the man replied, “They are flowers from Gan Eden with a beautiful scent. I placed them on my head to protect me from the awful odor of this world.”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Why the People Screamed When They Prayed

Posted on Wednesday, 18, April, 2018Monday, 19, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Two men were good friends from the time they were children. When they grew older, one became a Rosh Yeshiva (headmaster/rabbi at a Jewish school) and the other became a very successful merchant. At one point, the Rosh Yeshiva had to go on a trip to collect money for his yeshiva. During his trip, he visited the city where his friend the merchant lived. The merchant was delighted to see his old friend, and he invited him to spend Shabbos (Sabbath) at his house.

The Rosh Yeshiva gladly accepted the invitation. Before Shabbos, he gave his friend the money he had collected during his travels so far, asking him to safeguard it until his departure.

Friday night, the two friends went to pray in the local shul (synagogue). The Rosh Yeshiva was surprised to see that the people in the shul screamed loudly when they prayed.

Later, when they were eating the Friday-night meal, the merchant asked his guest what he thought of the community. “I am very impressed with the community,” the Rosh Yeshiva responded, “but can you explain to me why the people here shout so loudly when they pray? Where does this custom come from?”

The merchant declined to give an answer as his wife brought out the Shabbos food. The question was soon forgotten as the two friends began discussing Torah matters and remembering things from their childhood.

In shul the next morning, the strange behavior of people screaming loudly when they prayed repeated itself, and the Rosh Yeshiva was very bothered by the loud shouting of the congregants.

At the meal at the end of the morning Shabbos service, he again asked his friend for an explanation of this unusual custom, but again the merchant avoided the question. The same thing happened at shalosh seudos (the third Meal of the Sab bath), after the two returned from a noisy Minchah (afternoon service).

Immediately after Havdalah (prayer marking the end of the Sabbath) that night, the Rosh Yeshiva got ready to leave, and he parted warmly from his friend who had hosted him so graciously. As he was about to leave the house, he asked his friend to return the money he had given him for safekeeping on Friday.

“What money?” the merchant asked in surprise.

“The money that I collected on this trip,” the Rosh Yeshiva replied. “I gave it to you before Shabbos, don’t you remember?”

“I’m sorry,” the merchant said, “but I don’t remember you giving me anything for safekeeping.”

“What?” the Rosh Yeshiva sputtered. “How can you not remember? I gave you a thick wad of money!”

“I don’t recall anything of the sort,” the merchant said calmly.

The Rosh Yeshiva realized that he was in deep trouble. He had given his friend tens of thousands of crowns, all of the money he had worked so hard to raise during his trip, thinking that his friend would hide it away in his safe until Shabbos was over. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask his old friend to sign a paper stating that he had received the money. Who would have ever thought that his friend would dream of taking the money for himself?

But now, to his dismay, he realized that he had been naïve in trusting his friend, for his friend valued money far more than friendship.

Seeing that his friend had no intention of returning the money, he raised his voice and shouted at him, “You rasha (wicked man)! Where’s all the money I gave you? How can you dare to do such a thing? This is money that was collected for the yeshiva!”

The Rosh Yeshiva’s shouts were loud enough to be heard outside on the street, but the host just listened impassively.

“Excuse me,” he said, “why are you shouting? Can’t you talk calmly and quietly?”

“How can I talk quietly after you hurt me so deeply?” the Rosh Yeshiva continued to yell.

Suddenly, a broad smile spread over the host’s face. He walked over to his safe, removed the money, and handed it to his stunned friend the Rosh Yeshiva.

“Listen to what you are saying,” he told him. “When someone is in pain, troubled or upset, they raise their voice and scream. Is has been this way since ancient times when Samuel wrote: ‘In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried to my God; and he heard my voice from his temple, and my cry entered into his ears.’ (II Samuel 22:7) So why are you so surprised that the members of our community raised their voices and shout when they pray? They are in pain, and they know that through prayer they can be healed from all of their pain and suffering. And that’s why they scream!”

This is how every Jewish person should approach prayer. He should feel that he has the opportunity to pour out his heart to his Father in Heaven, tell him everything that is hurting him, and ask him to take pity on him and save him.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The rabbi has tried to add at least one or two new stories each week, with the hope of strengthening faith and understanding through the many readers and communities. Due to rising expenses and the need to work longer hours and harder, his stories have become less frequent.

What was originally started as a way to share old and forgotten tales of faith costing almost nothing and representing a few hours a week of time commitment evolved into a project demanding a lot of time and expense. The highest cost is the time cost – working on this site many hours a week. This is all very good, and we’re delighted at the steady growth in popularity of the Story Tour Blog, but please don’t let us become victims of our own ‘success’!

No income from the Story Tour Blog has been realized, but expenses have grown such as web-hosting, software and other web-based development costs. Our goal is to raise $2500.00 which would allow us to improve the Story Tour Blog. If you feel you’ve received some value, or would like to help support the site’s ongoing presence, please share. Any donation would be much appreciated and will help to keep the site online and growing.

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The Dark Forest and the Unknown Wilderness

Posted on Wednesday, 14, March, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

It happened that when you heard the voice from the midst of the darkness (Deuteronomy 5:23)

A holy rabbi lived near the forest outside of the village. He would teach and pray with his students every day. The forest was dark and foreboding. The night, filled with sounds from the forest that frightened many. No one dared to travel far into the forest.

One Friday the holy rabbi began walking towards the forest. in the cold of the afternoon and the wail of the wind through the trees. The sun slowly set as the eerie shadows of the trees grew long, yet the holy rabbi and his students walked on into the forest. He stopped at a clearing and asked his students to recite the verses of Kabbalas Shabbos (service to welcome the Sabbath Day) with him.

The students were surprised, many wondering, why did their teacher the holy rabbi want them to say the Kabbalas Shabbos prayers in such a dark and fearful place?

The holy rabbi answered that he was fulfilling of the verse, “The voice of Hashem convulses the wilderness (Tehillim 29:8). He explained that even the wilderness is waiting from the days of Creation to hear Hashem’s (G-d’s) voice, and he wished to use the opportunity to bring Hashem’s voice to the wilderness.

The students were astounded by the holy rabbi’s faith and efforts to bring a renewed holiness to the forest, for even amid the suffering and darkness he was experiencing, he remembered the explanation of this verse and wished to implement it.

We see from here how holy people are able to remain serene and detach themselves from their surroundings, even under dire conditions. Indeed, a person who carries the Torah (Scriptures) in his heart can create an island of serenity that no one can take away from him, no matter what circumstances he finds himself in.

Although the students were well meaning, they could not overcome their fear and the cold winds, and they slipped away one by one and returned to their homes in the village. Only one student remained with the holy rabbi until he completed Kabbalas Shabbos prayer.

Years later the student met the holy rabbi on the street in a large city, and he reminded his teacher the holy rabbi of the time when they had said the verses of Kabbalas Shabbos together in the dark forest. The holy rabbi’s face lit up, and he said, “Don’t think that the verse, the voice of Hashem convulses the wilderness, applies only to the dark cold forest. The principle is true and exists everywhere. In every place, there are people who are living in a spiritually desolate wilderness and are waiting to hear the voice of Hashem!”

How many people today are indeed living in spiritual desolation! It is incumbent on us to bring the voice of Hashem (G-d) into the dark forest of their lives and save them from their spiritual wilderness.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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We were the luckiest, because Zadie was staying in our home. I didn’t want to go to camp that summer—I didn’t want to miss a minute of Zadie’s visit. He told the most wonderful stories and spoke of secrets in the Torah. How proud I was to walk down the street with him.

I ran over and hugged him.

“Zadie, Zadie, what’s the matter?”

Zadie wiped his eyes and sighed. He gently pulled me down to the floor next to him. Putting his hand under my chin, he looked into my eyes.

“Mein ainickle mien tzaddikel (my grandson, my little holy one), I’m so sorry I woke you. It’s Tisha b’Av, you know, and I’m crying because of the destruc­tion of our Bais Hamikdash. (Holy Temple)”

“But Zadie, aren’t things better already? After all, you’ve seen to Israel and many others Jewish people have gone there to live.”

The next day, it was not hard for me to fast. I kept thinking about Zadie’s prayers, and his talk with me and I tried to pray better, too.

“Zadie, tell me. First you’re so hap­py, then so sad, then so happy.”

“It’s so true, I believe it with my whole heart. But remember, you have to prepare for it.”

Zadie has not been here for many years, but I hope I will never forget what he said as long as I live.

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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Hinda Rivka was a simple girl with strong faith who steadfastly refused to work on Shabbos at any price. Though many of the other girls were taken out and killed for taking such a stand, her single-mindedness in this area was astonishing. She many times worked a double shift on weekdays instead.

Her rescue from the Holocaust came about as a result of her Shabbos observance: The death transports were carried out on Shabbos, the day on which Hinda Rivka did not work. The lights from her Shabbos candles and sacrifices burned bright.

A Gut’n Shabbos mit brochah und Shalom

(A Good Shabbos with Blessings and Peace)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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When the sultan heard this, it confirmed his suspicions that the Jewish people were not loyal to him, but to their own king.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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The woman lived on dried bread crusts and water and when land was spotted from the ship, she begged to be let go.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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In one community which was in a drought area, the rabbis proclaimed a fast day. Strains of Psalm 130 (traditionally said in times of drought) were heard from the old synagogue. “Out of the depths I call You, Hashem….”(Psalm 130: 1)

One of the rabbis tried to urge a non-observant person named Yonah to join in the public prayer. Yonah adamantly refused. “You certainly do not think that the prayers of someone like me will have any effect on G-d,” Yonah offered.

The rabbi tried to impress upon Yonah that the prayers of every person are important, and that on the contrary, when someone who is distant from religious observance turns to the Holy One, blessed be He, their prayer is very special and effective.

“I take it from this,” the Yonah said, “that you are implying that it is my sinfulness that made G-d angry and caused the drought. I resent that!”

“No need to worry about that,” the rabbi said. “I could not possibly think that you caused the drought. In fact, we know that it was people like yourself who once caused “the rain fell on the earth forty days and forty nights. (Genesis 7: 12)”

Ribbono shel olam – Master of the universe, who lovingly hears the prayers of Your children

You listen in mercy to the prayer of Your people. Baruch atah Adoshem, shomei-a t’filah – Blessed are You, O L-rd, who listens to prayer.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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The holy rabbi taught his daughter the secrets of the revealed and hidden Torah and many of the secrets of heaven. Asenat adored her father, and regarded him as a King of Israel. In a letter, she described her upbringing:

I never left the entrance to my house or went outside;

I was like a princess of Israel…

I grew up on the laps of scholars, anchored to my father of blessed memory.

I was never taught any work but sacred study, to uphold, as it is said: “And you should recite it day and night (Joshua 1: 8)”

Long ago, in the Kurdish town of Mosul, there lived a young woman named Asenat who was known for per­forming wonders. Her blessings were often sought by women who wished to be blessed with children, or by sick people who wished to be cured. Her touch had healing powers, especially for children.

It was whispered among the people that the spirit of her father rested upon her, and for this reason she was known as Rabbi Asenat.

When Rabbi Asenat reached the town that she had visited so often, she was given great respect as a holy woman. The people seemed to be upset when she told them that they should celebrate Rosh Chodesh outdoors, so they could see the crescent of the new moon, as was their custom.

The people were fascinated. They cried out, “Angels! Angels!” And when the smoke cleared, they saw that another miracle had taken place: the syna­gogue had not burned. Nor was a single letter of any of the Torah scrolls touched by the flames.

When the enemies of the Jewish community learned of the miracle of the angels and saw how the synagogue had been saved from the fire, they dared not harm the hair of even a single Jewish person.

A day opf celebration was declared as the people prayed and thanked the Holy One, blessed be He for saving this day for them and their beloved synagogue. The Jewish community was so grateful to Rabbi Asenat that they renamed the synagogue after her, and it is still standing to this day.

And all this came to pass because of Rabbi Asenat’s courage and loyalty in honoring her father’s wish, conveyed in a dream, that she go to that town for the celebration of the new moon.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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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)

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

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After a few moments, he composed himself and asked the man, “Is it possible that you are the person we buried just yesterday?”

“Yes. Yes, I am”, the man calmly replied.

Doubting, the wealthy merchant asked, “I don’t understand. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere in Shamayim (heaven)? What happened with you after we buried you yesterday?”

“I was welcomed warmly and placed on a very high level in Gan Eden”

“Why did you merit such a high level in Gan Eden? After all, when you were alive, you were but a regular member of the community.”

“As proof that you just buried me, look at the sleeve of my burial shrouds. It is ripped in the same place that it tore as you placed me in the ground.

The wealthy merchant then asked him why he was wearing a wreath of flowers on his head, to which the man replied, “They are flowers from Gan Eden with a beautiful scent. I placed them on my head to protect me from the awful odor of this world.”

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)

“Mein ainickle mien tzaddikel (my grandson, my little holy one), I’m so sorry I woke you. It’s Tisha b’Av, you know, and I’m crying because of the destruction of our Bais Hamikdash. (Holy Temple)”

“Zadie, tell me. First you’re so happy, then so sad, then so happy.”

Long ago, in the Kurdish town of Mosul, there lived a young woman named Asenat who was known for performing wonders. Her blessings were often sought by women who wished to be blessed with children, or by sick people who wished to be cured. Her touch had healing powers, especially for children.

The people were fascinated. They cried out, “Angels! Angels!” And when the smoke cleared, they saw that another miracle had taken place: the synagogue had not burned. Nor was a single letter of any of the Torah scrolls touched by the flames.