Tam watched one of his students sitting around the table learning. Both Tam and Chacham knew the student well enough to realize that something was terribly wrong. The student always seemed to be cheerful and enthusiastic, but now seemed to be carrying a weight on his shoulders that was too heavy for him to bear.

Tam and Chacham noticed that the student continued to come on time to learn. He continued to ask his probing questions and to come up with deep, penetrating answers. The learning must calm him and lighten his burdens.

The rabbis observed that the gloominess would cloak their student as soon as he closed his holy text to go back home. It was then that his wonder and excitement seemed to leave him.

The rabbis were afraid to mention anything because he didn’t want the student to think their questions were intrusive. After all, maybe this was just a passing thing. So for the time being, Tam and Chacham decided to keep their concerns to themselves.

As the classes continued, however, the heaviness surrounding the student seemed to overwhelm him completely, and Tam and Chacham could no longer keep their concerns to themselves.

One day as class came to end, Tam and Chacham invited the student to sit with them and with great concern spoke to the student. Chacham began, “You are a fine student and one day you will be a teacher and leader in the community. Please tell us what’s bothering you. We can’t bear to watch you go on like this any longer.

The student looked at his teachers and then dropped his eyes to the table in front of him for a few long moments until he finally gathered his thoughts.

“You know how much I love learning and how my greatest desire is to be fully involved in Torah for the rest of my life,” began the student, baring his heart. “Well, the small stipend I receive just doesn’t meet my growing expenses, even though my wife is working long, hard hours. After careful consideration, my wife and I have come to the difficult conclusion that this season will be my last one learning full-time. As you can tell, I’m heartbroken.” At those words, the student burst into uncontrollable sobs, and the rabbis stood up and hugged the student tightly in the middle of the beis midrash (house of learning).

Tam and Chacham had no words to comfort the broken student. What could they possibly tell him? About the loss it was to the entire class? About the loss it was to the world at large? That would just make him feel even worse.

After a meek attempt to reassure the student, Tam and Chacham silently left the beis medrash, deep in thought. That night, the rabbis felt so sorry for their student who wanted nothing more than to sit and learn but whose dreams and aspirations would be dashed due to finances. Why does everything in this world have to revolve around money? They thought in frustration.

Tam and Chacham thought for a long time about their student. They saw their student every day, but he was unable to study or concentrate on the lessons as he had in the past. The rabbis wondered if there was a way to help their student.

A week later, Tam came into the beis medrash, in high spirits. “You’ll never believe this!” he said loudly as soon as his eyes met his student. When he realized that many people in the beis medrash could hear him, he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Last night, I was speaking to an old student of mine who lives far away.  Explained Tam, “and he mentioned to me that he was interested in forming a Yissachar-Zevulun partnership (The relationship between the tribes of Yissachar and Zevulun whereby Zevulun deals in business and Yissachar in study of the Torah/Scriptures and holy writings.)

with someone. He has a large sum of money he’d like to invest in this arrangement and he wants to find a serious student to support so that he can share in the reward of his learning.

“I told him all about you,” continued Tam, “and he was very excited for you to be his Yissachar. What do you say? Is this something you’d be interested in?”

“I can’t believe it!” the student lightened up. “This is the best news I could possibly hope for! Of course I’d love to do that! How can I thank you for putting this together?”

“By sitting down and learning to the best of your ability,” answered Tam with a mysterious twinkle in his eye.

“Do you mind if I go out for a minute to call my wife to tell her the good news?” asked the happy student.

“Do we not learn, ‘enjoy life with the life you love’? (Ecclesiastes/Koheles 9:9) By all means share your good news with her,” agreed Tam.

The arrangement worked out beautifully, with Tam serving as the middleman. On the first of each month, Tam would present his student with a sizable sum of money, and the student was very appreciative.

One month, the student approached his teacher Tam, “I know that my benefactor wishes to remain anonymous. Still, it would mean so much to me to be able to express my appreciation to him. Do you think it would be appropriate for me to write him a letter?”

“It would be very appropriate,” encouraged Tam.

A couple of days later the student’s letter was finished, he put it in envelope, and handed it to Tam.

“Please address the envelope and send it out as soon as you can,” urged the student. “I want it to get to my benefactor as quickly as possible.”

Tam took the letter from his student and left the beis medrash. Instead of depositing the letter in the mailbox, however, he inserted it into his own pocket and went to share it with Chacham — because that’s where it truly belonged.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others