He Didn’t Deserve His Fee

Posted on Friday, 7, February, 2025 by Rabbi

Once, a small-town doctor, who thought more of his fees than of his patients, was called in to treat the sick wife of a poor tailor. After examining the woman, he turned to the husband and said, “This case will take a lot of my time, and I can see that you won’t be able to pay me for my services.” “Please, doctor, save her life! ” begged the anxious husband. “1 promise to pay you even though I’ll have to pawn everything I own to get the money

“What if I don’t cure her—will you pay my fee just the same?” insisted the doctor.

“Whatever happens, whether you cure her or kill her, I promise to pay.” cried the husband.

The treatment was started, but within a few days, the woman died. Shortly after, the doctor demanded 1500 rubles as his fee. The bereft husband informed him that he was unable to pay, and, as was the custom among the villagers, they brought the matter to the village holy man for settlement.

The sage understood right away what had happened.

“Tell me again,” he asked the physician, “what was your contract with this man?”

“I was to get paid for treating his wife regardless of whether I cured or killed her.”

“Did you cure her?” asked the holy man.

“No.”

“Did you kill her?”

“I certainly did not! “

“Then, since you have neither cured her nor killed her, what right have you to the money?”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

Ali Cogia, Merchant of Baghdad

Posted on Friday, 17, January, 2025Saturday, 14, June, 2025 by Rabbi

A Tale from the Arabian Nights

Long ago in Baghdad there lived a merchant named Ali Cogia. He had no wife or child. He made a modest profit and lived a modest life.

One night he dreamed his father appeared to him and scolded him because he had not made a pilgrimage to Mecca, as is the duty of a good Muslim. Ali Cogia woke from the dream and said, “My father is right, but how can I leave? Who will tend my shop? Who will take care of my house?”

But the dream occurred again and again until Ali Cogia knew he would not sleep soundly until he made a pilgrimage to Mecca. He sold all his wares, his shop, and his small house. He received over a thousand pieces of gold. “I will take some gold for the journey, but where can I leave the rest?”

When he thought of a plan, he put the coins in a large jar and filled the rest of the jar with olives. He carried the jar to the neighboring merchant. “My old friend, you have probably heard that I am leaving for Mecca in a few days. Could you keep this jar of olives for me until I come back?”

The merchant replied, “Of course, here is the key to my shop. Take the jar into the shop. Put it wherever you like. I promise that you shall find it in the same place when you get back.”

Ali Cogia put the jar in a dusty corner of a back room, said his goodbyes, and joined a caravan to Mecca. He liked traveling so much that after his visit to the mosque in Mecca, he bought some goods with his remaining gold coins, and joined a caravan to Cairo. He sold his goods in Egypt and journeyed to visit the Pyramids and the Nile River. Next, he met some merchants on their way to India. He joined them. So it was that Ali Cogia traveled and traded for seven years. One day he said, “I am tired of traveling. I long for Baghdad. And with my thousand pieces of gold that I left in the olive jar, I can buy a new shop and live out my life in the city where I was born.”

On the very day that Ali Cogia decided to return home, his friend’s wife remarked, “I have been craving olives all day. If only I had some olives, I would be content,”

The merchant remembered the jar left by Ali Cogia. “There are olives in the back room. Ali Cogia left them with me. Bur he has been gone for seven years. Surely he is dead. So bring a lamp-I will fetch them, and we will see if they are still fit to eat.”

“Oh, no, husband. Ali Cogia may return any day. le would be shameful to betray your trust. Do not pay attention to my idle words; I have no desire for olives.”

But the merchant got a lamp and found the olive jar. He broke the seal on the top and pulled out the cork. The topmost olives were rot ten, so he scooped them out and reached deep into the bottom to see if the remaining olives were in better condition. He pulled out a handful of olives, and also found a piece of gold. He did not tell his wife what he found. Instead, he told her, “The olives are all rotten. I recorked the jar.”

When his wife was asleep, he crept into the back room and emp tied the jar. “So much gold! All for me!” He hid the money. The next day he went out and bought fresh olives, filled the jar, and sealed it. Then he put the vase in the same spot where Ali Cogia had left it.

Only a few days later, Ali Cogia reentered Baghdad. He went to see his old friend the merchant, who received him with open arms. “Welcome back, Ali Cogia. We feared you were dead.”

“Allah be praised, I am well. And I am blessed to have a friend like you. Could you please give me the jar of olives that you have been so kind to care for?”

“Oh, yes, dear friend,” said the merchant. “Here is the key to my shop. The jar is where you put it.”

Ali Cogia unlocked the shop, went to the spot where he put the jar, and pulled the cork out. He thrust his hand to the bottom. There was no gold!

Ali Cogia ran to the merchant’s house. “My friend,” he cried, “my thousand pieces of gold are gone. Perhaps you might have borrowed it for your business purposes. If that is so, you are most welcome. I only ask you to give me a receipt. Then you can repay at your leisure.”

“Ali Cogia, what gold are you talking about? I gave you the key to my shop; you placed the jar there yourself. Did you not find it in the same spot? I have not touched your jar.”

“Please, old friend, I love peace:. Don’t make me call the law. Give
me my gold.”

“Ali Cogia, a crowd is gathering, even the children are listening.
Please go away.”

By this time, neighbors, children, and merchants were listening to the dispute. Ali Cogia turned and laid his cause before them. He showed them the vase of olives. The crowd said, “Merchant, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Friends, it is true I kept the vase in my shop for seven years. But I swear I did not open it.”

Ali Cogia challenged the merchant, “Will you dare repeat your story before the cadi?”

“I would like nothing better. Let’s go.”

The two men presented themselves m the cadi and told their stories. The cadi asked Ali Cogia, “Do you have witnesses that saw you put the gold in the vase?”

“No, I did it in secret,” the man replied.

Without a moment’s thought the cadi said, “l find for the merchant.” And the merchant returned home in triumph.

Ali Cogia vowed to appeal to the caliph. He drew up a petition, and waited alongside the road where the caliph walked after midday prayer. The caliph heard the petition and granted an audience the next morning.

Later that evening, the caliph went out for a stroll through the town. He was in disguise so he could pass unnoticed through the crowds. He heard children talking. “Let’s play being the cadi of Baghdad,” said the children. The caliph looked into the courtyard and saw the children gathered in the moonlight.

The smartest and quickest child said, “I will be the cadi. Bring me Ali Cogia and the merchant. I will settle the question of the thousand pieces of gold.” The caliph remembered the petition he had read that morning, and he listened with interest to what the children said.

The children liked the game, and they decided the part each would play. The child cadi solemnly took his seat. The child Ali Cogia and the child merchant came forward. Ali Cogia made a low bow. “Please hear my plea. This merchant kept the gold pieces I hid in a vase of olives.” He rold the entire story he had heard from the real Ali Cogia.

The boy cadi said, “Merchant, tell me your side of the story.” The boy merchant repeated all the reasons the real merchant had given to the Cadi of Baghdad. “I never opened the vase in seven years,” he responded.

Instead of finding for the merchant, the boy cadi asked a question, “Where is the vase of olives? Bring it to me.”

The children pretended to carry a vase and put it at the feet of the boy cadi. “Open the vase.”

The children pretended to open the vase. The cadi pretended to eat one. “What good olives. Such bright color and good taste. It seems odd that olives that are seven years old would be so good. Bring me some olive merchants.”

Two children came forward as olive merchants. The boy cadi questioned them, “How long can olives be stored and remain good?”

“Three years,” said the olive merchants. “After that, they lose color and taste and are only fit to be thrown away.”

“Merchants, examine the olives in this vase.”

The children pretended to examine the olives. “My lord, these are fresh olives, not even a year old.”

The merchant tried to protest, but the boy cadi said, “Be silent. You are a thief. Take him to prison.”

So, the play ended, and the children all clapped and led the criminal away to prison. The caliph was amazed. “Can there be any better judgment? I will follow this example.” He commanded his servants to summon the parties, plus two olive merchants and the boy who acted as cadi. “Instruct Ali Cogia to bring the vase of olives. We will be ready to see justice done. And the cadi will learn from the mouth of a child.”

The next morning the boy came to the palace in his finest clothes. The Caliph said, “Last night, I overheard your judgment in the case of the stolen gold. I am pleased with the way you conducted the trial. Come seat yourself next to me. Today you will see the real Ali Cogia and the real merchant.”

The parties came and bowed before the throne. The caliph said, “Cadi, observe!” To the parties, the caliph commanded, “Now speak This child will give you justice.”

Ali Cogia and the merchant told their stories. Then, just as the night before, the boy said, “Bring me the vase of olives.” The boy, the caliph, and the olive merchants tasted the olives. “These olives are fresh and good; they could not have been kept in the vase for seven years,” pronounced the olive merchants.

The boy looked at the caliph and said, “My lord, this is not a game now, it is for you, not me, to condemn the merchant.”

The caliph stood. “Merchant, you are a thief; you emptied the vase to take the gold. Then you filled the jar with fresh olives. You will go to prison, but first, you will tell the place where you hid Ali Cogia’s gold.”

The merchant told the hiding place and went to prison.

The caliph scolded the cadi for his incompetence. “Learn from the wisdom of this child,” he said. Last of all, he sent the boy home with one hundred pieces of silver as a mark of his favor.

May all your tales end with peace and Justice

A Justice Tale shared by the IPS Chaplain

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

Click here to Visit IPS

If the stories are not shared, they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

Ooka the Wise and the Two Women

Posted on Friday, 3, January, 2025 by Rabbi

A Tale of Justice and Wisdom from Japan

One day, a case concerning a baby boy came to Ooka’s court. Two women claimed to be the boy’s mother, and Ooka was faced with the challenge of deciding which woman was telling the truth. Both women had recently come to Yedo (old Tokyo), and so there were no witnesses to support either claim.

Thinking that the child himself would be sure to recognize his own mother, the judge placed him in the middle of the floor, expecting him to crawl toward one of the women. But the child paid no attention to either of the two women and cried for Ooka to pick him up.

Whispers of amusement ran around the courtroom and Ooka’s ears began to rum pink.

The great judge soon thought of another test, however. He ordered the two women to take hold of one of the baby’s arms and to pull as hard as they were able.

“I am sure the real mother will be given strength so that she will win the struggle,” he explained. What he really expected was the real mother would stop pulling the child, for fear of hurting him.

Sadly the two women were not fooled by Ooka’s cleverness, and told the judge they knew he was playing a trick.

Ooka sighed. Finally, he called a court attendant and said, “Go buy me a bowl of goldfish, a handful of bamboo sticks, three pieces of wood, a magnifying glass, and a copy of a book on fortunetelling.”

Ooka the Wise was embarrassed as loud laughter spread around the courtroom. Many of the spectators believed that at last the great judge was defeated by a case.

Ooka quickly called for silence. His ears were very red.

Soon the attendant returned with the articles Ooka had requested. Ooka spread them out carefully in front of him with much ceremony and solemnity. “Now it is obvious to me – as it is to many of you – that I cannot solve this matter,” he said. “Nevertheless, I shall arrive at a just decision, for I shall use these articles to look into the future. There I shall see what my decision should be.”

The spectators were astonished. Ooka the Wise had always used logic and common sense to solve cases. They had never known him to rely on mystical arts such as fortunetelling.

Gravely, the judge took each of the objects and studied them carefully, consulting the fortunetelling book from time to time. He rolled the bamboo sticks to learn their secret. He counted the bubbles in the goldfish bowl. He held the pieces of wood to his ears, and listened to their echoes. Finally, he studied the two women’s palms.

All this Ooka did very thoroughly and slowly, and by the time he had finished, the crowd had become very restless. Everyone was relieved when at last the judge said, “I see it quite clearly now, I have used all the best methods of foreseeing the future, and they all give the same answer. Therefore what I see must be the truth.”

Ooka paused and looked around the courtroom. The spectators waited anxiously to hear what Ooka the Wise had learned.

The judge continued. “I saw very clearly the real mother with her son as they will be twenty years from now. The boy had met with an accident and was a helpless invalid. His mother was working in the rice fields to support him.”

Both women gasped in horror. Ooka looked at them sorrowfully and added, “And the woman I saw in my vision was…”

“Stop!” cried one of the women. “lt was not I! Children are supposed to take care of their parents when they become old, not the other way around.”

“ls that so?” Ooka said. He turned to the other woman. “And how do you feel about my prophecy?” he asked.

“It makes no difference, Most Honorable Sir,” the woman replied.

“I will work for my child while there is breath in my body, and then I will die happy, knowing that I have served him.”

“Then this is really your true son,” said the judge. “The other wanted him only so that he could take care of her in her old age. Take the child with the court’s good wishes.”

The happy mother took the child in her arms. Ooka the Wise said casually, “Oh, I forgot to finish the prophecy. The child recovered from the injury i saw. He became rich and famous. He, his mother, his fine wife, and thirteen children lived happily together for many, many years.”

Strangely enough, Ooka’s prophecy came true. Everyone was surprised, except the judge. “If I had not been called to the law,” he often said later, “I would probably have made an excellent fortuneteller.”

Jpanese Folktales

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

What Does a Bribe Look Like

Posted on Friday, 20, December, 2024 by Rabbi

Once, two men were to appear before an older judge over a matter concerning a lot of money. One of the men came the day before he was to appear in court and asked the judge to help him. As he spoke, he laid five hundred silver coins on the table. The old judge took the money and told the man to come back the next day.

That evening the old judge asked that a big dinner be served. He called together his sons, sons-in-law, and many of his colleagues and students. During the meal, the old judge took out the five hundred silver coins and began counting them in front of everyone.

All looked on expectantly, hoping to receive some of the money. After the old judge had counted the money a few times, he put all the coins into his pocket and said:

“Know, my children, that the money that you see is a bribe, and bribery is forbidden by the Holy Word. We are taught, ‘You shall not judge unfairly: you shall show no partiality; you shall not take bribes, for bribes blind the eyes of the discerning and upset the plea of the just.’ (Deuteronomy 16:19)

It is the responsibility of a judge and leader to ‘learn to do good; seek justice; rescue the oppressed’ (Isaiah 1:17) and to set an example for others to follow.

Every day, ‘I walk in the way of righteousness, along the paths of justice’ (Proverbs 8:20), and I wanted to show you what a bribe looks like so that you will know what to avoid.

The next day, the old judge returned the five hundred silver coins to the man and warned him that one is forbidden to either give or receive a bribe.

May the day come soon that ‘all bribery and injustice will be blotted out, and good faith will last forever.’ (Sirach 40:12)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

How to Tell a Liar

Posted on Friday, 13, December, 2024 by Rabbi

The character of liars leads to disgrace, and

their shame is ever with them. (Sirach 20:26)

Two men came before a judge. One had found a gold coin, and the other claimed it had fallen from his pocket. The judge felt that the man who claimed to have dropped it was not telling the truth. He ordered the two men out of his room and into two adjacent rooms in preparation for hearing the matter.

As soon as the men had left, the judge moved close to the room where the man who claimed to have lost the coin was waiting and began speaking to himself. “Had the man who claims to have lost it stated that there is a hole in the coin, that would be clear proof that it is his because a hole in a coin is considered to be valid proof,” he said.

A little later, he called the man in for questioning. As soon as the man entered, he burst out, “Your Honor, you know that I never saw the coin that was found, but I can prove to you it was mine. The coin had a hole in it.”

“If that is so,” said the judge, “you must be mistaken. This cannot be your coin because it does not have any hole in it.”

The judge sent the men away, saying, “An evildoer listens to wicked lips, and a liar gives heed to a mischievous tongue.” (Proverbs 17:4)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

A Test of Underwear

Posted on Friday, 6, December, 2024 by Rabbi

Once, two women came to the town judge with a dispute. Both women had hung out their underclothing to dry, and someone had stolen one of the washes. Each claimed that the other’s laundry had been stolen. For the desperately poor people of the time, such a loss was a major tragedy.

The town judge ordered that the remaining wash be brought to him. He then had the two women leave the room temporarily and asked his wife to add some of her own laundry to the pile. He then called one of the women back and asked her, “Do you recognize your laundry?” She began sorting the clothes. “This is mine, this isn’t, this is mine, I’ve never seen this before, oh goodness. I’d never wear anything like this…” she answered.

The town judge then ordered that the clothes be mixed up again, and called the other woman in. “Do you recognize your wash?” he asked her. She began going through the pile: ‘This is mine, and this, and this … all are mine,” she said.

“Are you sure that all are yours?” asked the judge. “Yes,” she said decisively, “everything here is mine.”

“You being less than truthful,” the Judge told her, “and the laundry belongs to the other woman.”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

The Ingredient of Love

Posted on Thursday, 18, July, 2024 by Rabbi

There is a special connection between the manna that fell in the desert during the 40 years of wandering and Shabbos. There is a mystical quality within our means that can affect how we taste our food – that quality is love.

The manna was an extraordinary gift from the Holy One, blessed be He as it is recorded that He said, “Even before I gave you the mitzvos (10 Commandments) I provided their reward, (Exodus 16:5) ‘On the sixth day when they prepare (for the holy Sabbath Day) what they bring in, it will be twice as much as they gather on other days.”. (Mekhilta d’Rabbi Yishmael 19:2)

The very nature of the manna was unique to meet the tastes of every individual. We learn that, “Rabbi Yose bar Chanina said, “If you wonder about this thing, learn from the manna, as it would only come down according to the strength of each and every one of Israel: the young men would eat it like bread, as it is stated (Exodus 16:4), ‘Behold I will rain upon you bread from the skies, etc.’; the elders like a wafer in honey, as it is stated (Exodus 16:31), ‘and its taste was like a wafer in honey’; the sucklings like the milk of its mother’s breast, as it is stated (Numbers 11:8), ‘and its taste, was like the taste of, etc.’; the sick ones like fine flour mixed with honey, as it is stated (Ezekiel 16:19), ‘And My bread that I gave you, fine flour and oil I fed you’; and the idolaters tasted it bitter and coriander, as it is stated (Numbers 11:7), ‘And the manna was like coriander seed.’ “(Midrash Exodus Rabbah 5:9) The Holy One, blessed be He prepared the people with the physical and spiritual energy to receive the Torah as they stood at the foot of Mount Sinai, Rabbi Yose bar Rabbi Chanina further said, “And since the manna which was one type switched to many types because of the need of each and every one, all the more so, the voice that had strength in it would change for each and every one, so that that they would not be injured, as it is stated (Exodus 20:18), ‘And all the people saw the voices.'” (Midrash Exodus Rabbah 5:9)

There was a man in the village who always seemed to be in good spirits. When Friday came, he seemed to be surrounded by a holy light. Many would ask, “How can such a poor man be so happy?” Others wondered, “Is he so spiritual a person that his face should shine in this manner?”

In the village, a student watched the poor man, who appeared to have no worries. One Friday evening, as the sun was setting and Shabbos was about to begin, he decided to follow him home and maybe learn the secret of the poor man’s cheerfulness.

The man entered a small hut with a battered old door and greeted his wife with a hearty “Good Shabbosl” Looking through the window, the young student saw very little furniture that reflected the poverty of the household. A wooden table was covered with a plain white cloth, and the two candles shed a warm glow. The man sang Shalom Aleichem, welcoming the angels to bring peace into his house for Shabbos. He looked at his wife, dressed in a plain blue dress with a lace collar, and smiled. He then sang Aishes Chayil (a Woman of Valor – Proverbs 31: 10-31). His wife seemed to be surrounded by a special light – the Shabbos Kallah (bride). Then he said to his wife, “Please bring the special wine.”

The wife brought two loaves of course, dark bread. He washed his hands and recited the proper blessing, then chanted the Kiddush – the blessing recited to sanctify the Sabbath Day. (If one has no wine, one may recite the Kiddush on bread.) After he ate some of the bread and offered some to his wife, he said, “We have never yet had such a fine wine! Can you please bring in the fish?”

Moments later, the wife served him a small portion of beans. “Mm!” he exclaimed, smacking his lips. “This fish is unusually delicious.” He sang a Shabbos song and said, “I’m ready for the soup.” The wife appeared with another dish of beans. The man complimented his wife, “This soup is exceptionally good.” He sang another Shabbos song and asked, “Can we have the roast meat and tzimmis?” His wife brought in a steaming dish. “How wonderful the roast meat and tzimmis are,” he said with a smile.

The young student reflected on all he had seen and heard, thinking, “The generation that wandered in the desert had the manna, a food from heaven, in which they could taste anything they wished. This man’s love for the Holy One, blessed be He, for Shabbos, and for his wife have enabled him to reach a level of spirituality so lofty that he can taste the finest delicacies in the simplest of foods.”

Is such a level of spirituality attainable? It is, but few realize the blessing as it is written, “Yet he commanded the skies above, and opened the doors of heaven; He rained down on them manna to eat, and gave them the grain of heaven. People ate of the bread of angels; he sent them food in abundance.” (Psalm 78: 23-25)

May we all experience the love and joy that comes with Shabbos.

Tzimmes

2 sweet potatoes cut into thin slices		½ cup packed brown sugar
2 potatoes cut into thin slices		1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
2 medium carrots, cut into 1/2-inch slices		2 teaspoons ginger
2 Granny Smith Apples		¼ teaspoon cloves
2 Granny Smith Apples,sliced		¼ teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 Cup Golden Raisins		1/8 – 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
½ to ¾ cup orange juice		1/8-1/4 teaspoon pepper
1 cup water		3 tablespoons margarine or shmaltz
½ cup honey

1. Preheat oven to 350°.

2. Grease a baking dish or Dutch oven

3. In a bowl, combine sweet potatoes, carrots and apples. Combine orange juice, water, honey, brown sugar, shmaltz and spices; mix into vegetables.

4. Cover and bake for 2 hours or longer. Uncover; dot with butter.

5. After first hour, uncover and stir every 2o minute to prevent sticking.

6. Vegetables should be tender, and sauce is thickened when done

L'kovod Shabbos

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

If the stories are not shared, they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

What Does a Bribe Look Like

Posted on Sunday, 14, July, 2024 by Rabbi

Once, two men were to appear before an older judge over a matter concerning a lot of money. One of the men came the day before his appearance and asked the judge to help him. As he spoke, he laid five hundred silver coins on the table. The judge took the money and told the man to come back the next day.

That evening the old judge asked that a big dinner be served, and he called together his sons, sons-in-law, and many of his students. During the meal, the old judge took out the five hundred silver coins and began counting them in front of everyone. All looked on expectantly, hoping to receive some of the money.

After the old judge had counted the money a few times, he put all the coins into his pocket and said:

“Know, my children, that the money that you see is a bribe, and bribery is forbidden by the Holy Word. We are taught, ‘You shall not judge unfairly: you shall show no partiality; you shall not take bribes, for bribes blind the eyes of the discerning and upset the plea of the just.’ (Deuteronomy 16:19)

It is the responsibility of a judge and leader to ‘learn to do good; seek justice; rescue the oppressed’ (Isaiah 1:17) and to set an example for others to follow.

Every day, ‘I walk in the way of righteousness, along the paths of justice’ (Proverbs 8:20), and I wanted to show you what a bribe looks like so that you will know what to avoid.

The next day, the old judge returned the five hundred silver coins to the man and warned him that one is forbidden to either give or receive a bribe.

May the day come soon that ‘all bribery and injustice will be blotted out, and good faith will last forever.’ (Sirach 40:12)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

Who Is in Control of Whom?

Posted on Tuesday, 9, July, 2024Tuesday, 9, July, 2024 by Rabbi

A man was charged with committing a serious crime against the king and placed in prison until his trial. When it came time for him to stand trial, one of the king’s guards took him from his cell and escorted him to the place of justice.

The king’s guard, suspecting that the prisoner might try to escape, took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. He then placed one of the cuffs around the wrist of the prisoner and the other one around his own wrist. In this way, they marched through the city street.

A crowd of spectators gathered along the sides of the street to curse and make fun of the prisoner.

Insulted and humiliated, the prisoner turned to the crowd and said, “You are making a mistake. He is not escorting me; rather, it is I who is escorting him…”

A wise man spoke up from among the many people in the crowd. “If that is the case,” he said, “then unlock the handcuff on your wrist! If you are capable of breaking free from your escort, it is a sign that you are in control of him. But if he can break away, then it proves that he is in control of you!”

The same thing applies to man and his yetzer hara – the evil inclination. There are instances when the yetzer hara binds himself to a person by accustoming him to a repeated transgression. If this person would like to know who is truly in control of whom, let him check himself to determine whether he is capable of breaking his “bad habits” or not.

This is precisely what we request in our morning prayers each day: “Let not the evil inclination – the yetzer hara – dominate us.”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

A Cloth to Remember

Posted on Tuesday, 26, March, 2024 by Rabbi

Jacob’s father was a tailor. When he was a young boy, Jacob would spend many days in his father’s shop, learning how to cut and sew cloth. As time drew on, Jacob started to dream of a coat he would like to make for himself. He planned just how it would look and what fabric he would love. As he grew older, he saved any coins he earned from working in his father’s shop. Finally, after many years, he had enough money to buy the fabric he wanted.

When Jacob had the cloth, he worked and worked on his coat. He spent many nights measuring, cutting, sewing, and pressing, until his fine coat was complete. He was so proud of his work and happily showed his father. His father inspected Jacob’s work and then patted him on the back. “Well done Jacob, you have become a fine tailor,” he told his son.

Jacob loved his coat dearly. He happily wore it through the long, cold winters, and it kept him oh so warm. Years passed, and one winter, whilst walking in the snowy marketplace, Jacob saw a woman shivering with only a thin shawl to keep out the cold. Jacob went to her and offered her his coat to keep her warm. He slowly walked her home, chatting all the way. Sara was about his age, and Jacob learned they had much in common. Two years later, they were married!

Jacob started his own little tailor’s shop in the house he shared with his new wife. Winters passed, and he continued to wear the coat. Jacob wore and wore his coat until it was quite worn out. One day he picked it up and said sadly to Sara, “This old coat has been so special to me. It was my dream to make it, and it also made my father so proud. All those years ago, it also helped me to meet you. But now there is nothing left.

But then Jacob laughed as he looked at his coat more closely. “But yet there is just enough left!”. He rushed into the shop and began cutting and sewing. Early the next morning, he emerged with a jacket, made from the fabric of his old coat.

Jacob loved the jacket dearly. He wore it often. Time passed, and Sara gave birth to two little girls. The following winter, when Jacob saw the first snowflakes start to fall, he rushed outside with his two daughters tucked under his jacket. Together they all twirled in the falling snow, laughing as the snowflakes landed on their noses and tongues.

Jacob continued to wear his coat for years and years until Sara noticed that it was looking all worn out. Jacob looked sadly at the beloved jacket, “I will never forget how this jacket kept us warm whilst the twins and I danced together in the first snow. But you are right, it is all worn out. There is nothing left.” but then, with a little laugh Jacob said, “but, there is just enough!”.

Again, Jacob rushed to the shop. He cut and sewed the fabric from the jacket until he emerged with a neat little cap. It looked so smart, and he was so proud to wear it. He wore it nearly every day!

Years passed, and there was a famine in the land. No one had money for new clothes, and Jacob’s family had very little money for food. They rarely had anything sweet to eat, they mostly had cabbage, potatoes, and beans. But one day, whilst walking in the woods, they came across a thicket of blackberries. The berries looked so juicy and sweet, that they longed to bring some home with them. But they had nothing to put them in! Then Jacob remembered his cap. He took it off his head, and together, the family filled it to the brim with the beautiful, sweet fruit. Back home, they made a delicious blackberry pie, and at dinner time, they enjoyed every bite.

And so time passed. Jacob’s daughters grew up, and his hat became threadbare. One day he looked at the beloved cap and found himself saying, “it is all worn out. There is nothing left”. But then he chuckled and rushed into the shop. Again he began cutting and sewing. Hours later, he emerged wearing a sweet little bowtie, made from the fabric he salvaged from his beloved hat.

Jacob wore his bow tie everywhere. He wore it to his daughter’s wedding. He wore it when he met his first grandchild. And, when his granddaughter was old enough to talk, she sat on his knee and played with the little bow tie. “Granddaddy, do you have a butterfly on your shirt,” she told him. He then took off the bow tie and pretended it was a butterfly every time he saw his granddaughter.

One day, when Jacob’s hair was gray, he returned home from the market, and Sara asked him, “Where is your bow tie?”. He felt his neck, but the bow tie was not there. He quickly retraced his steps through the market, but try as he could, he did not find the bow tie. Sadly, Jacob returned to his house and went to bed without eating any dinner.

The next morning Jacob refused to get out of bed. He just felt so sad without the bow tie. “What’s the use? The cloth I loved so much is gone. It has been with me for so many years, but now there is nothing left. Nothing! I have lost so many dear memories.”

Sara quietly left the house and went to visit their daughters. She returned with the grandchildren, who plopped themselves on their grandpa’s bed. But he looked sadly at them, saying, “I cannot play today, I am just too sad”.

“Father, please tell us one of the stories about the cloth. Your grandchildren do not know the stories” his daughter asked.

“Oh but it is too sad”, he replied.

The children begged, and eventually, he gave in. He told them of how he worked so hard to save the money he had needed to buy the cloth. He told them of how the coat he had made was so smart and warm. Of how the coat had helped him to meet his beloved wife He told them of how it had kept his daughters warm whilst they danced in the falling snow. He told them of the cap full of berries that they had picked. As he recalled these memories, they brought a smile to his face.

“Granddaddy, you made the bow tie into a butterfly. Maybe it flew away,” his granddaughter said to him with a smile.

Jacob sighed and gave her a hug. “Yes, it seems it did fly away. But you have helped me to realize that the memories have not flown away. They will be with me always. There are just enough memories to make a story, and that will be with us forever if you will help me to keep it safe”. Jacob hugged his family and got out of bed.

The story was passed down through the family for many generations.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

Like us on Facebook or tweet us on Twitter

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

“What if I don’t cure her—will you pay my fee just the same?” insisted the doctor.

“Whatever happens, whether you cure her or kill her, I promise to pay.” cried the husband.

The treatment was started, but within a few days, the woman died. Shortly after, the doctor demanded 1500 rubles as his fee. The bereft husband informed him that he was unable to pay, and, as was the custom among the villagers, they brought the matter to the village holy man for settlement.

The sage understood right away what had happened.

“Tell me again,” he asked the physician, “what was your contract with this man?”

“I was to get paid for treating his wife regardless of whether I cured or killed her.”

“Did you cure her?” asked the holy man.

“No.”

“Did you kill her?”

“I certainly did not! “

“Then, since you have neither cured her nor killed her, what right have you to the money?”

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 Tale from the Arabian Nights

Long ago in Baghdad there lived a merchant named Ali Cogia. He had no wife or child. He made a modest profit and lived a modest life.

One night he dreamed his father appeared to him and scolded him because he had not made a pilgrimage to Mecca, as is the duty of a good Muslim. Ali Cogia woke from the dream and said, “My father is right, but how can I leave? Who will tend my shop? Who will take care of my house?”

But the dream occurred again and again until Ali Cogia knew he would not sleep soundly until he made a pilgrimage to Mecca. He sold all his wares, his shop, and his small house. He received over a thousand pieces of gold. “I will take some gold for the journey, but where can I leave the rest?”

When he thought of a plan, he put the coins in a large jar and filled the rest of the jar with olives. He carried the jar to the neighboring merchant. “My old friend, you have probably heard that I am leaving for Mecca in a few days. Could you keep this jar of olives for me until I come back?”

The merchant replied, “Of course, here is the key to my shop. Take the jar into the shop. Put it wherever you like. I promise that you shall find it in the same place when you get back.”

On the very day that Ali Cogia decided to return home, his friend’s wife remarked, “I have been craving olives all day. If only I had some olives, I would be content,”

The merchant remembered the jar left by Ali Cogia. “There are olives in the back room. Ali Cogia left them with me. Bur he has been gone for seven years. Surely he is dead. So bring a lamp-I will fetch them, and we will see if they are still fit to eat.”

“Oh, no, husband. Ali Cogia may return any day. le would be shameful to betray your trust. Do not pay attention to my idle words; I have no desire for olives.”

When his wife was asleep, he crept into the back room and emp­ tied the jar. “So much gold! All for me!” He hid the money. The next day he went out and bought fresh olives, filled the jar, and sealed it. Then he put the vase in the same spot where Ali Cogia had left it.

Only a few days later, Ali Cogia reentered Baghdad. He went to see his old friend the merchant, who received him with open arms. “Welcome back, Ali Cogia. We feared you were dead.”

“Allah be praised, I am well. And I am blessed to have a friend like you. Could you please give me the jar of olives that you have been so kind to care for?”

“Oh, yes, dear friend,” said the merchant. “Here is the key to my shop. The jar is where you put it.”

Ali Cogia unlocked the shop, went to the spot where he put the jar, and pulled the cork out. He thrust his hand to the bottom. There was no gold!

Ali Cogia ran to the merchant’s house. “My friend,” he cried, “my thousand pieces of gold are gone. Perhaps you might have borrowed it for your business purposes. If that is so, you are most welcome. I only ask you to give me a receipt. Then you can repay at your leisure.”

“Ali Cogia, what gold are you talking about? I gave you the key to my shop; you placed the jar there yourself. Did you not find it in the same spot? I have not touched your jar.”

“Please, old friend, I love peace:. Don’t make me call the law. Give me my gold.”

“Ali Cogia, a crowd is gathering, even the children are listening. Please go away.”

By this time, neighbors, children, and merchants were listening to the dispute. Ali Cogia turned and laid his cause before them. He showed them the vase of olives. The crowd said, “Merchant, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Friends, it is true I kept the vase in my shop for seven years. But I swear I did not open it.”

Ali Cogia challenged the merchant, “Will you dare repeat your story before the cadi?”

“I would like nothing better. Let’s go.”

The two men presented themselves m the cadi and told their stories. The cadi asked Ali Cogia, “Do you have witnesses that saw you put the gold in the vase?”

“No, I did it in secret,” the man replied.

Without a moment’s thought the cadi said, “l find for the merchant.” And the merchant returned home in triumph.

Ali Cogia vowed to appeal to the caliph. He drew up a petition, and waited alongside the road where the caliph walked after midday prayer. The caliph heard the petition and granted an audience the next morning.

The smartest and quickest child said, “I will be the cadi. Bring me Ali Cogia and the merchant. I will settle the question of the thousand pieces of gold.” The caliph remembered the petition he had read that morning, and he listened with interest to what the children said.

The boy cadi said, “Merchant, tell me your side of the story.” The boy merchant repeated all the reasons the real merchant had given to the Cadi of Baghdad. “I never opened the vase in seven years,” he responded.

Instead of finding for the merchant, the boy cadi asked a question, “Where is the vase of olives? Bring it to me.”

The children pretended to carry a vase and put it at the feet of the boy cadi. “Open the vase.”

The children pretended to open the vase. The cadi pretended to eat one. “What good olives. Such bright color and good taste. It seems odd that olives that are seven years old would be so good. Bring me some olive merchants.”

Two children came forward as olive merchants. The boy cadi questioned them, “How long can olives be stored and remain good?”

“Three years,” said the olive merchants. “After that, they lose color and taste and are only fit to be thrown away.”

“Merchants, examine the olives in this vase.”

The children pretended to examine the olives. “My lord, these are fresh olives, not even a year old.”

The merchant tried to protest, but the boy cadi said, “Be silent. You are a thief. Take him to prison.”

The parties came and bowed before the throne. The caliph said, “Cadi, observe!” To the parties, the caliph commanded, “Now speak This child will give you justice.”

The boy looked at the caliph and said, “My lord, this is not a game now, it is for you, not me, to condemn the merchant.”

The caliph stood. “Merchant, you are a thief; you emptied the vase to take the gold. Then you filled the jar with fresh olives. You will go to prison, but first, you will tell the place where you hid Ali Cogia’s gold.”

The merchant told the hiding place and went to prison.

The caliph scolded the cadi for his incompetence. “Learn from the wisdom of this child,” he said. Last of all, he sent the boy home with one hundred pieces of silver as a mark of his favor.

May all your tales end with peace and Justice

A Justice Tale shared by the IPS Chaplain

Chaplain Rachmiel Tobesman is a motivational speaker and Master Storyteller. He is available for speaking engagements or storytelling, Click here to contact us

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

Click here to Visit IPS

If the stories are not shared, they will be lost.

Please share this story with others

A Tale of Justice and Wisdom from Japan

One day, a case concerning a baby boy came to Ooka’s court. Two women claimed to be the boy’s mother, and Ooka was faced with the challenge of deciding which woman was telling the truth. Both women had recently come to Yedo (old Tokyo), and so there were no witnesses to support either claim.

Thinking that the child himself would be sure to recognize his own mother, the judge placed him in the middle of the floor, expecting him to crawl toward one of the women. But the child paid no attention to either of the two women and cried for Ooka to pick him up.

Whispers of amusement ran around the courtroom and Ooka’s ears began to rum pink.

The great judge soon thought of another test, however. He ordered the two women to take hold of one of the baby’s arms and to pull as hard as they were able.

“I am sure the real mother will be given strength so that she will win the struggle,” he explained. What he really expected was the real mother would stop pulling the child, for fear of hurting him.

Sadly the two women were not fooled by Ooka’s cleverness, and told the judge they knew he was playing a trick.

Ooka sighed. Finally, he called a court attendant and said, “Go buy me a bowl of goldfish, a handful of bamboo sticks, three pieces of wood, a magnifying glass, and a copy of a book on fortunetelling.”

Ooka the Wise was embarrassed as loud laughter spread around the courtroom. Many of the spectators believed that at last the great judge was defeated by a case.

Ooka quickly called for silence. His ears were very red.

The spectators were astonished. Ooka the Wise had always used logic and common sense to solve cases. They had never known him to rely on mystical arts such as fortunetelling.

Ooka paused and looked around the courtroom. The spectators waited anxiously to hear what Ooka the Wise had learned.

The judge continued. “I saw very clearly the real mother with her son as they will be twenty years from now. The boy had met with an accident and was a helpless invalid. His mother was working in the rice fields to support him.”

Both women gasped in horror. Ooka looked at them sorrowfully and added, “And the woman I saw in my vision was…”

When his wife was asleep, he crept into the back room and emp tied the jar. “So much gold! All for me!” He hid the money. The next day he went out and bought fresh olives, filled the jar, and sealed it. Then he put the vase in the same spot where Ali Cogia had left it.

“Please, old friend, I love peace:. Don’t make me call the law. Give
me my gold.”

“Ali Cogia, a crowd is gathering, even the children are listening.
Please go away.”