The Water Carrier – A Tale from Aleppo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Honesty and Lashon Hara

Posted on Wednesday, 4, September, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Managing a house can be very challenging. It happened that a husband wanted to ease the stress on his wife and so they decided to hire domestic to help with the needs of the home.

After many interviews, Rahima, a woman with an excellent reputation in the neighborhood was hired. Rahima seemed to be a perfect match to the needs of the wife. After speaking to her for a few moments, it was obvious that Rahima was just the person to relieve the overworked wife.

Everything was going very well until a neighbor, Yente Feiga, planted the seeds of distrust by mentioning that Rahima was Mizrachi – more Arab than Jewish.

Yente Feiga came to the house one morning and found Rahima briskly pushing a broom. “If a woman like Rahima agrees to work for you, she certainly does not do it for the sake of the meager salary you pay her.”

“So what else would she want?”

“You know how Arabs are. They steal!”

The husband and wife strongly rejected this baseless slander. Rahima would never do such a thing. A few days later, the wife noticed that while sweeping the floor, Rahima never looked her in the eye and the woman’s dress had very large pockets pockets.

As the days went by, the husband and wife carefully watched Rahima and noticed that as she was cleaning our silverware she seemed to smile. The suspicious signs grew in number. Tension mounted and became unbearable. The couple thought about calling the police.

The wife realized that so far all the “evidence” against Rahima was circumstantial. Yente Feiga offered her advice.

“You must trip her up. I told you her kind cannot be trusted.” Now listen carefully, “Hide something, for instance a bank note, somewhere in the house, and if she finds and does not return it, you can have her arrested.”

Next day the couple set the trap. After careful thought, they decided to hide a five-pound note under a rug.

When the husband and wife returned from the market that afternoon, Rahima met them,

“Shalom I found ten pounds under the rug while I was cleaning…”

The couple were ashamed and began to argue, “In fact I have always trusted our Rahima,” the wife said. “I knew you were wrong when you stubbornly insisted that such an honest woman could bring it upon herself to steal.”

“Oh, so it was I who said that she stole!” the husband shouted. “That’s a fine thing to say! For the past two days I have tried to protect this fine woman against your slanderous insinuations.”

“Hahaha. You’ve got to be joking.”

“So I am funny, what?”

“I lost my temper, but maybe you could tell me why you hid a ten-pound note under the rug, when we had agreed on a five-pound one? Had Rahima pinched the money—which naturally was out of the question—we would needlessly have lost five pounds.”

The couple did not speak to one another for hours.

When Rahima had finished her day’s work, she came to say good night.

“Good night, Rahima,” the wife said warmly. “Don’t be late tomorrow.”

“All right,” the domestic replied. “Is there anything madam wishes to give me?”

“Give you something? No, Rahima, I don’t think so.”

This answer sparked the neighborhood’s noisiest brawl in two thousand years.

“So madam does not want to give me anything!” Rahima shrieked, and her eyes spurted fire and brimstone. “And what about my money? Hey? You know only too well that you put a five-pound note under the rug, so that I should steal it!”

The wife changed color and the husband hung his head in shame. .

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Rahima became impatient. “Perhaps you want to keep my money?”

“Sorry, ma’am.” The husband answered filled with shame. “Here are your five pounds, ma’am.”

Rahima grabbed the five pounds out of his hand and put them into one of her large pockets.

“It goes without saying,” she added, “that I won’t work in a house where they steal. Luckily I found out in time. . . . One can’t trust anybody nowadays. . . . Terrible.”

The husband and wife never saw her again, and the worst part of the affair is that Yente Feiga spread the rumor all over the neighborhood that they tried to rob a poor woman.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Worth of Kaddish

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kesubos 8b

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Va’eschanan Shema and Cholent

Posted on Friday, 30, August, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The rabbi’s study was interrupted when the telephone rang “Shalom rebbe. This is Yaakov Binder. I want to invite you to the bar mitzvah of my son Mordechai on Parshas Va’eschanan.” The rabbi answered, “I’m very sorry, but I am leaving for Eretz Yisrael in a few days, and I won’t be back for three weeks. I’m very sorry I can’t be there in person, but my blessings for your son and family are with you.”

The rabbi paused for a moment and asked “What special foods are you planning to serve at the meal?” “Serve?” Yaakov Binder responded, surprised by the question. “The usual menu like kugel, gefilte fish, kichel, bobka.” “I noticed that you didn’t include the cholent,” the rabbi added

“Rebbe, there will be so many other foods, and cholent is so plain. I’m sure no one will miss it,” Yaakov Binder explained. “That would never do! Cholent is traditional! You should definitely serve it at the bar mitzvah meal. said the rabbi.

“Well, if you say so. I never realized it was so important! We never even have it at home,” said Yaakov Binder.

The rabbi explained, “Every item on the Shabbos table symbolizes something special. The fish reminds us of the meal the tzaddikim (righteous) will enjoy in the future; the 2 challahs remind us of the lechem mishneh – the two portions of manna collected for Shabbos; the kugel, with its crust, is a symbol of the mohn (manna) that the Jewish people ate in the wilderness, which was covered with dew! Everything has its own message!”

After a few more minutes, the conversation ended. Little did anyone realize, the great effect that this discussion would have on a certain person.

The Binders invited Adelajda, their Polish maid, to the shul’s Kiddush hall for Mordechai’s bar mitzvah celebration. Her natural parents had been killed when she was a little girl during World War II, and she had been raised by foster parents as a religious Polish Catholic. When she grew up, she came to America, where she was hired by the Binder family. Adelajda sat at the table with the Binder’s’ friends and acquaintances. That Shabbos she was not a maid, but a guest – able to relax and enjoy the celebration.

At the Shabbos noon meal, the room was filled with the special aroma of the cholent. Something from the past stirred in Adelajda’s memory. What was it that seemed to remind her of bygone years?

She remembered something. She must have tasted this food somewhere before – the smell was familiar, too. But how could that be – this was Jewish food, eaten on the Jewish Sabbath! Who were her real parents? Her foster parents had never wanted to tell her. Could it be that they were really Jewish, killed during the war with millions of other Jewish people? She decided that she must find out!

The next day, she informed the Binders that she had to go back to Poland for a short time. Upon her arrival in Poland, she hastened to her foster parents’ home. They we shocked to see her.

“Adelajda, what are you doing here? You wrote that you had a good job!”

“I came to find out the truth about my real parents. Tell me, were they Jewish?” Adelajda asked sternly. There was silence in the room as they began to talk. “You know, the Jewish people were rounded up and killed during the war. Before the Nazis deported them, many of them left their children in Christian homes for safekeeping. Your parents left you with us. The Nazis would have killed us if they had known you were a Jewish child.

We risked our lives to save you. But now that you have insisted – we told you everything.” Adelajda was stunned. “You meant well, but I want to find out more about my culture. Now, I will learn about Judaism”

She flew back to the United States and went straight to the Binders. “It’s true, I am Jewish!” She told them the whole story. “The smell of the cholent brought back my childhood memories. I owe it to my true parents to learn about my heritage and preserve their memory!”

Adelajda kept her word. She enrolled in a school for ba’alei teshuvah (people who want to return to Jewish observance), and studied hard. From time to time, she visited the Binders for guidance and encouragement. Adelajda progressed rapidly, both in her understanding of Judaism and in the performance of mitzvos.

After the rabbi returned from his trip to Eretz Yisrael, his phone rang. It was Mr. Binder on the line. “Welcome back from Israel, Rabbi. You will never believe this story!” Mr. Binder then told the story of the cholent miracle. “It all happened because or your suggestion to serve cholent, Rabbi!”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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A Workman’s Tools

Posted on Wednesday, 28, August, 2019Tuesday, 25, June, 2024 by Rabbi

Every craftsman has his own tools of the trade: the carpenter, his saw, chisel, and hammer; the painter, his paints and brushes; the tailor, his scissors, tape measure, and needles. Without tools, even the best craftsman cannot produce a thing.

The tool of trade for a person is their speech. Through words, a person can build whole worlds! Through prayer and Torah (Scripture) study, he can create angels and work wonders.

No artist or craftsman would dream of damaging or misusing their tools. Each keeps them in excellent working condition and does not use them for any other purpose. A tailor would not dream of cutting paper with his scissors, and a carpenter would never use his hammer and chisel to cut stone. Sadly, people often willfully damage the tools of their trade, their power of speech.

How does this happen? — through forbidden speech. A person misuses his tongue when he speaks and uses profanity, gossip, or insults a person. The sages of old taught that “a man accustomed to disgraceful speech will never learn wisdom.” (ben Sira 23:15). In effect, he is ruining his own work tool, his power of speech.

How can a person safeguard this precious tool?

First, one should “put away from you crooked speech, and put devious talk far from you.” (Proverbs 4:24) The next step is to work to “accustom yourself to always speak all of your words calmly, to every man and at every time.” (Iggeres haRamban.1168 ce) Consider the words of the sage “Before I speak I am master of the word, after I speak, the word is master of me”. (Mibhar haPeninim #338 c.1050 ce)

Remember that by using speech only for things of holiness — Torah (Scripture), prayer, and deeds of kindness that involve speech — one can change the world. Holy speech brings divine life force into the world. When a person speaks good words, the speech, which is the life force of a person and the life force from the Holy One, blessed be He, rises up and arouses the supernal words.

On the verse: “Then the L-rd, G-d formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul” (Gen. 2:7), the Targum Onkelos translates: “and man became a ‘speaking spirit.'” A person’s speech is an expression of the very soul that G-d breathes into him.

In a certain city, a carpenter who was well-known for his fine craftsmanship lived. Merchants, noblemen, and other wealthy people visited him regularly, asking him to build fine furniture for them. The carpenter never disappointed anyone. Time and time again, he consistently created beautiful cabinets and graceful bookcases that were amazing to look at. His fame as a craftsman spread throughout the land until word of his skills reached the king.

The king summoned the carpenter and told him that he would be employed in the king’s palace from then on. He would be personally responsible for building furniture for the royal family. The king invited him to live in special quarters and assured the carpenter that he would provide for both him and his family. In addition, he would pay the carpenter handsomely, guaranteeing him a generous monthly salary.

Excited, the carpenter packed up his tools, family, and belongings and moved into his new home, palace grounds.

Some time afterwards, the carpenter became sick and lost his eyesight, leaving him unable to work. He went to many doctors, and they gave him all kinds of medicines. The treatments slowly took effect, but after spending so much money on the doctors, he was in time left penniless.

The carpenter needed more medication but was unable to pay for it. His wife suggested that he sell his tools to buy the medicines that he needed.

“Absolutely not!” shouted the carpenter. “I may not presently be able to work, but the king, nonetheless, acts kindly towards me and displays understanding for my situation as he realizes that I will soon be able to work again. However, if I sell my tools, it is a sign that I am no longer a carpenter.., What will I do then?”

The same thing applies to the tools a person has – their speech. Through words, a person can build whole worlds!

While we may no longer serve the Holy One, blessed be he in the ways of earlier generations, we nevertheless trust in Him with all our hearts – for the divine essence is within each person.

The opportunity to clean our tools and re-calibrate them is always possible. The world can be changed by speech. It can be used so that the words of the prophet, “At that time I will change the speech of the peoples to a pure speech, that all of them may call on the name of the L-rd and serve him with one accord” (Zephaniah 3:9) will be realized.

May we see this in our lifetime.

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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Judging Oneself and Others Favorably

Posted on Sunday, 25, August, 2019Wednesday, 7, February, 2024 by Rabbi

We speak and learn so much about religion, values, prayer and ritual, yet forget the important aspects of faith. To live by the standards established in the holy words of the T’NaCh (Scriptures). We should look upon all around us favorably and give them the benefit of the doubt.

The rabbis taught about two thousand years ago: “In righteousness you shall judge your neighbor… with justice you shall judge your neighbor. (Leviticus 19:15.) When you see a person doing what appears to be wrong, take a favorable view of his action.” (Shevu’os 30a)

Judging others favorably not only fulfills a religious requirement, it provides a number of benefits.

The Rambam (Rabbi Moses Maimonides c. 1135 – 1204) wrote a book which systematically discusses the 613 commandments of the Torah (Scriptures) in which he “stated that each person is required to judge others favorably …promotes peace and friendship and therefore, the purpose of this mitzvah (the mitzvah to judge righteously) is to improve society with a sense of righteousness and provide peace by removing suspicion of one to another. (Sefer HaChinuch no. 235)

The Mishna in Pirkei Avos directs that “One should judge all people favorably.” (Avos 1:6) Rabbeinu Yonah (d. 1263), in his commentary to Avos 1 :6, writes that we should assume that they realize their mistakes and are working on trying to improve themselves. This concept is often associated with the prohibition against accepting evil speech and gossip.

Once upon a time a religious man ransomed a beautiful woman from prison, and when they came to the inn in the evening, he put the young woman to sleep at the foot of his bed. In the morning he immersed himself in the purifying waters, and then he went to teach his students.

While he was teaching them he asked his students, “Did you suspect me of anything last night when you saw the young maiden lying at the foot of my bed?”

They answered, “We did not suspect you of anything; we thought that you put her near you because you had among your students one whom you did not know, and you would not let her sleep in a separate room for fear that harm might come to her.”

Then the religious man asked, “Why did you think I went in the morning and immersed in the purifying waters?”

“What else do you believe we could have thought,” replied his students, “except that probably on the way you had touched something unclean which made it necessary for you to immerse in the purifying waters?”

Then he said, “I swear that it was exactly as you thought. And as for you–as you judged me on the scale of merit, so may He who is everywhere judge you on the scale of merit

Based on B. Shabbos 127b and Ma’asah Book #21

We learn that Heaven never passes a decree upon a person before the person has himself passed judgment. If a person were asked outright what punishment he deserved for a particular sin, he would deny that he deserved any punishment at all. So instead, a person is shown another person sinning in the same way and is asked, somehow, to comment on the other’s action. Whatever he says the other deserves, then becomes his own punishment.

We find this happening with King David, who was visited by Nasan the Prophet. Nasan told him the parable of the poor man who had only one lamb. Only when King David became inflamed over the injustice did Nasan suddenly accuse him, telling David, “You are that man.” But David had already passed his own judgment. (II Samuel 12: 1-5)

This is why our Sages urged us to judge others favorably. When a person judges others in a good light, he is, in effect, passing a favorable judgment on himself!

We find this idea expressed in Psalms as well. “Deliver me from all my sins; do not make me a disgrace before the degenerate” (Psalm 39:9). King David asked Hashem to keep him from censuring unworthy people, lest he inadvertently pass judgment on himself.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Rabbi Akiva and the Orphan’s Kaddish

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

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

It is brought down in Seder HaDoros that……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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A Miracle in Baghdad

Posted on Tuesday, 23, April, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

It was midday when an elderly traveler entered the Jewish quarter of Baghdad. The marketplace, where merchants from many lands sold their fabrics, spices and other wares, seemed strangely empty for such a day. He sighted the grandest building in the section, and determined that must be the great synagogue. He continued his trek towards it until he entered its courtyard and sat down to rest, opening his small sack to take out a few dried figs to refresh his strength. Yet no sooner had he started his lunch that he became aware of a commotion from within the sanctuary. He peeked inside, and beheld a moving spectacle—hundreds of Jewish people fervently chanting Psalms amidst tears and sobs.

“What has happened?” he asked of the first person whose attention he could grasp.

Hurriedly, and in a voice of desperation, the man told him the story as best he could. The Sultan had decreed that the Jewish people of Baghdad must produce a leader who could perform miracles as Moses had done. Since Moses was the leader of the Jewish people in Egypt and he was able to do miracles, the Sultan expected the same from the leader of the Jewish community of Baghdad. If they would not produce such a miracle maker, then all the Jewish people would be expelled from Baghdad. Therefore, all of the Jewish community were fasting and praying to G‑d for salvation.

In his calm and patient disposition, the wise traveler approached yet more Jewish people, until he had finally pieced together the entire story:

The Sultan’s chief adviser, Mustafa hated the Jewish people for no reason. He set out to destroy the Jewish people, or at least have them banished from Baghdad. He had convinced the Sultan that the Jewish people were disloyal, thieves and liars deserving immediate expulsion. At first the Sultan was hesitant to believe Mustafa, however, the Sultan was told about what had happened when the Jewish people left Egypt and what Moses did to Pharaoh. He began to worry that perhaps one of the Jewish leaders of Baghdad would attack him with plagues, and decided he did not want to take any chances. Therefore, he issued a decree that the Jewish community had to produce a leader like Moses, or leave Baghdad immediately.

The wise, elderly traveler sat in contemplation for several moments and then approached one of the rabbis at the front of the synagogue and whispered in his ear. Word spread quickly through the praying community and soon all the leaders of the Jewish Quarter were talking quietly and then suddenly there was a loud clap on the bimah (Torah Reading table) and one of them spoke. “This man who is visiting our town says that he has a plan. He will travel to the Sultan immediately to try and save us. If he is successful we will rejoice, however if he fails, he will tell the Sultan that he acted alone. Meanwhile we will continue to pray for his success!”

The man headed for the palace, pounded on the entrance gate, and said, “I am a Jewish person who can do miracles, and I demand to see the Sultan immediately.” Before long he found himself face to face with the ruler of Baghdad. “So,” said the Sultan, “You claim you can do miracles like Moses. What can you do?”

Dozens of people, from the baker and court jester to the royal guards and advisors stared at the old man with the white beard and piercing eyes. “If you would be so kind,” said he, “I will perform a miracle akin to those which Moses himself did. Before your very eyes, I will cut off a man’s head with a sword, and then put him back together and make him live!”

The Sultan smiled nervously and glanced around not knowing what to think or make of the situation. Perhaps the fellow was completely crazy. Or perhaps he was telling the truth. After all, the he seemed extremely confident and spoke with such conviction. What if he was telling the truth? If he doubted him, then who knows what kind of wrath would be unleashed on the Sultan and his kingdom.

He continued, “There is but one condition. The man whose head I cut off must be truly wise. In fact, he must be the wisest man in the realm. If not, his head will not properly re-attach. Intrigued, the Sultan decided he must see for himself if the old Jewish man was telling the truth. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on Mustafa, his chief advisor and the wisest man in the kingdom. Before the Sultan said a word, Mustafa cried out, “No, he is lying! The Jew is an imposter! He can’t really cut someone’s head off and re-attach it.” “That might be true,” said the Sultan, “but what if he is telling the truth and we don’t accommodate him? Surely you don’t want to put the whole kingdom at risk! After all, were you not the one who had advised me to expel the Jewish people lest we be put in danger?”

“Bring the sword immediately,” cried the Sultan, “Mustafa has volunteered!” With that, Mustafa began to tremble and yelled out, “No I admit it. I was both wrong and very foolish. The Jewish people do not have extraordinary powers!” Mustafa ran out of the palace never to be seen again. The Sultan annulled the decree, thanked the old man for coming and said that the Jewish people were welcome to live in Baghdad as long as they desired.

The man returned to the synagogue to share the good news. Immediately, there was unbelievable rejoicing, and a banquet was held in honor of the miracle that the Holy One, blessed be He had done for His people. Then quietly and quickly, the old man slipped out and left the town before anyone could even get his name. Some people say that he was Elijah the Prophet. Some say he was a great mystic. Yet others believe that he was just a Jewish traveler who simply cared about every Jewish person as much as he did about himself.

This story helps explain a very interesting aspect of the Passover observance. Every holiday is marked by mitzvahs. Yet many of these mitzvahs are not equally fulfilled by all. For example, most of us hear the shofar from someone else who blows it, and on Chanukah many have the custom that the head of the household kindles the menorah as a representative of the entire family. Yet, on Passover, everyone must eat his or her own matzah. On Passover, we are all equally significant.

The Yetzias Mitzrayim was the time when our people came together as one. Leaving Egypt united as one people set the stage for the mitzvah that Hillel considered to be the core of the entire Torah: You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself. (Leviticus 19:18) The hero of this story showed that which we all know to be true, that each of us is only complete when we do all that we can to ensure that every single Jewish person is being taken care of as well.

This is why the Passover haggadah begins with an invitation, “All who are hungry, let them come and eat.” Our table is only complete when it is open to others!

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Magic Wine Cup – A Passover Story from Morroco

Posted on Monday, 22, April, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

During the days before Passover, a stranger was seen wandering through the streets of Mogador in the land of Morocco. Even though he was dressed in rags, he did not look like a beggar. From the fringes on the tattered clothes he was wearing it was clear that he was Jewish.

Some of young men watched this stranger as he walked through the busy marketplace. When they returned to the beit medrash (House of Study), they told the holy rabbi about him. The holy rabbi asked them to describe the man in great detail. Then he asked them if the man had looked happy or sad. They told the rabbi that he had looked terribly sad. Indeed, just looking at his face made them sad as well.

Now, Passover is a time to remember the poor, and it was the holy rabbi’s custom to invite the Jewish poor of the city to his seder. So on the eve of Passover he sent his students into the city to bring back all the poor Jewish people they could find. He told them to search especially for the stranger they had told him about, and to be sure that he came back with them.

So the rabbi’s students searched every corner of the city for the poor, who were delighted to learn that they would have a place to celebrate the first seder of Passover. But when the students finally found the stranger, he was sitting alone under a barren tree, and he refused to accompany them to the rabbi’s seder. “For you it is the holiday of Passover,” he said, “but for me it is a time of mourning.” The students did their best to persuade him, but in the end they returned empty-handed.

Now, when they told the holy rabbi that the man had refused their invitation, the rabbi said, “If you can’t convince him to come here, whisper this word in his ear,” and he whispered it to each of his students. So the students returned to the stranger, still sitting under the tree, and they tried once more to invite him to join the rabbi’s seder. Again he refused, but this time one of the students whispered the rabbi’s word into the man’s ear. And as soon as he heard it, the man’s eyes opened wide. He stood up and agreed to accompany them at once.

When that man arrived at the rabbi’s house, he was greeted warmly by the holy rabbi. The man returned the rabbi’s greetings, and then he asked, “How is it, Rabbi, that you knew the name of the ship that brought about my misfortune?”

“Join our seder,” the holy rabbi replied, “and you will understand how it became known to me. For now, please make yourself at home. I will have a bath prepared for you, and my students will give you fresh clothing.”

The man thanked the rabbi, but he was still curious about how he had known his secret.

That night, when everyone was seated at the seder, the holy rabbi introduced the guest and asked him to tell the others his story. This he did. “I was born in the city of Marrakesh,” he said, “and I traveled to Spain and worked there until I had become quite wealthy. After several years, I began to miss my native land of Morocco, and I thought about returning there to raise a family. With all that I had saved, I bought precious jewels.

“There was a widow I had befriended. When she learned I was planning to return to Morocco, where her daughter lives, she asked me to bring her daughter her rightful inheritance, jewels that had belonged to her father. I agreed to do so, and I carried everything in a wooden case. But when a storm sank the ship in which I was traveling, the case was lost at sea. Somehow I managed to grab a plank and reached the shores of this city a few weeks ago. I know that I am fortunate to be alive, but after all these years, I have nothing. Even so, that is not what grieves me the most. Above all, I am heartbroken that I cannot fulfill my mission for the widow.”

Now, when all those seated at the seder heard this story, their hearts went out to the poor man who had suffered such a misfortune. Among them, there was one beautiful young woman who had tears flowing down her face. And when the man saw her grief, he, too, broke down and wept.

The holy rabbi said, “Do not grieve as we celebrate the seder, but watch closely.” He pointed to the kiddush cup, which was filled with wine, and said some mystical words over it that called forth the Angel of the Sea.

The Magic Wine Cup – A Pesach-Passover Story

Just then everyone at the table heard a deep voice say, “Yes, rabbi, holy rabbi what is your command?” The people trembled with fear, for they could not see where the voice was coming from.

Then the rabbi said, “I call upon you, Angel of the Sea, for help in finding what has been lost.”

Suddenly, to everyone’s amazement, the kiddush cup began to grow larger and larger, and the wine in it was transformed into the waves of the sea. One after another the waves rose and fell, and eventually they cast up a small wooden case, which floated on the surface. The guest could hardly contain himself. “Master, that is my case!” he cried.

“Take it out!” said the holy rabbi. So the man reached into the enormous cup, took out the wooden case and set it on the table. At that instant the cup returned to its original size, and the waters in it became wine once more.

As everyone watched in awe, the man opened the case and saw that nothing was missing. He shed tears of joy. Then the holy rabbi said to him, “Now, let me introduce you to the widow’s daughter to whom you were delivering the jewels.” At that, the young woman who had wept at hearing the man’s tale stood up with a radiant smile, and the man almost fainted with surprise. When he had regained his composure, he picked up the wooden case and placed it in her hands, much to the delight of everyone present. Then the holy rabbi smiled and said, “Know that nothing happens by accident. All is foretold by the Holy One, blessed be He, as is your meeting here today, for now I can tell you that I heard a heavenly voice announce that you two are destined to be wed.”

So it was that everyone celebrated that seder with great happiness, and not long after, the blessed couple was wed. From then on, every Passover, when they filled the kiddush cup, they told the story of the holy rabbi and the magic wine cup that had changed their lives.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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“You Shall Remember that You Were a Slave in the Land of Egypt” (Deuteronomy 15:15)

Posted on Friday, 19, April, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The requirement to recall “that you were a slave in Egypt” enables an individual to avoid feelings of conceit and pride. To what can this be compared?

There was a king who set out on a hunting trip. As he was exploring the fields in the hope of finding game, he came upon a shepherd in a meadow who was sitting next to his flock of sheep and playing a flute.

The king was delighted by the pleasant tunes that were coming from the flute, and he found himself unable to move from his place. After time had passed, the shepherd finished his melody. The king approached the shepherd and began to speak with him and discovered that he was very wise.

The king was amazed by the shepherd’s complexity of thought, and he invited him to come with him to his palace. The shepherd agreed and went with the king.

From then on, the shepherd lived in the royal palace, and the king asked his advice regarding all matters. In time, the shepherd rose to become one of the king’s closest advisers.

The other advisors were jealous and filled with resentment towards the shepherd who was so beloved by the king. They decided to slander him, informing the king that his trusted advisor had stolen from the royal treasury.

The king summoned the shepherd for an interrogation, but he managed to convince all those who were present that he was an honest and upright individual. However, the jealous advisors still managed to persuade the king to conduct a search of the shepherd’s quarters, in hopes of finding some evidence of theft.

They all went together to search the shepherd’s quarters, but found nothing more than a modestly furnished home, lacking any lavishness whatsoever. They went from room to room finding nothing suspicious, until they came to a room that was sealed by both lock and bolt.

“What is inside this room?” asked the king.

The shepherd fell to his knees and began to plead with the king. “Your Highness, I beg of you, do not ask me to show you what lies beyond this door! I am embarrassed by what you will find there.”

The shepherd’s pleas only served to strengthen the king’s suspicions, and he demanded that the door be opened.

When the door was opened, they glanced around the room but saw nothing more than the old clothing of a shepherd and a flute. The king and his officers were confused.

“Your Highness,” explained the former shepherd. “from the day that I came to your palace, I have not grown the least bit proud or conceited over the importance that I have achieved. This is due to my daily visits to this room, when I sit here and play my flute, recalling my days as a simple shepherd.”

So it is that remembering “that you were, a slave in Egypt” will prevent a Jewish person from becoming arrogant. For whenever he feels himself swelling with pride, he will recall his days as a lowly slave in Egypt and the haughtiness will thus be banished from his heart.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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