A Succos Story of Yossele the Woodsman and Mordechai haGibor

Posted on Thursday, 28, September, 2017Friday, 29, September, 2023 by Rabbi

It was a small village where everyone knew each other, but the two most notable people in the village were Mordechai haGibor the wealthy merchant and his neighbor Yossele the poor woodsman.

It seemed that Mordechai haGibor was always busy and it seemed that he was angry all the time. His family would gather around the table filled with all types of food every night and argue with each other over every little thing. The things said in anger in that house cannot be repeated for they were terrible indeed.

Yossele worked hard every day and barely made enough to feed his family. Every night when they would gather around the table, so many times it was not enough food, they would talk and sing as they enjoyed their meager meal.

Shabbos would come and the light of the Shabbos candles seemed awfully cold in the home of Mordechai haGibor. He would be demanding, his wife was always angry and his children were noisy and disrespectful.

Yossele’s house seemed always prepared to welcome the holy Shabbos as he and his family would gather around the warm glow of the Shabbos lights on his table. His children would join him and his wife in singing special Shabbos songs and they would share stories and little bits of Torah with each other. Shabbos was always a special time in Yossele’s house.

Every week and every holiday Mordechai haGibor would hear all the joyful sounds coming from Yossele’s house. This would make him angry and many times very sullen.

Rosh Hashanah had passed in the fast of Yom Kippur was behind them as everyone was preparing Succos (Feast of Booths and is also referred to as the Feast of Tabernacles) was quickly approaching.

Mordechai haGibor was determined that he would not be tortured by the sounds coming from Yossele’s house and so he went to everyone in the village and told them not to give him any wood to build his succah and if they did he would see to it that they would lose their livelihoods.

The morning after Yom Kippur, Yossele started going around the village asking people if they had any extra wood they could spare so that he could build his succah. Everyone told him they had nothing to offer. Each day Yossele tried to get the much-needed wood to build his succah but had no luck. The night before Succos Yossele was worried that he would not have a succah built and that his family would be sorely disappointed.

Yossele decided to go for a walk in the cool fall evening in the hopes that at the last minute one of his neighbors would give him some wood to build his succah. Suddenly he had an idea. There were many poor people in the village and death was no stranger. Many people could not afford the fine stone gravestones and would set up wooden markers over the graves of their loved ones. Yossele knew that at the cemetery there was a large pile of blank wooden markers and decided that he would borrow them for his succah and after the holiday return them.

The first night of Succos, Yossele and his family gathered around the table in the succah and welcome the holiday with happiness, songs and comforting words. Mordechai haGibor heard all of this and became very angry. He wondered who would dare give Yossele the wood to build his succah and he was determined to ruin whoever did it.

Mordechai haGibor stormed out of his succah, where his family was arguing over every little thing, and banged on the entry to Yossele’s succah. Yossele seeing his neighbor, invited and him into the succah and offered him some refreshment. Mordechai haGibor was so angry he refused and demanded to know who had given Yossele wood to build his succah. He wanted to know who had the nerve to give him wood after he told everybody not to give Yossele anything.

Yossele did the best he could to calm his neighbor, Mordechai haGibor, and again offered him some refreshment or at least something to drink. Mordechai haGibor again demanded to know where the wood came from, because he was going to ruin whoever gave Yossele the wood.

Yossele took a deep breath and looked at his neighbor and answered the angry question, “please do not ask me this. I would prefer to celebrate Succos with happiness and to make peace with you, my neighbor.” Mordechai haGibor became even more upset and demanded, “who gave you this wood? I know yesterday you did not have a succah so obviously someone felt sorry for you and I want to know who it was!”

Yossele answered, “last night I was walking through the village and as I turned onto the path into the forest I was met by a giant of a man. I asked him where he was going and he told me he was in a rush to get to the village because he had an important job to do. I told him that I understood that with the joyful holiday of Succos coming many people had a lot of preparations to be made, but sadly I would not be able to complete all of my own. I then asked a stranger who he was and he told me he was the Malach haMovis (Angel of Death). I asked him if he could postpone his grim duty until after whoever it was had one last chance to dance with the sifrei Torah on Simchas Torah. The Malach haMovis said no that he must perform his grim duty. I asked him by chance could he tell me who he had come for?”

The Angel of Death was silent for a moment or two and then told me, “I come for Mordechai haGibor and must complete my task before morning.” I thought for a moment and then told the Malach haMovis, “I can save you some time, for you see your trip is unnecessary because Mordechai haGibor is already dead.” The Angel of Death thanked me and asked, “what preparations for the holiday have you not made. Maybe I can help you.” I told the Malach haMovis that I had no wood to build my succah that my family would be sorely disappointed. He looked at me and then just laughed and then said, “I will not be returning to this village until way after Simchas Torah. So why don’t you use the blank wooden grave markers there piled up in the cemetery? Just please remember to return them at the end of the holiday.”

All the blood drained from the face of Mordechai haGibor and he sat down inside of Yossele’s succah. In fact, he had just noticed that indeed all the wood used in the succah had come from the cemetery. Yossele again asked him if he would like something to drink, “just a little bit of tea would be nice if you can spare it.” Mordechai haGibor answered.

Mordechai haGibor looked at Yossele and asked, “you are the poorest of the poor and yet every Shabbos and Yom Tov (holiday) you and your family seem to be the happiest of all people. How is this possible?”

Yossele smiled and answered his neighbor, “because the Holy One, blessed be He provides for everything I need and my family and I are so grateful for all of his gifts.”

A tear fell from Mordechai haGibor’s eye as he talked to his neighbor, “I have so much wealth so much power and yet I am not happy. I cannot find joy in Shabbos nor can I find peace in any of the holidays and yet you with hardly anything sit at your Shabbos and holiday table like nobility.”

“You are right my neighbor, it is as though I am dead because I do not celebrate from my heart. Everything I do is from my pocket. I thank you my neighbor for saving me and teaching me a valuable lesson. For the first time in my life I really understand the words ‘V’ahavta eis Hashem Elokecha, b’chol l’vav’cha, u-v’chol nafsh’cha, u-v’chol m’odecha.’ (And you shall love the L-rd your G-d with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.) (Deuteronomy 6:5) I had forgotten that everything I have are gifts from haKadosh Baruch Hu, the Holy One, blessed be He and from this time on I will do the best I can to celebrate Shabbos and yom tov (holidays) with happiness. I completely forgot, though I say it every day in the Shema, ‘V’hayu ha-d’va-rim ha-ei-leh, Asher ano-chi mi-tzvaecha ha-yom al li-vavecha.’ (And these words that I command you today shall be in your heart.) (Deuteronomy 6:6) from this day forward I will do the best I can to keep the words of Torah in my heart and not depend upon my pocket for all of my needs.”

Mordechai haGibor broke down and began to cry, “you were right Yossele I was dead, but you have given me hope and a new outlook. Baruch atah Adoshem, m’chayei hameisim.” (Blessed are You L-rd, Who revives the dead.) (part of the daily Shemonah Esrei prayers)

Mordechai haGibor left Yossele’s succah a completely different person. From that day on all that was heard from Mordechai haGibor’s home in Shabbos and yom tov were sounds of song, happiness and words of hope.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Hineni – Different Kinds of Prayer

Posted on Tuesday, 19, September, 2017Monday, 19, September, 2022 by Rabbi

During the High Holy Days, the chazzan (cantor) begins the Musaf service with the Hineni prayer (here I am), which is a very moving and private prayer. Serving as the Shaliach Tzibbur (emissary of the congregation), the chazzan, a man of great humility, pleads with the Almighty that he be worthy to represent the people of his congregation and all the people of Israel.

Shaliach Tzibbur literally means the messenger of a congregation in a public prayer, is a Jewish prayer leader in the Synagogue also known as Chazzan (Cantor). It is a weighty responsibility and not everyone is suited to the position.

In a village there lived a very wealthy man who thought that he should be chosen to lead the congregation in prayer because of his importance to everyone in the village. No one in the village was pleased with the idea, but on the other hand they were afraid of what might happen to them if they were to challenge the powerful wealthy man. So they put their troubled heads together and decided to send a delegation to ask the holy rabbi who lived in a nearby town for some advice. The holy rabbi suggested that the wealthy man, the self-appointed prayer leader should come to him for a blessing.

When in due course the self-appointed baal tefillah (prayer leader) of the village came to the holy rabbi to receive his blessing before under¬taking the weighty responsibility of leading his community in prayer, the holy rabbi asked him’ “why should you lead the community in prayer?” The wealthy man took a deep breath and began to explain how he gave a lot of tzedakah (charity), he had built many homes in the village and that he employed most of the villagers.

The holy rabbi listened and then explained, “As you know, the Torah speaks of three kinds of prayer.

There is

‘the prayer of Moshe Rabbeinu’ (Moses our Teacher);

There is

‘the prayer of King David’; and

There is

‘the prayer of a poor man.’

Now Moshe Rabbeinu was indeed ‘slow of speech and slow of tongue.’ (Exodus 4: 10) — but he was the father of the prophets and the teacher of all Israel. King David — why, he is called ‘the sweet singer of Israel.’ (2 Samuel 23:1) And as for the poor man, his heart is humble, and we know from Psalms that ‘a broken and contrite heart, O G-d, You will not despise.’ (Psalm 51:17)

“Now the baalei tefillah of our days who lead their congregations in prayer likewise fall into these same three categories. There are those who are not very musical, but they are righteous — so their prayers are ac¬cepted like ‘the prayer of Moshe.’ Then there are those who are perhaps not quite so righteous, but in their melodiousness they ‘exalt God with their throats’ — so their prayers are accepted like ‘the prayer of David.’ Finally, there are those who are neither righteous nor musical, but since they are poor and their hearts are humble, their prayers are accepted like ‘the prayer of a poor man.’

“Now as for you,” concluded the tzaddik, “we cannot say that you are especially righteous; nor can we say that you are musical; and neither (thank G-d) are you a poor man. So if you want to lead your community in prayer. I will have to pray that you merit to fit into one of these three levels. There is no need for me to explain to you that to ask heaven to make you a tzaddik a sweet singer all of a sudden would be a vain prayer. The only way I can help you, therefore, is by asking heaven to make you poor, and then at least your prayer ‘the prayer of a poor man’…”

The wealthy man thought for sometime about what the holy rabbi had said and became intensely aware of his great pride in the many sins he had committed in his arrogance caused by his great wealth. He began to cry and asked that the holy rabbi tell them how to do teshuvah in order to be forgiven. The wealthy man was at a loss on what to do.

Holy rabbi sensed the sincerity of the wealthy man and with a gentle voice asked him, “do you really want to pray on behalf of the community?”

The wealthy man, in a broken voice, answered, “I am not a particularly holy man like Moshe Rabbeinu (Moses our teacher} and I don’t have an exceptionally good singing voice like Dovid haMelech (King David), but I am a man of a poor broken spirit because of the many sins I have committed in my pride and arrogance. If I could, I still would like to lead the prayer on Rosh Hashanah so that I could be heard by the heavenly court.”

The holy rabbi took the wealthy’s man’s hand and in a soothing voice said, “you have a gift that many people do not have is that you are very educated and cannot only say the words of the prayers of the holy and awesome Day of Judgment (Rosh Hashanah), but you can understand them also. Read for me the Hineni.”

The wealthy man took a deep breath and began, “hineni he’oni mimaas” and than he began to cry, “go on” encouraged the holy rabbi and slowly the words came from the wealthy man:

It took the wealthy man over an hour to be able to say the prayer of the shliach tzibbur (leader of the prayers), but it seemed his heart had changed in his sins had been washed away by his tears. A very humble wealthy man turned to the holy rabbi and asked, “Rabbi, holy rabbi can you bless me that when I pray with everyone else that I can truly not feel any urges to ‘take revenge or bear a grudge against anyone, but love my neighbor as myself’ (Leviticus 19:18), bless me that all of my prayers should come from the inside of me.’ ”

The wealthy man left the holy rabbi that day a different person who came. On the way back to his home he gave away huge amounts of coins to all who needed and prepared himself to pray with the people and not in front of them on Rosh Hashanah that year.

May all of your prayers and the prayers of all the people this Rosh Hashanah ascend to the very throne of mercy and may hush M shower the world with health, happiness and peace. On Yom Kippur may you be sealed for a year of plenty, sweetness and love.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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How Much Remorse?

Posted on Monday, 18, September, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Tam and Chacham were visited by many people as they prepared for Yom haDin – Day of Judgment, another name for Rosh Hashanah. The requests for prayer and blessings from people were steady. Life was hard with uncertain livelihood and the constant barrage of “modern” thought that challenged the age old wisdom. This was the season of hope and people were seeking advice and direction from Tam and Chacham.

An old man came to Tam and Chacham and requested, “I have reached a ripe old age, and thank Baruch Hashem am lacking nothing. Only one thing I want and that is that you should promise me that I will be granted forgiveness for the sins of my youth.”

Chacham thought for a moment and instructed the old man, “The RaMBaM (Maimonides) taught that ‘If a man transgresses, wittingly or unwittingly, any precept of the Torah, whether a positive precept or a negative, and repents and turns away from his wrongdoing, he is obliged to confess his sins to the Holy One, blessed be He. How does a man confess his sins? He says: ‘O G-d! I have sinned, I have committed iniquity, I have transgressed before You by doing such-and–such. Behold now I am sorry for what I have done and am ashamed and I shall never do it again.’ “ (Mishneh Torah: Hilchos. Teshuvah Chapter 1, Law 2)

Chacham continued, “You must light two candles – One for the heart and the other for the soul. Take upon yourself to fast for three days, during which you should pray with a broken heart:

The old man looked at Chacham with tears in his eyes and said, “I will do the best I can to follow your directions, but I am a weak old man and am afraid I will not be able to complete all that you have told me.”

Tam saw the look in the old man’s eyes and asked, “do you truly regret the sins of your youth?”

“I am ashamed of what I did and now wish I could undo my sins. I wish I could ask for forgiveness, but there is no one to ask as many have gone on to the World of Truth.” Answered the old man.

Tam reminded the old man, “Yom Kippur does not forgive transgressions between a man and his fellow — until (or unless) he seeks forgiveness from him” (Mishnah Yoma 8:9), but the first step is to forgive yourself. Only then can you truly express regret and seek forgiveness.”

The old man, his face streaked with tears whispered, “I really regret my foolish acts and wish I could take them back.”

“If you regret the sins of your youth completely, then that secures their forgiveness.” Tam responded.

“And what in your eyes is the required measure of remorse?” asked the old man.

Tam thought for some time and then began, “”Let me tell you a story, there once was a wealthy merchant who was in a rush to arrive at the big fair in the city before all the other merchants, and the wagonloads of goods that he brought with him were very much in demand.

The day he arrived in the city it began to rain. The rain and wind was so bad, that for a number of days no other merchant was able to bring his merchandise to the fair. All the prospective customers therefore milled around his stand. Seeing how intense was the demand, he decided to keep them all waiting for a few days so that the price would rise. And indeed, from day to day the rain fell harder and day by day the price rose higher. Then in the middle of the night the rain stopped. Before dawn the marketplace was clattering with all the wagons that were trundling in from all over the land and the price of his goods dropped instantly.

“Now, then,” concluded Tam. “if you find that your remorse over the sins of your youth is as intense as the regret of that merchant when he realized how much his greed had cost him, then you may be sure that your regret is sufficient to secure you forgiveness.”

The old man asked, “I am really sorry for the pain caused by the sins of my youth, but wonder can I surely be forgiven? How can I be sure that I can be forgiven?”

Tam answered, “As soon as one repents, one is forgiven. (Chagigah 5a) This is why we sing the ancient words:

אבנו מלכנו חננו ועננו כי אין בנו עשים עשה עשה עמנו צדקה וחסד והשענו

Avinu Malkeinu Choneinu Vaaneinu Ki ein Banu Maasim Ase Imanu Tzdaka Vahesed Vehoshieinu

Our Father, our King! be gracious unto us and answer us, for we have no good works of our own; deal with us in charity and kindness, and save us.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more Rosh Hashanah stories see below:

A Prescription for Life

Philmont, Horses and Rosh haShanah

Rosh haHashanah: Forgiving A Debt

The Deaf Man of the Shul

The Dirty Treasure

How to be Forgiven of Sin

Repentance and the Captive Prince

Repentance Out of Love

The Humble Request of the King’s Son

The King, the Thief the True Penitant

A Rock and the King’s Greatness

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Just One Small Blast from the Great Shofar

Posted on Wednesday, 13, September, 2017Monday, 19, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Chacham had a student that was an orphan and he would spend much time with him. They would learn together, walk through the forests and ponder the secrets found in the Holy writings. One year, right after Tisha B’Av, the boy became sick.

Chacham took the shofar on the first day of the month of Elul and tested it to see whether it was in good condition. The student was in the room and the sound of the shofar touched him in such a way that his color began to return to his cheeks.

He asked his beloved teacher for one more blast, and Chacham gladly obliged. From then on, for the remainder of the month of Elul, this became a ritual; Chacham blowing the shofar once each day for his sick student. On the day before Rosh Hashanah, the orphan was there, waiting to hear the shofar, but he was disappointed.

“I am sorry, but today we do not blow the shofar. Tomorrow morning, we will blow the shofar in the shul (synagogue).” Chacham explained.

The student looked at his beloved teacher with tears in his eyes and asked, “I am sick to my very soul and my body is weak. The call of the shofar gives me comfort, strengthens me and makes me feel better. Please just one blast! Just one small blast!”

Chacham was touched by the beseeching voice of his student and slowly brought the shofar to his lips and blew one blast.

On Rosh Hashanah, everyone expected Chacham to blow the shofar. That year, Chacham went up before the aron kodesh (Holy Ark) where the Torah scrolls were, opened it and said: ” Ribbono shel Olam, Master of the Universe, I have to repent. It’s written that on the day before Rosh Hashanah one must not blow shofar, yet I did.”

He broke down it tears and called out: “Ribbono shel Olam, Master of the Universe, do you know why I transgressed this custom? It was because my young student lay on his sickbed begging and crying that I should only blow one blast of the shofar for him. My heart melted, I couldn’t bear to watch him cry and be in pain, so I blew once for him, though I shouldn’t have.

“Avinu, Malkeinu (Our Father, Our King), how can you stand by and see how millions of Your children are sick to their very souls and crying out to You, Av haRachamim (Father of Mercy), just one small blast! Sound the blast of the great shofar which will herald the final Redemption! Even if the time is not right for it yet, even if the time for Moshiach has yet to arrive, Your children cry out to You. Please just one small sound to rekindle our hope.”

The sounding of the shofar was delayed, and for a long time crying from broken hearts was heard throughout the shul (synagogue…).”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more Rosh Hashanah stories see below:

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

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Tidings of Joy or Sadness?

Posted on Tuesday, 5, September, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

There was a certain man who could cast spells in order to know the future. A holy man was approached by the spell caster and he told him: “You may thank the Holy One, blessed be He for his decree regarding you, since I see that you are going to marry a beautiful wife.” “And who is she?” asked the holy man. He answered: “Yaffa.” “Why,” said the holy man, “she is a married woman!” “It is clear to me,” said the spell caster, “that she will wed you.”

“Today,” said the holy man, “is not a day of good tidings, and I shall not say a blessing because of the death of a man who will have to die on my account. For who knows whether I am better than he?” “In that case,” said the soothsayer, “how shall a man wed a widow?” “There is no comparison,” said he, “since in that case her husband has already died. But you tell me this while he is still alive—and I shall always pray that he should have a long life.”

The spell caster was taken aback and asked: “how can you not accept the blessing of a beautiful wife?” The holy man answered: The Holy One, blessed be He said, ‘I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse, therefore choose life.’ “(Deuteronomy 30:19) The spell caster looked confused as the holy man continued: “We are commanded ‘You shall not practice divination or soothsaying.’ (Leviticus 19:26) and we are taught ‘They gaze and know not at what they gaze at, they ponder and know not what they ponder.’ (Sotah 12b) instead ‘give your whole heart to the Holy One, blessed be He. Trust not in dreams or omens, inquire not of fortunetellers. Such things show a lack of faith.’ ” (Tochechah, 14^th century)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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Prayers in Time of Drought and the Scoffer

Posted on Friday, 25, August, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Special prayers are recited and fast days may even be decreed by the leaders of a Jewish community, in the event of a serious drought. It is particularly important to encourage people who are not so observant of Jewish religious practices to participate in these services, in the hope that they will be moved by the vulnerable position of the community and possibly become more religious. Indeed, the Talmud states that “Any fast day that does not include the sinners is not a fast” (Kerisus 6b)

It once happened that the sun shined bright and the heat touched everyone. It had not rained for a very long time and so water was scarce. In one village, the rabbi proclaimed a fast day. The rabbi tried to urge a non-observant person to join in the community in prayer that the life giving rains should come, but the “modern” Jewish person refused, saying: “You certainly do not think that the prayers of someone like myself will make any difference to G-d.”

The rabbi tried to impress upon him that the prayers of every person are important, and when someone who has wandered away from religious observance turns to G-d, his prayer is very dear to the Holy One, blessed be He.

“I take it from this,” the man answered the rabbi, “that you are suggesting that it is my sinfulness that has aroused the anger of Heaven and caused the drought. How can I be part of a community that accuses me of this! You and your kind are so steeped in superstition that you will never know what the real world is like. This is why I don’t believe in your traditions and mythology!””

The rabbi thought for a moment, stroked his beard and answered the young man: “I’m sorry you feel that way, I could not possibly think that you caused the drought. In fact, we know for a fact that it was people like you who once caused it to rain for forty days and forty nights consecutively.”

The young man laughed and responded: “ How can mouthing a bunch of words and torturing yourself with no food or water make any real changes to the world?”

The rabbi listened and explained: “Fasting and prayer make great changes to everything around us as we are taught, ‘Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter — when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood’ (Isaiah 58:6-7) It is through our old traditions that we change the world to a better place physically and spiritually.”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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The Wonderful Healing Leaves: A Tale from Kurdistan Part II

Posted on Wednesday, 2, August, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

In the morning the lad arose early, and the giant said to him: “When you leave here, you must ride on the road for seven days, until you come to a crossroads. On one of the roads it is written ‘A happy journey,’ and on the other, ‘He who follows this path shall not return.’ You must not ponder there, but take the road from which there is no return. Continue to follow this road until it comes to a dead end. This is the first danger. When you come there you must say: ‘What a beautiful path! Had I all the horses of the king I would come and dance here!’ Then the path will continue, so you can pass.

“The next danger,” continued the giant, “is a valley filled with poisonous snakes, through which no man can pass. When you come to it you must say: ‘What a beautiful valley filled with honey! If only someone brought some of this honey to the palace of the king, he would gladly eat it!” Then the snakes will disappear, and you will be able to pass.

“The third danger is a valley filled with blood and all kinds of beasts, through which no man can pass. When you come to it you must say: ‘What tasty butter! Had I the bread of the king, I would spread this tasty butter on it!’ Then the valley will dry up, and you will be able to pass.

“After this,” the giant went on, “you will come to a palace, guarded by a dragon and a viper. If their eyes are open, it means they are sleeping; if their eyes are closed, they are fully awake. Wait until their eyes are open, and then you will be able to pass. From there you must enter the palace, and walk down the corridor until you come to the queen’s door, which is guarded by four lions. If their eyes are open it means they are sleeping; if their eyes are closed, they are awake. Now, the door to the queen’s chamber, which they guard, is made entirely of bells, and when it is opened the sound of the bells wakes the lions. I will give you two packages of cotton with which to muffle the bells. When the eyes of the lions are open, muffle the bells and open the door. There you will find the queen sleeping, for when she sleeps all the beasts sleep with their eyes open, and beside her bed grows the tree with the healing leaves. Fill one bag with the leaves, and also fill your pockets, for they are very precious. Then go to the queen and exchange rings with her. After that, when you return, you must do everything you did before, but in reverse order.”

The lad listened closely to what he had to do, and when the giant had finished telling him, he gratefully thanked him and set off down the road. He acted according to the giant’s instructions, so he was able to continue on the path that ended, and to cross the valley filled with snakes and the one filled with blood and beasts. And when he reached the palace he waited until the eyes of the dragon and the viper were open, which meant that they were asleep, and he entered the palace. So too did he wait for the four lions to open their eyes, meaning that they too were asleep, and he entered the chamber of the queen, who was sleeping on her bed. And beside her bed he found the tree with the wonderful healing leaves, its branches reaching to the ceiling, its roots growing beneath the floor. Then the lad filled a big sack with those leaves and his pockets as well, and exchanged his ring with that of the queen. And on the way back he did everything he had done to get there, but in reverse. So it was that two weeks later he returned with the bag full of leaves and the queen’s ring on his finger, and came to the inn run by the two princes.

Now when the princes saw the sack, they asked the lad what was inside it, and he told them the whole story, although he forgot to mention that he had exchanged rings with the queen. Then the two princes pretended to be very friendly, and invited him to spend the night, and he agreed.

But while the lad slept, the two princes threw a drug into his eyes to blind him, and put him in a sack and left him in a closet in the inn. They themselves took the bag of the healing leaves and set out to return to the palace of the king. And when they arrived the king’s blindness was cured by the healing leaves, and he appointed the two princes to be his ministers, and rewarded each of them with one third of his kingdom.

Meanwhile, when the lad awoke and found himself in a sack, he did not give up hope, but struggled until he had managed to free himself. But when he did, he discovered he was blind, and he was deeply grieved. Then he remembered the healing leaves he had kept in his pockets, and took some of them and rubbed them against his eyes, and his sight was restored. After that he returned to his wife, the king’s youngest daughter, and said to her: “I have brought the healing leaves.” But to his surprise she laughed at him and said: “The two princes brought them back long before you, and the king has regained his sight.” And the lad understood that his long quest had all been in vain.

Now it happened that when the queen of the Land of No Return awoke from her sleep, she saw that her ring had disappeared, replaced by another, and that many leaves were missing from the tree. She immediately unrolled her flying carpet, and searched high and low for whoever had taken her ring and the leaves. After searching in many places, she heard of the king who had been cured of his blindness, and when she arrived at the palace she threatened to send the dragon to destroy the city if she was not told how the cure had come to pass. Then the princes came forward and showed the leaves to her in the presence of the king. She said: “Tell me where you got them from.” And they replied: “We found a forest and picked the leaves off a tree.” “They are lying!” hissed the queen. “Beat them!”

Just then the lad arrived at the palace and told the queen how he had obtained the leaves, and showed her the ones he still had left, which he had carried in his pockets. Then the lad showed the queen her ring, and she knew that he was telling the truth. But she wanted to know how the princes had returned with the leaves before him, and so the lad told her all that had happened, and all the trouble that they had caused him. After that the lad gave back the ring to the queen, and she got on her flying carpet and returned to her kingdom. And the king, who had heard all that the lad had said, now understood what had really taken place. He banished the two princes and invited his youngest daughter and her husband to live in the palace, where the young man soon became his most trusted minister, and they all lived happily ever after.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Tzaddik of the Forest

Posted on Sunday, 23, July, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

In the holy city of Sfas (Safed) there lived a holy rabbi who was said to know all of the revealed and hidden Torah, all the holy writings, and the Zohar by heart. A wealthy and educated merchant in Sfas owned a large orchard, several fields, and two ancient forests. Now this wealthy merchant had a beautiful he had great difficulty in finding a worthy groom for her. No one was a fine enough scholar. Then it happened that he heard of the holy rabbi, and he was determined that such a learned man would be his son-in-law. With the help of a shadchan (a person who arranges marriages) the betrothal was made.

So it was that the holy rabbi met both his bride and his father-in-law for the first time on the day he was married. Under the chupah (wedding canopy) the holy rabbi took the hand of his bride and said, “And I will take you for my wife forever; I will take you for my wife in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy.” (Hosea 2:19) The love between the holy rabbi and his bride was a deep one, which had been ordained in heaven.

Every day after the morning prayers, the holy rabbi rode a horse into one of the forests, and he was not seen again until the sun was about to set and it was time for the afternoon prayers. What he did in that forest was a mystery. The wealthy merchant saw that the holy rabbi treated his daughter well and that she always appeared to be happy, so he never questioned his ways of his son-in-law.

Now the wealthy merchant hired two Jewish men to serve as the foresters of the two ancient forests he owned. Each had a cabin in one of the forests, and there they watched for those who sought to poach, illegally hunt or cut down the trees. They would walk through the forests as they patrolled for trespassers. One day, one of the foresters saw a horse tied to a tree and when he went closer, he saw the merchant’s son-in-law lowering himself into the dark, putrid insect-infested waters. What kind of mikveh (ritual bath) was this?

The holy rabbi spent a long time in those waters, and when he came out of the water, he dressed, untied the horse, and rode out of the forest. Then the forester came out of hiding and saw, to his amazement, that those waters had turned completely pure. He bent down and drank from them, and the waters were clear and sweet. And he realized that he had witnessed a miracle of one of the hidden saints.

So it was that the forester secretly observed the holy rabbi as he made his way through the forest, and he saw many other kinds of miracles take place. Whatever barren tree he sat beneath soon had blossoms appear on it, and whatever path he walked on had flowers spring up overnight. All of nature welcomed his presence as if he were an angel. He quietly went on his way hidden from the eyes of people, healing whatever was sick or dying with a power that seemed to spring from his very being. The holy rabbi searched for the scattered sparks in that holy forest, so that he could gather them so he could repair the world.

Now that forester was childless, and when he told his wife about the miracles he had witnessed in the forest, and then told her husband that the holy rabbi was a tzaddik nistar (righteous hidden holy man). She begged him to go to the hidden tzaddik and ask for his blessing so they could have a child of their own. One day, when he could not hold himself back any longer, the forester approached the holy rabbi and said, “I know that you are a tzaddik nistar, who hides his ways from the world. There is only one thing I would ask of you, and if you help me, I promise never to reveal your secret. All I ask is that you pray for my wife and me to have a son.” The tzaddik saw that his secret had been discovered, and he blessed the forester, “Ribonno shel Olam, Master of the Universe look down on the sadness of your children, and remember them, and grant them a child.” He then promised the man that within a year he and his wife would be blessed with a baby boy. At the end of the year the forester’s wife gave birth to a healthy son.

The forester was overjoyed at the birth of his son and kept his word and never revealed the secret of the holy rabbi. Then one day his friend forester, who watched over the other ancient forest, came to visit him. This forester’s life had been tragic, for each of his sons had died before reaching the eighth day. He said: “I see that G-d has blessed you and you have had a son. May there be many more blessings. Tell me, was there anything you did to make this possible? Perhaps you can help me so that I can be blessed as well.”

Now the forester had no intention of breaking his promise, but at the same time he wanted to help his friend, the other forester. He thought for some time and answered: “I will help you on one condition—that you not ask any questions but do whatever I tell you to do.” The other forester quickly agreed to these terms, and the first one explained: “What we have to do is to switch places, so that you will patrol my forest, and I will patrol yours. Then everything will be all right.”

So it was that the foresters switched places, and after a while the second forester observed the ways of the holy rabbi, who brought miracles to pass wherever he went. When he saw these miracles, the forester understood why the other had advised him to switch places. One day he slowly approached the tzaddik of the forest and told him of the disaster that had haunted the birth of every one of his sons, and he asked for his blessing, that his future sons would live.

The tzaddik was silent for a long time, and at last he said: “Do you remember that when you were young you went with some friends to swim in the river and to wash in its waters? There was a large tree near the shore of that river, and at the bottom of the trunk, near the roots, there was engraved the image of a hand. And you had the urge to laugh and play around. So you took a ring and placed it on the finger of the hand and said Haray at mekudeshes….Behold you are consecrated to me, the wedding vows.”

The forester grew pale when he heard this, for he himself had forgotten about that foolish thing. He lowered his eyes and admitted that it was true, and the holy rabbi explained: “At that moment an evil spirit that lived in that place was wed to you. And since you married someone else, this evil spirit comes and kills your sons because you betrayed her and didn’t fulfill the wedding vow”

The forester was staggered by these words, and he said: “I remember that day as if it were yesterday. Afterward I was ashamed of what I had done, and I put it out of my mind until now. Please, tell me, what must I do in order to free myself of that evil spirit?”

The holy rabbi told the forester that he had to say a special teffilah (prayer):

The holy rabbi continued, “I will write the get, the bill of divorce, for you, and you must take it to the same place, and put the get into the hand engraved there, and you must say: ‘The holy rabbi commands you to divorce me.’ “

The forester went there, found the place where the hand was engraved, and he did as the holy rabbi told him to do, and at last he was freed of that spirit. And the sons who were born to him after that all thrived.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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A Journey to the Tree of Life

Posted on Wednesday, 12, July, 2017Thursday, 1, February, 2024 by Rabbi

The holy rabbi would go out into the forest by himself each day. What he did there was a great mystery to his students. One morning, the holy rabbi asked three of his students if they would like to go with him into the forest. All three of them eagerly agreed to go.

The students climbed onto the wagon, and the holy rabbi himself served as the driver. Never once did he crack the whip, but the horses responded to his presence by racing forward, and it seemed to the students that the hooves of the horses and the wheels of the wagon never touched the ground.

After some time they arrived at a beautiful forest that none of the students had ever seen. Without saying a word, the holy rabbi dismounted, unhitched the horses from the wagon, and motioned for the students to follow. Now they wondered why he did not rack-up, (secure horses to a fixed object by means of a halter and lead rope) the horses to nearby trees, and one of the students asked the holy rabbi if he wanted him to do it for him, and the holy rabbi answered: “It is not necessary to tie up the horses here, but if you are worried about them wandering off, you could stay here with them until we return.” The student did not want to miss any lesson from his teacher and did not want to left behind.

Never had the students seen a forest like this. The trees were so ancient that some of them were so wide that their span was wider than all of them together and so high that they seemed to reach into heaven. When one of the students tried to see the top branches of an especially tall and magnificent tree, he saw a nest high in its branches and a golden bird of such great beauty flying into the nest. The student stood rooted in that place, marveling at the sight of the shining golden bird. He hoped to learn secret words of holiness as it is written, “for a bird of the air may carry your voice, or some winged creature tell the matter. (Ecclesiastes 10:20) Meanwhile the other students continued into the forest, leaving their companion behind.

A little further on they came to a still, clear pond filled with the deepest blue water. The students saw the holy rabbi lean over and peer into the pond, and they wondered what holy things he saw. They each decided to look into the pond as did their holy teacher. What they saw was not their images, but a divine presence that seemed to gaze back at them from beneath the waters. Now the students were greatly amazed at what they saw and raised their eyes to ask the holy rabbi to explain the images they saw, but when they did, they saw that he had already left the pond, and one student hurried off to catch up with him. The other student remained staring at that angel, for he understood that it was his own guardian angel he was seeing, and he could not tear himself away from the remarkable sight.

Further in the forest they came to trees that seemed to be shimmering as if they were on fire, yet they were not consumed. The last student wanted to stop to explore this strange sight, but the holy rabbi barely paused to glance at the trees and continued on his way. The last student, remembering well the vision of Moses at the burning bush, (Exodus 3:2) remained behind, trying to understand the mystery of that fire, and he did not notice that the holy rabbi had left him behind.

In this way hours or days passed, and the three students were lost in the mysteries of that forest. Then, all at once, they found themselves back at the Beis haMidrash – House of Study, where they had started their journey. They could not understand how they had gotten there, and when they looked to the holy rabbi for an explanation, he said: “When Moses left Egypt he knew that some of the Children of Israel would never reach the Promised Land. And, indeed, some of them crossed the Red Sea but were no longer present at the giving of the Torah, and some who were present both when the sea was crossed and the Torah was received did not reach the Promised Land. So it is that I brought you with me into Paradise where “there is a tree of life for those who do His will.” (4 Maccabees 18:16). Sadly the further we went, the fewer were those who followed. When I came to the Tree of Life, I found that all of you had lingered behind.”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Cottage of Lights

Posted on Saturday, 10, June, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

There once was a Jewish man who learned “Justice, justice, you shall pursue (Deuteronomy 16:20) and so he decided to travel throughout the world to find justice. He knew that somewhere in the world true justice must exist and he was determined to find it. He went from town to town and village to village, and everywhere he went, he searched for justice, but never could he seem to find it.

He thought that he may find true justice as he traveled across the many streams and rivers as he had learned “let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” (Amos 5:24) Sadly all he found was that his feet were wet. He climbed steep hills and mountains that touched the heaven and then trekked through many valleys in the hopes of finding true justice as he studied and faithfully believed that “Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains; your judgments are like the great deep.” (Psalm 36:6)

He journeyed for many years going from place to place, until he had explored all the known world except for one last great forest. He entered that dark forest without hesitation, for he had seen many frightful things in his travels. He went into the caves of hermits and thieves, but they taunted him and said, “do you expect to find justice here?” He went into the woodland huts of foresters and hunters, but they looked at him with questions in their eyes.

The man went deeper and deeper into that forest, until at last he arrived at a little clay shack. Through the window he saw many flickering flames, and he was curious about them. So he went to the door and knocked. No answer. He knocked again. He pushed the creaky door open and stepped inside.

As he stepped inside the cottage, the man realized that it was much larger on the inside than it seemed to be from the outside. It was filled with hundreds of shelves, on every shelf there were dozens of oil lamps some of those lamps were made of gold, silver or fine cut glass, while others were made of simple clay or tin. Some of the lamps were filled with oil and the flames burned brightly, while others had very little oil left.

Suddenly an old man wearing a long white robe and a long white beard appeared before him. “Shalom Aleichem, my son” the old man said. “How can I help you?” The man replied, “Aleichem Shalom. I have going everywhere searching for true justice, but never have I seen anything like this. Tell me what are all these lamps?”

The old man said, “each of these lamps is the light of a person’s soul. As long as the flame continues to burn that person remains alive. But when the flame burns out that person’s soul takes leave of this world.”

“Follow me,” the old man said, and he led him through that long labyrinth of the cottage, which the man thought must be endless. Finally, they reached a low shelf and there the old man pointed to a clay lamp and said, “that is the lamp of your soul.”

Now the man took one look at the flickering flame, and a great fear fell upon him. The wick of the lamp was very short there was very little oil left. The man feared that at any moment the wick would slide into the oil and sputter out. He began to tremble. Could the end be so near without him knowing of it? Then he noticed the clay lamp next to his own, but that one was full of oil and the wick was long and straight and its flames burned brightly. “And who’s lamp is that?” The man asked.

I can only reveal each man’s lamp to himself alone,” the old man said and he turned and left.

The man stood there, quaking. All at once he heard a sputtering sound, and when he looked up, he saw smoke rising from another shelf, and he knew that somewhere, someone was no longer among the living. He looked back at his own lamp and saw that there was only a few drops of oil left. Then he looked again at the lamp next to his own, so full of oil, and a terrible thought entered his mind.

He stepped back and looked in every direction for the old man, but he didn’t see him anywhere. Then he picked up the lamp next to his own and lifted it up above his own. At that instant, the old man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm with an iron grip.

The man closed his eyes because it hurt so much. When he opened his eyes, he saw the old man was gone, and the cottage and the candles had all disappeared. He found himself standing alone in the forest and he heard the trees whispering his fate. All the time wondering, had his lamp burned out? Was he, too, no longer among the living.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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It was a small village where everyone knew each other, but the two most notable people in the village were Mordechai haGibor the wealthy merchant and his neighbor Yossele the poor woodsman.

Yossele worked hard every day and barely made enough to feed his family. Every night when they would gather around the table, so many times it was not enough food, they would talk and sing as they enjoyed their meager meal.

Shabbos would come and the light of the Shabbos candles seemed awfully cold in the home of Mordechai haGibor. He would be demanding, his wife was always angry and his children were noisy and disrespectful.

Every week and every holiday Mordechai haGibor would hear all the joyful sounds coming from Yossele’s house. This would make him angry and many times very sullen.

Rosh Hashanah had passed in the fast of Yom Kippur was behind them as everyone was preparing Succos (Feast of Booths and is also referred to as the Feast of Tabernacles) was quickly approaching.

Mordechai haGibor was determined that he would not be tortured by the sounds coming from Yossele’s house and so he went to everyone in the village and told them not to give him any wood to build his succah and if they did he would see to it that they would lose their livelihoods.

Yossele did the best he could to calm his neighbor, Mordechai haGibor, and again offered him some refreshment or at least something to drink. Mordechai haGibor again demanded to know where the wood came from, because he was going to ruin whoever gave Yossele the wood.

Mordechai haGibor looked at Yossele and asked, “you are the poorest of the poor and yet every Shabbos and Yom Tov (holiday) you and your family seem to be the happiest of all people. How is this possible?”

Yossele smiled and answered his neighbor, “because the Holy One, blessed be He provides for everything I need and my family and I are so grateful for all of his gifts.”

A tear fell from Mordechai haGibor’s eye as he talked to his neighbor, “I have so much wealth so much power and yet I am not happy. I cannot find joy in Shabbos nor can I find peace in any of the holidays and yet you with hardly anything sit at your Shabbos and holiday table like nobility.”

Mordechai haGibor broke down and began to cry, “you were right Yossele I was dead, but you have given me hope and a new outlook. Baruch atah Adoshem, m’chayei hameisim.” (Blessed are You L-rd, Who revives the dead.) (part of the daily Shemonah Esrei prayers)

Mordechai haGibor left Yossele’s succah a completely different person. From that day on all that was heard from Mordechai haGibor’s home in Shabbos and yom tov were sounds of song, happiness and words of hope.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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Shaliach Tzibbur literally means the messenger of a congregation in a public prayer, is a Jewish prayer leader in the Synagogue also known as Chazzan (Cantor). It is a weighty responsibility and not everyone is suited to the position.

The holy rabbi listened and then explained, “As you know, the Torah speaks of three kinds of prayer.

There is

‘the prayer of Moshe Rabbeinu’ (Moses our Teacher);

There is

‘the prayer of King David’; and

There is

‘the prayer of a poor man.’

Holy rabbi sensed the sincerity of the wealthy man and with a gentle voice asked him, “do you really want to pray on behalf of the community?”

The wealthy man took a deep breath and began, “hineni he’oni mimaas” and than he began to cry, “go on” encouraged the holy rabbi and slowly the words came from the wealthy man:

hineni he’oni mimaas – Here am I that am poor in meritorious deeds, trembling and in awe of the One who sits enthroned upon the praises of Israel, standing and pleading before Him on behalf of His people Israel who have sent me, though I am unworthy and unqualified for the task.

Therefore I ask you G-d of Abraham, G-d of Isaac, and G-d of Jacob, L-rd, L-rd, benevolent G-d, compassionate and gracious, G-d of Israel, Omnipotent, fearful and awesome, grant success to the mission which I am undertaking. To stand and plead for mercy for myself and those who sent me.

Blessed are you who hears prayer.

The wealthy man left the holy rabbi that day a different person who came. On the way back to his home he gave away huge amounts of coins to all who needed and prepared himself to pray with the people and not in front of them on Rosh Hashanah that year.

May all of your prayers and the prayers of all the people this Rosh Hashanah ascend to the very throne of mercy and may hush M shower the world with health, happiness and peace. On Yom Kippur may you be sealed for a year of plenty, sweetness and love.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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An old man came to Tam and Chacham and requested, “I have reached a ripe old age, and thank Baruch Hashem am lacking nothing. Only one thing I want and that is that you should promise me that I will be granted forgiveness for the sins of my youth.”

Chacham continued, “You must light two candles – One for the heart and the other for the soul. Take upon yourself to fast for three days, during which you should pray with a broken heart:

The old man looked at Chacham with tears in his eyes and said, “I will do the best I can to follow your directions, but I am a weak old man and am afraid I will not be able to complete all that you have told me.”

Tam saw the look in the old man’s eyes and asked, “do you truly regret the sins of your youth?”

“I am ashamed of what I did and now wish I could undo my sins. I wish I could ask for forgiveness, but there is no one to ask as many have gone on to the World of Truth.” Answered the old man.

Tam reminded the old man, “Yom Kippur does not forgive transgressions between a man and his fellow — until (or unless) he seeks forgiveness from him” (Mishnah Yoma 8:9), but the first step is to forgive yourself. Only then can you truly express regret and seek forgiveness.”

The old man, his face streaked with tears whispered, “I really regret my foolish acts and wish I could take them back.”

“If you regret the sins of your youth completely, then that secures their forgiveness.” Tam responded.

“And what in your eyes is the required measure of remorse?” asked the old man.

Tam thought for some time and then began, “”Let me tell you a story, there once was a wealthy merchant who was in a rush to arrive at the big fair in the city before all the other merchants, and the wagonloads of goods that he brought with him were very much in demand.

“Now, then,” concluded Tam. “if you find that your remorse over the sins of your youth is as intense as the regret of that merchant when he realized how much his greed had cost him, then you may be sure that your regret is sufficient to secure you forgiveness.”

The old man asked, “I am really sorry for the pain caused by the sins of my youth, but wonder can I surely be forgiven? How can I be sure that I can be forgiven?”

Tam answered, “As soon as one repents, one is forgiven. (Chagigah 5a) This is why we sing the ancient words:

אבנו מלכנו חננו ועננו כי אין בנו עשים עשה עשה עמנו צדקה וחסד והשענו

Avinu Malkeinu Choneinu Vaaneinu Ki ein Banu Maasim Ase Imanu Tzdaka Vahesed Vehoshieinu

Our Father, our King! be gracious unto us and answer us, for we have no good works of our own; deal with us in charity and kindness,​ and save us.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Chacham had a student that was an orphan and he would spend much time with him. They would learn together, walk through the forests and ponder the secrets found in the Holy writings. One year, right after Tisha B’Av, the boy became sick.

Chacham took the shofar on the first day of the month of Elul and tested it to see whether it was in good condition. The student was in the room and the sound of the shofar touched him in such a way that his color began to return to his cheeks.

“I am sorry, but today we do not blow the shofar. Tomorrow morning, we will blow the shofar in the shul (synagogue).” Chacham explained.

The student looked at his beloved teacher with tears in his eyes and asked, “I am sick to my very soul and my body is weak. The call of the shofar gives me comfort, strengthens me and makes me feel better. Please just one blast! Just one small blast!”

Chacham was touched by the beseeching voice of his student and slowly brought the shofar to his lips and blew one blast.

The sounding of the shofar was delayed, and for a long time crying from broken hearts was heard throughout the shul (synagogue…).”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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The rabbi tried to impress upon him that the prayers of every person are important, and when someone who has wandered away from religious observance turns to G-d, his prayer is very dear to the Holy One, blessed be He.

The young man laughed and responded: “ How can mouthing a bunch of words and torturing yourself with no food or water make any real changes to the world?”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Our Father, our King! be gracious unto us and answer us, for we have no good works of our own; deal with us in charity and kindness, and save us.