Rabbi Eleazar and Eliyahu haNovi

Posted on Thursday, 13, October, 2022Wednesday, 2, August, 2023 by Rabbi

Once in the days of Rabbi Eleazar the son of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai was walking along a path beside a great river. There he met Eliyahu haNovi (Elijah the Prophet) who had come to test the goodness of his heart. He appeared as an old man accompanied by a boy. It seemed to Rabbi Eleazar that they must have been waiting there for a very long time for some boat in order that the old man could pass with the boy to the other shore and continue on some very urgent journey.

When Rabbi Eleazar saw the old man’s distress he said to him, “saba (grandfather), put the boy on one side of my shoulders and you hang onto my other shoulder, and I will bring you across the river.” “Why,” said the old man to him, “you are an honored man of our times, and you have lived softly and easily since your youth and cannot have the strength for this hard labor of bringing us across on your shoulders.” “Saba,” answered Eleazar, “if I were to take you and your boy into my two hands, I would have the strength to carry you the long distance across to the other shore.” “Do you engage in the study of Torah (Scriptures)?” Eliyahu haNovi asked him, and he answered, “Yes.”

Elijah the Prophet

“But of the Torah,” continued Eliyahu haNovi, it is said “much study is a weariness of the flesh.” (Ecclesiastes 12:12) “Why,” responded Rabbi Eleazar, “the Torah is called ‘healing’ and ‘refreshment’ for the body, as it was written by Shlomo haMelech (King Solomon), It will be a healing for your flesh and a refreshment for your body.’ (Proverbs 3:8) likewise I have drunk much Torah, like one who drinks for refreshment, so my strength has increased.” Eliyahu haNovi then agreed, Rabbi Eleazar brought them over on his shoulders.

After that, Rabbi Eleazar asked him, “Saba, what is this boy with you?” “I am his teacher,” answered Eliyahu haNovi, “and I teach in Torah.” “Saba (grandfather)” said Rabbi Eleazar to him, “I would have you know that I am strong in this world and in the World to Come. In virtue of the fact that you teach Torah to Jewish children I shall not permit the Angel of Gehenna to harm you, and I shall conduct you into the World to Come by my great power I have there.” “Rabbi,” answered Eliyahu haNovi, “it is true that your words have as much power in the World to Come as any of the angels on high minister before the Holy One, blessed be He.” The old man and the boy vanished and Rabbi Eleazar and never saw them again

Then Rabbi Eleazar said, “That must have been Eliyahu haNovi (Elijah the Prophet).” And he rejoiced because he withstood the test and humbled himself with us before him.

Zohar Chadash Lech Lecha 22

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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A Pot of Soup and the Yetzer Hara

Posted on Thursday, 3, February, 2022Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

There was an innkeeper who cooked meals for all her guests. Inevitably she ended up preparing food for all the laborers of the town as well, who flocked to her dining room to feast to their hearts’ content. She served food that was simple yet satisfying, and most importantly, very reasonably priced.

One day, the innkeeper prepared a large pot of soup. As mealtime drew nearer, she went to check on the food to determine whether or not it was ready to be served. As she made her way towards the pot, a foul odor filled her nostrils.

She quickly ascertained that the ingredients she had used to prepare the broth must have been slightly spoiled, and this was indeed the cause of the terrible smell. She was now faced with a problem: Mealtime was rapidly approaching — what would she serve her guests?

What could she do?

She took fragrant spices and sprinkled them generously into the steamy pot; it was not long before the smell of the spices overpowered the foul odor.

She served the soup to the laborers, and they ate heartily.

“This soup is wonderful!” exclaimed one of the laborers. “It truly smells like Gan Eden!”

Sitting next to him was a traveler with a sensitive palate who said, “You are mistaken.” “The food is completely spoiled; the smell is coming from spices that hide the foul stench…”

The yetzer hara tries to persuade a person to sin. The sin, however, emits a putrid odor, and the soul immediately perceives the trick and attempts to flee. But the yetzer hara clothes the wicked deed in a guise of temptation and appeal to conceal the foul stench.

The more putrid the odor, the more spices the yetzer hara deceitfully adds…

A person must arrive at the realization that the “food” is spoiled and that they must push it away with both hands!

Story Recipe Moroccan

Harira – Spiced Moroccan Vegetable Soup

A Muslim staple to break the daily fast of Ramadan, it has crossed over to the Moroccan Jewish tradition of breaking the fast of Yom Kippur, Tisha b’Av and other fast days. Although many cooks make this with meat, this is a pareve recipe.

Ingredients

4 tablespoons olive oil		1 bunch parsley, chopped, divided
1-2 large onion, diced (about 2 cups)		1 (15-ounce) can tomatoes, crushed, or 2 cups tomato sauce
3 stalks celery, diced (about 1 1/2 cups)		7 cups broth or water
3 large carrots, peeled and cut in rounds		1 cup dried chickpeas, soaked overnight and cooked or 1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas, drained
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric		1 cup green lentils
1 teaspoon ground cumin		1 teaspoon coarse ground black pepper
1 Teaspoon Zahtar		2 tablespoons all-purpose unbleached flour
1/2 to 1 teaspoon dried red pepper flakes		1 large egg
Juice of 2 lemons (about 1/4 cup)		Salt to taste

Directions

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat and sauté the onion, celery, and carrots until the onion turns translucent and begin to brown, about 5 to 10 minutes. Add the turmeric, cumin, chile flakes, 1 teaspoon of salt, 1 cup of the parsley and tomatoes

In a large stock pot add the broth or water and bring to a boil.

If using the soaked chickpeas, drain them and add to the pot. Simmer uncovered for 25 minutes, then add the lentils, another teaspoon of salt and a teaspoon of pepper and continue simmering until the chickpeas and lentils are cooked, about 45 minutes more.

or

If using canned chickpeas omit the first 25 minutes of simmering and add with the lentils.

Whisk the flour, egg, and lemon juice into 2 cups of water. Stir into the soup. Simmer the soup about 45 minutes to 1 1/2 hours more and serve.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Cardinal and the Counsellor: Part I The Cardinal’s Prayer

Posted on Sunday, 3, October, 2021Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Part II The Cardinal’s Secret will be posted on 5 October 2021

Over 400 years ago there lived a nobleman who held a very important position in the Spanish royal court. He was the chief advisor to the King, who held him in high regard. For the King’s counsellor was so wise and knowledgeable that there wasn’t any matter on which the King did not seek his advice.

For many years the counsellor served the King faithfully. But as he grew older, he felt his duties becoming increasingly difficult. So he asked the King to allow him to retire.

“My dear friend,” replied the King, “if you find me someone who is as gifted as you, capable of replacing you, I will release you from your duties.”

The counsellor had no choice but to stay on.

One day the counsellor suddenly fell ill. The King immediately ordered his personal physician to treat his dear, beloved counsellor. But all the doctor’s efforts seemed to fail. The counsellor’s condition deteriorated from day to day, and he seemed to be at death’s door.

The King then sadly sent for his personal priest to hear the counsellor’s last “confession,” for he had been a devout Catholic all his life. The cardinal entered the room of the dying man, lit candles, and asked everyone else to leave the room. After the cardinal had carried out all he had to do, he took a last look at the counsellor, whom he, too admired and loved, and left the room looking very sad and mournful.

The doctor now returned, expecting his patient to breathe his last at any moment. But to his unbelieving eyes he beheld a different person! The unconscious counsellor was actually moving his lips as if whispering a prayer! Beads of perspiration glistened on his pale face and he began to breathe deeply; he opened his eyes and asked for a drink of water.

From then on, the patient began to make an amazing recovery. He got better every day, and a few days later he was even able to get out of bed. The King visited him and told him how relieved and delighted he was that his dear friend had recuper¬ated in such a wonderful manner.

When the counsellor had fully recovered, he sent word to the cardinal, asking the clergyman to visit him.

The cardinal came promptly, and the counsellor said to him, “First of all I want to thank you for praying for me when the doctors had given up all hope for my recovery.”

“If my prayers helped,” replied the cardinal, “I am sure it was due to the fact that you had served the King and country so loyally.”

“But I have the distinct feeling that your prayers, in particular, helped me; especially the short, strange prayer, not in Latin, nor in our Spanish tongue, which you recited repeatedly…”

The cardinal paled and started to stammer, saying “The Almighty accepts prayers in any language; it is only important that the intention be sincere and the prayer come from the heart.”

“But,” persisted the counsellor, “I am especially curious to know what that prayer was which you repeatedly whispered into my ear. Was it some form of magic?”

“G-d forbid!” exclaimed the cardinal.

“So what was it then?”

“There are certain things which a clergyman has to keep secret,” answered the cardinal.

“That’s just an excuse. Tell me the truth,” the King’s counsellor demanded.

“The cardinal wiped the perspiration from his pale face and remained silent.

cardina;'s prayer

“Listen, my friend,” said the counsellor earnestly. “When I lay unconscious, my soul hovering between life and earth, the prayer that I heard you recite repeatedly sank into my brain. I had never heard such a prayer from you before, but I had heard the same words come from the lips of those secret Jews, the Marranos as they were being burned at the stake. With the last breath they called out the words Shema Yisrael…”

The cardinal remained silent, but he listened intently as the counsellor continued:

The cardinal’s face turned ashen. He seemed utterly crushed. The counsellor pressed his point relentlessly:

“As you know, it is the duty of every true Catholic to inform the Inquisition of any suspicious behavior of the secret Jews who are supposed to be practicing Catholics, but secretly continue to live in the faith of their ancestors. If you will tell me the whole truth and promise that from now on you will behave as a true Catholic should, especially as a priest, I will not inform about you to the Inquisition.”

For a while the cardinal remained silent. Then he quietly replied:

“It is true that I come from a family of secret Jews. When I was twelve years old, my father told me this secret. He told me further that in a year’s time I would be `bar mitzvah,’ and would from then on be obligated to carry out all the mitzvahs of a full-fledged Jew. He warned me about the terrible danger in which secret Jews have to live in Spain under the watchful eyes of the agents and spies working for the Inquisition. But, he said, we were Jews and had to face this danger. He further told me that he himself would prepare me for my bar mitzvah. This he did every day in a secret room in the cellar of our house, where we spent an hour in the morning and an hour at night. Here I began to put on tefillin. Later, when I became fifteen years of age, my father told me he was going to have me enrolled as a student in the Royal Seminary for the priesthood. He explained that as a priest I would have opportunities to help my Jewish brothers. I would have free access to every home and family without arousing suspicion. I would thus have the opportunity to encourage my Jewish brethren to keep firm their Jewishness as much as possible. There would also be the possibility of my winning the confidence of the inner circle of the Inquisition, and then I could do even more to help my brethren, warning those who were under suspicion, or about to be caught in the clutches of the Inquisition. All this, in fact, I was actually able to accomplish during these many years. The Almighty protected me from all danger…”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Kishke and Teshuvah

Posted on Friday, 5, March, 2021Thursday, 11, January, 2024 by Rabbi

Two kings from neighboring kingdoms once met and shared a meal together. A state dinner with many delicacies was served. One of the items on the menu was kishke. Traditional kishke is actually the intestines of a kosher animal stuffed with matzah meal and oil/schmaltz/fat and all sorts of spices. It is a special dish on the Shabbos (Sabbath) table and many times served in cholent.

Kishke was served at the royal dinner and the visiting king loved it. He asked his host to send the recipe to his royal kitchen. The hosting king graciously promised to do so. After the visiting king’s departure the royal cooks wrote down the recipe and sent it by a special messenger to the neighboring king’s chefs.

The day finally came when the king was told that he would be served kishke at the dinner meal. He sat down hungrily. Out came a tray, but a foul odor came from the tray. The smell was almost overwhelming. With great anticipation the king took off the cover from his plate and took a bite. He immediately spat out the piece and ordered the tray removed and the kishke thrown away.

A letter of official protest was immediately dispatched to the king who sent the recipe. How dare he send a recipe for such a vile food! The king received the distressing letter and summoned his cooking staff for an explanation.

Initially, the royal kitchen staff was confused. They went over the recipe and could not find the problem. After quite some time and in a moment of inspiration, one of the junior cooks observed, “We told him how to stuff and spice the kishke, but we never realized that we needed to tell him to clean it out before he stuffs it!”

This story is about teshuva (repentance). Many people wanting to do teshuvah and change their lives begin to think more and more about ways to improve. They give tzedakah (charity), pray earnestly and do good deeds. Surely good deeds are important in the process of change. Teshuvah/repentance is best when a person takes an honest assessment of oneself in order to correct any areas in their behavior that need fixing. Otherwise even with all of the spices (good deeds) in the world, a person may remain a stinking kishke…

KISHKE

This is a versatile recipe. If using oil, the Kishke is pareve. If using shmaltz, the Kishke is fleishig. For Pesach/Passover delete the flour and use only matzah meal. For Pesach/Passover one could use ¾ cup of cake meal and ¾ cup of matzah meal

INGREDIENTS

2 stalks celery with leaves, chopped		½ cup vegetable oil or shmaltz
1 carrot, grated		1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour or matzah meal
1 large onion, chopped		2 teaspoons paprika
1 teaspoon salt		½ teaspoon ground pepper

DIRECTIONS

Blend all ingredients except the flour/matzah meal and paprika in the blender. Do not blend too smooth: a coarse texture will make a more interesting kishke.

When blended, add the flour/matzah meal and paprika. Spoon half of the mixture onto a large piece of heavy duty aluminum foil. Shape like a cylinder. Fasten the foil securely at the top and the sides. Do the same with the other half of the mixture.

Place both rolls on a baking sheet (there might be some leakage). Bake in a 350-degree F. oven for 45 minutes. Carefully turn the kishke rolls over (to prevent burning on one side) and bake for approximately 45 minutes more. If additional browning is desired, turn the kishke rolls over once again and open the foil a bit. Remove the foil, slice, and serve.

Essen Gezunteheit

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Palace in the Clouds – A Jewish Tale from Ashur

Posted on Wednesday, 14, October, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Ikkar, the Jewish vizier of the king of Ashur, was the wisest man in the land, but he was not happy. He was the favorite of the king who bestowed upon him many honors, and well respected by the people who bowed before him in the streets and cast themselves on the ground at his feet to kiss the hem of his garment. He always had a kind word and a smile for those who came to him for advice and guidance, but his eyes were ever sad, and tears would trickle down his cheeks as he watched the little children at play in the streets.

He was recognized and respected as a man of wisdom far beyond the borders of Ashur, rulers feared to offend the king who had Ikkar as the chief of all his advisors and counselors. Sadly, Ikkar would often sit alone in his beautiful palace and sigh heavily. No sound of children’s laughter was ever heard in his home, and that was the cause of his sorrow. Ikkar was a pious man and deeply learned in the Holy Writings; every day he prayed long and with holy intent. He listened to the advice of holy men that he be blessed with at one son, or a daughter, so his name would not be forgotten in time. Yet, the years passed and no child was born to him.

Ikkar was married to a beautiful woman, Aaliyah. Her kindness and open hand was known throughout the land. Their one sadness was not having children. One night Ikkar had a dream in which a spirit appeared to him and said:

“Ikkar, you will die full of years and honor, but childless. Therefore, take Nadan, the son of your widowed sister and let him be a son to you.”

Nadan was a handsome youth of fifteen, and Ikkar related his dream to the boy’s mother who permitted him to take Nadan to his palace and there bring him up as his own son. The sadness faded from the vizier’s eyes as he watched the lad at his lessons, and Ikkar himself taught wisdom to Nadan. Sadly, to his surprise, and then to his grief, Nadan was not thankful for the riches and love lavished upon him. He neglected his lessons and grew very proud and arrogant. He treated the servants of the household harshly and did not obey the wise rules of Ikkar.

The vizier, however, was hopeful that he would reform and gain wisdom with years, and he took him to the palace of the king and appointed him an officer of the royal guard. For Ikkar’s sake, the king made Nadan one of his favorites, and all in the land looked upon the young man as the successor of Ikkar and the future vizier. This only served to make Nadan still more arrogant, and a wicked idea entered his head to gain further favor with the king and replace Ikkar at once.

“O King, live forever!” he said one day, when Ikkar was absent in a distant part of the land; “it grieves me to have to utter words of warning against Ikkar, the wise, the father who has adopted me. But he conspires to destroy you.”

The king laughed at this suggestion, but he became serious when Nadan promised to give him proof in three days. Nadan then set to work and wrote two letters. One was addressed to Pharaoh, king of Egypt, and read as follows:

Nadan then forged Ikkar’s name and took the letter to the king.

“I have found this,” he said, “and have brought it to you. It shows you that Ikkar would deliver this country to your enemy.”

The king was very angry and would have sent for Ikkar at once, but Nadan counseled patience.

“Wait until the tenth of next month, the day of the annual review, and you will see what will surprise you still more,” he said.

Then he wrote the second letter. This was to Ikkar and was forged with the king’s name and sealed with the king’s seal that he obtained. It bade Ikkar on the tenth of the next month to assemble the troops on the Eagle Plain to show how strong and disciplined they were to the foreign envoys. They were to pretend to attack the king.

The vizier returned the day before the review, and while the king stood with Nadan and the foreign envoys, Ikkar and the troops, acting on their instructions, made a pretense of attacking his majesty.

“Do you not see?” said Nadan. “The king of Egypt not being here, Ikkar threatens you,” and he immediately gave orders to the royal trumpeters to sound, “Halt!” Ikkar was brought before the king and confronted with the letter to Pharaoh.

“Explain this, if you can,” exclaimed the king, angrily. “I have trusted you and filled you with riches and honors and you betrayed me. Is not this your signature, and is not your seal attached?”

Ikkar was too shocked to reply, as Nadan whispered to the king that this proved his guilt.

“Lead him to the execution,” cried the king, “and let his head be severed from his body and cast one hundred amos (cubits) from the outermost wall of the city.”

Falling on his knees, Ikkar pleaded that at least he should be granted the privilege of being executed within his own house so that he might be buried there.

This request was granted, and Nabu Samak, the executioner, led Ikkar as a prisoner to his palace. Nabu Samak was a great friend to Ikkar and it grieved him to have to carry out the king’s order.

“Ikkar,” he said, “I am certain that you are innocent, and I will save you. Listen to me, in the prison is a bloodthirsty highwayman who has committed many murders and who deserves death. His beard and hair are like yours, and at a distance he can easily be mistaken for you. I shall behead him and show his head to the crowd, while you hide and live in secret.”

Ikkar thanked his friend and the plan was carried out. The murder’s head was exhibited to the crowd from the roof of the house and the people wept because they thought it was the head of the good Ikkar. Meanwhile, the vizier went down into the cellar deep beneath his palace and lived there, while his adopted son, Nadan, was appointed chief of the king’s counselors in his stead.

Now, when Pharaoh, king of Egypt, heard that Ikkar, the wise, had been executed, he determined to make war upon Ashur. Therefore, he dispatched a letter to the king, asking him to send an architect to design and build a palace in the clouds.

“If this you do,” he wrote, “I, Pharaoh, son of the Sun, will pay you tribute; if you fail, you must pay me tribute.”

The king of Ashur was stunned when he received the letter that had to be answered in three months. Nadan could not advise him what to do. The King bitterly regretted that Ikkar, the man of wisdom, was no longer by his side to advise him.

“I would give one-fourth of my kingdom to bring Ikkar to life again,” he sighed.

Hearing these words, Nabu Samak, the executioner, fell on his knees and revealed that Ikkar was alive.

“Bring him before me at once,” ordered the king.

Ikkar scarcely believed the good news when his friend came to him in the cellar. The people wept tears of joy and pity when the old vizier led through the streets of the city.

For the twelve months, he was hidden in the cellar his beard had grown down to the ground, his hair hung below his shoulders and his fingernails were very long. The king wept when he saw his old vizier.

“Ikkar,” he said, “for months have I felt that you were innocent, and I have missed your wise counsels. Help me in my difficulty and you shall be pardoned.”

“Your majesty,” said Ikkar, “I desire nothing more than to serve you. I am innocent. Time will prove me guiltless.”

When he saw Pharaoh’s demand, he smiled. “’This is an easy task,” he said. “I will go to Egypt and outwit Pharaoh.”

He gave orders that four of the tame eagles in the gardens of the palace be brought to him with cords five hundred amos long attached to their claws. Then he selected four agile youths, and trained them to sit on the backs of the eagles and soar aloft. This done, he set out for Egypt with a big caravan and a long retinue of slaves.

“What is your name?” asked Pharaoh, when he presented himself.

“My name is Chirag ibn Rahim, and I am the lowest of my king’s advisers.”

“Does your master then think my demand so simple?” asked Pharaoh.

Ikkar bowed to indicate that this was so, and Pharaoh was much annoyed and puzzled.

“Perform your task and at once,” he commanded.

At a sign from Ikkar, the four youths mounted the eagles that flew to the height of their cords. The birds remained in the air two hundred amos apart, as they had been trained, and the lads held cords in the form of a square.

“That is the plan of the palace in the clouds,” said Ikkar, pointing aloft. “Bid your men carry up bricks and mortar. The task is so simple that the boys will build.”

Pharaoh frowned, as he had not expected to be outwitted in such a way, but he would not immediately acknowledge this.

“In this land,” he said, sarcastically, “we use no mortar. We sew the stones together. Can you do this?”

“Easily,” replied Ikkar, “if your wise men can make me a thread of sand.”

“And can you weave a thread of sand?” asked Pharaoh.

“I can,” responded Ikkar.

Noting the direction of the sun, he bored a tiny hole in the wall, and a thin sunbeam gleamed through. Then, taking a few grains of sand, he blew them through the hole and in the sunbeam, they seemed like a thread.

“Take it, quickly,” he cried, but of course, nobody could do this.

Pharaoh looked long and earnestly at Ikkar.

“Truly, you are a man of wisdom,” he said. “If he were not dead I should say you wert Ikkar, the wise.”

“I am Ikkar,” answered the vizier, and he told the story of his escape.

“I will prove your innocence,” exclaimed Pharaoh. “I will write a letter to your royal master.”

Not only did he do so, but also he gave Ikkar many valuable presents and the vizier returned to Ashur, resumed his place by the king’s side, and became a greater favorite than before. The king ordered that his name be inscribed in the royal records so his name would never be forgotten.

Nadan was banished and never heard of again.

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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Rosh Hashanah Cholent (Stew) – A Story and Recipe

Posted on Thursday, 17, September, 2020Thursday, 21, September, 2023 by Rabbi

The story is told of a simple Jewish innkeeper who kept an inn on a distant crossroads many weeks’ journey from the nearest Jewish community, who one year decided to make the trip to the Jewish community for Rosh Hashanah.

When he entered the shul (synagogue) on Rosh Hashanah morning, it was already packed with worshippers, and the service was well underway. Scarcely knowing which way to hold the Machzor (holiday prayer book), he draped his tallis over his head and stood against the back wall where no one would notice him.

Hours passed. Hunger was beginning to gnaw at his insides, but the impassioned sounds of prayer around him showed no signs of lessening. Visions of the sumptuous holiday meal awaiting him at his lodgings made his eyes water in pain. What was taking so long? Haven’t we prayed enough? Still the service stretched on.

Suddenly, as the chazzan (cantor) reached a particularly stirring passage, the entire congregation burst into tears. Why is everyone weeping? Wondered the innkeeper. Then it dawned on him. Of course! They, too, are hungry. They, too, are thinking of the elusive meal and endless service. With a new surge of self-pity he gave vent to his anguish; a new wail joined the others as he, too, cried from the depths of his heart.

But after a while the crying let up, finally quieting to a sprinkling of exceptionally pious worshippers. The hungry innkeeper’s hopes soared, but the prayers went on and on. Why have they stopped crying? He wondered. Are they no longer hungry?

Then he remembered the cholent. What a cholent he had waiting for him! Everything else his wife had prepared for the holiday meal paled in comparison to that cholent. He fondly remembered the juicy chunk of meat she had put into the cholent when she set it on the fire the previous afternoon. The innkeeper knew one thing about cholent: the longer it cooks, the more enjoyable the cholent. He’d looked under the lid on his way to shul this morning, when the cholent had already been going for many hours. It smelled so good. Give it another few hours, and ahhhh. . . A few hours of aching feet and a hollow stomach are a small price to pay considering what was developing under that lid with each passing minute.

Obviously, that’s what his fellow worshippers are thinking, as well. They, too, have a cholent simmering on their stovetop. No wonder they’ve stopped crying. Let the service go on, he consoled himself, the longer the better.

And on the service went. His stomach felt like raw leather, his knees grew weak with hunger, his head throbbed in pain, his throat burned with suppressed tears. But whenever he felt that he simply could not hold out a moment longer, he thought of his cholent, imagining what was happening to that piece of meat at that very moment: the steady blending of flavors with the potatoes, barley, kishke and spices in the pot. Every minute longer, he kept telling himself, is another minute on the fire for my cholent.

An hour later, the cantor launched into another exceptionally moving piece. As his tremulous voice painted the awesome scene of divine judgment unfolding in the heavens, the entire shul broke down weeping once again. At this point, the dam burst in this simple Jewish innkeeper’s heart, for he well understood what was on his fellow worshippers’ minds. “Enough is enough!” he sobbed. “Never mind the cholent! Hashem forgive everyone for their weaknesses and untoward behavior. It’s been such a long time, shower the world with blessings and let us go home.

At last the service was over and the simple innkeeper joined his wife and enjoyed the Rosh Hashanah cholent.

Rosh Hashanahdike Zisseh Kartofl Cholent

Ingredients:

2 medium onions, chopped		1 cup barley
2-4 cloves garlic, minced		½ tbs coarse black pepper
olive oil (for sautéing)		1.5 lb. boneless shank, flanken or the kosher meat of your choice cut into pieces
2 tbsp. salt		4 medium potatoes, peeled and chopped
2 sweet potato, peeled and chopped		2 tbs . paprika
2 tbs honey		1 lb kishka

Directions:

Sauté the onions in oil until golden. Add the meat and brown on all sides.
Add the potatoes, barley and sweet potatoes.
Transfer the meat and onions to a crockpot
In 1 cup of water mix honey and spices. Cover with water.
Wrap the kishka in foil and set on top of cholent
Turn the crockpot onto before Rosh Hashanah begins, set the heat to low. Cook on low heat overnight.
On Rosh Hashanah, remove the crockpot insert from the heating element before you open it and serve.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Farfel: Put the Past Behind You

Posted on Friday, 28, August, 2020Thursday, 24, August, 2023 by Rabbi

The Talmud says that Shabbos is “a semblance of Olam Haba,” a taste of the delight of the World to Come. Certainly, this refers to something that is incomparably greater than the physical delights we experience.

The Midrash cites the phrase in Genesis (2:1): “And the heaven and earth were completed,” and comments that it is with the onset of Shabbos everything in Creation had been completed and not even the slightest thing was lacking, so should a person feel when Shabbos arrives: everything is complete, there is nothing lacking. There is not the slightest carryover of concern from the previous week. Nothing in one’s life is lacking, not even the slightest thing, just as G-d’s creation was totally complete.

We may have some difficulty in imagining so blissful a state, but if we could achieve it, it would indeed be “a semblance of Olam Haba.” Our minds would then be free for total devotion to spiritual pursuits.

Although a person should always have an attitude of teshuvah, Shabbos is a particularly favorable time for forgiveness. The Talmud says that if a person observes Shabbos properly, all his sins are forgiven (Koheles Rabbah 4). Inasmuch as a person receives an additional soul (neshamah yeseirah) on Shabbos, it is appropriate that one cleanse oneself of all one’s wrongdoings in preparation for this enhanced kedushah (holiness).

To assist in experiencing this heavenly feeling, a farfel stuffing was served on Friday night, and would be referred to it as “Teshuvah Farfel.” The Yiddish word farfallen means “it is in the past, over and done with.” As the farfel stuffing was served, people would say, “Whatever was until now is farfallen,” as a reminder that we should now put the entire past behind us and not bring any concerns of the workweek into Shabbos.

In this month before Rosh Hashanah, let us hope that all can do teshuvah and be forgiven of sins. Each Shabbos brings the hope that all is farfallen – it is in the past, over and done with – so each week we start anew.

Teshuvah Farfel Stuffing

INGREDIENTS

2 large onions, diced	½ pound mushrooms, sliced
3-4 table spoons olive oil or shamltz	garlic cloves, minced
½ teaspoon turmeric	2 celery ribs, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon cumin	1 pound matzo farfel
1 tablespoons fresh oregano	2 cups chicken broth/vegetable broth
1 teaspoon rubbed sage	2 eggs
1 teaspoon paprika	Kosher salt
¼ teaspoon pepper	Freshly ground black pepper

PREPARATION

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9 x 13inch casserole dish.

2. Sauté onions in a large sauté pan lightly coated olive oil/shmaltz, over medium-high heat, until medium brown and very soft.

3. Add mushrooms to the pan and a bit more olive oil/shmaltz. Add spices and continue to sauté

4. Add celery and garlic to the pan and continue to cook for 3 to 5 minutes until celery begins to soften.

5. Transfer vegetables to greased pan. Add matzo farfel, broth, and slightly beaten eggs. Stir to combine. Cover with foil and bake at 350°F for 30 minutes. Uncover and bake 15 minutes more until lightly browned, or cool completely and freeze for up to 1 month.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Baker’s Reward

Posted on Tuesday, 25, August, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Part II – A Blessing Realized and Meeting the Rabbi

When he thought about all those golden coins that his kind employer set aside for him, and were wait¬ing for him at the secret cellar, the baker felt sad. He remembered the rabbi’s blessing. Those golden coins would have made him a rich man, though not nearly as rich as he had expected if the rabbi’s bless¬ing came true. Now he had lost even that! True, he had saved quite a bit from his wages, but now that he had to go back to his bakery there was not much of a chance that he should ever see a golden coin again. “Well, so be it,” he thought, and dismissed the whole matter from his mind.

A few days later, when the baker was in the market place, he heard that a house on the outskirts of the town was up for public sale, as the owner had died without leaving any heir or will. It immediately occurred to the baker that this could very well be the house with the cellar where he had been working for the stranger.

The following morning, the baker took his sav¬ings and hastened to the auction. The house proved to be no great attraction by the look of it; it was old and run-down. No wonder there were very few peo¬ple who were eager to make a bid for it.

The bidding started low, and when the baker raised his offer to an amount he felt he could scrape together by selling his bakery, there was no one who was prepared to outbid him. So his modest offer was accepted, and he put down the money he had with him as a deposit.

In due course, the purchase of the house was completed, and the baker received the keys and title to the house. Thereupon, he moved into the house, and immediately made his way downstairs to the cellar. His heart beating with anticipation and excitement, he tried one key after another until he finally unlocked and opened the creaky door, carefully closing and locking it after him. Then he lit the candle he had taken with him, and lo and behold! The scene was exactly as he had left it the last day he had worked there. There were the neatly stacked up piles of golden coins on the long wooden table, and the jewels, and half-emptied bags as well as many bulging bags with gold and gems that had not yet been touched. What good fortune that no one had been interested enough in the house to go down and look at the cellar!

After feasting his eyes on all that treasure that was now his, he sat down to ponder his new situa¬tion. He realized that he could not suddenly show himself in town as a wealthy man, for everybody knew him as a poor baker. If the local authorities would get wind of his wealth, it would be the end of it for him. So he thought of a plan.

He began to drop a word here and there among his friends and neighbors that he had received word from his uncle in Istanbul, who had no children, and was getting old, asking him to come to live with him and help him in his business. This gave him an excuse to make several trips to Istanbul and transfer his entire fortune there.

The former baker bought a beautiful, home in the center of the city and presented himself as a prosperous diamond merchant. He set up a large business, and soon became very influential in government circles. Never did he forget, however, that all his good fortune came to him because of the rabbi’s blessing, and he hoped that he would some day be able to repay him as he richly deserved.

Many years passed since that night when the rabbi troubled his Arab neighbor, the baker, to light his lamp for him. The aged rabbi, whose lifelong yearning was to be reunited with the Divine Presence at the sacred Western Wall in the Holy City of Jerusalem, now decided to spend his last days in the Holy Land.

When the leaders of the Jewish community in Tunisia learned of their beloved rabbi’s decision, they provided him with all the necessary expenses, as well as with a companion to care for him on the long, difficult journey. They also sent out letters to the heads of the Jewish communities in the various cities where the rabbi would be stopping on his way to the Holy Land, so that they would be prepared to receive the holy rabbi with the honor and respect due to him.

The rabbi arrived in Istanbul where he was duly received with honor and affection. The head of the Jewish community invited him to be his guest for as long as he would care to stay.

While questioning about the needs and concerns of the Jewish community, the rabbi asked his host if there was anything he could do help the community while he was in Istanbul. The head of the community heaved a deep sigh and replied:

“As it happens, our Jewish community is in serious difficulties at present, due to certain decrees that the government has imposed. The only person who can help us is a rich effendi who had great influence at the royal court. A delegation of our com¬munity leaders is going to meet with him tomorrow. However, we are quite concerned about the outcome, as we have never approached him before, and we have no idea how he will react to our request. Would the holy rabbi care to join our delegation? With the help of the Holy One, blessed be He, and in your merits, the chances of success would surely be increased.”

The rabbi readily agreed to go along with the delegation.

As soon as the delegation was ushered into the room where the effendi awaited it, everyone was startled and astonished to see the effendi spring up from his seat and rush to the rabbi to welcome him. The effendi grasped the rabbi’s hands and kissed them reverently. “I am so happy and honored to see you, rabbi,” he said excitedly.

The rabbi looked as much surprised as eve-ryone present.

Returning to his seat, the effendi asked everyone to be seated, and said, “I am now ready to hear your request.”

The head of the Jewish community then told the effendi about the difficult situation the community faced if the harsh decrees were put into effect. He begged the effendi to use his influence at the royal court to persuade the Sultan to rescind them.

“I give you my word,” the effendi promised, “that I shall not rest until I carry out your request.” Then he added, “Now, honorable representatives, please excuse me while I speak for a while to the distinguished guest from Tunisia.”

Thereupon the effendi led the rabbi to a private room, and when they were both seated, began at once:

A happy smile appeared on the rabbi’s face. Of course he remembered that night, and he now realized that the baker and the effendi were one and the same person.

“As you see, holy Rabbi, your blessing came true, beyond my wildest expectations.”

The effendi then confided to the Rabbi how, in a very strange and wondrous way, he had come to his great wealth, and had never forgotten for a moment that it was due only to the rabbi’s blessing. He further told the rabbi how he cherished the hope to see him again and repay in some small measure for the good fortune he had brought him. This is why he was so excited to see him and so eager to fulfill the request of the Jewish community.

Having told his story to the rabbi, the effendi produced a purse filled with golden coins and said, “I would consider it a privilege if the rabbi would accept this as a personal gift.”

The rabbi declined it with thanks, assuring the effendi that all his needs have been provided for.

Before parting, the effendi begged the rabbi to bless him again that his good fortune should con¬tinue to shine on him.

“You see, my friend,” the rabbi replied, “The Almighty pays his debts. In the merit of the good deed you performed to bring light into my home, so that I could study the holy writings, the Almighty bright¬ened your life with good fortune. Be good to the Jewish people, and be generous with your wealth to help anyone in need, then The Holy One, blessed be He will continue to bless you with good health and prosperity.”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Baker’s Reward

Posted on Sunday, 23, August, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Part I – A Lamp and a Blessing

Many years ago there lived in Tunisia a holy rabbi, who was highly respected by all the people in his community. He spent most of his time studying the Torah. After a few hours of sleep, he would to get up in the middle of the night to recite Tikkun Chatzot a Jewish prayer recited as an expression of mourning and lamentation over the destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. He would then joyfully return to study Torah and other holy writings until the early hours of the morning.

One night, he was distressed to find that he had no way to light his oil lamp. Then he remembered that his Arab neighbor, the baker, probably still had a fire in his oven. So the Rabbi went across the street and knocked on the baker’s door, hoping he might still be awake.

The baker had already gone to bed and was fast asleep. The Rabbi kept on knocking until the baker finally opened the door and demanded, sleepily, to know why he was being disturbed in the middle of the night.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” answered the rabbi apologetically, “but I need a light for my lamp.”

There were still some flickering coals in the oven, so the baker kindled a firebrand and gave it to the rabbi.

The rabbi thanked the baker and left. He had hardly crossed the street when the wind blew out the firebrand. As much as he hated to bother the baker again, the rabbi made his way back to the bakery and knocked again on the door.

The sleepy baker got out of bed again and opened the door, looking surprised and annoyed.

“Please forgive me for troubling you again, but the wind blew out the light. I am very sorry…”

Muttering to himself, the baker went to fetch a freshly lit kindling stick, and gave it to the Rabbi without a word. The rabbi thanked him very much, wished him a very good night, and left.

This time he reached his door successfully, but just as he was about to open it, a gust of wind blew out the light again.

“Enough is enough,” a voice inside of him said, “give up and go to bed!”

“Oh no!” The rabbi heard himself say, determined that he would not let anything keep him from his holy studies. He turned around and went to his Arab neighbor for the third time.

Not surprisingly, the baker was frustrated this time, and he opened his door to the rabbi saying:

“Believe me, I am truly sorry to cause you so much trouble, but it is most important that I can light my lamp to study G-d’s holy word. The Holy One, blessed be He will surely reward you for your good deed with so much gold that would outweigh by far that heavy iron bar!”

The Arab baker had a great respect for the holy rabbi’s blessing. His frustration disappeared and, he observed, “I see you are not used to handling firebrands; this time I’ll take it across for you and make sure that your lamp is lit.”

Saying this, the baker put on his coat, took a burning kindling stick and sheltering it with his coat, successfully brought it into the Rabbi’s house and lit his lamp.

Happy to have received such a wonderful bless¬ing from the holy rabbi, the baker returned home, while the rabbi sat down with a grateful heart and immersed himself in his holy study.

The baker had no doubt that the rabbi’s bless¬ing would be fulfilled. But day followed day and nothing happened. He continued to sweat at his oven, scraping coal, but not gold.

“I guess I am not worthy of the rabbi’s blessing; I’d better forget all about it,” the baker concluded sadly.

One day, as he took a stroll towards the bazaar to cool off and catch a breath of fresh air, a stranger approached him and asked him if he was looking for work.

“I have a job. I’m a baker, and while it brings me no riches, I make a living, thanks to the Holy One, blessed be He.”

“I see you’re an honest man,” said the stranger. “I need a man like you for my business. What if I offered you five times the amount you earn from your bakery; would you be interested to work for me for a few months?”

“If it’s just for a few months, I’d first have to find someone to take over my bakery for that period of time.”

“Good,” said the stranger. “Let’s meet here tomorrow at the same time.”

The following day, when the baker arrived at the arranged meeting place, the stranger was already there waiting for him.

“I’m ready to start working for you,” the baker announced.

“Very good, come with me.”

The stranger led the baker through a maze of unfamiliar winding streets, uphill and downhill, turning now right now left, until he finally stopped in a side alley.

“I hope you’ll not mind being blindfolded,” the stranger said to the baker. “No one, not even you, must know where you are working; and you must not breathe a word to anyone about the kind of work you’re doing for me.”

The stranger took out a long kerchief and blindfolded the baker. They continued walking for a short distance, then stopped again. Here the stranger led the baker down some steps, took out a large key and opened a creaking door.

“Here we are,” said the stranger, removing the blindfold from the baker’s eyes.

The baker found himself in a windowless cellar, where, by the light of a lamp that the stranger had lit, he saw a long table, with a couple of chairs. On the table lay many small bags, bulging with golden coins and jewels, worthy of a royal treasury.

“Your job,” said the stranger “is to help me separate the coins and jewels and sort them out in heaps according to their size. Then you will have to count them, record the totals, and put them into bags.”

They got busy without further talk except for the instructions the baker received. He liked the work very much, and the time passed quickly.

“That’s enough for today,” said the stranger finally. He gave the baker his day’s wages, five times the amount he would have earned from his bakery. He then put aside a golden coin, saying, “Each day, in addition to your wages, I shall put aside a golden coin for you, and when the entire job is finished I shall give you all the accumulated coins as a parting gift.”

The stranger again blindfolded the baker, unlocked the cellar door, and led him out, carefully locking the door after them. Up the steps, they went and after some distance, he removed the blindfold. They continued by a different way and finally came to the place where they had met for the first time.

“Until tomorrow morning, same time, same place,” the stranger said, and went his way.

They met every morning and spent the day working together in that secret cellar, until one morning, several weeks later, the stranger did not turn up. The baker waited for him for a long time in vain, so he went home. The same thing happened the following day. When the stranger didn’t turn up on the third day either, the baker concluded that something must have happened to him, for they had not fin¬ished their work. “Where can I look for him? I don’t know his name, or where he lives; so that’s the end of that.” There was nothing left for him to do but to return to his work at the bakery.

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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The Shalom Bayis Kugel and Recipe

Posted on Thursday, 20, August, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

A husband and wife came to holy rabbi. They’d had a big argument and said very hurtful things to one another. They were both angry and sad and wanted a divorce.

“My wife,” complained the man, “every week she makes for Shabbos a delicious kugel. I love that kugel! All week I work very hard, just to enjoy that kugel! When I just think of that kugel, my mouth starts watering . . . But what does this foolish woman do to me? She torments me! After I recite the kiddush, do I get the kugel? No-o-o-o. First, she serves the gefilte fish. Then the soup. Then the chicken. And the potatoes. Then a couple of other dishes, and then I’m full; I can’t possibly take one more bite. Then she brings in the kugel! Now, shouldn’t I divorce her?”

The husband went on to say lot more that people normally don’t say in front of a rabbi.

The wife explained that in her parents’ home, it was always done this way. She wouldn’t budge.

So the holy rabbi decided that from now on, she should make two kugels: one to be eaten right after kiddush, and one to serve after the fish and the soup and the chicken and the potatoes. The couple left, reconciled.

From that day on, the holy rabbi always had two kugels at his Shabbos table—one right after kiddush, and another one after the main course. They called it the Shalom Bayis (“peace in the home”) kugel.

Vegetable Kugel Recipe

Ingredients:

2 large onions, diced		4 carrots, shredded
3-4 Tablespoons oil or shmaltz		8 eggs
4 stalks celery, diced		salt to taste
2 green peppers, diced		pepper to taste
4 stalks celery, diced		1/2 lb. mushrooms, sliced or chopped (optional)
8 large Idaho potatoes (4-5 lbs.), grated

1. Preheat oven to 375°.

2. Sauté the onions in oil until golden. Add the celery, peppers, mushrooms (if using), and carrots. Sauté until soft.

3. Place the eggs into a mixing bowl. Beat by hand and add salt and pepper to taste.

4. In a food processor, grate the potatoes using the fine shredder. Transfer to the egg mixture. Add the sautéed vegetables. Mix thoroughly.

5. Pour into a 9″x13″ pan. Bake for 40-60 minutes, until browned and crusty.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Then Rabbi Eleazar said, “That must have been Eliyahu haNovi (Elijah the Prophet).” And he rejoiced because he withstood the test and humbled himself with us before him.

Zohar Chadash Lech Lecha 22

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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

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One day, the innkeeper prepared a large pot of soup. As meal­time drew nearer, she went to check on the food to determine whether or not it was ready to be served. As she made her way towards the pot, a foul odor filled her nostrils.

She quickly ascertained that the ingredients she had used to pre­pare the broth must have been slightly spoiled, and this was indeed the cause of the terrible smell. She was now faced with a problem: Mealtime was rapidly approaching — what would she serve her guests?

What could she do?

She took fragrant spices and sprinkled them generously into the steamy pot; it was not long before the smell of the spices overpow­ered the foul odor.

She served the soup to the laborers, and they ate heartily.

“This soup is wonderful!” exclaimed one of the laborers. “It truly smells like Gan Eden!”

Sitting next to him was a traveler with a sensitive palate who said, “You are mistaken.” “The food is completely spoiled; the smell is coming from spices that hide the foul stench…”

The yetzer hara tries to persuade a person to sin. The sin, however, emits a putrid odor, and the soul immediately perceives the trick and attempts to flee. But the yetzer hara clothes the wicked deed in a guise of tempta­tion and appeal to conceal the foul stench.

The more putrid the odor, the more spices the yetzer hara deceitfully adds…

A person must arrive at the realization that the “food” is spoiled and that they must push it away with both hands!

Harira – Spiced Moroccan Vegetable Soup

A Muslim staple to break the daily fast of Ramadan, it has crossed over to the Moroccan Jewish tradition of breaking the fast of Yom Kippur, Tisha b’Av and other fast days. Although many cooks make this with meat, this is a pareve recipe.

Ingredients

4 tablespoons olive oil

1 bunch parsley, chopped, divided

1-2 large onion, diced (about 2 cups)

1 (15-ounce) can tomatoes, crushed, or 2 cups tomato sauce

3 stalks celery, diced (about 1 1/2 cups)

7 cups broth or water

3 large carrots, peeled and cut in rounds

1 cup dried chickpeas, soaked overnight and cooked or 1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas, drained

1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric

1 cup green lentils

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon coarse ground black pepper

1 Teaspoon Zahtar

2 tablespoons all-purpose unbleached flour

1/2 to 1 teaspoon dried red pepper flakes

1 large egg

Juice of 2 lemons (about 1/4 cup)

Salt to taste

Directions

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat and sauté the onion, celery, and carrots until the onion turns translucent and begin to brown, about 5 to 10 minutes. Add the turmeric, cumin, chile flakes, 1 teaspoon of salt, 1 cup of the parsley and tomatoes

In a large stock pot add the broth or water and bring to a boil.

If using the soaked chickpeas, drain them and add to the pot. Simmer uncovered for 25 minutes, then add the lentils, another teaspoon of salt and a teaspoon of pepper and continue simmering until the chickpeas and lentils are cooked, about 45 minutes more.

or

If using canned chickpeas omit the first 25 minutes of simmering and add with the lentils.

Whisk the flour, egg, and lemon juice into 2 cups of water. Stir into the soup. Simmer the soup about 45 minutes to 1 1/2 hours more and serve.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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

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Part II The Cardinal’s Secret will be posted on 5 October 2021

For many years the counsellor served the King faithfully. But as he grew older, he felt his duties becoming increasingly difficult. So he asked the King to allow him to retire.

“My dear friend,” replied the King, “if you find me someone who is as gifted as you, capable of replacing you, I will release you from your duties.”

The counsellor had no choice but to stay on.

One day the counsellor suddenly fell ill. The King immediately ordered his personal physician to treat his dear, beloved counsellor. But all the doctor’s efforts seemed to fail. The counsellor’s condition deteriorated from day to day, and he seemed to be at death’s door.

From then on, the patient began to make an amazing recovery. He got better every day, and a few days later he was even able to get out of bed. The King visited him and told him how relieved and delighted he was that his dear friend had recuper¬ated in such a wonderful manner.

When the counsellor had fully recovered, he sent word to the cardinal, asking the clergyman to visit him.

The cardinal came promptly, and the counsellor said to him, “First of all I want to thank you for praying for me when the doctors had given up all hope for my recovery.”

“If my prayers helped,” replied the cardinal, “I am sure it was due to the fact that you had served the King and country so loyally.”

“But I have the distinct feeling that your prayers, in particular, helped me; especially the short, strange prayer, not in Latin, nor in our Spanish tongue, which you recited repeatedly…”

The cardinal paled and started to stammer, saying “The Almighty accepts prayers in any language; it is only important that the intention be sincere and the prayer come from the heart.”

“But,” persisted the counsellor, “I am especially curious to know what that prayer was which you repeatedly whispered into my ear. Was it some form of magic?”

“G-d forbid!” exclaimed the cardinal.

“So what was it then?”

“There are certain things which a clergyman has to keep secret,” answered the cardinal.

“That’s just an excuse. Tell me the truth,” the King’s counsellor demanded.

“The cardinal wiped the perspiration from his pale face and remained silent.

The cardinal remained silent, but he listened intently as the counsellor continued:

“I have given this matter much thought. I have come to the conclusion that you are one of the Marranos! Not only are you secretly practicing the Jewish religion, but at the same time you are dishonoring the priestly cloth you are wearing…”

The cardinal’s face turned ashen. He seemed utterly crushed. The counsellor pressed his point relentlessly:

For a while the cardinal remained silent. Then he quietly replied:

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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

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A letter of official protest was immediately dispatched to the king who sent the recipe. How dare he send a recipe for such a vile food! The king received the distressing letter and summoned his cooking staff for an explanation.

One day, the innkeeper prepared a large pot of soup. As mealtime drew nearer, she went to check on the food to determine whether or not it was ready to be served. As she made her way towards the pot, a foul odor filled her nostrils.

She quickly ascertained that the ingredients she had used to prepare the broth must have been slightly spoiled, and this was indeed the cause of the terrible smell. She was now faced with a problem: Mealtime was rapidly approaching — what would she serve her guests?

She took fragrant spices and sprinkled them generously into the steamy pot; it was not long before the smell of the spices overpowered the foul odor.

The yetzer hara tries to persuade a person to sin. The sin, however, emits a putrid odor, and the soul immediately perceives the trick and attempts to flee. But the yetzer hara clothes the wicked deed in a guise of temptation and appeal to conceal the foul stench.