The Beggar King

Posted on Wednesday, 13, November, 2019Wednesday, 10, January, 2024 by Rabbi

Proud King Hagag sat on his magnificent throne, and a holy man reading from the Holy Book, as was his daily custom. The holy man read these words: “for riches do not last forever, nor a crown for all generations” (Proverbs 27:24).

“Cease!” cried the king. “Who wrote those words?”

“They are the words of the Wisest of Kings,” answered the holy man.

“Give me the book,” commanded the king.

With trembling hands, the holy man placed it before his majesty. King Hagag gazed earnestly at the words that had been read, and he frowned. Raising his hand, he tore the page from the book and threw it to the ground.

“I, Hagag, am king,” he said, “and all such passages that offend me shall be torn out.”

He flung the volume angrily from him while the holy man and all his courtiers looked on in astonishment.

“I have heard enough for today,” he said. “Too long have I delayed my hunting. Prepare the horses immediately.”

He came down from the throne, stalked angrily past the trembling figure of the holy man, and went out to hunt. Soon he was galloping across an open plain toward a forest when a wild stag darted across the field. A trumpet sounded and the hunt began. The king urged his horse forward to be the first in the chase. His steed was the swiftest in the whole kingdom.

In his excitement of the chase, the king vanished from the sight of his nobles and attendants. The deer was surprisingly swift and the king could not catch up with it. Coming to a river, the animal plunged in and swam across. Scrambling up the opposite bank its antlers caught in the branch of a tree, and the king, arriving at the river, gave a cry of joy.

“Now I have you,” he said. Springing from his horse and stripping off his clothes, he swam across with nothing but a sword.

As he reached the opposite bank, the deer freed itself from the tree and plunged into a brush. The king, with his sword in his hand, followed quickly, but could not find the deer. Instead, he found, lying on the ground beyond the thicket, a beautiful youth clad in a deerskin. He was panting as if after a long run. The king stood still in surprise and the youth sprang to his feet.

“I am the deer,” he said. “I am a messenger and I have lured you to this spot, proud king, to teach you a lesson for your words this morning.”

Before King Hagag could recover from his surprise, the youth ran back to the river and swam across. Quickly he dressed himself in the king’s clothes and mounted the horse just as the other hunters came up. They thought the messenger was King Hagag and they halted before him.

“Let us return,” said the messenger. “The deer has crossed the river and has escaped.”

King Hagag from behind a tree on the opposite side watched them ride away and then flung himself on the ground and wept bitterly. There he lay until a woodcutter found him.

“What do you here?” asked the man.

“I am King Hagag,” answered the king.

“You are a fool,” said the woodcutter. “You are a lazy good-for-nothing to say such things. Come, carry my bundle of sticks and I will give you food and an old garment.”

Unsuccessfully the king protested. The woodcutter only laughed the more, and at last, losing patience, he beat him and drove him away. Tired and hungry, and clad only in the rags that the woodcutter had given him, King Hagag reached the palace late at night.

“I am King Hagag,” he said to the guards, but told him to go away. The king spent a terrible sleepless night in the streets of the city. The next morning, he was glad to accept some bread and milk offered to him by a poor old woman who took pity on him. He stood at a street corner not knowing what to do. Little children teased him; others took him for a beggar and offered him money. Later in the day, he saw the messenger ride through the streets on his horse. All the people bowed down before him and cried, “Long live the king!”

“Woe is me,” cried Hagag, in his unhappiness. “I am punished for my sin in scoffing at the words of the Holy Book.”

He saw that it would be useless for him to go to the palace again, and he went into the fields and tried to earn his bread as a laborer. He was not used to work, however, and but for the kindness of the very poorest he would have died of starvation. He wandered miserably from place to place until he fell in with some blind beggars who had been deserted by their guide. Joyfully he accepted their offer to take the guide’s place.

Months rolled by, and one morning the royal heralds went forth and announced that “Good King Hagag” would give a feast in one week and all the beggars in the land were invited to attend.

From all over the kingdom, beggars came to enjoy the feast, and Hagag stood among them, with his blind companions, in the courtyard of the palace waiting for his majesty to appear. He knew the palace well, and he hung his head and wept.

“His majesty will speak to each one of you who are his guests today,” cried a herald, and one by one they passed into the palace and stood before the throne. When it came to Hagag’s turn, he trembled so much that he had to be supported by the guards.

The messenger on the throne and Hagag looked long at each other.

“Are you a beggar also?” said the messenger.

“No, gracious majesty,” answered Hagag with bent head. “I have sinned seriously and have been punished. I am but the servant of a troop of blind beggars to whom I act as guide.”

The messenger king signed to his courtiers that he desired to be left alone with Hagag. Then he said, “Hagag, I know you. I see that you have repented. It is well. Now you can take your rightful place upon the throne.”

“Gracious majesty,” said Hagag, “I have learned humility and wisdom. The throne is not for me. The blind beggars need me. Let me remain in their service.”

“It cannot be,” said the messenger. “I see that you truly regret you past actions. Your lesson is learned and my task is done. I will see that the blind beggars lack nothing.”

With his own hands he placed the royal robes on Hagag and himself donned those of the beggar. When the courtiers returned they saw no difference. King Hagag sat on the throne again, and nowhere in the whole world was there a king who ruled more wisely or showed more kindness and sympathy to all his subjects.

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)

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 Beshert’s Forest: Part II The Underground Kingdom

Posted on Monday, 11, November, 2019Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

When the robbers awoke in the morning, Chaim Dovid watched them drink the wine. Then, one after another, they began to choke from the poison, and soon they all lay dead.

Now Chaim Dovid carefully lowered himself from the tree and checked every one of the robbers and they were all dead. Then he looked for something to eat. In one of the robbers’ bags he found a loaf of bread, but the others were crammed with stolen riches of every kind. Chaim Dovid emptied bag after bag onto the ground and was amazed at all they had carried away. But when he shook out the last bag, he found it had a false bottom. He took a knife and cut it open, and a shining object came tumbling out—a round, glowing jewel. He held it up and turned it around, but try as he might, Chaim Dovid could not see the source of the light inside it. Surely, he thought, that was a priceless treasure. He recognized that such a precious object could only be owned by a king.

Now this student cared little for material goods. His concerns were those of the spirit. He would not have minded leaving all the gold and silver behind, but he could not abandon that glowing jewel, so he put it into his own bag. Then he buried the robbers and said a prayer over their souls, for surely they had found terrible punishments for their evil deeds. He then packed his bag and went on his way, going in the direction the robbers had come from, in the hope that he would find a city or town of some kind. He prayed and thanked to G-d for letting him survive that dangerous night.

Little by little, the faint path he followed became well worn, and that, in turn, led him to a wide road. Soon he reached the gates of that underground city.

There Chaim Dovid saw that the people of the city were dressed for mourning, and he asked a young man passing by what had happened. “Two tragedies have struck our kingdom at the same time. First, our king died without leaving any heir except for his daughter, the princess. And second, the king’s enchanted jewel was stolen by thieves. Now this glow¬ing jewel has always revealed who will succeed the king. But now no one knows where it is. Even so, the princess has declared that she will marry whoever brings that glowing jewel to her, for the jewel has always suc¬ceeded in reaching the one who was destined to be king. For it is guided by the hand of fate.”

Now Chaim Dovid shivered when he heard this, for he was carrying the glowing jewel in his pack. He took his leave of the young man and set off for the palace. when he reached the royal palace, he asked to see the princess, saying that he had news of the glowing jewel.

When the guards heard this, they took him to the princess at once, and he was overwhelmed by her great beauty and by the wisdom and radiance of her eyes. “Tell me,” she said, “what you know about the jewel?” Chaim Dovid was speechless, but he pulled the jewel out of his pack and gave it to her. The princess looked at him with amazement and said, “Then it is you who is destined to be my husband, and you who are destined to rule. But how did you come into possession of the jewel?”

So, the young man told her of his night in the forest and all that he had witnessed. He offered to lead guards to that very place, to confirm his account and to recover the other items the robbers had stolen. This was done, and the guards confirmed everything he had said. So it was that the wedding soon took place, and the young man, who had been a poor student, now found himself a great king in that underground country.

Now the young man ruled using the principles of the rabbis, as he had learned in his studies of the Talmud, and the kingdom flourished. So too did the young man fall in love with the princess, now his queen. Together they had three children, two boys and a girl, and he loved all of them as much as life itself.

Then one day there was a sudden storm that grew into a great tor¬rent. A great wave washed through the palace and carried the king out an open window and away from that world forever. The current carried him further and further downstream, and suddenly thrust him into a great whirlpool. As he was pulled down, the young man was certain that his life had come to an end. Then, all at once, he found himself standing in a mikveh. Then he recalled having descended the stairs in search of the mikveh just before reaching the underground forest. Now he looked up and saw a short stairway nearby, with no more than ten steps. He climbed out, greatly confused, and stumbled back to the home of the holy rabbi. The moment the rabbi opened the door, Chaim Dovid burst into tears and asked the rabbi how long he had been gone. “Why, no more than an hour,” holy rabbi answered. Then Chaim Dovid told the rabbi of all the years that he had lived through since he had gone into the mikveh, and he poured out his heart and begged the rabbi to explain how such things had happened to him. For it seemed to him that the world had been turned upside down.

The holy rabbi said, “Let me first introduce you to my daughter, and then I will explain.” He called forth his daughter, and when Chaim Dovid saw her, he almost fainted. For she was the very princess he had wed in the underground city! The rabbi saw that the young man was overwhelmed, and he quickly said: “Listen carefully to what I tell you. I learned from a heavenly voice that it was you who were destined to marry my daughter. And when you arrived here, I recognized you at once. That is why I sent you to the mikveh, for in this way you traveled the path of your own des-tiny, and now you can understand that you are indeed destined for my daughter.”

So it was that the young man married the daughter of the holy rabbi, and they loved each other as if they had already been married in another life. They had three children, two boys and a girl, who were identical to the children he had when he was king. Chaim Dovid loved all of them with all his heart and thanked G-d for restoring his family to him. He always held them dear to him, for he remembered well how quickly they had been lost.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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A Beshert’s Forest: Part I The Journey to the Forest

Posted on Sunday, 10, November, 2019Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

On the eve of the Yahrzeit (third anniversary) of his father’s death, Chaim Dovid dreamed that his father came to him and told him to go to a faraway town. The next morning Chaim Dovid was amazed how real his father had seemed to him in the dream. He thought for a long time about the strange message: to go to a place where he didn’t know anyone. Chaim Dovid wondered if he could leave the safe halls of study because of a dream. Surely his teachers would forbid him to go because of a dream.

All day Chaim Dovid strongly felt his father’s presence and realized how intensely he missed him. The next night he had the dream again. It was a little different in that his father told him to see the holy rabbi in a faraway town for Rosh Hodesh, the celebration of the new month. Chaim Dovid knew that he had to decide whether to act on the dream or not.

The problem resolved itself the third night, when the dream was repeated, except that this time Chaim Dovid’s father told him to go to the faraway town for Rosh Chodesh and seek out the holy rabbi who lived there.

Chaim Dovid decided that he must travel to the faraway town, no matter what. His father convinced him that he must go. He wrote a letter to teachers explaining that he had left the halls of study to claim an inheritance in in a faraway town. This, he reasoned, would be more acceptable to him than his father’s command in a dream.

Chaim Dovid took a carriage to the faraway town. In the carriage were two merchants. As Chaim Dovid listened, they spoke about the holy rabbi. “It is said,” said one merchant, “that the holy rabbi understood the written and hidden mysteries and wonders of the Torah (Scriptures).” “That is very true,” said the other, “for I myself have heard of a man who came to the holy rabbi when he was full of doubts about G-d and faith. When he knocked on the door, the holy rabbi opened it and said: ‘Young man, I myself know what you are thinking. And if I know, should not G-d know?’ ” And Chaim Dovid wondered what kind of man he had been sent to, who could read the thoughts of men.

Chaim Dovid arrived only a few hours before the eve of Rosh Chodesh, the Feast of the New Moon. The holy rabbi greeted him and welcomed him to use the mikveh (ritual bath) before Rosh Hodesh. A servant showed him to the mikveh in a shed behind the holy rabbi’s house. The young man walked to the small shed and stepped inside. He saw a stairway, but from the top of the stairs he could not see the water below. Instead, he heard a deep whisper, like the wind rustling through trees. How strange, he thought to himself, that this whispering should come from within the mikveh.

Curious to see for himself, Chaim Dovid slowly walked down the stairs. Surprisingly, the stairway was very long, much longer than he expected. After a few moments. He found that he could see the top of the stairs nor the bottom from where he stood. He feared that something strange was taking place, as if he were descending from one world into another. Surely, he thought, no stairway could be this long.

With each step along the way, the whispering from below grew louder. Soon he could make out a lot of forest sounds — owls calling out, wolves howling, and the gurgling of a stream. Chaim Dovid was afraid and uncertain and wanted to turn back, but he willed himself to continue on. He hoped that he was almost there.

At last Chaim Dovid reached the bottom of the long stairs, but he found no sign of a mikveh. Instead, he found himself standing in a dense forest. He was confused and wanted to turn back. But when he turned around, the stairs were gone. There was no sign of them at all. How would he ever return to the world above?

With no other choice, Chaim Dovid looked around and saw that it was growing dark. He knew it was unsafe to stay where he was and looked for a tree to safely spend the night. He found one in a nearby clearing and pulled himself up into the branches. He was comfortable, but he knew he must not fall asleep or he might fall to the ground.

When it was completely dark, a band of robbers came into that clearing and made a campfire not far from the very tree into which Chaim Dovid had climbed. He was well hidden in the branches, but he was terrified that the robbers would find him and everything he had and then kill him. The robbers gathered around a fire and bragged about their adventures, how many men they had killed, and who among them was the strongest and most skilled. They shared stories half the night, until they fell into a drunken sleep. When they were asleep at last, Chaim Dovid was very tired. He would have loved to sleep himself, but he knew that his life depended on remaining awake.

From his perch in the tree, Chaim Dovid saw a snake slither toward the branch where the robbers left their wineskin hung, still open. The snake slid inside the wineskin and stayed there a long time. The snake spit up the wine, mixed with its own poison, crawled out of the wineskin and disappeared into the forest.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Read Part II tomorrow

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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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Kochava, the Wonder Child

Posted on Tuesday, 24, May, 2011Saturday, 24, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Long ago, there lived a rabbi and his wife who had no children. They prayed every day for a child of their own, but their prayers were never answered.

Now it is said that the sky opens at midnight on the night of Shavuos, and any prayers or wishes made at that time come true. So one Shavuos the rabbi and his wife decided to stay awake, so that their prayers would be certain to reach G-d’s ears.

To their amazement, at midnight the sky parted like the waters of the Red Sea, and for one instant the world was filled with the glory of heaven. And in that instant both the rabbi and his wife wished for a child. That night the rabbi’s wife dreamed of a wonder child, a girl who would be born to them clutching a precious jewel. In the dream the rabbi’s wife was told that the child must keep the jewel with her at all times, for her soul was inside it. And if she ever lost that jewel, she would fall into a deep sleep from which she would not awaken until the jewel was returned.

The next morning, the rabbi’s wife told her husband the dream, and he was much amazed. And, indeed, things occurred exactly as foretold, and nine months later a beautiful baby girl was born to them. In her right hand she clutched a precious jewel, which seemed to glow with a light of its own. The rabbi and his wife named their daughter Kochava, which means “star,” and the rabbi set the jewel in a necklace for her to wear around her neck.

One day, when Kochava was only three years old, she picked up her mother’s flute. She had never played a flute before, but the moment she put it to her lips, beautiful melodies poured forth. Not only could she play any musical instrument, but at a very early age, she taught herself to paint lovely pictures, to write the letters of the alphabet, and to read books. Her favorites were the books on her father’s shelves that told stories of the ancient days when Abraham and Moses walked in the world.

As the years passed, Kochava grew into a beautiful girl. Her lustrous black hair shone in the sunlight. Her dark eyes sparkled like the dazzling jewel she wore around her neck. Her skin was as smooth as the outside of a peach, and her smile brought happiness to everyone who met her.

Now the rabbi and his wife realized that their daughter was truly a wonder child, as the dream had promised, and they gave thanks to G-d. But in their hearts was the fear that someday she might be separated from her necklace and lose her soul. That is why the rabbi and his wife watched carefully over Kochava and rarely let her leave home.

One day the rabbi and his wife learned that the queen was going to visit the bathhouse that very day and that she had invited all the women of the village to come there. Kochava asked her mother if she, too, could go, for she had never seen the queen. At first her mother was afraid, but at last she agreed to let her go.

When the two arrived at the bathhouse, the women looked at Kochava in amazement. “Where did she come from? Why, she is more beautiful than the queen!” they exclaimed.

When the queen heard this, she grew angry. “Who is this girl?” she asked her servants. They replied that Kochava was a Jewish girl of great beauty and that it was said that she could play any musical instrument set before her.

The queen demanded to see Kochava for herself. And when she realized that the girl’s beauty did indeed outshine her own, she was filled with jealousy, and with the sudden fear that her son, the prince, might see Kochava and fall in love with her. And that would be a terrible thing, for she wanted the prince to marry a princess, not a poor Jewish girl.

The queen had one of her servants bring forth a flute and commanded the girl to play it. At once Kochava played a melody so beautiful it brought tears to everyone’s eyes. Everyone’s, that is, except the queen’s. Then the queen commanded that the girl play a violin, and after that a harp. And from every instrument that Kochava touched, beautiful melodies poured forth. When the queen saw that Kochava truly had a great talent, she ordered: “This girl must return with me at once to my palace to serve as one of my royal musicians.”

The rabbi’s wife was heartsick at the thought of Kochava’s going off to live in the palace, yet she knew they must obey the queen. But before Kochava left, her mother took her aside and whispered that she should never, ever take off her necklace, nor should she tell anyone that it held her soul. Then the mother and daughter kissed good-bye, and Kochava rode off in the royal carriage with the queen.

Now the queen had no intention of letting Kochava be a musician, for in :hat way her son, the prince; might see her. Alas, as soon as they reached the palace, she shut Kochava in the dungeon and ordered that she be left to starve.

So it was that the confused girl found herself imprisoned and frightened for her very life. She would have died of hunger had not the prison guard, overwhelmed by her beauty and gentleness, brought her food in secret. In her dark cell, Kochava wept for her mother and father, and prayed to be saved from the evil queen.

One day the queen went down to the dungeon to see for herself if Kochava was still alive. As she walked into the dark cell, she was surprised to see a glowing light. When she looked closer, she realized that the light was coming from the jewel Kochava wore around her neck, and that the girl was, indeed, still alive.

“Give me that necklace!” the queen demanded. “I want it for myself.” Kochava was terrified, for she remembered her mother’s warning. But the queen, not waiting for Kochava to obey, pulled it off herself. And the moment she did, Kochava sank into a deep sleep.

The queen was delighted. “Ah, I’m rid of her for good,” she cried. Then she ordered the prison guard to bury Kochava far away from the palace where no one could ever find her. But when the guard reached the wood far from the palace, he saw that Kochava was still breathing, and he realized that she was only asleep. So he brought her to a but he knew of in that forest, and left her there. Day after day, Kochava slept a long, dreamless sleep, and no one except the guard knew she was there.

One afternoon, when the prince was out riding in the woods, he saw that very but and decided to stop there and rest. When the prince entered, he was astonished to find a sleeping girl, and he lost his heart to her the moment he saw her. The prince wanted to tell her of his love, but when he realized that she would not wake up, he was very sad. So the prince put a guard outside the but to protect the sleeping beauty. Every day he came to visit her, and every day he shed tears because she could not be awakened.

As the days passed, the queen noticed the sadness of her son, and one day she asked him what was wrong. He told his mother that he was in love with a beautiful young girl.

“Is she a princess?” asked the queen.

“Surely,” said the prince, “she is a princess.”

“In that case,” said the queen, “would you like to give her a gift to show your love?”

“Oh, yes,” said the prince, “I would like that very much.”

“Then I know just the gift for a beautiful princess,” replied the queen. “It is something very special.” And she brought forth the jewel that she had taken from Kochava. The prince took the necklace to the sleeping girl at once, and the moment he put it around her neck, she woke up.

“Who are you?” asked Kochava as she looked around the small hut. “And where am I?”

The prince told Kochava how he had found her and how she had awakened at the very instant he had placed the necklace around her neck.

Kochava looked at the jewel and remembered how the queen had snatched it from her. “Where did you get this?” she asked.

That is how Kochava learned that the one who had saved her was none other than the queen’s son. And when the prince learned of his mother’s evil deed, he realized that Kochava’s life was in danger. He decided to leave the girl in the hut while he hurried back to the palace.

When he arrived, he went straight to the queen. “Mother, I have great news,” he said. “I’d like to get married.”

“I can see how much you love this princess,” said the queen. “I will give orders for the wedding preparations to begin at once!”

Every servant worked night and day. The cooks prepared a magnificent feast, the gardeners cut huge bouquets of roses, and the maids polished the silver goblets until they shone. By the seventh day everything was ready. All the people of the kingdom were invited to the wedding. They gathered at the palace and whispered to one another, “Who is the bride ?” For not even the queen had seen her. But when the bride arrived, she was wearing seven veils, and no one could tell who she was.

Among the guests at the wedding were the rabbi and his wife, who had come hoping they might see their daughter, Kochava, from whom they had not heard since the day the queen had taken her to the palace.

At last the wedding vows were spoken, and the guests waited breathlessly as the prince lifted the veils, one by one. And as he lifted the seventh veil, everyone gasped at Kochava’s great beauty. Everyone, that is, except the rabbi and his wife, who could not believe their eyes, and the queen, who thought she was seeing a ghost. Screaming with terror, she ran from the palace as fast as she could and never was seen again.

So it was that the prince and his new bride became the rulers of the kingdom, and Kochava was reunited with her father and mother. At the palace Kochava continued to play music and make people happy with her songs. And the love that Kochava and the prince had for each other grew deeper over the years, and they lived happily ever after.

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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Proud King Hagag sat on his magnificent throne, and a holy man reading from the Holy Book, as was his daily custom. The holy man read these words: “for riches do not last forever, nor a crown for all generations” (Proverbs 27:24).

“Cease!” cried the king. “Who wrote those words?”

“They are the words of the Wisest of Kings,” answered the holy man.

“Give me the book,” commanded the king.

With trembling hands, the holy man placed it before his majesty. King Hagag gazed earnestly at the words that had been read, and he frowned. Raising his hand, he tore the page from the book and threw it to the ground.

“I, Hagag, am king,” he said, “and all such passages that offend me shall be torn out.”

He flung the volume angrily from him while the holy man and all his courtiers looked on in astonishment.

“I have heard enough for today,” he said. “Too long have I delayed my hunting. Prepare the horses immediately.”

“Now I have you,” he said. Springing from his horse and stripping off his clothes, he swam across with nothing but a sword.

“I am the deer,” he said. “I am a messenger and I have lured you to this spot, proud king, to teach you a lesson for your words this morning.”

Before King Hagag could recover from his surprise, the youth ran back to the river and swam across. Quickly he dressed himself in the king’s clothes and mounted the horse just as the other hunters came up. They thought the messenger was King Hagag and they halted before him.

“Let us return,” said the messenger. “The deer has crossed the river and has escaped.”

King Hagag from behind a tree on the opposite side watched them ride away and then flung himself on the ground and wept bitterly. There he lay until a woodcutter found him.

“What do you here?” asked the man.

“I am King Hagag,” answered the king.

“You are a fool,” said the woodcutter. “You are a lazy good-for-nothing to say such things. Come, carry my bundle of sticks and I will give you food and an old garment.”

Unsuccessfully the king protested. The woodcutter only laughed the more, and at last, losing patience, he beat him and drove him away. Tired and hungry, and clad only in the rags that the woodcutter had given him, King Hagag reached the palace late at night.

“Woe is me,” cried Hagag, in his unhappiness. “I am punished for my sin in scoffing at the words of the Holy Book.”

Months rolled by, and one morning the royal heralds went forth and announced that “Good King Hagag” would give a feast in one week and all the beggars in the land were invited to attend.

From all over the kingdom, beggars came to enjoy the feast, and Hagag stood among them, with his blind companions, in the courtyard of the palace waiting for his majesty to appear. He knew the palace well, and he hung his head and wept.

“His majesty will speak to each one of you who are his guests today,” cried a herald, and one by one they passed into the palace and stood before the throne. When it came to Hagag’s turn, he trembled so much that he had to be supported by the guards.

The messenger on the throne and Hagag looked long at each other.

“Are you a beggar also?” said the messenger.

“No, gracious majesty,” answered Hagag with bent head. “I have sinned seriously and have been punished. I am but the servant of a troop of blind beggars to whom I act as guide.”

The messenger king signed to his courtiers that he desired to be left alone with Hagag. Then he said, “Hagag, I know you. I see that you have repented. It is well. Now you can take your rightful place upon the throne.”

“Gracious majesty,” said Hagag, “I have learned humility and wisdom. The throne is not for me. The blind beggars need me. Let me remain in their service.”

“It cannot be,” said the messenger. “I see that you truly regret you past actions. Your lesson is learned and my task is done. I will see that the blind beggars lack nothing.”

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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When the robbers awoke in the morning, Chaim Dovid watched them drink the wine. Then, one after another, they began to choke from the poison, and soon they all lay dead.

Little by little, the faint path he followed became well worn, and that, in turn, led him to a wide road. Soon he reached the gates of that underground city.

Now Chaim Dovid shivered when he heard this, for he was carrying the glowing jewel in his pack. He took his leave of the young man and set off for the palace. when he reached the royal palace, he asked to see the princess, saying that he had news of the glowing jewel.

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 problem resolved itself the third night, when the dream was repeated, except that this time Chaim Dovid’s father told him to go to the faraway town for Rosh Chodesh and seek out the holy rabbi who lived there.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Read Part II tomorrow

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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Long ago, there lived a rabbi and his wife who had no children. They prayed every day for a child of their own, but their prayers were never answered.

Now it is said that the sky opens at midnight on the night of Shavuos, and any prayers or wishes made at that time come true. So one Shavuos the rabbi and his wife decided to stay awake, so that their prayers would be certain to reach G-d’s ears.

As the years passed, Kochava grew into a beautiful girl. Her lustrous black hair shone in the sunlight. Her dark eyes sparkled like the dazzling jewel she wore around her neck. Her skin was as smooth as the outside of a peach, and her smile brought happiness to everyone who met her.

When the two arrived at the bathhouse, the women looked at Kochava in amazement. “Where did she come from? Why, she is more beautiful than the queen!” they exclaimed.

When the queen heard this, she grew angry. “Who is this girl?” she asked her servants. They replied that Kochava was a Jewish girl of great beauty and that it was said that she could play any musical instrument set before her.

Now the queen had no intention of letting Kochava be a musician, for in :hat way her son, the prince; might see her. Alas, as soon as they reached the palace, she shut Kochava in the dungeon and ordered that she be left to starve.

“Give me that necklace!” the queen demanded. “I want it for myself.” Kochava was terrified, for she remembered her mother’s warning. But the queen, not waiting for Kochava to obey, pulled it off herself. And the mo­ment she did, Kochava sank into a deep sleep.

As the days passed, the queen noticed the sadness of her son, and one day she asked him what was wrong. He told his mother that he was in love with a beautiful young girl.

“Is she a princess?” asked the queen.

“Surely,” said the prince, “she is a princess.”

“In that case,” said the queen, “would you like to give her a gift to show your love?”

“Oh, yes,” said the prince, “I would like that very much.”

“Then I know just the gift for a beautiful princess,” replied the queen. “It is something very special.” And she brought forth the jewel that she had taken from Kochava. The prince took the necklace to the sleeping girl at once, and the moment he put it around her neck, she woke up.

“Who are you?” asked Kochava as she looked around the small hut. “And where am I?”

The prince told Kochava how he had found her and how she had awak­ened at the very instant he had placed the necklace around her neck.

Kochava looked at the jewel and remembered how the queen had snatched it from her. “Where did you get this?” she asked.

That is how Kochava learned that the one who had saved her was none other than the queen’s son. And when the prince learned of his mother’s evil deed, he realized that Kochava’s life was in danger. He decided to leave the girl in the hut while he hurried back to the palace.

When he arrived, he went straight to the queen. “Mother, I have great news,” he said. “I’d like to get married.”

“I can see how much you love this princess,” said the queen. “I will give orders for the wedding preparations to begin at once!”

Among the guests at the wedding were the rabbi and his wife, who had come hoping they might see their daughter, Kochava, from whom they had not heard since the day the queen had taken her to the palace.

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)

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

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“Give me that necklace!” the queen demanded. “I want it for myself.” Kochava was terrified, for she remembered her mother’s warning. But the queen, not waiting for Kochava to obey, pulled it off herself. And the moment she did, Kochava sank into a deep sleep.

The prince told Kochava how he had found her and how she had awakened at the very instant he had placed the necklace around her neck.