Katanya – A Jewish Folk Tale from Turkey

Posted on Sunday, 26, January, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Once upon a time there was a poor old woman. All her life she had wished for a child of her own. But though she wished and wished, she never had any children. Her husband died, and still she wanted a child. “Oh, how wonderful it would be if only I had a little boy or girl,” she said. So she prayed ‘with all her heart, with all her soul, and with all her might. (see Deuteronomy 6:5)

Heaven saw how lonely the old woman was and sent Eliyahu haNovi (Elijah the prophet), may his memory be a blessing, to visit her. He came to her as a merchant in the market. Now this old woman had worked hard all of her life, but she had no money left and nothing to sell for food. So each day she went to the market to ask the merchants for what they could spare and many they took pity on her and gave her some fruit. Some days that was all she had to eat.

One day all the merchants were in a bad mood because the king had raised their taxes. When the old woman begged for fruit, each and every one of them turned her away. She did not get anything from them and she was very sad, for it looked as if she would go hungry all day long.

Just as she was about to leave the market, she noticed a merchant she had never seen before, an old man who looked as poor as she was. As she walked over to the old man, she saw that all he had left were six brown dates, dry¬ing in the sun.

“Could you spare just one?” she asked.

“Surely,” said the old man (who was really Eliyahu haNovi). “Take the one you want.”

Now five of the dates were very little, but one was big, and that is the one she chose. “Thank you, kind sir,” she said, and went on her way.

When she got home, the old woman placed the date on the windowsill, where sunlight shone on it. “You know, the old woman said to herself, this is such a beautiful date, I don’t have the heart to eat it.” So she left it there, even though she was hungry, and went out to see if she could find some¬thing else to eat.

The sun continued to shine on the date until it was quite warm. Soon the date began to stir, as if something were inside it. All at once it broke open and out popped a little girl. She was no bigger than a little finger, and she wore a pretty red dress. The little girl stood up on the windowsill and looked around. The house was quite bare. Only a bed and a table and a chair stood in the room and it needed cleaning, for the old woman’s broom had only a few straws left.

The first thing the little girl did was to climb out the window. She saw a ball of string hanging on the wall and, grabbing one end of the string, she lowered herself down to the ground. There she picked some of the short grasses, because she was very short herself, and she tied the bundle together with another piece of straw. “Oh, what a perfect broom for me!” she cried.

Back up the string and onto the windowsill she climbed, and then she started to clean the house. She swept from corner to corner, until the floor sparkled like new.

Meanwhile, the old woman was still walking on the road, searching for some food, when whom should she meet but the old man who had given her the date! The old man smiled and this time he gave her a large shiny olive. She thanked him and he continued on his way. When the old woman bit into the olive, what did she find inside but a golden coin! She hurried after the old man to give it back, but he was nowhere to be found. The golden coin was hers to keep. What a lucky day for me! she thought.

She was even more surprised when she got home, for there was her house, all neat and clean! She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Who did this?” she asked out loud.

“I did, Mother,” said a tiny voice.

The old woman looked around. There on the windowsill, where the old woman had left the date, was the tiniest girl in the world, no bigger than the woman’s little finger. The old woman blinked to see if she was dreaming. “Did you call me Mother?”

“Yes, Mother,” said the girl. And that is when the old woman understood that the kind old man must have been Elijah the prophet. And she hugged the tiny girl very carefully, so as not to hurt her.

Then she asked the girl her name. But the girl did not answer. “No one has given me a name,” she said at last.

“Then I will name you!” said the old woman. She thought and thought. “I will call you Katanya – the little one,” she said.

Katanya and the old woman lived together happily in that little hut. With the help of the golden coin they never had to go hungry. And the first thing the old woman did with the money was to pay back every merchant who had given her fruit to eat.

The old woman loved Katanya with all her heart. She made a little bed for her inside a teacup. She fashioned a fur hat for her from lamb’s wool, shoes out of tiny nutshells, and dresses made of rose petals. Of all her clothes, Katanya loved her red dress the most. It was the one she had been wearing when she first popped out of the date.

Katanya helped her mother by sweeping out the house with her tiny broom. She even cleaned between the boards of the floor, an easy task for her, since she was so small. While she did her chores, Katanya sang. She had a beautiful voice that sounded as if a full grown girl were singing. Katanya’s voice brought joy to everyone who heard it.

One day the prince was riding down the street, when he heard a lovely song drifting from an open window. The voice was so beautiful that he fell instantly in love. When he returned to the palace, he told his father, the king: “Father, I have found a lovely bride, and I wish to be married.”

“Very well, my son,” said the king in surprise, “but who is the bride?” “I wish to marry the girl whose beautiful singing I heard today,” said the prince.

The king sent a servant at once to the house of the old woman and invited her to come with her daughter to the palace. The servant told the woman: “I have brought a tailor with me who will sew dresses for you both.”

But when the old woman told Katanya this, the girl shook her head. “No, no, no! I love my dress of many colors, and that’s what I will wear.” So the tailor fitted the old woman, but when he asked to see the girl, he was told that she already had a pretty dress.

A few days later, the old woman put on her new dress and went to the palace, with Katanya hiding inside the pocket. The king welcomed her, but the prince was very sad. “Your daughter was invited to join us too,” he said.

“Why has she not come?”

All at once a tiny voice came from the pocket: “Here I am!” Then Katanya’s head peeked out.

“Is it you I heard singing?” asked the prince, much amazed.

“Perhaps,” she answered.

“In that case,” said the prince, “could you sing for us now? If you are the girl I heard, then it is you I want to marry, even though you are small.”

Katanya smiled, for what the prince said was very nice indeed. She sang a song more beautiful than any he had ever heard.

So it was that Katanya married the prince and became Princess Katanya. At her wedding she wore her favorite dress of many colors. The blessing at the hand of Eliyahu haNovi was fully realized that “Though your beginning was small, your latter days will be very great (Job 8:7). After the wedding the old woman came to live at the palace along with her. And all of them lived hap¬pily ever after.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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A Song and a Shabbos Promise

Posted on Thursday, 12, July, 2018Thursday, 27, December, 2018 by Rabbi

Hinda Rivka was gathered up with the Jewish community of Czechowa and forced to make the journey to the a nearby labour camp. She knew full well that many who went on this journey never returned. She seemed to have an inner light that shined with peace and a resolve to remain strong in her faith. Only with such an mindset, she felt, could she maintain her religious lifestyle and cling ever closer to her Creator —her primary motivation in all she did.

Hinda Rivka’s dignity stood revealed from the moment she arrived at the camp. Every morning, she drank only a small portion of her allotted water and used the rest to wash her hands and say a blessing. She saved a measure of her daily bread to barter for a small siddur (prayerbook), from which she whispered her prayers to the Master of the Universe. She frequently shared her precious siddur to others so they too could pray.

The weeks before Pesach, Hinda Rivka and her friends began to save bits of potato and other vegetables, in order to be able to survive the festival without eating chametz. On Yom Kippur, they hid their bread rations until nightfall, but one of the Nazis heard that some girls were fasting and seized the reserved bread so that the girls were forced to fast not one, but two days.

Hinda Rivka was a simple girl with strong faith who steadfastly refused to work on Shabbos at any price. Though many of the other girls were taken out and killed for taking such a stand, her single-mindedness in this area was astonishing. She many times worked a double shift on weekdays instead.

When a truck came to transport inmates from place to place, and it appeared as though the trip would afford opportunity for escape, Hinda Rivka refused to go as it involved traveling on Shabbos. She remained behind in the camp. In her heart, she clung to the promise that had been made to her by the holy Piltzer Rebbe (Chanoch Gad Yustman) a promise that she would be saved in the merit of her Shabbos observance.

She worked in a munitions factory. It was hard backbreaking labour. Throughout the long hours of work, Hinda Rivka would in her pleasant voice sing a Yiddish song entitled “G-tt un Zein Mishpot Is Gerecht” (G-d Is Correct in His Judgment) The chorus of this song may be translated as follows: “G-d, Your decrees are just. The Creator knows what He is doing. No one is punished for naught.”

Her rescue from the Holocaust came about as a result of her Shabbos observance: The death transports were carried out on Shabbos, the day on which Hinda Rivka did not work. The lights from her Shabbos candles and sacrifices burned bright.

She left war torn Poland and went to Jerusalem where she lived for a number of years. As she lay on her deathbed, she called the chevra kaddisha and lifted her hands and sang and sang, “G-tt un Zein Mishpot Is Gerecht” (G-d Is Correct in His Judgment) and then said out loud Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad.

A Gut’n Shabbos mit brochah und Shalom

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(A Good Shabbos with Blessings and Peace)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Oak Tree

Posted on Sunday, 8, July, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

There lived in a village a mother and a son who were very devoted to one another who lived in a house beside a great oak tree.

Once they had been very wealthy and had many friends. After the father had died suddenly after lightning struck their house the mother was bedridden and their home was badly damaged by fire, they lost most of their wealth. From the little that was salvaged from the fire was spent on doctors in the hope of curing the poor, stricken woman. Her only comfort was her son, Yosef, who was a fine young man. Yosef was a very intelligent and religious boy, and he loved and cared for his mother.

His mother would frequently ask: “Why don’t you go to town and get a good job? You know our small farm demands much hard work with little return.”

Yosef answered: “Who will take care of you, my dear mother? We can manage alright. When you regain your health, b’ezras Hashem (G-d willing), we’ll move to town.”

Yosef had attended yeshiva (Jewish school) until his father’s death, but then he had to take care of the farm and his mother. He missed the school and learning very much. In the evening when he came in from the field, he would take out a holy book and forget the days hardship. He’d sit by his mother’s bed and begin learning in his sweet, soothing voice and the whole room would change. It became so peaceful that his mother would be filled with a sensation of happiness and tranquility. She would then fall asleep with an expression of serenity and contentment.

Yosef’s this nightly study was a sacred custom, and after his lesson was over, he would take out the Book of Psalms and recite many chapters. Many a tear did he shed, for he could not get over his grief, the loss of his father and his mother’s illness. Working the farm and worry for his mother weighed heavily upon his young heart, but reciting the Psalms always helped him regain his cheerful spirit.

One day, Yosef received gift from his uncle, an old and rare edition of the Book of Psalms which he had bought from a peddler. Yosef marveled at its old script written on parchment, which was well preserved and quite legible.

Yosef carefully turned its pages, and when he came to the back cover, his eye caught some writing, dim with age. The lettering was very small and blurred in places, as if some drops of water had fallen on it. The writer must have wept when he wrote that mysterious inscription. Yosef took his father’s magnifying glass, and began to study the writing. It took him some time to piece the first sentence together, which read something like this:

Yosef became quite fascinated by this writing, and with the magnifying glass in one hand, he labored hard to decipher the message from beginning to end. By the time he pieced the whole message together dawn was breaking. Yosef was pale and shaky, for he had read a tale of fear and terror.

It was the story of the once flourishing Jewish community of the nearby town, driven into the forest by the cruel and bloodthirsty mob, who only wanted their lives and wealth. The poor, frightened, defenseless men, women and children could not escape the savage mob. They gathered up their gold and silver and precious stones and hid them in a big chest which they buried. The terrible mob surrounded the Jewish community and cries of “Hear O Israel, the L-rd is our G‑d, the L-rd is one!” The writer, the son of the scribe of the community, was left for dead with a gushing wound in his head, but regained consciousness and recovered only long enough to record this tale of horror.

After he finished reading the story written so long ago, Yosef suddenly realized that there was some hidden treasure in the vicinity. It was buried at the foot of a young oak tree, some two hundred yards from a brook in the woods. The woods were long gone, but a brook flowed through the center of the village. Outside their house grew an ancient oak tree.

Yosef decided that after some sleep, he would ask the oldest villager if he knew anything about what he has read.

Old Petru said, yes, there had been a forest by the village once. It was avoided by the villagers who claimed it was haunted on account of the massacre of the Jewish community that happened there.

The sky began to grow dark and the wind started to blow strong as Yosef bade old Petru farewell. He arrived home just as the storm grew strong. His mother had been terrified, for the sound of thunder revived in her mind that horrible day when she lost her husband and became bedridden.

Yosef calmed his mother. He forgot about story he read the night before, about old Petru, and about the treasure. The house shook with thunder and lightning. Yosef calmly read the Psalms in his calm, soothing and enchanting voice.

Suddenly there was roar of thunder and the ground shook, Yosef and his mother found themselves on the floor greatly shaken. Yosef rose quickly and wanted to rush to his mother’s aid, but stared in amazement as he saw her rise and run to the window, “Look, the oak tree!”

Yosef was crying with joy when he saw that his mother had miraculously recovered and was walking unsupported as if she had never been paralyzed before. Only then did his mother realize too and the two embraced, murmuring thanks to G‑d.

“Go out and see whether any damage was done by that fallen oak tree,” his mother said.

Yosef went outside and immediately rushed in reporting breathlessly, “The huge oak tree was uprooted and split in two. The fallen tree left a huge crater in the earth. And there, lay an ancient chest with its lid torn off. Coins, silver candlesticks, golden necklaces and other precious treasures lay scattered all round.”

Yosef and his mother became very wealthy. They distributed the greater part of the treasure to charities and still had many precious things left. Of all the treasures, the most precious to Yosef was his ancient Book of Psalms. His mother’s greatest treasure was Yosef.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Sharing Gan Eden With a Cook

Posted on Sunday, 24, June, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The most important thing is not study but action. (Pirke Avos 1:17)

It is told that a holy rabbi prayed that the Holy One, blessed be He show him his place in Gan Eden (Heaven). One night in a dream he saw that he would be seated next to a cook. This surprised him, and he thought to himself, “I have studied Torah day and night, yet my place is beside a cook.” After the dream, he decided: “I shall go and find him and ask him what he has done so special.”

He went and found that the cook was a very wealthy man. He became a guest of the cook and stayed with him for eight days, and the cook showed him great honor and respect. The holy rabbi requested the cook meet him in a field outside of the city and asked him: “Please tell me what you have been doing that is so special.”

The cook thought for a moment and then slowly answered, “By reason of my many sins I have studied very little Torah. All my life I have been a cook. At first I was poor but I have grown wealthy. Every Shabbos (Sabbath) eve since I began cooking, I have distributed meat to the poor at my expense and I give a great deal in charity.” The holy rabbi listened and then asked, “Please tell me whether you have done anything more than that.”

Then the cook slowly began, “I’ll tell you about something I was once the local tax collector for this city. When a ship arrived, I collected any goods I thought proper as a tax. Once a ship came here, and I collected the dues. After my collec¬tion the captain came to me and said: ‘If you wish to purchase what is in the hold on my ship, I’ll sell it to you.’ ‘Tell me what it is,’ said I requested. ‘I shall not tell you,’ the captain answered, ‘until you have bought it and paid for it. And if you do not buy it, I shall not sell it at all.’ ‘In that case,’ I agin requested, ‘tell me how much it is, and I shall decide.’ “Ten thousand in gold,’ the captain told me; and I told him: ‘Show me the goods, and I shall pay it.’ ‘I shall only give it,’ he answered ‘if you give me twenty thousand in gold.’ ‘Show it to me,’ said I, ‘and I shall pay.’ ‘I shall not give it to you,’ he said then, ‘unless I receive forty thousand in gold.’

“Immediately he brought out from the ship’s lower hold two hundred Jewish souls whom he had captured, and said to me: `If you had not purchased them today, I would have slain them and flung them into the sea. “Now he handed them over to me, and I brought them home. I fed them and gave them to drink and anointed them with oil and clothed them. I also enabled those who were unwedded to wed one another.

Among the refugees was an exceedingly beautiful maiden, and I took pity on her and gave her to my son, and he wedded her. Then I invited all my townsfolk to the wedding feast. When the guests sat down to eat, I stood among them and saw that a young man who had been among the cap¬tives was weeping. ‘Why are you weeping?’ said I to him; but he did not wish to tell me. Finally, I led him to a room, and there he told me that the day they had been taken captive was the very day on which he should have wedded that maiden. ‘If you are prepared to divorce her,’ said I to him, ‘I shall pay you a hundred pieces of silver.’ ‘My lord,’ said he to me, ‘I desire her more than all the silver and gold in the world, but what can I do if your son has stood under the bridal canopy with her.’

“At this, I went to my son and told him: ‘Divorce her.’ And I gave her to that young man and made them wealthy. This is the thing I have done.”

Then the holy rabbi said to him: “Blessed be the Ever Present who has privileged me to be seated beside you in Gan Eden!”

So let a man engage in Torah and good deeds at all times, and practice charity. For money is not his but belongs to the Holy One, blessed be He, as the Prophet Haggai said: “The silver is Mine, the gold is Mine, says the Lord” (2:8). And it is also written in the Book of Psalms: “For God judges; this one He brings down, and that one He lifts up” (75:8).

(based on Tanchuma, Mavo 68)

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Rabbi Asenat and a Flock of Angels: A Tale From Kurdistan

Posted on Thursday, 31, May, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Asenat was the daughter of the holy rabbi Shmuel b. Netanel HaLevi of Kurdistan who founded a number of centers of learning and was head of the yeshiva in Mosul. He lived in great poverty and was regarded as a saint. He had no sons, but had a daughter who he loved dearly. The holy rabbi was a master of the written and oral Torah, agaddah, and Jewish mysticism. He lovingly taught his daughter every day until he had to leave to the World of Truth.

The holy rabbi taught his daughter the secrets of the revealed and hidden Torah and many of the secrets of heaven. Asenat adored her father, and regarded him as a King of Israel. In a letter, she described her upbringing:

Long ago, in the Kurdish town of Mosul, there lived a young woman named Asenat who was known for performing wonders. Her blessings were often sought by women who wished to be blessed with children, or by sick people who wished to be cured. Her touch had healing powers, especially for children.

It was whispered among the people that the spirit of her father rested upon her, and for this reason she was known as Rabbi Asenat.

After Rabbi Shmuel died, he often came to his daughter in dreams. He would reveal dangers to her and tell her how to avoid the threats, saving many lives. One night Asenat dreamed that her holy father told her to go to the Kurdish town of Amadiyah for Rosh CChodesh, the celebration of the new moon. He told her that the Jewish people of Amadiyah needed her protection.

When it became known that Rabbi Asenat was planning to travel to Amadiyah, the people of her town pleaded with her not to go, for things had become dangerous for the Jewish people living there. “All Jewish people have been warned to stay away from Amadiyah,” they warned her. “If you go, you will surely be risking your life!” Asenat could not overlook her holy father’s message. She took leave of her town and began her journey.

When Rabbi Asenat reached the town that she had visited so often, she was given great respect as a holy woman. The people seemed to be upset when she told them that they should celebrate Rosh Chodesh outdoors, so they could see the crescent of the new moon, as was their custom.

The people wanted to stay in the safety of the synagogue, for they knew they were surrounded by enemies and that their very lives were in danger. “Don’t be afraid,” she told them. The emunah (faith) in the Holy One Blessed, be He and their trust in her were so great that they agreed to keep to the tradition of greeting the new moon as in the past, despite the danger.

The night of Rosh Chodesh saw almost all the people come out to celebrate the new moon and the new month. At first they were cautious, yet soon they were singing and dancing in the town square with abandon. Suddenly, shouts disrupted the celebration as people saw flames leaping towards the sky. The synagogue had been set on fire! Baruch Hashem – Blessed be G-d that no one had been inside. The people were heartbroken to see their synagogue consumed in flames. Many men had to be held back so they wouldn’t run inside and be burned to death while trying to save the Torah scrolls. Everywhere people wept, falling to their knees, for they knew the flames were fast approaching the Aron haKodesh (Holy Ark) where the Torah scrolls were kept.

Rabbi Asenat closed her eyes in prayer and whispered a secret name of Hashem, one that she had learned from her father. All at once the people heard a loud flapping and a great wind swirled around them, and they thought that a flock of birds must be overhead. But when they looked up, they saw a flock of angels descending to the roof of the synagogue. The angels beat the flames with their wings, until every last spark had been put out. Then they rose up into the heavens like a flock of white doves and were gone.

The people were fascinated. They cried out, “Angels! Angels!” And when the smoke cleared, they saw that another miracle had taken place: the synagogue had not burned. Nor was a single letter of any of the Torah scrolls touched by the flames.

When the enemies of the Jewish community learned of the miracle of the angels and saw how the synagogue had been saved from the fire, they dared not harm the hair of even a single Jewish person.

A day opf celebration was declared as the people prayed and thanked the Holy One, blessed be He for saving this day for them and their beloved synagogue. The Jewish community was so grateful to Rabbi Asenat that they renamed the synagogue after her, and it is still standing to this day.

And all this came to pass because of Rabbi Asenat’s courage and loyalty in honoring her father’s wish, conveyed in a dream, that she go to that town for the celebration of the new moon.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Bookbinder

Posted on Sunday, 6, May, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

A bookbinder’s love for books made a difference in this world and the next as was discovered by the holy and saintly Rebbe, Elimelech of Lizensk. Once he became very seriously ill and fell into a deep state of unconsciousness. His close disciples gathered at his bedside and prayed fervently that the “Healer of all Flesh Who Works Wondrously” send a speedy and complete recovery to their beloved Rebbe. The Almighty heard their heartfelt prayers. The holy rabbi opened his eyes, smiled, and said he felt much better. Before long he recovered completely.

The disciples were most happy and grateful to Hashem for having spared their Rebbe and given him many more years to continue his holy work, and to guide them and teach them. To them it had seemed that for a while, during those critical moments when the Rebbe was so deeply unconscious, his soul must have been hovering between heaven and earth, and they feared that if it entered Heaven, it might not wish to return to earth. They were now eager to know what happened to their Rebbe during those fateful moments. They waited for a suitable opportunity to ask their Rebbe about it.

Some time later, when the Rebbe was seated at his table, surrounded by his close disciples and followers, in a happy get-together and thanksgiving to Hashem, one of the senior disciples asked the Rebbe whether he could tell what happened to him while his soul was in Heaven.

The Rebbe replied that he could not tell them everything, since it is not important for them to know everything. But one thing he would tell them, for it was well to think about. This is what he told them:

“As I was walking in Gan Eden, where the souls of the righteous were enjoying the nearness of the Shechinah (Divine Presence), I saw among them, in an honored place, a familiar face. He looked very much like Mottel the Bookbinder. But what would he be doing there? I thought. For one thing, I had not heard that he had departed from the living on earth. Furthermore, if he did, how come he is sitting in such a high place? To be sure, Mottel was a G-dfearing Jewish man, an honest hard-working bookbinder, but he was otherwise an undistinguished, ordinary person, not much of a Torah scholar.

“So, I went up to him and asked him, `Are you really Mottel the Bookbinder from my town?’

“`Holy Rebbe,’ answered the bookbinder, `excuse me, but before we proceed, may I say that here I am called Reb Mordechai, and not just plain Mottel.’

“If so,” I replied, “what happened to your modesty, my dear Reb Mordechai?”

“`Rebbe, here we are in the World of Truth; here modesty has no place; here only Truth is the rule, and the truth is that the Heavenly Court has decreed that I should be called Reb Mordechai,’ replied the bookbinder simply.

“Said I, `I am delighted, Reb Mordechai, that you have earned this honor. But tell me, in what merit did you achieve this honored title and, moreover, what worthy deed has won you such an honored place in Gan Eden? Perhaps it will provide a lesson to be followed by my disciples, all those who wish to better themselves?

“`This I will gladly do,’ the bookbinder replied. `When the Rebbe became ill, I, too, became ill. But I did not recover. I was brought before the Heavenly Court, and the usual questioning began.

“`Did you study Torah?’

“`I had to admit that, regrettably, very little. I didn’t have much of a head for Torah study. Besides, we were very poor, so I had to find a way of earning money to help my parents support the family. I was apprenticed, at an early age, to a bookbinder to learn the trade….

“`Then began the weighing of my mitzvos and sins. On the right side of the scale, angels began putting all my mitzvos and good deeds. Then they pushed the scale down to make it weightier, saying this was for the joy and sincerity with which I per-formed the mitzvos. So far so good. But then other angels came forward and began to load my sins and misdeeds on the left scale. I watched with horror how my sins were adding up, threatening to outweigh my mitzvos. Most of the sins were truly not serious, and they happened because of my ignorance; but nevertheless, small though they were, they were adding up dangerously, till they tipped the scale! As I stood there before the Heavenly Court, trembling and ashamed, two angry looking angels stepped forward, one on each side of me, ready to carry me off to the place where sinful souls are sent to be cleansed and purified…

“`Suddenly an angel appeared with a well-used siddur in his hand. Behind him was a line of wagons loaded with sacks. The angel asked permission to speak up on behalf of a dear soul that was on trial. The angel began:

“`I am the angel in charge of holy sheimos (stray pages from holy books, especially with G-d’s Name in them). I go to every Jewish home, and in every shul, yeshivah and talmud torah. I look to see in what condition are the holy books: siddurim, chumashim, tehillims, mishnayos, gemaras, and the like. Whenever I see an over-used book, with crumpled pages and loose covers—it gives me pleasure, for this is the best evidence that the holy books are in constant use, not just kept on shelves, but actually used every day by Jewish people, young and old, praying three times daily and studying Torah. But when I see some of these books tattered beyond repair, I feel troubled, for every holy book has a holy soul, and every page has a soul, and must be treated with care and respect.

“‘Now, in the course of my travels I met this man that is here on trial and grew to know him very well. Ever since his early childhood, even before he mastered the alphabet, Mottele loved his little siddur, and would often fondle it and kiss it before closing it. When he saw a creased page, he would smooth it out gently.

“`After his Bar Mitzvah, when it became necessary for Mottel to learn a trade, his father asked him what he would like to do for a living. Mottel replied without hesitation—he would like to be a bookbinder.

I must tell you, the angel in charge of sheimos continued, that ever since people began printing and binding books, I have never seen a bookbinder like Mottel. He was the most dedicated and perfect bookbinder I ever saw. He never got any pages mixed up, he never missed a stitch, he always used the best material available—and he did all this, not only because he was an honest man, but also because he loved books, especially holy books. This is why he would, from time to time, go to the houses of prayer in his town and collect siddurim and chumashim, and other holy books that cried out for attention. He would take them home and work late into the night to restore them and bind them and give them new life. Then he would take them back to where they belonged, without charge for his time and trouble. He never bragged about it, never even mentioned it—for him it was a labor of love, a real mitzvah.

“`I respectfully request the Heavenly Court to permit me to unload all the sacks of holy sheimos and over-used books, to which Mottel the Bookbinder had given a second life, and I will put them on the scale with all his other mitzvos and good deeds.’

Here the Rebbe Elimelech paused for a moment, then continued the Bookbinder’s story:

“`The Heavenly Court agreed and ordered two angels to assist the sheimos supervisor to unload the contents of the sacks. And long before half of this job was done, the scale with the mitzvos clearly outweighed the other side.

“Believe me, dear Rebbe, the bookbinder concluded, I was as astonished at what had happened before my eyes as you were when you saw me here. I was even more surprised when the Heavenly Court decreed to give me an honored place in Gan Eden and that I should be called henceforth: Reb Mordechai.”‘

The Rebbe Elimelech paused again, and said:

“Well, now you have heard the Bookbinder’s story. As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask him a few other questions, but at this very moment—I woke up!

“As for what we must learn from Reb Mordechai the Bookbinder,” the Rebbe concluded, “the lesson speaks for itself. Let us also remember that Hashem never fails to give credit and reward for any good deed, even for such a seemingly trivial act as smoothing out a crumpled corner of a well-worn page in a holy book.”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Washing the Hands before the Meal

Posted on Sunday, 22, April, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

‘We get our bread at the peril of our lives, because of the sword in the wilderness.”
(Lamentations 5:9)

Whoever eats bread without washing their hands first, cuts themselves off from Torah (Scriptures) and the “sword in the wilderness” will cut them off from faith and holiness. In other words, the disregard of one mitzvah (religious precept or commandment) could easily lead to the disregard of other mitzvahs. We learn that “whoever makes light of washing the hands will be uprooted from the world.” (Sotah 4b)

It happened in the days of the persecution (by the Romans) there was an innkeeper who used to cook swine’s flesh as well as kosher meat and serve them to his patrons, in order that nobody should know that he was Jewish. After much observation of people who came into his inn, his practice became: If anybody entered the inn without washing his hands, he knew that this must be a non-Jewish person and set swine’s flesh before him. But if he washed his hands, he knew that this must be a Jewish traveler and gave him meat that was kosher.

On one occasion a certain Jewish merchant came into the inn to eat and did not wash his hands. He served the merchant pork, and he ate. When the time came to settle the account, the innkeeper said: “You have eaten a piece for ten copper coins.” “Yesterday,” said the other, “I ate the same meat for eight, so how can you ask for ten today?” The innkeeper answered, “I served you pork.” When the man heard this, he became very upset and whispered to the innkeeper: “I am Jewish, how could you set swine’s flesh before me?” The innkeeper explained, “When I saw that you did not wash your hands before eating, I believed that you were not Jewish.” Based on Yoma 83b

We learn that “If there is no bread, there is no Torah; if there is no Torah, there is no bread.” (Pirke Avos 3:17) Kosher is more than merely food, but also how one acts and conducts themselves.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The rabbi has tried to add at least one or two new stories each week, with the hope of strengthening faith and understanding through the many readers and communities. Due to rising expenses and the need to work longer hours and harder, his stories have become less frequent.

What was originally started as a way to share old and forgotten tales of faith costing almost nothing and representing a few hours a week of time commitment evolved into a project demanding a lot of time and expense. The highest cost is the time cost – working on this site many hours a week. This is all very good, and we’re delighted at the steady growth in popularity of the Story Tour Blog, but please don’t let us become victims of our own ‘success’!

No income from the Story Tour Blog has been realized, but expenses have grown such as web-hosting, software and other web-based development costs. Our goal is to raise $2500.00 which would allow us to improve the Story Tour Blog. If you feel you’ve received some value, or would like to help support the site’s ongoing presence, please share. Any donation would be much appreciated and will help to keep the site online and growing.

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Gold and Silver, Land and Property and the Holy Word

Posted on Sunday, 15, April, 2018Monday, 28, August, 2023 by Rabbi

A young man once came to a wise man and told him he did not know what kind of man he would become as he grew older. The wise man thought for a moment or two and then explained:

There are three types of men in the world:

One engaged in silver and gold,

One busy in properties and lands

While one is deeply involved in the study of the Holy Word and charity and the awe of Heaven.

When the one who is engaged in silver and gold passes away, he says: “Give me of my silver and gold to go to my eternal home.” But they tell him: “You have nothing, for the Prophet Haggai said long ago (2:8): ‘The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, says the L-rd of hosts.’ ”

When the time comes for the man who is busy in lands and property to pass away, he says: “Give me of my lands and property to accompany me to my eternal home.” But they tell him: “You have nothing, for the Psalmist has already said (24:1): ‘The earth is the L-rd’s and the fullness thereof.’ “

Yet he who is deeply involved in the study of the Holy Word, charity and the awe of Heaven does not even pass away before the angels say to him: “See these go before you as the Prophet Isaiah said (58:8): ‘And your righteousness shall go before you.’ “

The wise man looked at the young man and smiled as he said:

“You have just begun your journey on many roads and paths, the kind of man you become is your choice.”

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Kosher With Good Reason

Posted on Monday, 2, April, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

There are those who argue that the many aspects of keeping kosher are archaic and from a bygone era. Others claim that it’s just too difficult to keep kosher. Many Jewish people today view keeping kosher as an outdated aspect of ancient biblical Jewish practice and complicated by rabbis through the generations. A great number of Jewish people argue that keeping kosher is no longer relevant to modern day life. Modern society has rendered obsolete many of the laws, traditions and customs of kosher.

It happened many many years ago that a wealthy merchant sent someone to buy him a cow in a nearby village. The man bought the cow but the knot it was tied with came undone. The cow ran into the forest. The man was afraid to go into the forest because of the wild animals. He was also ashamed to return home without the animal fearing someone would accuse him and say: “He did not buy the animal and has kept the money!” The man took a great deal of trouble and searched all night until he found the cow in a herd to which it had fled.

Being real careful, he brought the animal back with him and it was slaughtered. After the meat had been salted and soaked (kashered), a dog ate some of it. The rest rest of the meat was cooked in the pot. Then the dog came and took the meat from the hot pot and broke the pot and ate the meat. The wise merchant said that this did not happen by chance. Then they told him what had happened, and he said: “Bless the L-rd who prevented me from eating the food which was brought to my home with so much risk and danger.”

Keeping kosher is more than the food we eat, it is the lifestyle we accept upon ourselves. The many aspects of keeping kosher reminds us again and again that Jewish spirituality is inseparable from what one might term “physical.” It teaches us that Jewish spiritual practice is about taking the most ordinary of experiences — in all aspects of our lives — and transforming them into moments of meaning, moments of connection.

Simply said, keeping kosher connects people to tradition, to other holy people, and to the Holy One, blessed be He.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Dark Forest and the Unknown Wilderness

Posted on Wednesday, 14, March, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

It happened that when you heard the voice from the midst of the darkness (Deuteronomy 5:23)

A holy rabbi lived near the forest outside of the village. He would teach and pray with his students every day. The forest was dark and foreboding. The night, filled with sounds from the forest that frightened many. No one dared to travel far into the forest.

One Friday the holy rabbi began walking towards the forest. in the cold of the afternoon and the wail of the wind through the trees. The sun slowly set as the eerie shadows of the trees grew long, yet the holy rabbi and his students walked on into the forest. He stopped at a clearing and asked his students to recite the verses of Kabbalas Shabbos (service to welcome the Sabbath Day) with him.

The students were surprised, many wondering, why did their teacher the holy rabbi want them to say the Kabbalas Shabbos prayers in such a dark and fearful place?

The holy rabbi answered that he was fulfilling of the verse, “The voice of Hashem convulses the wilderness (Tehillim 29:8). He explained that even the wilderness is waiting from the days of Creation to hear Hashem’s (G-d’s) voice, and he wished to use the opportunity to bring Hashem’s voice to the wilderness.

The students were astounded by the holy rabbi’s faith and efforts to bring a renewed holiness to the forest, for even amid the suffering and darkness he was experiencing, he remembered the explanation of this verse and wished to implement it.

We see from here how holy people are able to remain serene and detach themselves from their surroundings, even under dire conditions. Indeed, a person who carries the Torah (Scriptures) in his heart can create an island of serenity that no one can take away from him, no matter what circumstances he finds himself in.

Although the students were well meaning, they could not overcome their fear and the cold winds, and they slipped away one by one and returned to their homes in the village. Only one student remained with the holy rabbi until he completed Kabbalas Shabbos prayer.

Years later the student met the holy rabbi on the street in a large city, and he reminded his teacher the holy rabbi of the time when they had said the verses of Kabbalas Shabbos together in the dark forest. The holy rabbi’s face lit up, and he said, “Don’t think that the verse, the voice of Hashem convulses the wilderness, applies only to the dark cold forest. The principle is true and exists everywhere. In every place, there are people who are living in a spiritually desolate wilderness and are waiting to hear the voice of Hashem!”

How many people today are indeed living in spiritual desolation! It is incumbent on us to bring the voice of Hashem (G-d) into the dark forest of their lives and save them from their spiritual wilderness.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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One day all the merchants were in a bad mood because the king had raised their taxes. When the old woman begged for fruit, each and every one of them turned her away. She did not get anything from them and she was very sad, for it looked as if she would go hungry all day long.

Just as she was about to leave the market, she noticed a merchant she had never seen before, an old man who looked as poor as she was. As she walked over to the old man, she saw that all he had left were six brown dates, dry¬ing in the sun.

“Could you spare just one?” she asked.

“Surely,” said the old man (who was really Eliyahu haNovi). “Take the one you want.”

Now five of the dates were very little, but one was big, and that is the one she chose. “Thank you, kind sir,” she said, and went on her way.

Back up the string and onto the windowsill she climbed, and then she started to clean the house. She swept from corner to corner, until the floor sparkled like new.

She was even more surprised when she got home, for there was her house, all neat and clean! She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Who did this?” she asked out loud.

“I did, Mother,” said a tiny voice.

The old woman looked around. There on the windowsill, where the old woman had left the date, was the tiniest girl in the world, no bigger than the woman’s little finger. The old woman blinked to see if she was dreaming. “Did you call me Mother?”

“Yes, Mother,” said the girl. And that is when the old woman understood that the kind old man must have been Elijah the prophet. And she hugged the tiny girl very carefully, so as not to hurt her.

Then she asked the girl her name. But the girl did not answer. “No one has given me a name,” she said at last.

“Then I will name you!” said the old woman. She thought and thought. “I will call you Katanya – the little one,” she said.

Katanya and the old woman lived together happily in that little hut. With the help of the golden coin they never had to go hungry. And the first thing the old woman did with the money was to pay back every merchant who had given her fruit to eat.

One day the prince was riding down the street, when he heard a lovely song drifting from an open window. The voice was so beautiful that he fell instantly in love. When he returned to the palace, he told his father, the king: “Father, I have found a lovely bride, and I wish to be married.”

“Very well, my son,” said the king in surprise, “but who is the bride?” “I wish to marry the girl whose beautiful singing I heard today,” said the prince.

The king sent a servant at once to the house of the old woman and invited her to come with her daughter to the palace. The servant told the woman: “I have brought a tailor with me who will sew dresses for you both.”

But when the old woman told Katanya this, the girl shook her head. “No, no, no! I love my dress of many colors, and that’s what I will wear.” So the tailor fitted the old woman, but when he asked to see the girl, he was told that she already had a pretty dress.

A few days later, the old woman put on her new dress and went to the palace, with Katanya hiding inside the pocket. The king welcomed her, but the prince was very sad. “Your daughter was invited to join us too,” he said.

“Why has she not come?”

All at once a tiny voice came from the pocket: “Here I am!” Then Katanya’s head peeked out.

“Is it you I heard singing?” asked the prince, much amazed.

“Perhaps,” she answered.

“In that case,” said the prince, “could you sing for us now? If you are the girl I heard, then it is you I want to marry, even though you are small.”

Katanya smiled, for what the prince said was very nice indeed. She sang a song more beautiful than any he had ever heard.

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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Hinda Rivka was a simple girl with strong faith who steadfastly refused to work on Shabbos at any price. Though many of the other girls were taken out and killed for taking such a stand, her single-mindedness in this area was astonishing. She many times worked a double shift on weekdays instead.

Her rescue from the Holocaust came about as a result of her Shabbos observance: The death transports were carried out on Shabbos, the day on which Hinda Rivka did not work. The lights from her Shabbos candles and sacrifices burned bright.

A Gut’n Shabbos mit brochah und Shalom

(A Good Shabbos with Blessings and Peace)

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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There lived in a village a mother and a son who were very devoted to one another who lived in a house beside a great oak tree.

His mother would frequently ask: “Why don’t you go to town and get a good job? You know our small farm demands much hard work with little return.”

Yosef answered: “Who will take care of you, my dear mother? We can manage al­right. When you regain your health, b’ezras Hashem (G-d willing), we’ll move to town.”

One day, Yosef received gift from his uncle, an old and rare edi­tion of the Book of Psalms which he had bought from a peddler. Yosef marveled at its old script written on parchment, which was well preserved and quite legible.

“To you, happy reader of the sacred Psalms, this message will unfold a tale of horror, but if you read it to the end, you shall have your reward well earned…”

Yosef became quite fascinated by this writing, and with the magnifying glass in one hand, he labored hard to de­cipher the message from beginning to end. By the time he pieced the whole message together dawn was breaking. Yosef was pale and shaky, for he had read a tale of fear and terror.

Yosef decided that after some sleep, he would ask the oldest villager if he knew anything about what he has read.

Old Petru said, yes, there had been a forest by the village once. It was avoided by the villagers who claimed it was haunted on account of the massacre of the Jewish community that happened there.

The sky began to grow dark and the wind started to blow strong as Yosef bade old Petru farewell. He arrived home just as the storm grew strong. His mother had been terrified, for the sound of thunder revived in her mind that horrible day when she lost her husband and became bedridden.

Yosef calmed his mother. He forgot about story he read the night before, about old Petru, and about the treasure. The house shook with thunder and lightning. Yosef calmly read the Psalms in his calm, soothing and enchanting voice.

Suddenly there was roar of thunder and the ground shook, Yosef and his mother found themselves on the floor greatly shaken. Yosef rose quickly and wanted to rush to his mother’s aid, but stared in amazement as he saw her rise and run to the window, “Look, the oak tree!”

Yosef was crying with joy when he saw that his mother had miraculously recovered and was walking unsupported as if she had never been paralyzed before. Only then did his mother realize too and the two embraced, murmuring thanks to G‑d.

“Go out and see whether any damage was done by that fallen oak tree,” his mother said.

Yosef and his mother became very wealthy. They distributed the greater part of the treasure to charities and still had many precious things left. Of all the treasures, the most precious to Yosef was his ancient Book of Psalms. His mother’s greatest treasure was Yosef.

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 most important thing is not study but action. (Pirke Avos 1:17)

“When I saw that he was raising the price all the time, I decided that it must be something very valuable, so I agreed to pay him the gold. ‘Give it to me,’ said he, ‘before I show you.’ And I gave him forty thousand in gold.

“At this, I went to my son and told him: ‘Divorce her.’ And I gave her to that young man and made them wealthy. This is the thing I have done.”

Then the holy rabbi said to him: “Blessed be the Ever Present who has privileged me to be seated beside you in Gan Eden!”

(based on Tanchuma, Mavo 68)

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 holy rabbi taught his daughter the secrets of the revealed and hidden Torah and many of the secrets of heaven. Asenat adored her father, and regarded him as a King of Israel. In a letter, she described her upbringing:

I never left the entrance to my house or went outside;

I was like a princess of Israel…

I grew up on the laps of scholars, anchored to my father of blessed memory.

I was never taught any work but sacred study, to uphold, as it is said: “And you should recite it day and night (Joshua 1: 8)”

Long ago, in the Kurdish town of Mosul, there lived a young woman named Asenat who was known for per­forming wonders. Her blessings were often sought by women who wished to be blessed with children, or by sick people who wished to be cured. Her touch had healing powers, especially for children.

It was whispered among the people that the spirit of her father rested upon her, and for this reason she was known as Rabbi Asenat.

When Rabbi Asenat reached the town that she had visited so often, she was given great respect as a holy woman. The people seemed to be upset when she told them that they should celebrate Rosh Chodesh outdoors, so they could see the crescent of the new moon, as was their custom.

The people were fascinated. They cried out, “Angels! Angels!” And when the smoke cleared, they saw that another miracle had taken place: the syna­gogue had not burned. Nor was a single letter of any of the Torah scrolls touched by the flames.

When the enemies of the Jewish community learned of the miracle of the angels and saw how the synagogue had been saved from the fire, they dared not harm the hair of even a single Jewish person.

A day opf celebration was declared as the people prayed and thanked the Holy One, blessed be He for saving this day for them and their beloved synagogue. The Jewish community was so grateful to Rabbi Asenat that they renamed the synagogue after her, and it is still standing to this day.

And all this came to pass because of Rabbi Asenat’s courage and loyalty in honoring her father’s wish, conveyed in a dream, that she go to that town for the celebration of the new moon.

Yosef answered: “Who will take care of you, my dear mother? We can manage alright. When you regain your health, b’ezras Hashem (G-d willing), we’ll move to town.”

One day, Yosef received gift from his uncle, an old and rare edition of the Book of Psalms which he had bought from a peddler. Yosef marveled at its old script written on parchment, which was well preserved and quite legible.

Yosef became quite fascinated by this writing, and with the magnifying glass in one hand, he labored hard to decipher the message from beginning to end. By the time he pieced the whole message together dawn was breaking. Yosef was pale and shaky, for he had read a tale of fear and terror.

Long ago, in the Kurdish town of Mosul, there lived a young woman named Asenat who was known for performing wonders. Her blessings were often sought by women who wished to be blessed with children, or by sick people who wished to be cured. Her touch had healing powers, especially for children.

The people were fascinated. They cried out, “Angels! Angels!” And when the smoke cleared, they saw that another miracle had taken place: the synagogue had not burned. Nor was a single letter of any of the Torah scrolls touched by the flames.

“If so,” I replied, “what happened to your modesty, my dear Reb Mordechai?”

“`Suddenly an angel appeared with a well-used siddur in his hand. Behind him was a line of wagons loaded with sacks. The angel asked permission to speak up on behalf of a dear soul that was on trial. The angel began: