A Daughter’s Memory

Posted on Monday, 5, December, 2022Wednesday, 2, August, 2023 by Rabbi

She was traveling to far away places, trying to find herself. She had a loving family and could not wait to tell them of her adventures. One day she received a letter from her mother that forever changed her life. Her father died in a tragic accident.

She sat devasted thinking, she was too young to be without a father, and yet she was.

He was too young to die, and yet he did.

All the answers to all the questions she hadn’t asked him, were now lost forever, because she believed he would always be there for her

She closed her eyes and in her mind’s eye she saw him, old but never frail, many years from now, always ready whenever she needed him to console her, advise her, disapprove of her latest boyfriend.

Instead, she found herself journeying back home, unable to stem the flow of tears that seemed to come without her even realizing it half the time.

she cried constantly, not eating because in her grief she wasn’t hungry. It seemed the closer she got to home the darker the world became, and she cried more.

The sun was out in full force, such a lovely day it angered her, it should have been pelting down with rain, hail, thunder, something to match the storm going on inside, but nothing, and so she cried some more.

People gathered in full force to come and say goodbye, and she saw people she never knew crying for beloved father, so many people, the casket was lowered into the grave and her heart seemed to sink into the earth at the moment. She was so glad for the many people that shared this pain with her, it is so heavy upon her shoulders she needed others to carry her for a while.

In the days after the funeral, the fog of grief and sadness slowly cleared and she began to feel like herself. At times, she was angry at him for leaving, even though he never wanted to leave. Mostly, she was angry at herself for letting so many so many opportunities to spend time with her father, learn from him, talk to him.

A thing like this rips your heart. It is unexplainable in words alone, unless you have been there yourself. A person can imagine the pain of losing someone they love, but reality surpasses all imagination, and how she wishes it wasn’t so.

Her father loved to talk, discuss, and teach, he would get you into a conversation and before you knew it was the wee hours of the morning, your cheeks burning, your mouth yawning but your mind still racing to keep up with him and his arguments.

Her father taught her to question things, to not take anything for granted, to strive to be a better person, and she wanted to tell you he was here, sorry you missed him…

May all your tales end with Shalom (Peace)

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A Pencil Box and Child Awareness of Death

Posted on Wednesday, 25, May, 2022Wednesday, 25, May, 2022 by Rabbi

I was deep in thought at my office, preparing a lesson to be given that evening at a community center across town, when the telephone rang. A woman I had never met introduced herself and said that she was the mother of a seven-year-old and that she was dying. She said that her counselor had advised her that discussing her pending death with her son would be too traumatic for him, but somehow that didn’t feel right to her.

Knowing that I worked with grieving children, she asked my advice. I told her that our heart is often smarter than our brain and that I thought she knew what would be best for her son. I also invited her to attend the lesson that night since I was speaking about how children cope with death. She said she would be there.

In today’s society, death is a frightening topic to be avoided at all costs. It is banished from the psyches and the home, and placed firmly out of sight into hospital rooms, hospices, and funeral homes. The Angel of Death is an unwelcome visitor whose presence many try so hard to ignore. Many therapists and counselors sadly leave death and the topics surrounding it shrouded in dark, fearful mystery.

I wondered later if I would recognize the woman at the lesson, but my question was answered when I saw a weak woman being half carried into the room by two adults. I talked about the fact that children usually sense the truth long before they are told and that they often wait until they feel adults are ready to talk about it before sharing their concerns and questions. I said that children usually can manage truth better than denial, even though the denial is intended to protect them from pain. I said that respecting children meant including them in the family sadness through grieving and mourning, not shutting them out.

The woman had heard enough. At the break, she hobbled to the front of the room and through her tears she said, “l knew it in my heart. I just knew I should tell him.” She said that she would tell him that night.

The next morning, I received another phone call from her.

She could hardly talk but I managed to hear the story through her choked voice. She woke her son up when they got home from the lesson and quietly said, “David, I have something to tell you.” He quickly interrupted her saying, “Oh, Mommy, is it now that you are going to tell me that you are dying?” She held him close, and they both cried while she said, “Yes.”

After a few minutes, the little boy wanted to get down. He said that he had something for her that he had been saving. In the back of one of his drawers was an old pencil box. Inside the box was a letter written in simple scrawl. It said, “Good-bye, Mommy. I will always love you.

How long he had been waiting to hear the truth, I don’t know. I do know that two days later Mom died. In her casket was placed the old pencil box and a letter.

May your memories be a blessing that lead you to shalom (Peace)

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Thoughts during a Funeral

Posted on Sunday, 10, October, 2021Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Tam and Chacham attended a funeral together. Chacham observed that:

“We learn that we are to ‘Deal graciously with the departed that you may be dealt with graciously, mourn, bury and accompany them to the grave.’ (Kesubos 72a), yet many push and shove to get close to the coffin during a funeral so that they can take part in the mitzvah of carrying the deceased and helping to fill in the grave. In this way, they feel that they are doing something for the benefit of the deceased, even though it is as clear as day that even if they didn’t participate, the deceased would still be buried.’ “

“It is certainly a mitzvah to participate in these things, but why don’t people do something which will really benefit the deceased, even after the funeral is over? We have been taught by our holy teachers of the past that a person’s trial, along with the judgment that follows is decided after he is buried – so why don’t people learn from the Holy Writings or say Tehillim (Psalms) for the elevation of the soul of the deceased?”

On another occasion, Tam added more on the same matter: “Some people who attend a funeral don’t feel so concerned when they listen to the eulogies. It is written, ‘“funeral orators are punished for delivering false eulogies,’ (Berachos 62a) Too many people think there is no need to be that upset over his death.’ “

”But should we not all be concerned about the trial and judgment that the niftar (deceased) will now be facing? Instead of standing around and exchanging greetings and gossip at the funeral, wouldn’t it be better to be saying Tehillim (Psalms) or thinking thoughts that will bring us to do teshuvah (repentance/retrospection) in order to help the tikkun hanefesh (repair of the soul) of the deceased? It would also be better if after the burial, people would not just go back home and forget about the funeral, thinking that it is over and there is nothing more that can be done. The correct thing would be to go home and pray, asking for the mercy of the Holy One, blessed be He so that the deceased will be spared from any harsh judgment that he might face. It is very important to remember to ‘walk reverently in a cemetery, blessed the deceased say: “tomorrow they will join us, and today they mock us. (Berachos 18a)’ “

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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His Memory Should Be a Blessing

Posted on Sunday, 10, May, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Sometime in the night, as he slept, the soul of the rabbi returned to the Holy One, blessed be He. His son mourned the loss of his beloved father. Day after day, he cried over the loss of his beloved father.

In the moments he was alone he remembered so much he had taken for granted about his father. His father was his model and guiding light. He set the example of what a good father and friend should be. He always saw the good in people, and if he saw the bad, he would overlook it. His father would always help people overcome challenges and problems.

Days turned to weeks and still the son was so overcome by his grief he could not even leave his house. In the silence of the night, his father visited him in a dream and said:

“Show your love by walking the Way, in devotion to the commandments, faith, and people. Are we not taught, ‘No deed is perfect without the impulse of the soul…. Our answer must be given in deeds, not words. (Chovos haLavavos/Duties of the Heart, 1040)’ this is the only memorial that truly honors the departed.”

The son rose from his grief on hearing these words, and went to make his father’s memory a perpetual light to guide him and a blessing to the world.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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The Worth of Kaddish

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kesubos 8b

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Rabbi Akiva and the Orphan’s Kaddish

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

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

It is brought down in Seder HaDoros that……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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A Pendant of Memories

Posted on Wednesday, 30, January, 2019Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

All was quiet except the sound of a soft breeze. A young boy maybe thirteen stared outside into the endless night sky. Although the boy’s eyes stared at the night his mind was far far away.

All he could think about was his mother, her long red hair, her smile, even the tone of her voice when she told him stories of magical places and great heroes. Suddenly, he noticed something moving outside. It came closer and closer, it looked like his mother. The boy torn with grief had hope for the first time in weeks and did what any curious boy one would do, he ran towards the ghost, sneaking slowly out of the window.

He finally walked so close to the image that he could almost touch it, but felt nothing. The sadness rushed in and his body began to slowly shake as he started to cry to himself. “Why?! Why did you have to die!” The boy screamed in agony, he wished he could hug her, and hear her soothing voice. But nothing happened, he sat there in silence on his knees, tears slowly falling from his eyes. “It’s all my fault! If I had only….” A wave of thought and pain washed over the grief stricken boy.

His heart ached, a mental rather than physical pain, all he wished for was his mother, nothing more. His memory stretched backwards to days of when he was three years old, he remembered his mother carrying him through a fair filled with living legends of kings, queens and nobleman.

Another memory popped into his mind, he remembered when his best friend moved away and he feared he never see him again. His mother sat there stroking his hair saying it would be alright. Soon his beautiful memories vanished as a puff of smoke as his chest began to hurt. Longing just to be with her one more time.

The young boy breathed deeply trying to stop the tears from flowing, it worked for a few minutes. Then he started to feel very depressed, feeling guilty, sad and grief struck through him like a sword.

Stew slopped into the large bowl that he held in front of him. The boy pressed his hand to his mouth, nearly vomiting. He quietly sat down next to his cousins. They sat there eating the food, talking and laughing, the boy tried to join them.

Soon he finished the stew and continued to his room to just lie in his bed. Something was different, he looked at his pillow, and on it was a pendant with the words “carpe diem” (“seize the day) on it. His mother had given it to him when he was worried about a sick friend. How? When? He looked around looking at his cousins. Looking at the pendant, the boy began to accept his mother’s death and realized its okay to be happy about somethings and memories.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Memories, Teshuvah and Chicken Soup

Posted on Thursday, 27, September, 2018Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The sun was setting and Rivka looked out the window at the different colours on the horizon, but to her it was all muted. She reluctantly looked at the shiva candle that she set on the table wondering what to do next.

Slowly she mumbled a prayer that the rabbi recommended:

Gray light entered through the faded curtains of the wooden house as Rivka slowly got up. Sadly, she looked at the empty bed beside her – Yosef Simcha was gone.

She put on her warm robe, and then passed by the yahrzeit candle still burning from the night before on the dining room table next to Yosef Simcha’s siddur and tefillin. The flame gave off such a cold light in the small glass. The rabbi had said she could let the candle burn out by itself. Rivka felt like she was as burnt out as the candle.

Slowly she made her way to the kitchen and set a kettle up to boil on the stove. A nice cup of instant coffee like she used only on Shabbos was fine for every day now. Nothing tasted good these days, not even coffee.

Yesterday, shiva over, the rabbi had said, “It’s time for you to go out.” Time was so unforgiving; Rivka was not ready. Especially not ready to see her face in the mirror: her hair grayer, the skin underneath her green eyes darker, face color nonexistent.

Today being Friday, she had to buy food for Shabbos. That’s if she wanted to eat. Rivka forced herself to eat a boiled egg and bagel after the funeral. Then everyone else could eat. For the next few days, she’d eaten to keep up her strength for the visitors.

Today, coffee was all she wanted. Then Rivka put on her black raincoat with a hood. It was only last year Yosef Simcha had said, “Great—a hood, in case of rain.” He put down the paper to admire Rivka as she showed off her new raincoat.

Rivka wondered, had he started to look pale then?

Pulling the hood over her head, Rivka forced herself out the door. Once outside, she was not sure if raindrops or tears were sliding down her cheeks.

No need to get eggless challahs, fresh fish and vegetables which was all Yosef Simcha could eat after his heart surgery. The rain matched Rivka’s mood as she walked up the street, busy with other shoppers scurrying to get what they needed for Shabbos.

she took off her hood and grabbed a small cart as she entered the market. As soon as she entered the first aisle, someone shoved into her with a large wagon.

“Pardon me,” Rivka said, then turned to see Shira, Yosef Simcha’s first wife, surrounded by potatoes, onions and carrots.

Shira whined, “You could at least say hello.”

“Hello.” Picking up some celery, Rivka smelled them. They reminded her of spring, and fresh air, and her mother’s chicken soup bubbling on the stove before Shabbos.

Since Shira had not shown up for the funeral, Rivka hadn’t minded the twin boys standing together, yet apart from everyone else at the graveside. They stood by as Yosef Simcha was lowered into the ground, then escaped without saying a word to Rivka.

How she wished they had said some word of kindness, or an acknowledgment that Rivka existed. How she wished they acted like Yosef Simcha, not just looked like him.

Was it her fault, what happened between Yosef Simcha and Shira? Rivka never really wanted to know. She had such wonderful memories of her husband.

It was still painful that she and Yosef Simcha had no children. No one to whom she could pass on his precious siddur and tefillin. No one to help her through the mourning process.

“I didn’t come to the funeral, because I thought it would bother you.” Shira flung her thick finger, adorned with a huge flashy diamond, into Rivka’s face. “I’m happy now, as you can see.”

Happy was not a word Rivka could even imagine using now. Looking down at her own tastefully small ring, she never would have worn such a flashy piece of jewelry.

Cart filled with chicken and other special food, Shira said, “I told my boys to go, out of respect for their father.”

“It would also have been respectful if they paid their condolences to me.”

“They never forgave their father for abandoning them.”

Abandoning them! After all the weekends we invited the boys and Shira had said no. Shira had no case.

Yosef Simcha was heartbroken so many times, Rivka suspected it added to his strain.

She bought candles to bring in Shabbos by herself.

Thinking about which kind of frozen dinner she should buy, Rivka heard Shira brag about her ring to someone else.

When would Rivka be happy? She pictured her mother lighting candles, white lace scarf covering her head, small hands circling the warm orange flames reflecting off her round face.

Rivka ran around the store, buying chicken, onions and spices, her mother’s secret ingredients to add to the celery hearts and carrots for soup. Smelling the aroma while the soup was bubbling will make a sweet Shabbos.

Looking out the large window, the sun inched out through the clouds, as if it forgave them.

She noticed Shira by the checkout counter. Maybe Rivka should forgive Shira for all her bad behavior. “After all,” the rabbi had said, “not forgiving someone is bad for your heart.”

She stepped over to Susan and said, “A gut’n Shabbos to you and your family.”

Rivka left the store with a heart that felt less heavy. Tonight, when lighting the candles, she would thank G-d for all she had.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Blanket Made By Zadie

Posted on Thursday, 14, December, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Itzik the Schneider was a tailor and everything he sewed was filled with love and faith. When his ainikle (grandson) was born, he sewed a very special blanket that kept the baby warm. As the boy grew, the blanket began to tatter and tear, so zadie took his scissors, needle and thread and made his grandson a coat out of that worn out old blanket.

The coat kept the boy warm as he went to school and played with his friends. The boy loved the coat so much, he was hardly without it. Little boys grow but not coats, and one the coat no longer fit the boy. Again, zadie took his scissors, needle and thread and cut down his grandson’s coat into a vest. The boy loved the vest and wore it almost everywhere, but one day as he was working on a special project for his zadie (grandfather), some paint and glue splattered onto the vest. The vest was ruined and the boy was very upset. Zadie, however, looked at the vest and then to his grandson, told him to not worry, and took the vest, the scissors, needle and some thread and made a wonderful tie for his grandson. The boy wore the tie to school and many special occasions, he loved the tie very much. The boy was visiting his zadie (grandfather) for a holiday and as they sat and ate, zadie was telling stories and singing songs something terrible happened, the tie became stained with soup and food. The boy was very sad, Zadie looked at the tie and smiled.

After the holiday he took the tie, his scissors, needle and a little thread and made a handkerchief for his grandson. The boy used his special handkerchief until it became tattered and worn. The boy was very gloomy, so zadie took the handkerchief, his scissors, needle and some thread and made small cloth covered button. The boy was very happy and he wore it, button every single day and then…. One day, the button fell off. He looked everywhere but could not find the button that his zadie made for him with needle, some thread and a lot of love. He sat down and cried for a very long time. He found it hard to think or even meet with his friends but then…. One day, he took a pen in his hand and some paper and began to draw and write.

He remembered the blanket, the coat, the vest, the tie, the handkerchief, the cloth covered button, and all the good times he enjoyed with each of these items. He drew pictures and wrote stories about each thing and shared them with his friends. He soon began to understand that while the past can no longer be the present he can always remember.

The same is true for each of us when we suffer a loss. The sadness that we experience is very real but with time, and sometimes a lot of it, we can begin to appreciate new things about ourselves, our families, our friends, and our community. This does not mean that the person has been erased, it means that we remember and will never forget them because those memories are forever.

May the memories of all your loved ones be a source of strength and blessing

and

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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Man’s Three Friends

Posted on Tuesday, 26, October, 2010Sunday, 7, January, 2024 by Rabbi

A person had three friends. One friend was truly beloved, a second was also loved, but the third was often taken for granted. One day the man lost everything he owned. The king commanded him to appear before him immediately. The poor man was very frightened, wondering why the king would want to speak to him. In fear, he called upon each of his three friends to go with him to the king.

First, he turned to his closet friend, and was extremely disappointed when this friend said it would be impossible to go with him to visit the king.

He then turned to his second friend. “Will you go with me to the king?” This friend said, “I can go with you only up to the gates of the palace, but that is as far as I can go.”

Extremely sad, the man then turned to her third friend, the one to whom he had taken for granted. This friend said with assurance, “I will accompany you, but first I will go directly to the palace myself and plead for you with the king.”

Isaiah 58:8

The first friend reflects a person’s wealth, which cannot accompany you to the grave, as it is written, “Riches profit not in the day of reckoning.” The second friend represents a person’s relatives, who can only follow you to the grave site, as it is written, “No person can redeem his brother from death.” The third and last friend represents the good deeds of a person’s life. These never desert you and even precede you to plead your cause before the King of all Kings, as it is written, “And your righteousness shall go before you.” (Isaiah 58:8)

Adapted from Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer

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She was traveling to far away places, trying to find herself. She had a loving family and could not wait to tell them of her adventures. One day she received a letter from her mother that forever changed her life. Her father died in a tragic accident.

She sat devasted thinking, she was too young to be without a father, and yet she was.

He was too young to die, and yet he did.

All the answers to all the questions she hadn’t asked him, were now lost forever, because she believed he would always be there for her

She closed her eyes and in her mind’s eye she saw him, old but never frail, many years from now, always ready whenever she needed him to console her, advise her, disapprove of her latest boyfriend.

Instead, she found herself journeying back home, unable to stem the flow of tears that seemed to come without her even realizing it half the time.

she cried constantly, not eating because in her grief she wasn’t hungry. It seemed the closer she got to home the darker the world became, and she cried more.

The sun was out in full force, such a lovely day it angered her, it should have been pelting down with rain, hail, thunder, something to match the storm going on inside, but nothing, and so she cried some more.

She won’t get another chance to do so, but she can still hear him talk to her, she knows what he would say when she makes unwise decisions or when she just needs advice. Her father’s voice now has more authority than ever, because she has a debt to pay to him, she owes him big time.

A thing like this rips your heart. It is unexplainable in words alone, unless you have been there yourself. A person can imagine the pain of losing someone they love, but reality surpasses all imagination, and how she wishes it wasn’t so.

Her father loved to talk, discuss, and teach, he would get you into a conversation and before you knew it was the wee hours of the morning, your cheeks burning, your mouth yawning but your mind still racing to keep up with him and his arguments.

Her father taught her to question things, to not take anything for granted, to strive to be a better person, and she wanted to tell you he was here, sorry you missed him…

May all your tales end with Shalom (Peace)

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The woman had heard enough. At the break, she hobbled to the front of the room and through her tears she said, “l knew it in my heart. I just knew I should tell him.” She said that she would tell him that night.

The next morning, I received another phone call from her.

After a few minutes, the little boy wanted to get down. He said that he had something for her that he had been saving. In the back of one of his drawers was an old pencil box. Inside the box was a letter written in simple scrawl. It said, “Good-bye, Mommy. I will always love you.

How long he had been waiting to hear the truth, I don’t know. I do know that two days later Mom died. In her casket was placed the old pencil box and a letter.

May your memories be a blessing that lead you to shalom (Peace)

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Tam and Chacham attended a funeral together. Chacham observed that:

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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Many will praise his understanding; it will never be blotted out. His memory will not disappear, and his name will live through all generations. (Ecclesiasticus/ben Sira 39:9)

Sometime in the night, as he slept, the soul of the rabbi returned to the Holy One, blessed be He. His son mourned the loss of his beloved father. Day after day, he cried over the loss of his beloved father.

Days turned to weeks and still the son was so overcome by his grief he could not even leave his house. In the silence of the night, his father visited him in a dream and said:

“My son, do you think that you honor my memory with your grief? Do you not remember the teaching: ‘Who is honored? He who honors.’ (Avos 4:1) Offer me no tribute of tears, nor monuments of sorrow. Do not weep for me. Instead, live for me.”

The son rose from his grief on hearing these words, and went to make his father’s memory a perpetual light to guide him and a blessing to the world.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kesubos 8b

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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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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It is brought down in Seder HaDoros that……

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

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

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

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