There once was a shepherd boy named Yishai who lived in a forest near a little Polish village. Each day he herded his family’s goats through the forest to a clearing where they grazed. As they did, Yishai sat beneath a tree and studied from the holy books lessons his father taught him the night before. He played beautiful Shabbos songs on his wooden flute. Each day at sunset Yishai led the goats back home, where his little sister Leah was waiting. She helped him milk the goats and feed the chickens, so that Yishai would have more time to teach her how to read.

At night, after dinner, their father told them stories he had heard from his parents and grandparents. There were tales of sages and heroes, of angels and demons, of witches and wizards, all of which Yishai loved. His loved to hear tales about the holy city of Jerusalem most of all. He especially liked stories about the Kossel haMa’arivi (the Western Wall), where people left messages for Hashem (G-d) in the cracks of the wall. It was Yishai’s dream to go there.

One morning, Yishai’s mother handed him a cup of goat’s milk. He thought it was unusually sweet, as if it had honey in it. The rest of the family agreed that it was the best milk they had ever tasted, and Yishai’s father said, “Yishai, do you know which of the goats this milk came from?” Yishai said, “Of course I do. It came from the youngest one.”

“Tell me Yishai,” said his father, “do you know where that goat has been grazing? For if you do, you could take the other goats there, and they too might give such delicious milk.”

“I’ll try to find out,” said was Yishai, “but that goat wanders off every day and doesn’t come back until sunset.”

“In that case, follow it,” his father said.

The next day Yishai led the goats out to the forest and sat down under his favorite tree, determined to keep his eye on the youngest goat. Before long Yishai took out his wooden recorder and started to play it, and the melody was so beautiful he closed his eyes for just an instant. When he opened them, the goat disappeared and did not come back until it was time to return home. This happened the next day and the next, and meanwhile the goat continued to give that delicious milk. Yishai’s father saved some of it for the family and sold the rest in the village nearby.

At breakfast the next day Yishai’s father said, “Something strange happened yesterday. I delivered milk to this old woman who’s been sick. She’s been too weak to come out to meet me, so I take the milk up to her. Well, yesterday she came out of her house looking much better and smiling and she said, ‘That milk you gave me, I think it cured me. I want more of that milk!”

Then Yishai’s father turned to him and said, “So, Yishai, did you ever find out where that goat was grazing?”

“No, no . . I tried . . . it’s a very tricky goat,” Yishai said.

“Now Yishai,” his father said, “if that milk has special healing abilities, we really need to find out where the goat is grazing.”

Yishai said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll put a bell around the goat. Then even if it runs away, I’ll hear the bell and I’ll be able to follow it.”

His father said “Good idea!”

So Yishai found a little bell and tied it around the neck of the goat. And that day when he led the goats out to the forest, he heard the bell tinkling, and he smiled to himself, thinking, “He’s not going to get away this time!”

When they got out to the forest, Yishai kept an eye on the goat, which grazed nearby, as he began to play his flute. Then he closed his eyes for just an instant, carried away by the melody. When he opened his eyes, the goat was gone. Yishai still could hear the tinkling of the bell, so he jumped up and raced off in that direction. He caught sight of the goat just before it ran behind a bush. So Yishai crept up to the bush and pushed it aside—but when he did, the goat wasn’t there. Instead, there was the entrance to a cave, a cave he had never seen before. And from inside the cave he heard the faint jingling of the bell.

Yishai didn’t know what to do. Should he follow the goat into that cave? What if there were spiders or snakes in there? At that moment, he remembered how badly his father wanted to know where the goat had been grazing, and all at once he felt very brave and he dashed inside.

At first the cave was large enough that Yishai could stand up in it, but before long it grew narrow, and he had to bend low, and sometimes crawl, and he wondered where the goat was leading him. He continued to hear the goat’s bell in the distance and little by little the darkness in the cave began to lift, and Yishai knew he must be approaching the other end of the cave. Then Yishai came to a turn in the passage and he saw the goat run­ning out of the cave. He hurried to catch up with it, but when he stepped outside, Yishai was astonished to find that he was no longer in the forest. Where did it go? Instead, he was standing in a beautiful orchard, where he saw trees he had never seen before — date trees and fig trees and olive trees. There were no trees like that in Poland. Where was he? Then Yishai looked up, and there, beneath a nearby date tree, calmly grazed the young goat.

Yishai walked over to the goat and petted it, and he tied it to the tree with the rope he used for a belt. Where he stood, the scent of dates was so enticing that Yishai reached up and picked one. He bit into it, and it was the sweetest date he had ever tasted, as sweet as honey. Yishai understood that the goat must have been grazing there, but he could not figure out where he was, for he seemed to have come to another land.

Yishai looked up and saw a synagogue nearby. Just then the service ended and men came out. One was walking in his direction, and when he passed Yishai he said, “Hello young man. I see you are wearing the clothes of the old country.”

Yishai said, “Yes, we are new here. Tell me, what is this beautiful place?”

“Why, this is the Holy Land,” said the man. “Don’t you know you are in the city of Jerusalem?”

“I am?” Yishai said, and his heart skipped a beat. But how could that be possible? He had traveled only a short distance through the cave, and the Holy Land was so far away. It must have been a miracle. Yishai wanted to be sure. So he asked the man if the Kossel, the Western Wall, was nearby.

The man said. “That is what most strangers want to know. Yes, the Wall is very close. Just follow this path past the synagogue, and soon you will reach the marketplace. From there, anyone can guide you there.” Yishai gratefully thanked the man and hurried off in that direction.

That path led Yishai to a teeming marketplace. Yishai felt at home there, for he had often accompanied his father to the market in his vil­lage. Everyone was buying and selling and bargaining, and every kind of food could be found, from raisins and dates to sweet-smelling oranges. But Yishai wasn’t hungry—he was filled with thoughts about the Wall. As he walked through the marketplace, Yishai found himself walking next to an old man, wearing a white robe, carrying a staff. The old man greeted him, “Shalom aleichem.” Then he asked, “Where are you going?”

“Aleichem shalom,” Yishai said. “I am going to the Kossel.”

The old man replied, “I am going there too. Let us go together.”

So the old man led Yishai through the streets of Jerusalem. As they walked along, Yishai heard prayers coming from every direction, for there were many synagogues in that part of the city. Yishai recognized the prayers, but the melodies were different from those in his village. Still, the words were the same, and knowing those words made him feel at home in that distant place.

At last they came to the Western Wall. Yishai’s heart leaped at the sight of it. Yishai and the old man hastened to the Wall, where dozens of men and women had gathered, all pouring out their hearts and leaving messages for the Holy One, blessed be He in the cracks in the Wall. With their tears, they prayed for G-d’s help, and they mourned the destruction of the Temple and the scattering of the Jewish people all over the world.

Yishai stood close to the Wall and kissed it, with tears rolling down his cheeks. He had been waiting all his life for that moment: to stand before that wall in the holy city of Jerusalem. Looking up, Yishai thought he saw some kind of holy presence hovering above the wall, and he knew that he was in a very sacred place.

Yishai began to recite the prayers he knew so well, praying with a passion he had never known, certain that Hashem was listening to every word.

When he finished, he looked up and saw that the old man was writing a message, which he rolled up and left in a crack in the Wall. He turned to Yishai and said, “Would you like to leave a message?” Yishai smiled and held out his hand and the old man handed him a pen and a slip of paper. Yishai thanked him and wrote a message in which he said: “Ribbono shel olam, Master of the Universe how can I ever thank you for bringing me to this holy place? I am so grateful to be here. Hashem, I miss my parents. Isn’t there some way that they could join me?” he carefully rolled up the message and put it in a crack in the Wall.

Now at the very instant that message touched the Wall, the goat in the orchard reared up and broke its rope. It ran through the cave back to the forest and from there directly to Yishai’s house. And when Yishai’s parents saw that the young goat had come back without him, they were very worried. So when the goat suddenly turned around and ran back to the forest, they all ran after it, calling out for Yishai. Even the family’s animals ran after them. They saw the goat go behind the bush, and that is when they discovered the entrance to the cave. Yishai’s father said, “The goat must be trying to lead us to Yishai. Perhaps he has been hurt. Quickly, let’s see where this cave leads us.” So they all went into the cave.

Meanwhile, Yishai thanked the old man and said good-bye to him. Now he was hungry, but he didn’t have a single coin. Then Yishai remembered the goat. He could milk the goat and sell the milk in the market. Then he would have enough money to buy some food. So he hurried back to the orchard, where he had tied the goat. But when he got there the rope was broken, and the goat was missing. Yishai was heartbroken. Where could it have gone?

Just then Yishai heard sounds coming from the cave, and all at once the goat came running out of it. He was so happy to see it. Yishai embraced the goat, and as he did, he heard familiar voices. He ran toward the cave just as his father, his mother, and his sister Leah came running out. Yishai was overjoyed. He rushed into their arms and they all shed tears of joy, for they had been reunited. Their faithful animals had followed them through the cave.

Then Yishai said, “Do you know where we are?”

“No,” answered his father, “what place is this? It can’t be Poland.”

Yishai answered, “The cave brought us to the Holy Land to the city of Jerusalem.”

“How can that be?” asked his father. “It takes months to travel to the Holy Land.”

Yishai responded, “It’s a miracle. I just prayed at the Wall for you to join me here. And Hashem has answered my prayer.”

When they saw the orchards of Jerusalem instead of the forests of Poland, his family realized that a miracle truly had taken place. And since Hashem had brought them there, they decided to stay and make their home there. Their lives in the holy city of Jerusalem were blessed, and they lived long lives.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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

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

If the stories are not shared they will be lost.

Please share this story with others