Fire, Stories and Teshuvah

Posted on Monday, 7, March, 2022 by Rabbi

A well traveled maggid (spiritual storyteller) was once asked whether he believed himself to be more faithful than others or above sin, and if not, why he always shared stories to others.

The Maggid thought for a moment, took a deep breath and then answered the question with a short story.

In a little town a fire broke out but the people living near the burning house did not take notice it. The owner of the house rushed out of his burning home into the street, shouting, “Fire! Fire! Let us all save our homes!”

And there was one man who said to him, “Why are you shouting at us to safeguard our homes when it is your own house that is afire?”

The owner of the burning house answered, “Even so, my brother. If I call on you to guard your homes from fire, my house too, will be spared from growing flames and destruction.”

“This is also what I must do now,” explained the maggid (spiritual storyteller). “I call on you strengthen your faith and to do teshuvah (repent). In spite of my own shortcomings I am fully aware that I have sinned and at times lapse in my faith. The stories lead the listeners to mend their ways and thereby rescues me as well from the raging fire that attacks our faith and can lead to sin. Let us work together for the deliverance of our souls.”

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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A Coat’s Tale

Posted on Monday, 13, December, 2021Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

Joseph’s father was a tailor and as a young boy Joseph would spend days in his father’s shop, learning how to cut and sew cloth. After some time, Joseph dreamed of a coat he would like to make for himself. He planned just how it would look and what fabrics he would use. He saved up the money he earned from working in his father’s shop. Finally, after many years, he had enough money to buy the fabric he wanted.

When Joseph had the cloth he wanted, he worked on his coat. He spent many nights measuring, cutting, sewing, and pressing, until his fine coat was finished. Joseph was so proud of his coat, he rushed to show it his father. His father looked at every stitch of the coat, smiled and said, “Well done Joseph, you have become a fine tailor”.

Joseph loved his coat very much and wore it through the long, cold winters. The coat kept him very warm. Years passed and one winter, while walking through the snowy marketplace, Joseph saw a woman shivering with only a thin shawl to keep out the cold. Joseph went to her and offered her his coat to keep her warm. He slowly walked her home, talking all the way. Sara was about his age, and Joseph learned they had a lot in common. Two years later they were married.

Joseph opened his own tailor’s shop in the house he shared with his new wife. Winters passed and he always wore his coat. Joseph wore his favorite coat until it was very worn out. One day he picked it up and said sadly to Sara, “This old coat has been so special to me. It was my dream to make it and it also made my father so proud. All those years ago it also helped me to meet you. But now there is nothing left”.

Then Joseph had an idea and looked at his coat very closely. He realized that he had enough left of his favorite coat to make something special. He rushed into the shop and began cutting and sewing. Early the next morning he appeared wearing a jacket, made from the fabric of his old coat.

Joseph loved the jacket greatly, and he wore it often. Time passed and Sara gave birth to two little girls. The following winter, when Joseph saw the first snowflakes start to fall, he rushed outside with his two daughters tucked under his jacket. Together they all played in the falling snow, laughing as the snowflakes landed on their noses and cheeks.

Joseph continued to wear his coat for many years, until Sara noticed that it was looking a bit worn out. Joseph looked sadly at the beloved jacket, “I will never forget how this jacket kept us warm while the twins and I danced together in the first snow.” With a sigh, Joseph looked at his worn-out jacket and then he realized that there was just enough fabric to do something with.

Joseph rushed to the shop. He cut and sewed the fabric from the jacket until he emerged with a neat little cap. It looked so special, he wore it nearly every day.

Years passed and hard times fell on Joseph’s family. They had very little money for food. One day, while walking in the woods, they came across a brier of blackberries. The berries looked so juicy and sweet. They wanted to bring some home with them, but they had nothing to put them in. Then Joseph had an idea and took off his cap and together the family filled it to the brim with blackberries. Back home they made a delicious blackberry pie and at dinner time they enjoyed every bite.

Joseph’s daughters grew up and his cap became threadbare. One day he looked at the treasured cap and saw that it was all worn out and it was beyond repair. Joseph looked at his cap for a long time and then rushed into the shop. He began cutting and sewing. Hours later he emerged wearing a bowtie, made from the fabric he saved from his beloved cap.

Joseph wore his bowtie everywhere. He wore it to his daughters’ weddings. He wore it when he held his first grandchild. When his granddaughter was old enough to talk, she sat on his knee and played with the bowtie. She asked, “Grandpa, do you have a butterfly on your shirt?” He then took off the bowtie and pretended it was a butterfly every time he saw his granddaughter.

One day, when Joseph’s hair was gray, he returned home from the market and Sara asked him “where is your bow-tie?”. He felt his neck, but the bowtie was not there. He quickly retraced his steps through the market but try as he could he did not fine the bowtie. Sadly, Joseph returned to his house and went to bed without eating any dinner.

The next morning Joseph refused to get out of bed. He just felt so sad without the bowtie. “What’s the use? The cloth I loved so much is gone. It has been with me for so many years but now there is nothing left. Nothing! I have lost so many dear memories.”

Sara quietly left the house and went to visit their daughters. She returned with the grandchildren, who plopped themselves on their grandpa’s bed. But he looked sadly at them, saying “I cannot play today, I am just too sad”.

His daughter turned to him and asked, “Can you please tell us one of the stories about the cloth? Your grandchildren do not know the stories.”

“Oh, but it is too sad”, he answered.

The children begged and eventually he gave in. He told them of how he worked so hard to save the money he had needed to buy the cloth. He told them of how the coat he had made was so smart and warm. Of how the coat had helped him to meet his beloved wife He told them of how it had kept his daughter’s warm while they danced in the falling snow. He told them of the cap full of berries that they had picked. As he recalled the many memories, they brought a smile to his face.

“Grandpa, you made the bow-tie into a butterfly. Maybe it flew away” his granddaughter said to him with a smile.

Joseph sighed and gave her a hug. “Yes, it seems it did fly away. But you have helped me to realize that the memories have not flown away. They will be with me always. There are just enough memories to make a story and that will be with us forever if you will help me to keep it safe”. Joseph hugged his family and got out of bed.

There are many memories and stories throughout life. Share those memories and stories so they can come alive with each retelling. If the stories are not shared, they will be lost.

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

Click here for more storytelling resources

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 Baker’s Reward

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

Part I – A Lamp and a Blessing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very good, come with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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

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The Shalom Bayis Kugel and Recipe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vegetable Kugel Recipe

Ingredients:

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

1. Preheat oven to 375°.

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

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

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

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

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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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 Bloodless Challah and a Bread Machine Challah Recipe

Posted on Thursday, 13, August, 2020Tuesday, 20, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The holy rabbi kept an open house. All travelers were welcome. No one in need was ever turned away. One Friday, a non-Jewish beggar came in and asked for a piece of bread. The holy rabbi’s wife had only whole challahs in the house at that moment – challah that she had just baked l’koved Shabbos (in honor of Shabbos). She did not want to cut into one of these special challahs, but her husband urged, “Cut the challah, blood won’t come from it.”

She did as her husband asked, and gave the non-Jewish beggar as much bread as he wanted to satisfy his hunger.

Sometime later, the holy rabbi had to travel along the road through a forest. He was lost in thought and was amazed at the beauty of the forest. There, he was surrounded and seized by a gang of robbers who took away everything he had. Then they marched him to their leader, who would decide whether or not to kill him.

The leader of the robber gang turned out to be the very same man to whom the holy rabbi’s wife had fed her challah! He recognized the rabbi at once, and told his men, “This holy rabbi kept me alive. Do not harm him in the least – and return everything that you have taken from him!”

The robbers did as they were ordered, and the holy rabbi was allowed to leave in peace.

When he returned home, he told his wife of his adventure and concluded by reminding her, “As I told you: ‘Cut the challah, blood won’t come from it.'”

Bread Machine Challah

4 Jumbo eggs, room temperature add water to make 1cup		3 1/2 cups bread flour
3-4 Tablespoons white sugar		1 Tablespoon yeast or 1 packet of yeast
4 Tablespoons olive oil or avocado oil		1 egg, beaten
1 ½ teaspoons salt		1-2 tablespoon water

Directions

Place liquid ingredients into pan of the bread machine

Combine dry ingredients and then add to the liquid in the Bread Machine pan

Select Dough cycle; press Start.

After the machine is done, take the dough out, and place it on a very lightly floured board, punch the dough down, and let rest for 5 minutes.

Divide the dough in half. Then divide into 4 equal pieces, roll into ropes about 12 to 14 inches, and braid into a loaf. Do the same with the remaining other half. Gently put the loaves on a greased cookie sheet or bread pans, mist with water, and let rise for 1 to 1 1/2 hours in a warm, draft free place, until double in size.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). In a small bowl, beat together 1 egg and 1 tablespoon water.

Brush risen loaves with egg mixture. Bake in preheated oven for about 20 to 25 minutes. If it begins to brown too soon, cover with foil.

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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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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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 Silent Princess – Tale of the Magic Jewel, the Flying Carpet and the Powerful Potion

Posted on Monday, 23, October, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

The second evening, when the four of them sat together, the prince and the princess and the two witnesses, the prince said to the witnesses: “Tell us a tale to while away the time, for tomorrow I shall die.”

The witnesses said: “We will not speak, for we are only witnesses, and our job is to listen and remain silent.”

“In that case,” said the prince, “will you reply if I ask you something?” “Perhaps . . .” they replied.

Then the prince said: “Three companions climbed together to the top of a mountain. One of them had a magic jewel through which he could see to the ends of the earth. Another had a flying carpet, and the third had a potion with which to revive the dead.

“The one with the magic jewel looked through it and saw in a faraway land a great crowd following a coffin to a grave site. And when he told his companions what he saw, the one with the flying carpet said: ‘Get on the carpet quickly and we will attend the funeral, for it must have been a great man who has died.’

“The three friends sat down on the magic carpet, and in the wink of an eye it carried them where they wanted to go. And after they joined the procession, they asked the mourners who had died and why there was such sorrow. The mourners told them that the king’s fair and lovely daughter had died while still very young. And when the three heard this, they made their way to the king and said: ‘We can revive your daughter, sire.’ The grieving king replied: ‘Whoever can revive my daughter shall have her for a bride.’

“Then the one with the magic potion stood near the girl’s body and sprinkled the potion on her, and all at once she began to breathe. But after she had been revived, and embraced her father and mother amid great rejoicing, the three men began to argue over her.

“The one with the magic jewel said: `If it were not for me, the princess would have been buried and not have been revived, for it is I who saw the funeral procession. Since she was saved because of me, she belongs to me.’

“The owner of the flying carpet said: ‘If it were not for my magic carpet, which carried us a great distance as fast as lightning, we would not have arrived in time to revive the girl. Therefore she should be my bride.’

“Then the one who had brought the magic potion said: ‘If it were not for my potion, the princess would now be in her grave, so I have a greater right to her than either of you.'”

Then the prince who had told this story asked the witnesses for their decision, but they said: “It is a difficult matter which we cannot decide by ourselves. Tomorrow we will ask the judges for their verdict.”

“But I am to be hanged at dawn,” said the prince, “and I will go to my grave without knowing your answer.”

Here the princess intervened and said: “I will reply to your question. I believe that the man who revived the princess with his magic potion should receive her as his bride, for without his potion she could not have been revived.”

Then the prince thanked the princess, and agreed that she was correct.

The next day, at dawn, the executioner again arrived and began to drag the prince away, but the witnesses stopped him and said: “The princess spoke to the young man, and he does not deserve to die.”

Now when the king heard the witnesses, he did not believe his ears: “It can’t be that my daughter has finally spoken after having remained silent for so long. But since I have some doubt about it, let us have a third and final test, this time in the presence of three reliable witnesses.”

Part 3 of 4

May all your tales end with Shalom (peace)

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The Cottage of Lights

Posted on Saturday, 10, June, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

There once was a Jewish man who learned “Justice, justice, you shall pursue (Deuteronomy 16:20) and so he decided to travel throughout the world to find justice. He knew that somewhere in the world true justice must exist and he was determined to find it. He went from town to town and village to village, and everywhere he went, he searched for justice, but never could he seem to find it.

He thought that he may find true justice as he traveled across the many streams and rivers as he had learned “let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” (Amos 5:24) Sadly all he found was that his feet were wet. He climbed steep hills and mountains that touched the heaven and then trekked through many valleys in the hopes of finding true justice as he studied and faithfully believed that “Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains; your judgments are like the great deep.” (Psalm 36:6)

He journeyed for many years going from place to place, until he had explored all the known world except for one last great forest. He entered that dark forest without hesitation, for he had seen many frightful things in his travels. He went into the caves of hermits and thieves, but they taunted him and said, “do you expect to find justice here?” He went into the woodland huts of foresters and hunters, but they looked at him with questions in their eyes.

The man went deeper and deeper into that forest, until at last he arrived at a little clay shack. Through the window he saw many flickering flames, and he was curious about them. So he went to the door and knocked. No answer. He knocked again. He pushed the creaky door open and stepped inside.

As he stepped inside the cottage, the man realized that it was much larger on the inside than it seemed to be from the outside. It was filled with hundreds of shelves, on every shelf there were dozens of oil lamps some of those lamps were made of gold, silver or fine cut glass, while others were made of simple clay or tin. Some of the lamps were filled with oil and the flames burned brightly, while others had very little oil left.

Suddenly an old man wearing a long white robe and a long white beard appeared before him. “Shalom Aleichem, my son” the old man said. “How can I help you?” The man replied, “Aleichem Shalom. I have going everywhere searching for true justice, but never have I seen anything like this. Tell me what are all these lamps?”

The old man said, “each of these lamps is the light of a person’s soul. As long as the flame continues to burn that person remains alive. But when the flame burns out that person’s soul takes leave of this world.”

“Follow me,” the old man said, and he led him through that long labyrinth of the cottage, which the man thought must be endless. Finally, they reached a low shelf and there the old man pointed to a clay lamp and said, “that is the lamp of your soul.”

Now the man took one look at the flickering flame, and a great fear fell upon him. The wick of the lamp was very short there was very little oil left. The man feared that at any moment the wick would slide into the oil and sputter out. He began to tremble. Could the end be so near without him knowing of it? Then he noticed the clay lamp next to his own, but that one was full of oil and the wick was long and straight and its flames burned brightly. “And who’s lamp is that?” The man asked.

I can only reveal each man’s lamp to himself alone,” the old man said and he turned and left.

The man stood there, quaking. All at once he heard a sputtering sound, and when he looked up, he saw smoke rising from another shelf, and he knew that somewhere, someone was no longer among the living. He looked back at his own lamp and saw that there was only a few drops of oil left. Then he looked again at the lamp next to his own, so full of oil, and a terrible thought entered his mind.

He stepped back and looked in every direction for the old man, but he didn’t see him anywhere. Then he picked up the lamp next to his own and lifted it up above his own. At that instant, the old man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm with an iron grip.

The man closed his eyes because it hurt so much. When he opened his eyes, he saw the old man was gone, and the cottage and the candles had all disappeared. He found himself standing alone in the forest and he heard the trees whispering his fate. All the time wondering, had his lamp burned out? Was he, too, no longer among the living.

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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The Twelve Golden Calves – A Jewish Story from China

Posted on Tuesday, 16, May, 2017Wednesday, 21, September, 2022 by Rabbi

In the city of Kaifeng, there lived a Jewish craftsman whose name was Shi Ziyu, who was known by his Hebrew name of Yehudah. He worked his loom in a small workshop. He wove beautiful silk, satin, and brocade with intricate designs. Everyone who saw his fine work wanted to buy them and with such a demand for his beautiful silks, satins and brocades he wanted to expand his workshop, so that he could produce more. Next to his workshop there was an abandoned yard. Yehudah would have liked to purchase it, but even though it wasn’t expensive, he still could not afford it.

One night Yehudah had a dream in which he saw twelve golden calves dancing outside his workshop. In the dream he was puzzled about why they were there. When he went outside, they all looked at him, and ran away. He followed after them and they led him to the abandoned yard nearby. There they played happily and even did somersaults. Then they all ran to one corner of that yard and disappeared. That is when Yehudah awoke. He wondered about this strange dream, but didn’t pay much attention to it.

Then it happened that the dream repeated itself the next night, and the next. After it recurred the third time, Yehudah started to wonder what it meant. He told his wife about the dream, but she dismissed it, saying “Dreams are of no effect either one way or the other.” (Gittin 52a) Yehudah thought about what his wife said for some time and he decided to seek the advice from a wise and venerable wise man who lived in Kaifeng, who was known for interpreting dreams. The wise man said: “The place where the calves led you must be a good place, and may good fortune come to you.”

Yehudah was struck by the words of the wise man, and he felt it was a sign that he should risk all his savings and purchase that yard. He did so, but even after he owned the land, he was too poor to build a silk mill.

One rainy day Yehudah walked through the yard, thinking about his dream of the golden calves. In every dream they had run into one corner of the yard and disappeared. He went to that corner and noticed that the land dipped and saw that the rainwater was flowing into it. Yehudah went over to the growing hole and it caved in and he discovered a cavern. Yehudah reached in and touched something hard. He quickly uncovered it, and pulled out a beautiful gold-plated treasure box. When he opened it, he couldn’t believe his eyes—inside were twelve gold ingots bearing the stamp of calves.

Yehudah picked up the box and showed it to his wife, and the two of them thanked the Holy One, blessed be He and celebrated their good fortune. Now Yehudah was able to build the silk mill he so desired. When the mill was completed, it produced some of the most beautiful satin tapestry in all of China. Even the emperor purchased twelve bolts of the finest brocade. He was so pleased with it, that he decreed that Yehudah’s silk mill was the in the world. After that the brocade made in Yehudah’s silk mill became more precious than gold, Yehudah gave thanks to G-d every day for his abundant blessings.

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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A Father’s Wish and a Secret Note

Posted on Monday, 8, May, 2017Monday, 22, January, 2024 by Rabbi

The Western Wall (Kosel haMa’aravi) is the remaining wall of the Beis haMikdash (Holy Temple) from 2,000 years ago. When Shlomo haMelech (King Solomon) dedicated the First Jewish Temple, Hashem said His eyes and heart would always be there.

According to the Torah, Holy writings and mystical teachings, the Western Wall in Jerusalem is the holiest place on earth and currently the best place to send prayers because the divine presence of the Holy One, blessed be He (the Shechina) dwells there.

That is why the Western Wall (Kosel haMa’aravi) is very famous for Jewish people and people of many other faiths to come and pray and to put requests even in writing to the Hoy One, blessed be He, and this is a tradition for thousands and thousands of years.

An old man called his children to him and told them, “I always wanted to travel to Yerushalayim Ir haKodesh (Jerusalem the Holy City), but now I am too old. Promise me that you will one day go there and pray by the Kosel haMa’aravi (Western Wall).” Not long after, the old man went onto the World of Truth.

The years went by and the old man’s son became a successful merchant and was always busy. Many times his sister asked him to travel with her to the Hoy City, but her brother always told her he could not leave his business. One day she asked her brother if she could travel on one of his ships to the port of Yafo and from there she would travel by foot to Yerushalayim.

Seeing how determined his sister was to make the long journey, he made arrangements for her to travel on one of his merchant ships and he told her that he instructed all the ship hands saying, “I have ordered the young men not to bother you.” (Ruth 2:9) The wealthy merchant then blessed his sister: “May God in heaven bring you safely there and return you in good health to me; and may his angel, my son, accompany you both for your safety.” (Tobit 5:17)

The young woman left the ship and immediately set out to fulfill her father’s request on the ancient road, which was reasonably paved, through the orchards of the Plain of Sharon, the towns of Lydda, Ramle, the Ayalon valley, Bab-el-Wad and Abu Gosh to the outskirts of Jerusalem and through the Jaffa Gate. This journey took her a day.

She trembled as she walked the ancient streets and the winding alleyways to the holy Kosel haMa’aravi (Western Wall) and gazed up at the ancient stones before her. She had dreamed of this day, when she would be able to stand and pray before the Kosel in Yerushalayim and fulfill the wishes of her father.

She slowly prepared to pray when she noticed a woman approaching, carrying a patched sack. The woman held her hand out and looked at the young woman with sad eyes, and she understood that she penniless pilgrim, completely dependent on the goodwill of other travelers. The young woman reached into her purse and gave the poor women some gold coins, which she accepted with a smile as she continued on her way.

The time for afternoon prayer came, and the young woman decided to daven Minchah (afternoon prayer). Shortly after she began, the young woman noticed that the poor woman had also begun to daven Minchah. When she had finished praying the afternoon prayer, the young woman stood there for a few moments, watching the poor woman, who was just completing her prayer.

The poor woman searched through her sack and took out a small piece of charcoal. She then ripped a page out of her prayer book and began to write. After finishing, she folded the paper and wedged into a small crevice between the holy stones of the Kosel.

As the poor woman turned to go, the page she had wedged in the wall fell out onto the ground. The young woman saw the folded page fall, and she bent down to put it back. As she held it in her hand and lifted it towards the stones, the paper suddenly unfolded.

The young woman stared. The handwriting was shaky and ill-formed, but what shocked her the most were the words on the page. This poor, penniless woman, who owned almost nothing, had scrawled on the paper, “Hashem, I love you.”

She may have had very little in the way of material possessions, but she was nevertheless completely content in her relationship with Hashem.

The young woman stood there in the shadow of the Kosel and realized that she had honoured her father, merited to do the mitzvah of tzedakkah (charity) and shared a blessing with a stranger. All this she did in the merit of her father. She stood there for some time as the sun set on the Kosel, smiled and said, “I love you taty” (Father/Papa)

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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A well traveled maggid (spiritual storyteller) was once asked whether he believed himself to be more faithful than others or above sin, and if not, why he always shared stories to others.

The Maggid thought for a moment, took a deep breath and then answered the ques­tion with a short story.

In a little town a fire broke out but the people living near the burning house did not take notice it. The owner of the house rushed out of his burning home into the street, shouting, “Fire! Fire! Let us all save our homes!”

And there was one man who said to him, “Why are you shouting at us to safeguard our homes when it is your own house that is afire?”

The owner of the burning house answered, “Even so, my brother. If I call on you to guard your homes from fire, my house too, will be spared from growing flames and destruction.”

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

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

Then Joseph had an idea and looked at his coat very closely. He realized that he had enough left of his favorite coat to make something special. He rushed into the shop and began cutting and sewing. Early the next morning he appeared wearing a jacket, made from the fabric of his old coat.

Joseph rushed to the shop. He cut and sewed the fabric from the jacket until he emerged with a neat little cap. It looked so special, he wore it nearly every day.

The next morning Joseph refused to get out of bed. He just felt so sad without the bowtie. “What’s the use? The cloth I loved so much is gone. It has been with me for so many years but now there is nothing left. Nothing! I have lost so many dear memories.”

Sara quietly left the house and went to visit their daughters. She returned with the grandchildren, who plopped themselves on their grandpa’s bed. But he looked sadly at them, saying “I cannot play today, I am just too sad”.

His daughter turned to him and asked, “Can you please tell us one of the stories about the cloth? Your grandchildren do not know the stories.”

“Oh, but it is too sad”, he answered.

“Grandpa, you made the bow-tie into a butterfly. Maybe it flew away” his granddaughter said to him with a smile.

There are many memories and stories throughout life. Share those memories and stories so they can come alive with each retelling. If the stories are not shared, they will be lost.

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

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

Part I – A Lamp and a Blessing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With all due respect to you, honorable rabbi, it is the middle of the night and I work from early morning until late afternoon. Every time you knock I have to lift this heavy iron bar to open the door for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very good, come with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vegetable Kugel Recipe

Ingredients:

2 large onions, diced

4 carrots, shredded

3-4 Tablespoons oil or shmaltz

8 eggs

4 stalks celery, diced

salt to taste

The Maggid thought for a moment, took a deep breath and then answered the question with a short story.