When the young man came to the town, he decided to spend the night in the synagogue. As he was falling asleep, the letter fell out of his pocket and the rabbi picked it up. The rabbi opened the letter, read it and then tore it up. The rabbi wrote a second letter instructing the wife to welcome the young man warmly.
In the morning, the young man went off to see the merchant’s wife and gave her the letter. A few days later, the vengeful merchant returned from his foreign travels and was surprised to see that the young man was still alive.
This time, he paid a peasant a large sum to dig a pit beside the door into which the young man should fall so that he might be killed. But the young man left the house through a second door and did not fall into the pit.
The merchant, seeing that the youth was no longer in the house, went to inspect the pit, but he slipped and fell into it himself. The peasant, unaware that it was the merchant in the pit, slew him.
He who digs a pit for another—falls into it himself.
Ver es grobt a grub far yenem, falt in im aleyn arayn.
57
A Succos Tale
A father had two sons. One was both pious and good. He always shared whatever he had, and he was so generous that he sold his own houses and lands so that he could give money to the poor. His brother, on the other hand, was a stingy ne’er-do-well.
Once at Hoshana Rabba time, the seventh day of the Succos holiday, when everyone’s fate for the coming year is irrevocably sealed, the generous man’s wife handed him their last ten rubles and said, “Go to the market and buy what the children need for the festival.”
As the man walked along, he met the trustees of the charity fund. “How fortunate to see you,” they said. “It happens that we’re collecting money for a poor bride. Perhaps you can help.”
“Of course,” he said. “Of course.” And he gave them the ten rubles.
“Oh Lord,” he thought, when he realized what he had done, “how can I possibly go home and face my wife empty-handed?”
Instead he walked sadly to the besmedresh, where he saw children playing with esroygim. He gathered the citrons together and put them in a sack, which he slung over his shoulder. Then he carried it down to the river and boarded a ship that was going to the capital city.
Now the king of that country was very sick, and none of his doctors could find a remedy that would help him. One night he dreamed that he would be cured if he ate the citrons over which Jews prayed and uttered blessings during the Succos holiday.
The next day the king issued a decree: “Let citrons be found!”
Soon afterward it happened that some of the king’s servants went to the riverbank to search the passing boats that came from far away. They hoped to find a merchant who had citrons to sell, and indeed, on one of the boats they came upon the tsadek, the pious man, sitting on his sack.
“Hey,” they said, “what sort of merchandise do you have in the sack?”
“I’m not a merchant,” he replied. “I’m just a poor man, and I have nothing to sell.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” they said. With that they searched his sack and found the citrons. “Hey,” they said, “what do you call these?”
“Those … oh, those are citrons over which Jews recite prayers and blessings during the Succos holidays.”
“Well now, as it happens, that’s just what we’re looking for,” said the servants. With that they took the poor man and his merchandise to the king. And the king ate the citrons and was cured.
To reward the pious man, the king commanded that his sack be filled with gold. Then he said, “Is there anything else you want? You have only to ask.”
“It would be nice,” said the pious man, “if I were allowed to buy my properties back. And … and … oh yes. If it’s not too much trouble, would you decree that the people come out to greet me when I get back to my home town? Not, God forbid, because I want honor for myself, but because I want them all to know how you were healed by God’s miracle and how I was helped through you.”
“Let your wish be my decree,” said the king. And that’s what happened. When the pious man arrived at his home town, the populace welcomed him with great honor.
The tsadek’s mean-spirited brother was among those in the crowd. As he and his children approached the riverbank, a sudden wave caught them up and dragged them into the water—where they drowned.
And the generous tsadek inherited all their property and lived as a wealthy man all the days of his life.
58
Only Eleven Little Fish
Once there was a man and wife who were very poor. They had nine children. That made, including the two parents, eleven all together.
How did they make a living? The man used to go to the river to catch fish, but he never caught more than eleven at one time. His family lived on these eleven fish—one for each of the children, and one each for the husband and wife.
The husband said, “Reboyne shel oylem, O Lord of the Universe, how can anyone fill his belly with a single fish? If one of us should happen to die, I would be able to eat two fish. As it is, all I ever get is one.” He repeated this prayer so often that God finally yielded, and one of the children died.
The husband was pleased that two of the eleven fish would now be his. But when he went to the river the next day, he caught only ten fish. God did not send him anymore.
So the husband said, “You see, when there were eleven of us, I caught eleven fish; and now that we are ten, I catch only ten fish. What have I accomplished?”
This was God’s way of showing that it is wrong to pray for the death of children. It does not matter how many children there are in a family; He provides for them all.
59
A Passover Tale
Once upon a time there were two brothers, one rich and the other poor. And they had an old mother who lived with the poor son. Well, it was just before Passover and the poor man had none of the things necessary for the Passover service. So he said to his mother, “I’ll tell you what: I’ll carry you to the rabbi’s house where we’ll stand under one of his windows and listen to him conduct the service.” So the old mother set herself on his shoulders, and they went to the rabbi’s house and heard the whole service under a window.
Meanwhile the poor man’s wife, who had been sleeping, woke up and didn’t know where she was. There were signs of wealth everywhere. She was lying on a luxurious bed, and her children were dressed in fine clothes. The table was richly set and piled with every sort of fine food. And there was a crowd of cooks preparing marvelous dishes.
Just then her husband, the poor brother, came home with his mother on his shoulders. He too didn’t recognize his house, since there was a mansion where it had stood. So he went around by another street, but the mansion was still there. He said to his mother, “We might as well go inside. They won’t beat us if we do.”
He carried her in, and his wife, dressed in velvet and silks, hurried to greet him. The children looked like the children of noblemen, but they came up and kissed their father and grandmother. Then all took their places at the table and conducted the Passover service as God had commanded.
The next morning the rich brother remembered his mother and brother. He called a servant and, giving him a few pieces of matse and a small flask of wine, said, “Take this to my brother, the poor man.” So the servant went to the poor brother’s house and came upon the mansion. He entered and found the poor brother and his wife and children dressed in fine clothes. The servant was amazed, but he said nothing. He took out the few pieces of matse and the flask of wine and gave them to the poor brother who said, “I’m not poor anymore, so I don’t need these. Now I’m richer than he is.”
The servant went back to his master, returned the bits of matse and the flask of wine, and said, “Your brother has become a wealthy man.” The rich brother refused to believe it and said, “No doubt you stumbled into some wealthy man’s house.”
The servant said, “Go see for yours
elf.”
The rich brother went to the mansion and saw that the story was indeed true. He asked his brother, “How did you become so rich?”
“God helped me,” was the answer. The rich brother, seeing that he would learn nothing this way, thought, “I’ll find out more from a woman.”
He went home and told his wife, “Go to my brother’s house and get his wife to tell you what made them so rich.” And when she went to the mansion, the poor brother’s wife said her husband had carried his mother on his shoulders to the rabbi’s house so they could hear the Passover service. “God Himself then blessed us with riches,” she said.
On the second day of Passover, the rich brother paid a visit to his mother. “Set yourself on my shoulders,” he told her. “I’ll take you to the rabbi’s house, and we can stand under a window and hear the service.”
His mother said, “My son, why should we do that? Your brother was a poor man and had to stand under the rabbi’s window to hear the service, but you are rich.” The rich brother pressed her so hard, however, that at last she climbed onto his shoulders. And off they went to the rabbi’s house to stand under one of his windows and listen.
In the middle of the service, they heard sounds of bells, people running, and shouts of “Fire! Fire!” The rich brother asked, “Where’s the fire?” And he was told that it was such-and-such a rich man’s house—his own. He flung his mother off his shoulders so violently that she died on the spot. Then away he ran to the fire, but he couldn’t save a thing. It all burned, and he became a poor man.
And for the rest of his days the poor brother lived a rich and happy life with his wife and children.
60
A Shocking Tale of a Viceroy
This story took place in Amsterdam a long, long time ago. That city belonged to an emperor who lived far away. It was ruled by a viceroy, in the same way that a district governor rules in Russia.
Nowadays taxes are paid by each person directly to the state. But long ago, things were different. A tax collector “farmed” the taxes and paid the king a certain amount. Later the collector got a commission from the state.
Now, this viceroy, one of the wickedest of the wicked and a big spender as well, was always in need of money.
Where to get it?
Where else but from the Jews of Amsterdam? So they endured a great deal from him.
There was a rabbi in that city, one of the great rabbis of the kingdom. He was as cherished and treasured as a precious stone. He lived to a ripe old age, then became ill and took to his bed. People, knowing that his end was near, mourned greatly. For who could possibly take his place? “Rabbi,” they asked him, “who will lead the congregation when—may you live to a hundred and twenty—you pass on?”
The rabbi said, “I’ve taken care of everything.” Then he died and was buried.
When they read his will, this is what they found: “Let messengers be sent to such-and-such a town, where a rabbi by the name of Kashmen lives. Let him be made rabbi of the Jews of Amsterdam.”
So two messengers were chosen to find Reb Kashmen and bring him back to Amsterdam. They rode and rode, visiting towns and villages until, by the help of God, they arrived at their destination and put up at an inn.
When they had eaten and rested, they approached the innkeeper. “Tell us, sir, where does the rabbi, Reb Kashmen, live?”
The innkeeper said, “I’ve lived here for I don’t know how many years, and there’s never been a rabbi with that name.”
So the messengers asked the same question of other people, who all said the same thing.
Concluding that their rabbi must have been mistaken, they returned home. Back in Amsterdam a special assembly was called, and the people decided that their rabbi would not have made a mistake about something in his will. So two new messengers were dispatched to that town to examine the matter thoroughly. There they went from house to house and searched the village from one end to the other, but no one had ever heard the name of Reb Kashmen. They were on the point of returning home when one messenger said, “Maybe we ought to go to that settlement over there—those few houses in the open fields.”
They went there and came to a small hut. An old woman and a girl sat there plucking feathers. The messengers said, “Good evening.”
“Good evening and a good year,” came the reply. “What do you want?”
One of the messengers asked whether Rabbi Kashmen lived there. The old woman nodded and the messengers were delighted.
“He’ll be here soon, most likely,” she said. They decided to wait. As they waited, the door opened and an old man came in. The woman went to the oven, from which she took out a dish of food. The old man washed his hands, recited a blessing and sat down to eat. He paid no attention to the messengers—as if they were not there.
When he had finished, they approached him. “Our rabbi of blessed memory,” they said, “enjoined us in his will to bring to Amsterdam a certain Reb Kashmen so that he may take our rabbi’s place.”
Reb Kashmen said not a word, nor did he look at them. It was as if they were invisible, as if no one were speaking at all. He rose, walked into his room, and went to sleep.
The messengers, seeing that they would accomplish nothing, said good night and went away. They returned the next morning, but no matter what they said, he kept silent. Even when they nagged at him, he remained mute as a wall. Then they begged for his pity and said they would not leave without him.
He replied, “Why are you burdening me? I don’t understand any of this. You want me to come? Very well, I’ll come. Just stop tormenting me.”
That was what they were waiting to hear. They put the old man and his wife and daughter into their wagon and drove off.
When they arrived in Amsterdam, how happy everyone was! Reb Kashmen was welcomed with a parade. He was given a fine house with large rooms. Joy reigned, but the rabbi was silent even though people were dying to hear him say a few holy words. Finally, after much coaxing, he said, “Dear friends, I don’t know anything.” This offended everyone. “What kind of a rabbi is this?” cried the synagogue officers. “He must be crazy.”
So the people began to put distance between themselves and Reb Kashmen. And finally they moved him out of the fine house and installed him with his wife and daughter in a small room at the city’s edge. And the community chose another rabbi.
Now, the viceroy was a great carouser and gambler, a man who danced all night at balls, who poured out money like sand. And now, on top of everything, he had acquired a mistress, so he needed even more money.
Where to get it?
He went to the tax collector, Reb Azriel, and said, “Because of this and that, and such-and-such, I need a few rubles.”
Reb Azriel handed him some money, and the viceroy went away. Not an hour later he came back again, and then again, and again. Finally, Reb Azriel said, “I can’t give you any more.”
The viceroy banged furiously at the collector’s door, calling, “I’ll rise against you the way Haman* rose against you.” And he stormed off to the chief priest. Together they plotted to take a dreadful vengeance on Reb Azriel and all the Jews. Just before Passover, they killed a Gentile boy and put his body, along with several bottles of blood, into Reb Azriel’s house. Then they shouted, “The Jews have killed a boy!” So they ordered a search of Jewish houses, and when the murdered child was found, the old tax collector was taken in chains to prison. Meanwhile the wicked viceroy wrote to the emperor: “The Jews have risen against the state; they are slaughtering our children.”
The emperor replied, “Do what you like,” which was all the viceroy wanted to hear. So he issued a decree that on Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, the inhabitants of all the towns and villages must gather to see Reb Azriel hanged. The decree also said that anyone could do what he liked with the Jews.
As the day of the hanging approached, the cries and lamentations pouring from the Jewish homes would have restored hearing to the deaf. Feverish prayers
to our Father in heaven rose from the synagogues. Finally it occurred to someone to consult Reb Kashmen. A delegation was sent to his room, where they found him wearing his talis and kitl, his prayer shawl and robe, and intoning his prayers with so much grief that the group was afraid to move. Seeing them, he said, “Go quickly and command everyone to eat the meal that precedes our fast, as if tomorrow were Yom Kippur.”
The Jews did as he commanded, and that evening everyone gathered in the synagogue. And when Reb Kashmen, standing at the podium, recited the kolnidre prayer, it is said that the walls quivered and the heavens shook. And each time he spoke, thunder roared, after which came the sounds of the congregation’s weeping and lamentations.
When the musef prayers were finished, Reb Kashmen addressed the people. “My brothers, an evil decree hangs over us, but God’s compassion is great. I am going to the emperor. Wait for my return.” With that, he vanished.
Far away, the emperor had just eaten and was strolling in his garden. Growing weary, he sat down on a bench and fell asleep. He dreamed that he was drowning in a river of blood, and each time he struggled to the bank, the viceroy thrust him back. At last he was saved from drowning by a little old man, a Jew, who ran up and drove the viceroy off.
Now, the journey from Amsterdam to the emperor’s palace ordinarily required some days, but Reb Kashmen accomplished it in an instant. The emperor was just waking. Seeing that Reb Kashmen looked like the Jew who had rescued him in the dream, the emperor said, “Holy man, I feel evil around me. Can you explain it?”
Reb Kashmen answered, “Great Emperor, it is clear that someone wishes you ill, and you know who it is: your viceroy. He and your generals have plotted your death. Command that his house be searched; papers that are in a drawer there will prove his guilt.
Yiddish Folktales Page 17
