Yiddish Folktales

by Beatrice Weinreich

  The butchers were loath to leave him there, knowing that if it became known in Tomeshef that they had left the Rebbe in the woods, the people might be angry enough to stone them. But the Rebbe stubbornly refused to ride with them. The butchers, seeing that nothing they said made any impression, had to drive off without him.

  They had traveled hardly half a kilometer when remorse overwhelmed them, so they rode back to the Rebbe and tried once again to persuade him.

  But all for nothing. And this time they drove off as fast as they could, meaning to report in Tomeshef that they had seen the Rebbe in the woods. Perhaps someone else would ride out to get him.

  When they reached Tomeshef, they found the Sabbath candles burning everywhere. And when they neared the Rebbe’s house, they were stunned by the sight of him pacing back and forth on his footbridge.

  117

  The Right Order Is Important

  There was a certain rich man named Shimen Goldtsvayg whose children all died. Once Reb Shmelke came to Rusmoldavi, where he stayed in the home of Goldtsvayg’s father-in-law. Goldtsvayg too came there for the Sabbath. Reb Shmelke received Goldtsvayg’s petition and asked him, “What is it you want?” “Rebbe, I’d like to have children that will live.” “I understand. The problem is this: you’ve committed a sin. You married the younger of two sisters before the older one was married, and that’s forbidden. But you can resolve the problem. Let your wife’s older sister move in with the two of you, give her a dowry, and see that she gets married. Then you’ll have children that survive.” The rich man did everything the Rebbe told him to do, and his wife gave birth to children that lived.

  118

  Reb Khaim Urbakh Rocks a Cradle on Tom Kippur

  Some eighty years ago Reb Khaim Urbakh was the Rebbe of Lentshits. People said that he used to rise at midnight to study and pray with Elijah the Prophet. There was also a story told about him:

  Once, on Yom Kippur eve, as he was on his way to recite the kolnidre prayer, he heard weeping from a home on the Jewish street. He went into the house and found a child crying while a girl slept nearby. The Rebbe sat down and rocked the cradle.

  Meanwhile at the synagogue people were getting worried because the Rebbe had not been seen. The shames ran out to look for him. After hunting for a long while, he finally found him beside the child whom the Rebbe had rocked to sleep.

  It was from that time that the Rebbe forbade women to go to kolnidre.

  119

  Rain and the Rebbe of Stolin

  Yisroel Perlov of blessed memory, the Rebbe of Stolin, went out one fine morning to take a drive in his carriage. As he was riding along, he passed through a village. When the Gentiles in the place realized that it was the Rebbe, a huge crowd gathered, a crowd so dense it became dangerous. The whole village was there, and the people prostrated themselves before the Rebbe’s carriage and would not let him pass.

  The Rebbe was astonished, “For heaven’s sake,” he said, “what is it you want?”

  “Holy Rabbi,” came the tumultuous answer from the crowd, “we will not let you pass until you promise us rain. It’s nearly three months since we saw any rain. We’re exhausted for lack of water. Everything has dried out: the grain in the fields, our cattle in their stalls. And we have turned gaunt watching them.”

  The Rebbe stood, quietly thoughtful, then he looked up at the sky, after which he gestured toward the crowd. “You may go back to your homes. Tomorrow there will be rain.” Then he drove off. When people got up the following morning, they looked at the sky—not even a cloud. It was bright, clear. The sun was blazing. Eleven o’clock came; then twelve. It was nearly one, and still not the slightest trace of rain. What did it mean? What about the Rebbe’s promise?

  Suddenly around two o’clock a cloud appeared. The sky grew dark and it began to rain—a veritable deluge. For three days and three nights it poured, filling every lake and river and creek.

  120

  The Miracle of the Day Well

  The Rebbe of Vizhnits, Reb Mendele of blessed memory, was being driven out of his mind by a man who complained that he had built a house and bricked in a well, and it had all cost him a great deal of money, but there was no water in the well. One day the Rebbe said to him, “When I travel to Kosev to visit Reb Khaim, the route I take will be near your house. Remind me then.”

  When the time came for the journey, the Rebbe passed near the man’s house at about the time of early evening prayers. The Rebbe interrupted his journey and said to the man, “I want to wash my hands. Dip up a ladle of water from your well for me.”

  “But Rebbe, the well is dry,” said the man.

  “Don’t be a fool. Have you ever seen a well without water? Take your ladle and dip.” Since it was the Rebbe’s command, the man did as he was told, and indeed he drew up a ladle of water. The Rebbe washed his hands. “Now dip up a cup of water; I want a drink, too.” The man drew up a full cup of water. The Rebbe drank—and from that time on there was always water in the well.

  121

  The Reincarnation of Queen Esther

  The following took place in Khentshin at the court of the Rebbe of Khentshin, of blessed memory. It happened like this: There was for many years an idiot wandering about Khentshin who was called Mordkhe Mendl, the town fool. Like all such souls, he made his living by begging, and slept at night in the synagogue beside the stove. Then one night the news spread through the town that the idiot had died.

  It goes without saying that nobody made much of a fuss over his death. Indeed, it occurred to no one to go to the funeral. But then a strange thing happened. The old Rebbe of Khentshin put on his zhupitse, his long satin coat, took his tall hat and his cane, and attended the funeral. All the while that the idiot was being buried, the Rebbe stood beside the grave with huge tears rolling down his face. His disciples, seeing him weep, were awestruck, but no one ventured to ask why he was crying. Not until several days later, when the Rebbe was presiding over his table, did any of them dare ask why he had wept at the grave of Mordkhe Mendl the fool.

  The Rebbe gave a brief sigh and replied, “Let me tell you the story of what happened to my grandfather of blessed memory.

  “A poor teacher, a very pious Jew, once lived in Khentshin. This Reb Borekh had a pale, sickly wife and a sweet little daughter named Esther. Reb Borekh was afflicted with a cough, and from time to time he brought up blood. But was there ever a poverty-stricken teacher who had time to devote to his own health? Well, our Reb Borekh’s cough got continually worse, with more and more blood, and then one day he took to his bed, where he lay for several weeks getting progressively weaker, until the end finally came and Reb Borekh died. He left his wife and twelve-year-old daughter Esther to struggle for their bits of dry bread.

  “Well, one misfortune after another overtook them. First Esther contracted smallpox. Over the months that the child’s illness lasted, her mother spent the last of her few groshn and succeeded in rescuing her daughter from the Angel of Death. So Esther recovered, but her mother, as the result of long, sleepless nights, and days without food, became sick. At first she was not seriously ill, but later one of her lungs gave out and her situation became steadily worse. Good neighbors called the doctor, but God had something else in mind for her. After the mother had lain unconscious for a couple of weeks, she died.

  “For the fully orphaned Esther a life of pain and grief began. At first people pitied her, but then they forgot her entirely. Well, hunger is a powerful force, and Esther was forced to beg for bread. Wherever she went she was given a few groshn, and that’s how she lived.

  “But when it was Friday night, the night before the Sabbath, Esther would light the candles she bought with the money she had collected begging. And this began to irritate various prosperous people: how is it that one who lives by begging does not buy herself a dress, or shoes? Instead, she lights finer-looking Sabbath candles than many well-to-do women.

  “The wrath of the women was so great that they began to scant the money
they gave her. But no matter how little Esther got, she bought candles for the Sabbath, even if it meant giving up food.

  “Finally the prosperous women were so angry that they gave her no money at all. They decided to donate bits of bread or Sabbath khale instead. ‘Now,’ they said, ‘let’s see where the child gets her candles.’ That Friday night, Esther’s window was indeed dark. On Sabbath morning it seemed to them that her door had been closed for much too long. Because her windows were covered, no one could look in, but finally the neighbors decided to break the door down. And this is what they found: Esther the orphan lay dead. From all appearances, she had been dead for several hours.”

  Here the Rebbe paused. He sighed and went on: “And at the funeral on Sunday morning, my grandfather of blessed memory picked her grave plot out himself. And when she was buried, he delivered a fiery sermon that was part homily and part funeral oration. Whatever it was, my grandfather of blessed memory had never wept so much before in the course of a sermon. His disciples stood by, amazed, with tears in their eyes.

  “Later when the Rebbe came home from the funeral, he told his intimates, ‘Know that the biblical Queen Esther experienced no deprivation in this life. For that reason, the Celestial Council of Justice decreed that she must be reincarnated as the daughter of a poor man and endure hunger and die, so that her portion in the world to come might not, God forbid, be diminished in any way.’ The Rebbe was silent, and there was silence in the room as well.”

  “After an interval he said, ‘Do you see, my dear friends, how careful one must be of any soul? Because the very greatest of souls may find itself incarnated in the body of the most abject fool.’ ”

  122

  The Penitent and the Rebbe of Tshekhenove

  A beautiful young woman from a good family hanged herself in a certain town one day. When she was cut down, people were unwilling to carry her home to her parents. So she was left lying before the gates of the cemetery, and the burial society was asked to appoint someone to sit with the body. It sent a young man who, sitting there all alone with her, was seized with lust and possessed the body. When he realized what he had done, he was overwhelmed with grief. He could find no peace. And the more he thought of what he had done, the more heavy-hearted he became. Unable to rest, he went to the great Rebbe of Tshekhenove and told him what he had done. The Rebbe said, “Step out of the house.” The man went out and stood in the vestibule.

  There he sank into a trance of some sort—a waking sleep—in which it seemed to him that he was running past towns and forests, mountains and valleys. He saw beasts and wondrous other things. And it seemed to him that he ran and ran, and the sweat poured down his face.

  All at once he ran toward a city. And there, in that place, was a beautiful young woman hanging before the city gate. And the man who was on watch before the gate started toward the suicide to do what the young man himself had done. So the young man killed the watchman to keep him from violating the body.

  He was terrified and wept, because he had committed one great sin and now he had committed a second.

  Just then the door of the Rebbe’s house opened and the young man was called back in. “Look at the clock,” the Rebbe said. The young man looked. No more than an hour and a quarter had passed since he had left the Rebbe’s chamber. “Well,” said the Rebbe, “what did you see?” The young man told him everything and then wept. “Now, Rebbe, I’ve killed a human being.”

  “Console yourself,” said the Rebbe. “It was not a man you killed. What you killed was the yeytser-hore, the evil passion that led you to your sin.”

  123

  The Boy Who Put Two Socks on One Foot

  There once was a tenant innkeeper who had no children. He used to go to his Rebbe and pester him again and again for a blessing that would produce a child. Finally the Rebbe said that in a year’s time a son would be born. And the Rebbe added that he wanted to be informed when the child came.

  And that’s how it was. A year later the innkeeper’s wife gave birth to a son, and on the same day the innkeeper went to the Rebbe and invited him to the circumcision ceremony. But the news made the Rebbe so unhappy that he wept. The innkeeper insisted on knowing why. The Rebbe replied, “Your son will have many virtues and will become a great Talmudic scholar, but on the day he learns to put on tfiln he will drown—unless you watch him very carefully. You will receive a warning sign on the day that he puts two socks on the same foot and then hunts for the second sock.”

  And that’s how it was. When the boy was thirteen years old, he started to put on tfiln. His father went to the synagogue with him, and when they got home, the boy became confused and had to lie down. He took his clothes off and went to sleep. When he awoke, he put two socks on the same foot and started to search for the second sock. His parents, seeing this, were very frightened. So they locked him into a room, but he broke a window and got out.

  When the parents saw the open window, they ran to find their son. He was on his way to the river, but they brought him home and locked him up again. It was a very hot day and he kept wailing and begging to be let out to go bathe—or at least to be given something to drink, because he was burning up with heat. But his parents were adamant and kept him in the room until nightfall.

  At dusk when people went to the river to bathe, they saw two human, double-headed creatures emerge from the water wringing their hands. “Oh woe,” they cried out, “it’s already so late, and still he hasn’t come.” Then they vanished.

  The bathers told the story in the village, and there they learned that the two-headed creatures were waiting for the innkeeper’s son.

  And that’s how the innkeeper and his wife saved their son from drowning.

  124

  The Power of the Mourner’s Prayer

  Two young friends from the same town traveled to see the old Rebbe of Alexander, Reb Henekh of blessed memory. They arrived just as it was getting dark. The Rebbe greeted them, but ordered them to take the road to Lodz at once. He said that when they came to a fork in the road, they were to separate and each go a different way.

  Both of the young men were frightened. The whole thing seemed very strange to them, especially the command to travel at night on an unknown road. But what could they do? They had the Rebbe’s instructions.

  They were even more afraid when they came to the fork and parted company. In order to make things a bit more cheerful, they agreed to call out to each other as they went their ways. And so they did, until neither of them could hear the other.

  One of the young men went on for a couple of hours until he came to a village, where he spent the night. The other, however, lost his way in a forest. After a couple of hours he caught a glimpse of a light and went toward it. He found that it came from a hut, which he entered. But no one was there, and he sat down in a corner of the room and dozed off. He woke when he heard an old man and a peasant woman come in, and as he watched, they began to dance. They danced for a considerable time; then the old man brought in a bundle of straw, which he lighted, and burned himself and the woman up. When they were consumed, they reappeared and began to dance again. Then they burned themselves up once more. And this happened several times. Watching, the young man was so terrified that he fell asleep from sheer fright.

  When he woke in the morning, he found that he was lying in the forest and that there was no sign of the hut. He went at once to the Rebbe and told him all that had happened.

  The Rebbe said, “My son, I sent you on your journey so that you would learn what you need to know: that old man you saw dancing was your father. When he was alive, he used to sin with that peasant woman. You were a small child when he died, and before his death he asked me to do him a kindness and arrange that a pious act be performed on his behalf. Now, this scene you witnessed last night is repeated every night. And you are permitted to see it so you would understand why you must say the mourners’ prayer, the kadesh, for him, and study a chapter of commentary from the Mishnah every day. Your acts of
piety will help him.

  From that time on, the young man performed those acts of piety.

  125

  The Curious Disciple

  One of the disciples of Reb Khaskele came to Kozmir and complained bitterly that the local squire, the porets, was tormenting him about a debt. That he was threatening to drive him from his home unless the money was paid immediately. Reb Khaskele gave his disciple a letter addressed to the squire, and the Hasid rode away. On the journey he opened the letter and found nothing but blank sheets of paper. The minute he arrived home, he took the letter to the squire and watched as the squire opened it, looked at its contents, turned pale, and said, “Very well, I’ll wait another month.” At the end of the month, the Hasid paid the debt in full. Later the Hasid came to Reb Khaskele again, and the Rebbe said, “If you hadn’t opened the letter, he would have forgiven you the entire debt.”

  126

  A Common Piece of Earth

  Reb Avrom HaMalekh, called “The Angel,” had a number of opponents, misnagdim. Once an entire group of them arrived at his house to make fun of him. He knew what they were up to, so he stood at his window and looked out. They came in, but he did not turn around. Some hours passed before he greeted them. They asked, “Why were you looking out the window that way?” He replied, “I was looking at the mountain over there, wondering how a piece of common earth like that can give itself such airs.”

  127

  Reb Malkiel and the 702 Candles

  Reb Alter of Shtutsin used to tell the following story about Reb Malkiel the Rebbe of Lomzhe, the author of the Divrey-Malkiel.