The Lost Hat and the Pile of Gold
A wagon driver coming to harness his gray horse one morning noticed that it was exhausted and sweating. He remembered hearing that kapelyushniklekh liked gray horses and often spent the night riding them. He had heard too that if anyone snatched the caps off their heads, they would go away and not return—and moreover, they would pay a lot of money to get their caps back. He knew also that they were afraid of light, and so one night he took a lantern and hid in the barn. As he lay there, he heard his horse whinnying and the sound of running. He stood up and raised his lantern high. The kapelyushniklekh, seeing the light, scattered in all directions, and one of them, in his haste, left his cap behind.
The wagon driver took the cap home with him. The next night a couple of kapelyushniklekh came to ask for it and promised to give him a great deal of gold in return. He consented, but demanded the gold first. Hardly a moment passed before a heap of gold appeared in front of him, so he gave them the cap. He stood wondering where to hide the gold and which of his debts to pay first—when dawn came, and in the light of day he saw that instead of a heap of gold, there was a pile of rocks lying there.
162
The Miracle of the Beer Keg
My Shiye managed to save up sixty gildn. From time to time he would withdraw five or ten gildn, and I would keep track of how much was left. One day I took out twenty gildn, but when I counted what was left a few moments later, the whole amount was there. I counted once, I counted twice, and there they were: sixty gildn. So I told Shiye that he must have made a mistake. He counted the money once more. Still sixty gildn! “We’ve both made mistakes in counting,” I said, “or else you don’t remember how much money you put in.”
“Don’t be crazy,” he said.
“Come on,” I said, “I know how much I took out.” Well, what do you think? It was only after we mulled it over that we realized the money had been blessed. Evidently the good Lord on high had done a miraculous thing, and if the Lord wills it, prosperity comes in the door unbidden.
Yes, yes. Such things did happen. Wait. Would you like another instance? Didn’t something like it happen to me just before the war? You know, of course, that the holiday season is good for business. I manage to sell several barrels of beer and, with God’s help, some brandy. Good enough! One day I noticed that the cashbox was full and the beer and brandy barrels were filled to the top—though we had been drawing from one of them all day long. So I said to Shiye, “What’s going on? Usually the barrels are empty by now, yet you’ve been drawing from the same barrel all day long.”
It was then that I went up to the barrel to draw myself some beer. I said to Shiye, “I don’t believe it. Look, it’s still full.” Then I shook the barrel and—slap, slap. It was empty. Who knows? If I had kept my mouth shut and pretended not to notice, it might still—ah well. Would that the good Lord would do the same thing again.
163
How Doves Saved a Synagogue from Fire
Some forty-five years ago, the whole town of Gorlits was destroyed in a great fire. People fled to the safety of the fields from the all-consuming flames. The Jews of Gorlits were truly in despair when the flames began to approach the old synagogue. But just as the fire drew near it, a flock of white doves appeared and held the flames back with the breeze they created by flapping their wings.
164
The Calf That Turned to Gold
There was this widow who had many children. She had to go to work every morning, so she prepared food for the children and then locked them in the house. Every day when she came home, her children told her that a calf had darted out from behind the oven and eaten the meal of the youngest child, Sorele. Each day when their mother started to leave for work, the children would weep because they were afraid of the calf. But since she had to go, there was no help for them. Then one day as the children were eating, the calf darted out once more from behind the oven and began to eat Sorele’s meal. This time the child grew angry and struck the animal on the head with her spoon. In that instant the calf was transformed into a heap of gold. When the widow came home, she could see at once that the gold was worth a fortune.
165
A Cave That Leads to the Land of Israel
The road that leads to a certain village in the district of Shebershin passes between two mountains through such a steep valley that the traveler feels as if he has entered a pit. There is a cave in that valley which the local peasants call the “Synagogue.” The story is told that when the Jews found their way into Poland after their expulsion from Spain, they stopped in the cave to rest and study and pray. And in nearby trees there are still to be found carved Hebrew words which read as follows: “This is where we completed the reading of the Talmud tractate ‘Shabbat.’ ” And the brook running past the cave is called the Brook of the Prophet Samuel.
Another cave in that region is reputed to lead to the land of Israel. A story is told about a holy man clothed in white who lived some hundred years ago. He was called the White Rebbe and is still widely known for his miracles. He was very anxious to provoke the coming of the Messiah. One day, saying that he was on his way to the land of Israel, he went into the forest. He was followed all the way to the cave by a few pious women and a crowd of pranksters. At the entrance to the cave, he sent a kid in and settled down to wait for three days. When the kid had not returned at the end of that time, he said it proved that this was indeed the road to the land of Israel. Then he himself entered the cave and was never seen again.
166
Late-Night Spooks
One winter evening a number of men were sitting around in the synagogue telling stories. One of them, a workingman who sat a little apart from the others, fell asleep. Later the synagogue caretaker, not noticing he was there, locked him in the building. In the middle of the night the man awoke and saw a number of white-clad people dancing to the sound of music. He tried to get to the window to call for help, but someone gripped him from behind. Giving a wrench, he pulled away and ran to the window, where he began shouting. A crowd gathered. At last the rabbi, together with a minyen, a prayer quorum of ten men, went into the synagogue and escorted him out.
And that’s why, in the Great Jassy Synagogue in Rumania, they recite their prayers early and avoid prolonging them into the night.
167
The Demon Sheep
A Jew was traveling from his village to town. On the way he noticed a bound sheep lying in the road, bleating. The villager jumped down to load the sheep into his wagon. Though the animal was very heavy, the man was not willing to untie it, so he heaved and hauled and labored until at last he got it stowed away. Then he had to crack the whip because the horses could not pull the wagon unless they stretched and strained. As they drew near town, the man felt the wagon moving more easily. Looking back, he saw the sheep standing on its hind legs, exposing its rear end to him. “Ha, ha, ha!” it cried. “I sure made you heave and haul and sweat, didn’t I?” Then it leaped from the wagon and disappeared.
168
The Dibbuk Melody of Tolne
In the town of Vishnevits the cantor was an older Jew and a disciple of the Rebbe of Tolne. Now, because his voice was beginning to fail, some of the congregation argued that it was time to get a new cantor. But they were opposed by the disciples of the Tolne Rebbe, and the result was that a small war developed over the issue.
It happened one day that the cantor’s voice turned very hoarse. And when his hoarseness persisted, even the disciples of the Tolne Rebbe conceded that it might be time to look for a new cantor.
As is the custom among Jews, they came to terms with the old cantor. They got his permission (given grudgingly, you may be sure, but what else could he do?) to hire another cantor, a young man who was pious as well as a fine musician. The whole town was delighted by the sweetness of his voice when he sang the prayers, and they respected him for his piety and his good character.
The deposed cantor, who could hardly bear to acknowledge the
talent of his younger rival, regarded him with envy and hatred. At last, just at the time of the high holidays, grief made the old cantor desperately ill, and just before Rosh Hashana he was carried to his eternal rest.
Everyone mourned his passing. Some people, even those who most opposed him, felt that they had had some share in bringing on his death. As for the young cantor, he went about depressed and restless, like a man stumbling in the World of Chaos. He too felt that he had hastened the old cantor’s death.
Then misfortune struck him. On the beginning of the Jewish New Year, just as he was about to sing the musef prayers beginning with hineni heoni mimaas, “Here I stand poor in deeds,” he stood suddenly stock still, unable to remember the melody he had prepared for the words. He shut his eyes and searched his memory, without success. Not a trace of recall. Then the shade of the old cantor rose before his eyes, and the words hineni heoni mimaas rose from his throat. But not in his own voice, and not in the melody he had prepared; no, it was the melody the old cantor had sung for years. The congregation recognized the voice at once and knew, too, that the melody of the hineni was the old man’s.
The new cantor fainted away. Just as his assistants were lifting him, he came to. With uncanny strength he tore himself out of their grasp and rushed to the bime, where the angry voice of the old cantor came from his throat, crying, “I am still the town cantor. This is my pulpit and I will sing the hineni according to my melody.”
The young cantor, pale and faint, was led home and the musef service was conducted by a member of the congregation.
Soon after Rosh Hashana the young man was brought to Rebbe Dovidl in Tolne. Reb Dovidl took the cantor into his study and shut the door so they could be alone. “Now,” he said, “sing me the hineni with your melody.” The cantor sang, but what came out was the hoarse voice of the dead man, the old cantor.
Reb Dovidl said angrily, “A melody must be sweet and pleasant, and prayer too must be sweet, especially in the Days of Awe when one prays, ‘May it be Thy will, O mighty Lord, that my voice may neither falter nor turn hoarse; may it grow steadily stronger until it is like the clear sound of the shoyfer.’ He who leads the prayers must use his voice to persuade the Lord of the Universe. And to persuade Him one needs a better, a lovelier voice than yours is now. Go, then, back to your rest, and let this man, who stands in your place, pray to the Lord in his own fine voice so that he can plead with Him for the salvation of his people.”
There followed a long silence. Then Reb Dovidl spoke once more, this time without anger, in a gentle voice: “The two of you are both cantors. Now pay close attention to the hineni, which I will sing according to my own melody. Listen hard and learn it by heart, for your own good.”
With that Reb Dovidl began to sing the hineni in a clear voice and with a new melody which rose higher and clearer at every note he sang. Higher and higher, a song from the heart, at once sweet and ecstatic. And when Reb Dovidl finished with the words shomeya tfile, “Hear my prayer,” he lifted his tear-stained eyes, and with his hands outstretched said tenderly, “Now you, who are one of the purified dead, go back to your rest. The melody I’ve taught you will unbolt every door and open every gate for you, and you will achieve your soul’s repair. And I assure you that you will be found worthy to sing this very melody to the tsadikim in the Garden of Eden.”
Then Reb Dovidl went up to the young cantor and embraced him. Looking deep into his eyes, he said, “Now let’s both try to sing the hineni according to my melody. The old cantor is no longer here, and he will never again appear in your synagogue.”
Reb Dovidl began to sing his hineni, and the young cantor, his voice fully restored, and clearer, purer than it had ever been, sang along with him.
And this was the melody that for many years was sung by the Hasidim of Tolne. The melody they called the Dibbuk Melody of Tolne.
169
The Missing Bridegroom
There were two boys who were friends, and who always studied the Talmud together. Then it happened that one of them died. So the other was left to study alone. In time he grew up, and a marriage was arranged for him. Now, the custom is that the groom is not permitted to be alone on the day before the wedding, but since everyone was very busy, he slipped out of the house for a minute. He was no sooner outside than his childhood friend came up to him and said, “What are you doing?”
At first the groom was frightened, but then his fear left him and he replied that he was about to be married. His friend said, “Come with me and I’ll show you where I live.”
“How can I?” replied the groom. “I’m to be married tomorrow.”
“You can come for a moment,” replied the friend. He led the groom to the outskirts of town and into a very fine house. On a table lay a volume of the gemore. “Let’s see,” said the friend, “which of us is better at remembering our lessons.” And so they sat down to study, and they studied together for a hundred and fifty years.
When the hundred and fifty years were up, the groom left the house and headed back to the home of his prospective father-in-law. Everything was changed, however, and when he came to what had been the father-in-law’s house, he saw that it was altogether differently constructed. The people of the town, seeing him dressed in the style of a hundred and fifty years ago, laughed at him. When he went into the house and inquired for his bride, the occupants thought he was insane. But there was an old woman keeping warm near the oven who heard his questions and the names he gave. She told him that a hundred and fifty years ago, a young man had disappeared the day before his wedding. The groom, hearing that, understood what had happened and uttered a prayer to the Lord. And then he died.
170
Two Hrubeshoyv Legends
In Hrubeshoyv there was a minyen, a prayer quorum of Jews that was known as the Great Minyen. Its members were all holy men living in concealment. All were workingmen: a tailor, a shoemaker, a porter, a carpenter, a smith, and so on. They used to meet after midnight in the small synagogue, where they immersed themselves in the holy Torah. One day they decided to force the Messiah to come.
There are two stories about what happened then: one is that a member of the Minyen made a mistake in the names they used to invoke Him and instead invoked the evil Samael, and so they were all consumed by fire. The other version is that the Baal Shem Tov, when he heard what they were up to, dispersed them because it was not yet time for the Messiah. To this day it is said that their gravestones are visible only once a year, on the first day of the month of Elul.
There are all sorts of stories about these holy men. It happened once that the menoyre, the seven-branched candelstick, the hanging candelabrum, and various other things were stolen from the synagogue. In spite of an intensive search, the thief could not be found. The Jews of Hrubeshoyv were very unhappy. Then a member of the Great Minyen came to the synagogue. It was the carpenter, who took out a large drill and started to bore a hole in the place where the mezuze was nailed to the doorpost. Immediately afterward a man with a hole in his head came running, bringing the stolen things.
171
Why the Rebbe’s Pipe Must Be Kept Lighted
One day a Hasid was on his way to see his rebbe. As he walked along, a woman came up to him and said that he would have to marry her. “I can’t possibly do that,” said the Hasid. “I have a wife and children at home.” But she replied, “If you don’t marry me, I’ll kill you.” The Hasid pleaded with her, saying he couldn’t give an immediate answer, he needed a little time to think it over.
“All right,” said the woman, “you have a year to think about it. After that you’ll have to marry me.” And with these words she disappeared.
The man went to his rebbe and told him what had happened. The rebbe said, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you. Come back to see me before the year is out.”
Six days before the year was out, the Hasid returned to the rebbe. The rebbe seated him at the head of his table and said to the other Hasidim he had called in, “No matter what
you see, don’t be frightened.” No sooner had he spoken than a woman came in. At her entrance darkness fell, but when the rebbe concentrated his mind, the room brightened once more. “What is it you want?” asked the rebbe.
“I want my husband,” she replied, “the one who is sitting at the head of the table. He belongs to me.”
“He can’t possibly marry you, because he has a wife and children at home,” said the rebbe. Then, lighting his pipe, he said, “I’ll tell you what. You can marry him when I have finished smoking my pipe. But so long as this pipe stays lighted, you will have no power over him.” He had no sooner spoken than the woman disappeared. And the Hasid went home to his wife and children.
For his part the rebbe took care to keep his pipe lit, and years later on his deathbed he gave orders that it must never be allowed to go out and that it must be kept well hidden. “Because if it ever goes out, she will have power over the Hasid even after his death. She can draw his soul down and force it into the body of some other man, who then must marry her.” And ever since, from generation to generation, the rebbe’s descendants have kept his pipe lighted and hidden.
172
Luckily, the Rooster Crowed Late
It was twelve o’clock midnight. Suddenly Reb Moyshe heard someone dancing near his window. Since it was summer, he went out of the house wearing only his trousers. All at once he felt himself being grabbed by demons, and the next thing he knew, he was flying through the air. Though he tried, he was unable to cry out for help.
Well, they tormented him all night long until a rooster crowed and he found himself standing in the meadow on the other side of the mill stream. It was still an hour and a half before dawn. When he saw someone he knew, he begged the man to bring him his clothes so he could dress and walk back to town. The man fetched his things, and Reb Moyshe went home.
Yiddish Folktales Page 31
