|
A poor man walked along the road with his head low and his heart even lower.
It had been years since his wife had truly smiled.
G-d had blessed them with a house full of daughters - beautiful, wise and capable, each one a gem.
But blessings, it seemed, did not pay for weddings.
From the moment his eldest came of age, matchmakers began knocking with suggestions of fine young men, sincere Torah scholars with promising futures.
Then came the question.
“And the dowry?”
(In those days, it was common for a bride’s family to help provide money or support so the young couple could begin their married life.)
The poor man would lower his eyes.
There was no dowry. No savings. No silver hidden in a drawer.
Not even enough coins to promise a modest beginning.
The matchmakers would sigh. “Your daughters are wonderful,” they would say. “Truly wonderful. But how can we ask a young man to join a family that cannot help with the wedding or settling the couple into a home?”
And just like that, another possibility vanished.
Finally, with no dignity left to protect and no other path before him, the pauper set out to beg. Surely, he thought, his fellow Jews, merciful ones, the children of merciful ones, would help him in his hour of need.
But village after village brought the same answer.
Not refusal, exactly. Something worse: helplessness. The poor had nothing to give. Those with a little more were already drowning in requests.
Every door carried its own sorrow.
Now he was on his way home, pockets empty, spirit crushed. He could already see his wife’s disappointed face. He could already hear the silence at the table.
Lost in his thoughts, he wandered off the road and onto the grounds of a grand manor.
Exhausted and aching, he leaned against a large tree and rubbed his sore back against its trunk.
“Hey, you!” a voice thundered. “What do you think you are doing here? Don’t you know you are trespassing?”
The pauper froze.
Before him stood the poritz, the lord of the estate, a man whose word could open doors - or end lives.
“Oh, Your Lordship,” the poor man stammered, “forgive me. I meant no harm. I was wandering in sorrow, feeling alone and broken over my troubles. My back was aching, and I stopped only to lean against your tree. I will leave at once.”
The poritz studied him.
“Wait,” he said, his voice suddenly softer. “You look like a man who has been crushed by life. Tell me your story. Perhaps I can help.”
The pauper gave a bitter little laugh. “Why should Your Lordship care about a poor Jew and his troubles? I am a father of daughters. I have no money to marry them off. That is all.”
The poritz was silent for a moment. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a heavy purse of coins.
“Take this,” he said. “Marry off your daughters with joy. I am an old man. I have more money than I need. But the joy of giving - that, I could use.”
The poor man stumbled home, clutching the purse, barely sure he was awake.
It did not take long for the story to spread.
“What good fortune,” said one man to another. “Here’s our chance to get rich. Let’s go to that same estate and try our luck.”
Making their way to the rambling grounds, they promptly located a well-suited tree and began to rub with vigor.
Soon enough, the poritz appeared.
“Oh, Sire!” they cried. “Have pity! We are so sad, so alone, so hopeless. We came here only to comfort our aching backs against your tree.”
The poritz’s face hardened.
“You frauds!” he thundered. “Out of my garden at once!”
As they humbly left the garden, one of them summoned up the temerity to question the poritz. “How is it,” he queried, “that when our friend was here, you greeted him so kindly, but when we came and told you a similar story, you called our bluff?”
“It’s very simple. When a man is truly alone and he needs to scratch his back, he has no choice but to lean against a tree trunk. But there are two of you. You could have rubbed each other’s backs. That told me that you weren’t really as needy as you made yourselves out to be.”
When relating this parable, chassidim would conclude: Be there for one another. A person who feels alone may feel crushed by life - but with a true friend at his side, even the heaviest burden can be carried.
|
A Mitzvah before the match!
