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Weekly Chasidic Story #628 (s5770-13 / 21 Kislev 5770) Honoring a Broken Bottle The guest in Bagdad was awed by the plush richness around him; the thick Persian rugs, gold inlayed dishes and beautifully decorated walls. Connections - 2: The festival of Chanukah that begins this Shabbat, and a direct quote from the Weekly Reading, Vayeishev.
Honoring a Broken Bottle
Usually Mr. Pinchas had a table full of guests but this Shabbat he only had one; a poor man that he had invited from the Beit Knesset (Synagogue). The guest was awed by the plush richness around him; the thick Persian rugs, gold inlayed dishes and beautifully decorated walls. Only one thing perplexed him; in the middle of the table stood an old, empty, broken bottle, deeply stained with what appeared to have been oil. When Mr. Pinchas noticed how his guest was staring at the bottle he said. "I see that you are wondering about my bottle. Do you want to hear a wonderful story?" The guest of course nodded 'yes' and he began to speak: My father was a respected businessman here in Baghdad, but he was always busy and he left me in the hands of my grandfather. Every morning my grandfather would wake me, make sure I washed my hands, said the morning blessings and didn't forget my lunch. Then each time, just before I left the house for school, he would give me a kiss on my forehead, raise his hands to the heavens and say: "VA'ANI ANA ANI BAW" (lit. "And I, where will I go?!" (Gen. 37:30) Later I learned in school that this is what Reuven cried out when he discovered that Yosef was not in the pit and that it was impossible to save him. But I had no idea what it had to do with me. Then, when I was about fourteen years old, tragedy struck; my grandfather passed away. There was no one to take care of me in the morning so I started to go with my father to work. My father tried to make sure that I prayed and learned a little but he was always very busy, and the business he did fascinated me so I didn't pay much attention to my studies. Then, two years later, tragedy struck again; my father died suddenly and now, besides the fact that I was alone, there was another problem; what to do with the business? I was given the choice either to sell it and save the money, or to try my luck managing it for a while and I decided, against the advice of the lawyers, to try the latter. Well, I took to it like a fish to water. It wasn't long before I was making big business deals with the best. But I began to feel out of place with a kippah and tzizit, and not eating with everyone else, and the keeping of Shabbat prevented me from making big contacts. So I began to stop being so observant and I discovered that the more commandments I dropped, the more successful I became. Several years passed and I rose higher and higher until, one day I was walking home after landing a really big deal and I noticed a young Jewish boy, maybe thirteen years old, sitting on the sidewalk crying. You know how it is when you feel happy you can't stand to see someone miserable, right? So I went over to him and asked him what was wrong. "Oh thank you sir," he said "but this is something for Jews, I don't think you would understand." When he said those words I felt like someone stabbed me in the heart. "You should know that I am Jewish," I said to him, "I even learned Talmud in Torah School." "Oh, I'm sorry," he answered, "I didn't mean to upset you. I feel so bad. You see at home we don't have any money." He looked up at me and wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve, "My father died a while ago and my mother has to work and also feed us, me and my six brothers and sisters, so things are not good. Well, this morning my mother said that it is Chanuka tonight and we have to look through the house for money to buy oil so we can light the Menora and that maybe G-d will make a Chanuka miracle for us and we'll find something. We looked and searched and were just about to give up when my little sister found a coin behind one of the drawers. We were all so happy! So my mother told me to run to the store and buy the oil before it closes. I ran and just as he was closing I got there and bought the oil. I was walking home, holding the bottle and dreaming. I imagined how good it is going to be to light the lights, how everyone will smile. I remembered how the warm yellow light would shine on everyone's faces and make everyone look so pure and happy. Maybe we'll even sing and dance like we did last year. Maybe G-d will really send Mashiach this time, like my mother says, and then she will start to smile again. I was walking faster and faster, I was so excited. It's Chanuka! It's Chanuka!! And then…I tripped. I fell in the street and the bottle flew from my hands! I watched in horror as it arched in the air and came down on a stone and broke. It broke! All the oil spilled out…'VA'ANI ANA ANI BAW?!' The boy began crying again but when I heard those words I suddenly remembered my grandfather and understood what he must have intended each time he said those words. Somehow he knew or intuited that this would happen. "That broken bottle is me!" I thought to myself in shock. "The spilled oil is my Jewish soul; I've lost my Jewish soul!" As if in a trance, I took out a wad of money from my pocket, gave it to the boy and told him to go back to the store, knock on the window and just tell him Avrim Pinchas sent you. "Go! Buy what you want, and have a happy Chanuka! Go!" When the boy was gone, I lifted the bottle from the street and carried it home, still in shock. I sent the servants away for eight days and then, when I was alone, I just stood there, looking at that broken bottle and weeping. Then the thought struck me, "A Jew can't loose his Jewish soul. Maybe I ignored it or put it to sleep, but I'm sure it's still there." So I took my grandfather's menorah out of the cabinet, dusted it off, found some oil and a wick and lit the first candle. The light truly penetrated me. I felt like I was alive again! I decided right then that I must do another thing Jewish…that I would start putting on Tefilin again starting tomorrow morning! The next night I lit two candles and decided from now on to eat only kosher food. The following night, that I would begin learning Torah. The night after that I made the decision to keep Shabbat. Until when on the last night eight candles were burning, I felt that I had become a new man. A renewed man. The lights of Chanukah had saved me. "So," he concluded his memorable story, "that is the reason I keep the broken bottle: to remind me where I was and how that miracle of the oil "saved my life." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ [Adapted by Yerachmiel Tilles from the rendition of his friend and colleague Rabbi Tuvia Bolton, the popular teacher, musician, recording artist and storyteller, in his weekly email for the yeshiva which he heads, Ohr Tmimim (ohrtmimim.org/torah )]. Connections - 2: The festival of Chanukah that begins this Shabbat, and the verse quoted from the Weekly Reading.
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Yerachmiel
Tilles is co-founder and associate director of Ascent-of-Safed, and chief editor
of this website (and of KabbalaOnline.org). He has hundreds of published stories
to his credit, and many have been translated into other languages. He tells
them live at Ascent nearly every Saturday night.