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Weekly Chasidic Story #622 (s5770-07 / 9 Mar-Cheshvan 5770) An Old-Time Delicacy "Many years ago in Vienna, I ordered a bottle of mead from a nearby Jewish inn. It was the most delicious mead I ever tasted." Connection: Weekly Reading - 2weeks!) - Circumcision this week, and the unending bottle in the Haftorah of Vayera next week.
An Old-Time Delicacy
"Many years ago," he began, "while visiting Vienna, I sent my servant to a nearby Jewish inn to buy a bottle of mead. When he came back I discovered that it was the most delicious mead that I had ever tasted. In fact, it was so good that I immediately sent him back to buy some more. I gave him enough money for ten bottles, figuring that my family and I would enjoy it for a long time to come. "But my servant came back empty-handed. I took out a few more coins from my pocket, but he shook his head. 'It isn't the money,' he told me. 'There just isn't any more to be had.' "I decided to go see for myself. When I entered the inn, I saw a large crowd of people who had apparently just finished eating a festive meal. I approached the innkeeper and asked him to sell me some of his delicious honey wine. "'I'm sorry, but there isn't even a drop left of that particular type,' he said. "'Well, when do you expect to get more?' I persisted. "'Quite frankly, never!'" The innkeeper said firmly,
and then told me the following explanation. One year on the day before Yom Kippur, a Jewish farmer had knocked on his door and asked him to circumcise his eight-day-old son. The farmer lived quite a distance away - six parasangs - and it was the day before Yom Kippur. Nonetheless, the mohel agreed to conduct the brit. When they stepped outside the mohel realized that the farmer was too poor to have hired a carriage; neither was the mohel himself a man of means. There was no choice but to walk the whole distance. The farmer started out in the direction of his house, but he was walking so quickly that the mohel soon lagged behind. Eventually the farmer disappeared behind a bend in the road. Hours later the mohel arrived in town and asked some neighbors where the family with the new baby lived. When he walked into the house he found the mother lying in bed with the infant. She was so weakened that she could barely respond. The father, however, was nowhere to be seen. For some reason he hadn't thought it important to attend his own son's brit. The mohel now faced a serious problem: Who would serve as sandek to hold the baby on his knees during the procedure? Time was of the essence; it was the eighth day of the infant's life, and he needed to be entered into the covenant of Abraham immediately. But without a sandek it would be very dangerous. Indeed, the mohel had never attempted such a thing before. The mohel walked outside hoping to find someone on the street he could ask. For a long time he waited, but the street was deserted. Suddenly, he spotted an old beggar coming around the corner. "I'm in a big hurry," the man replied impatiently when the mohel asked for his assistance. "Today is Yom Kippur eve, and I can collect a whole ruble going door to door if I get to the city in time." Desperate by then, the mohel promised to pay him a ruble if he would only serve as sandek. The beggar agreed, and the brit mila was conducted without incident. The mohel then left for the long walk back to the city. After praying the afternoon service the mohel went home for the final meal before the fast, and was astonished to see the very same beggar waiting on his doorstep. He quickly paid him the ruble he had promised, but the beggar also demanded a drink of mead. The mohel was very tired by then and in no mood for entertaining. Nevertheless, he invited him inside and poured the drink. But even that wasn't enough for the strange old man: he insisted that the mohel join him in a glass of mead, and that they wish each other a good and sweet new year. With no alternative, the mohel complied. "Tell me, is there any more of this honey wine left in the barrel?" the annoying stranger persisted. "Very little," the mohel answered, "only a few more drops." "There will always be mead in this barrel," the beggar then pronounced cryptically, "until the last blessing is recited at your youngest son's wedding celebration." The beggar then pointed to the mohel's son sleeping in his cradle. "That blessing was fulfilled in its entirety," the innkeeper
concluded his tale. "There is no explanation other than that the old man
was Elijah the Prophet. With my seemingly endless supply of mead I opened this
inn, and completely forgot about the rest of his prediction. That is, until
today, when the barrel suddenly fell and broke into pieces as we were reciting
the Grace After Meals at my youngest son's wedding. And that is why I am telling
you that there will never be any more of this particular batch of mead...." Connection: Weekly Reading (2 weeks!) - Circumcision this week, and the unending
bottle in the Haftorah of Vayera next week.
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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.