Yiddish Folktales

by Beatrice Weinreich

  Once upon a time there was a husband and wife who had two cows, one black and the other red. One day the husband was driving his cows through town when he saw a man who was playing this melody on his fiddle:

  He went up to the man and said, “Teach me how to play that melody.”

  The fiddler said, “What will you give me if I do?”

  “Anything you want,” said the man, “Just as long as you teach me how to play it.”

  And so the fiddler played:

  Then the man gave the fiddler his red cow, and the fiddler taught him how to play the tune.

  The man went on his way until he came to another fiddler, who was playing this melody:

  The man went up to the fiddler and said, “Teach me that melody.”

  The fiddler said, “And what will you give me if I do?”

  “I’ll give you my black cow,” said the man.

  So the fiddler taught him how to play it.

  When the man came home, his wife asked, “Shepsl, where is the red cow?”

  The man replied:

  Then she asked him, “Shepsl, where is the black cow?” to which the man replied:

  95

  Froyim Greydinger, the Magic Stick, and the Pot of Soup

  Froyim Greydinger—surely you know him, the Galician wit—journeyed once from village to village trying to earn what he could. In the course of his travels he came to an inn. There he asked the innkeeper’s wife to give him something to eat, but she replied that she herself had nothing to eat.

  “Bitter news,” Froyim thought as he mulled over what to do about his empty stomach. Looking about, he saw—I should tell you that it was a Thursday—he saw some meat and a freshly killed hen on a cutting board in the kitchen. Smiling, he said to himself, “Aha, so that’s how things are.” Now that he knew who he was dealing with, he was ready to take her on.

  Picking up a stick, he toyed with it for a moment and then said, “Do you see this stick, ma’am? With this stick and a pot of water, I could cook you a fine soup.”

  The woman was instantly curious. “What kind of stick is that?”

  “Oh,” said Froyim with assumed naïveté, “if I stir a pot of water over a fire with this stick, I can cook up any sort of dish at all.”

  The moment the woman heard that, she could think of nothing but the stick and how he would make a soup with it. She filled a pot with water, and Froyim set it on top of the stove and started to stir it. He stirred and talked, talked and stirred. “It’s an amazing stick,” he said. “Many’s the time it has saved me from having to go to bed on an empty stomach.”

  When the water in the pot had come to a boil, he said, “Tell me, ma’am, would you happen to have a bone, some chicken giblets, and some salt?”

  “Of course,” she said. “What a question.” And she handed him a fine marrow bone, some giblets, and salt. Froyim put them all into the pot and continued to stir. He talked and stirred. A moment later he said, “Perhaps you have a carrot, some cabbage, and some groats?”

  “Some!” said the woman. “No need to be stingy with them. The Lord be thanked, I have a gardenful of vegetables.” With that she handed him some groats and vegetables, and Froyim put them all into the pot and stirred and talked. Talked and stirred. When he was done, Froyim poured himself a bowl of soup. Tasting it, he smacked his lips with pleasure. Seeing that, the innkeeper’s wife could hardly keep from drooling. “Can I taste it?” she asked.

  “By all means,” said Froyim.

  He poured a bowlful for her and another one for himself, and even so there was more left over. She tasted it and said, “I have to admit that I haven’t had such a fine soup in a long time. What a wonderful stick! Perhaps you’d like to sell it?”

  “Heaven forbid. Never. The stick was part of my inheritance. And yet, hmmm. You’re such a fine woman. You have such a generous heart. Hmm. Suppose … let’s just suppose I could sell it, how much would you give?”

  “Let me see,” said the innkeeper’s wife. “Would a ruble do?”

  “A ruble?” said Froyim. “Heaven forbid. No. I won’t sell it for money.”

  “Then what would you take?”

  “No money, that’s for sure,” said Froyim firmly. “Just think of it! Part of an inheritance that has come down to me through generations. Still, who knows … perhaps … if you’ll give me that freshly killed hen in addition to the ruble, I’ll make you a present of the stick.”

  Well, they arrived at a trade, though Froyim hesitated for a moment. But finally he gave her the stick and returned home carrying a fat hen for the Sabbath and a ruble into the bargain.

  96

  What Makes Tea Sweet: An Exercise in Logic

  A yeshiva student said to one of his fellows, “The sages ask: What makes the glass of tea sweet? If I reply that it is because of the sugar, then I must ask: What is the teaspoon’s purpose? The answer: To sweeten the tea, for which the proof is as follows: When you put sugar into the tea, it does not turn sweet until you have stirred it with the teaspoon. In which case, why do we need the sugar at all?”

  The second student replied, “Indeed, it is true that the tea is sweetened by the spoon. Now, why do we need the sugar? My reply is that sugar is necessary because it’s only when the sugar dissolves that we know it’s time to stop stirring.”

  97

  The Visitor from the World Beyond

  An innkeeper bought his family meat and fish and told his simpleton wife to get them ready for shabes nakhmu, the Sabbath of Consolation.

  On Friday evening just before the meal, a visitor appeared at the innkeeper’s house. “A good Sabbath to you,” he said. As it happened, the innkeeper was not at home just then, so the innkeeper’s wife said, “Are you Shabes Nakhmu?” The visitor, sensing an opportunity of some kind, said, “Yes, I am.”

  The innkeeper’s wife said, “I have everything ready for you. There’s fish, and meat, and so on.” Then she served him all the good things she had prepared.

  When he had done eating and drinking, she asked, “Where are you from?”

  “From the world beyond,” he replied.

  “How are my parents doing there?” she asked.

  “Quite well,” he said, “but they suffer a little from the cold. You wouldn’t perhaps be able to send them some clothing?”

  So she gathered up her husband’s suits and her dresses and gave them to the stranger.

  When the innkeeper came home, she told him that Shabes Nakhmo had been there and that she had given him food and drink, as well as all their suits and dresses.

  “What have you done?” he shouted. “How in the world could shabes nakhmu be here?”

  Quickly the innkeeper harnessed the horses to his wagon and drove off in pursuit of the stranger. But that sly fellow, suspecting that he might be followed, went into a forest, stripped himself naked, and put his arms around a tree.

  Driving through the forest and seeing a naked man embracing a tree, the innkeeper stopped his wagon. “Did a man carrying a bundle go by here?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said the naked man. “I saw him.”

  The innkeeper said, “Will you be good enough to chase him and bring him back here?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t,” said the thief. “As you see, I’m holding up this tree, which happens to be the tree that holds up the world. If I go away the tree will fall, and then, of course, the whole world will. Although if you like, you can take your clothes off and hold up the tree in my place. Then I’ll be glad to chase the fellow with the bundle.”

  The innkeeper took all his clothes off and put his arms around the tree while the thief, jumping into the wagon, drove off.

  98

  The Ten Women

  Once upon a time women decided that they, too, wanted to form a minyen, a prayer quorum of ten, and pray together as a group, just like the men. So they sent a deputation to the Lord of the Universe.

  “Reboyne shel oylem,” they said, “why are we any worse than the men? Why can�
�t ten women get together and pray as a group?”

  The Lord of the Universe replied, “If you can manage to count to ten, you have my promise that you too can form a minyen.”

  So the rabbi’s wife hurriedly gathered together the worthiest women of the town and told them what the Lord had said.

  She led the women to the synagogue, and once they were inside, she started to count them. But she included herself in the count, so there turned out to be eleven. Seeing that, she asked one of the women to step out of the group and counted once more. But this time she forgot to count herself, so now she counted nine women. Well, she asked the woman who had stepped aside to rejoin the group. This time when the rabbi’s wife counted, she included herself, so once again there were eleven.

  When she saw that she continually miscounted, she decided that it would be better if she got each of them to make a figure of clay and poke a hole in it with her finger. Then by counting the holes, she would know how many women there were.

  But one of the women in the group was a snuff sniffer. When she worked with her clay, she put two fingers into it, as if taking a pinch of snuff. So when the rabbi’s wife counted the holes, she came up with the number eleven again.

  Then, seeing that using fingers had produced a miscount, she got the idea of telling the women to make the holes in the clay with their tongues. After all, each person has only one tongue.

  So the clay figures were re-formed and each woman made a hole with her tongue. But one of the women had such a long nose, that when she bent to make a hole with her tongue, she poked another hole with her nose. When the rabbi’s wife counted the holes, she was dismayed to come out with eleven once more. Feeling at an impasse, and unable to think what to do, she ran helter-skelter to the rabbi and asked his advice.

  “How can I help you,” he said, “if you insist on poking your noses where they don’t belong?”

  And the moral of this tale is: Women! Don’t poke your noses into the affairs of men.

  99

  The Congregation Loves Jam

  One Sabbath before the reading of the Torah, Motke Khabad went up to the reader’s table, brought his hand down on it with a bang, and announced, “Congregation! Those of you who love jam are invited to my house after the service. Come at three o’clock.”

  When the service was over, Motke went home. He ate his tsholnt, then lay down for his nap. When he woke at three, a considerable crowd had gathered in his courtyard. Motke went up to the people and asked, “Are you all here?”

  “Yes,” came the reply, “we’re all here.”

  “In that case, you can all turn around and go home. Now I know how many of you love jam.”

  100

  Motke Khabad Needs a Place to Live

  One day while out walking, Motke Khabad stopped on a street to look at a house. Someone passing by said, “Would you like to buy that place?”

  “Yes,” replied Motke. “Yes.”

  “Have you got the money for it?” asked the passerby.

  “Oh, I’ve got the money for the building. The rub is that I haven’t got the money for the loaf of bread you’re supposed to carry across the threshold when you buy a new house.”

  101

  Why the Head Turns Gray Before the Beard

  One day a king rode out into the countryside, where he met a poor Jewish farmer who was working in his field. The farmer’s head was gray and his beard was black. This struck the king as strange, so he called the man to him and said, “How is it that your head is gray and your beard is black?”

  The man replied, “It’s because my head is older than my beard. And that’s why it turned gray first.” This reply pleased the king, and he commanded the man not to tell anyone what he had said. “You may tell it,” he said, “only after you have seen me a hundred times.” The man promised to obey the king’s command and the king rode away.

  When he returned home, the king put the same question to his ministers: “Why does the head turn gray before the beard?” When none of them could come up with the right answer, he gave them a month to think the matter over, after which they were to bring him their replies.

  The month passed quickly and the allotted time had nearly arrived, and still no one had found the right answer. It was then that one of the ministers remembered that the king had been riding in a certain district on the day when he had put his question. And so he too rode out in that district, and sure enough, he came upon the same Jewish farmer whose head was gray and whose beard was black. He approached the man and said, “Tell me, why is your hair gray and your beard black?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to tell you.”

  The minister said, “I’ll pay you well if you tell me.”

  “All right,” said the man. “I’ll tell you after you’ve given me one hundred silver rubles.”

  The minister immediately brought him one hundred silver rubles, and the man told him the answer to the riddle. The minister promptly reported it to the king.

  The king, however, guessed at once that the Jewish farmer had divulged the answer. So he sent for the man and said, “Are you aware that you have earned a severe punishment for revealing the secret I commanded you to keep?”

  The man replied, “Do you remember that you said I could reveal it only after I had seen you a hundred times?” Here, the man took the hundred silver rubles from his pocket and showed the king his likeness on each coin. “At first,” he said, “I refused to tell the secret. It was only after the minister had brought me the hundred rubles and I had seen your face on each of them that I felt I had a right to tell.”

  The king, seeing that he was dealing with an astute man, decided not to punish him. Instead he asked the Jewish farmer to stay with him and be his advisor. From that time on, the king kept the man beside him and consulted him before he made any decision.

  This caused jealousy among the king’s other ministers, and they concocted a plot to destroy him.

  Now, the custom was that when the king summoned his ministers together to tell him stories, the first story was always told by the minister who sat on the king’s right. When he was done, he would tap the minister to his right with a stick. That official in turn would tell his story and then tap the minister to his right with the stick. And so on around the circle until the last minister, who sat at the king’s left, told the last story and the storytelling session was done.

  Now, what the ministers plotted was to seat the Jewish farmer at the king’s left and then, against tradition, to start the storytelling in the middle of the circle. Thus when the Jew received the stick and finished telling his story, he, not being the last one to tell a tale, would have to strike the king with his stick. And striking the king was a crime punishable by death.

  Well, the plot went as planned, and when the farmer received the stick, he suddenly understood what the ministers had in mind. So he turned to the king and said, “Before I tell my story, I’d like to ask your advice.”

  “What is it?” said the king.

  “Tell me what I ought to have done in the following situation: I was traveling along one day when I saw a great fire at a distance, and in that fire a number of people were trapped.”

  “You ought to have rescued the people,” said the king.

  “Very well, then. But as I hurried to rescue them, I came upon a deep pond that stood between me and the fire. If I entered the water, I would surely drown because I can’t swim, and that would be no help to the people in the fire. So I was brought to a dead stop. Now, my question to you is, “What should I have done?”

  “You should certainly not have entered the pond. Your death would have been of no help to the people who were trapped.”

  When the farmer heard the king’s reply, he handed the stick to the other ministers, saying, “If I used the stick to strike the king, it would be for me like drowning in the pond, and my death would have done you no good.”

  The ministers, seeing that he had more wisdom than they, decided to pa
tch up their quarrel and became his good friends from then on. And that was the end of that.

  102

  The Love Potion

  I know another little tale, not quite proper, but it is amusing. If you like, I’ll tell it to you.

  Once upon a time there was a husband and wife, very poor folk. To make it worse, they had a great many children, all girls. And it happened that the wife, as was not unusual with her, was pregnant again. Her husband thought, “Who knows, perhaps God will send us a son this time, and I haven’t even got the wherewithal for a circumcision feast.” He concluded that, what with one thing and another, he would do better to go out into the wide world begging for alms so that he’d be able to pay for the circumcision feast. So that’s what he did, and it wasn’t long before his family lost all track of him.

  Meanwhile his wife came to her time and was, with God’s help, delivered of a boy. But her house was very cold and she had nothing to heat it with. Lying in bed, she remembered that there were a few pieces of coal somewhere in an attic corner. She turned to her daughters and said, “Children, go to the attic, where you’ll find a few bits of coal. Bring them down so we can warm up the house a little. I’m very cold.” So her daughters went up to the attic and found the coal. But they noticed that there was something bright and gleaming among the coal scraps, and they ran down to their mother and told her so.

  “Well,” she said, “bring me a couple of pieces of whatever it is that’s glittering there.” So they fetched down two pieces of the bright stone. When their mother saw what they had, she knew at once that it was something valuable. She said to her oldest daughter, “Carry one of these to the goldsmith and ask him what it’s worth.”

  The goldsmith took one look and knew that it was no ordinary stone but a diamond. He bought it from the girl for a great deal of money, which she took home to her mother. Well, it wasn’t long before there were all sorts of good things in the house, and more than enough money to pay for a fine circumcision feast.