Part IV--A Special Garment

[Shlomo davens Mincha, then plays several songs.  Now
he's ready to tell a story.]

Listen friends, can we sit here for five more minutes?
Let me tell you a fast, cute little story; then we'll
take a little break-aleh.

[He catches sight of Aryeh Trupin]--Hey, brother, hey,
I'm overjoyed to see you.  [Changes his tone]  You
didn't bring your trumpet? [Aryeh plays clarinet and
flute, but Shlomo didn't forget; he meant it
generically.]
--I did, but I was, I was sitting so entranced--
--No, brother, I was sure you didn't have it.  How
could you hold back? But, you know, I'm so glad--

Chevra, can you get a little bit closer for two more
seconds? I want to tell you a sweet story.  Just to
warm your bones with a good story.

[Confers with Jerry Strauss about the schedule.  They
agree, and Jerry makes an announcement.  Shlomo
compliments him.] 

Okay, friends, let me tell you a fast story.  Maybe
some of you heard me tell it already, so you'll have
to forgive me.  And if you didn't, you'll have to
forgive me I didn't tell it faster.

You know, some of us, friends, are doing someone a
favor, and the saddest thing is that you regret it
after that.  You know? You do somebody a favor--you
did--that's it, right? But to regret it after--what
kind of gesheft is this, right? Imagine I walk down
the street, and I see a poor man.  And at that moment,
something touches my heart, and so I give him ten
dollars.  Next block, I think, "Crazy! Ten dollars?
Five dollars wouldn't have been enough?"

The famous, classic UJA story about this Yiddele going
on a bridge and [the bridge] begins to shuckle, and
he's afraid he'll fall in, and he says, "G-d, I donate
$100 for Israel."  Okay, suddenly the bridge is okay. 
Nothing.  It stops shuckling.  He thinks, "$100 for
Israel? Fifty wouldn't be enough?" I begins to shuckle
again.  He says, "G-d, I was only joking."

But anyway, listen to this.  The is a true story, a
classic story.  Everybody knows that the Yid HaKodesh,
the Holy Jew, was the highest pupil of the Seer of
Lublin.  And one of the reasons he was called "Holy
Jew" is that he had the same name like the Seer of
Lublin, Ya'akov Yitzchak, and since you're not
permitted to call anybody by the name of your holy
master--so one way or the other--but the real holy
reason is that one time all the pupils of the Seer of
Lublin were standing in [the] marketplace of Lublin,
and suddenly a Cossack passed by, riding on a horse,
and he pointed at the Yid HaKodesh; he says, "He looks
like a Jew."  And he took off.  So obviously it was
Eliyahu HaNavi, and he told them that the Yid HaKodesh
looks like a Jew.

Anyway, he was called Yid HaKodesh, and also everybody
knows that if the Yid HaKodesh and the Seer of Lublin
would have been always very close, they mamesh had it
in their hands to bring Mashiach.  So if you know, in
the history of Chassidus, the saddest thing happened. 
Suddenly there was a whole group of people in Lublin,
and they told stories to the Seer of Lublin about the
Yid HaKodesh.  It was like a little wall between them.
 So this took place at the beginning, when the other
side was working for them not to bring the Messiah and
to make a little anger between them. 

Okay, now I want you to know, the whole time the Seer
of Lublin was aware--he didn't believe anything they
tell him, but he knew maybe really the time isn't
there yet, you know? Maybe it's because the time isn't
there.

Anyway, one Friday afternoon, the Yid HaKodesh--the
Holy Jew--walks into the Seer of Lublin, and the Yid
HaKodesh was so poor--his father-in-law was a baker,
and you know--very, very poor.  So his shirt was torn,
and it was really dirty.  So the Seer of Lublin says
(you know--everybody knows--a Talmud Chocham--a
scholar--is really not permitted to walk around dirty
'cause it's a desecration of G-d's name, so he said to
Yid HaKodesh, "You're not permitted to walk around
with that shirt on Shabbos."  Walks into his bedroom,
takes out a beautiful shirt--and you have to realize
the Seer of Lublin would not give a shirt to somebody
unless he's completely holy, right--because all the
garments of my soul, of my body, are just one, right?
And to wear a shirt which was worn by the Seer of
Lublin--ah, your kishkes are turning over, right? I'd
be afraid even just to go into the same room with the
Seer of Lublin and his shirts, right?

Okay, the Yid HaKodesh takes the shirt, and he walks
down the street.  He wants to go to the mikveh.  On
the way to the mikveh, he meets Mosheleh the Shikker. 
And Mosheleh the Shikker, you know, is a shrewd
fellow, but mamesh his shirt is even more torn and is
more dirty, so the Yid HaKodesh suddenly has a flash,
"I wish Moshele the Shikker would look decent on
Shabbos."  He says, "Mosheleh, you want a good shirt?
I just got a gift from the Seer of Lublin.  Here, I
give you the shirt."  The Yid HaKodesh went to the
mikveh, but in the meantime, Moshele Shikker--Moshele
the drunkard--wasn't as stupid as that.  He walks back
to the bar, and he says, "Friends, I have here the
most unbelievable thing, which nobody ever had.  I
have a shirt of the Seer of Lublin.  Who's offering
the most?" He auctions off the shirt for 1500 rubles,
and the one who bought it was the bartender, and
Monday, he went to the marketplace in Lublin--it was a
real Jewish city--getting on a chair, and he says, "I
have a shirt of the Seer of Lublin.  How much are you
offering?" And he auctioned it off for 10,000 rubles
because had a thought, "I don't have children," and
thought, "If I wear the shirt, G-d will help me." 
10,000 rubles.

Word got back to the Seer of Lublin, and the Seer of
Lublin, to tell you the truth, the Seer of Lublin was
a bit angry--because he really gave it to him as a
present, you know? Imagine someone loves me, gives me
a gift, I'll say, "Listen, I gave it away"--"I gave it
to YOU," right? I can understand both sides, right?
And remind me, I want to tell you an Ishbitzer Torah
on that, but I don't want to interrupt myself.

Anyway, the Yid HaKodesh was very downhearted.  He
thought, "Maybe it's really stupid.  Maybe I shouldn't
have given it.  Maybe I should have--I don't know." 
Anyway, he walked away to the outskirts of the city,
and he was sitting there, and he was mamesh crying
'cause he knew that means another war between him and
his holy master.  Sitting there and crying.  Suddenly,
another drunkard--but this time, mamesh, Elijah the
Prophet.  You know, when you're very broken, then the
best thing to tell your story is to a stranger, right?
So suddenly this drunkard comes up to him and sits
next to him and he says, "Hey, why are you crying?"
You know? Tells him the whole story.

He says to him, "Let me tell YOU a story."  He says,
"I want you to know, a few hundred years ago, in a
city, there was a big thief, Yankele the thief.  And
he mamash stole, but he was so polished that you
couldn't catch him.  He mamash stole every penny out
of the hands of every Jew in the city, until he was so
rich, he decided to retire.  Okay, he bought himself a
beautiful house.  Everybody knew it was stolen money,
but you couldn't pin him down. And he lasted very
happily after.  But you know, if you don't continue to
steal, finally your money goes out.  

One day, he was left with no money--and listen to that
chutzpah--so he comes the Jewish community, "Folks,
I'm poor.  I want you to support me."  They said,
"What? Until now you took our money, and now you have
the chutzpah to come we should give you more money?"
You know? "Give us back the money you stole from us
and we'll support you."

Meantime, this nebich, Yankele the thief, has nothing
to eat.  One day, a very wealthy man, who was a
neighbor, passed by the house of Yankele the
thief--and by that time he was already an older man. 
He saw him sitting by the door of his house, so
broken, and so hungry, and so desperate--so he said to
himself, "I don't care," you know? "I don't care if
it's right or wrong.  I gotta give this Yiddele
something to eat for Shabbos."  You know?

Went back to his wife, and he says, "Do me a favor. 
Send him a lot of lukshun kugel, a lot of cholent, and
a gefilte fish so he can have enough to eat until next
Shabbos.  Send him a lot of food! We have enough."

To make it very short, from that Friday on, the rich
wife sent food to Yankele the thief every Friday. 
This went on for many years.  And now, you gotta open
your hearts, like from here till the end of the world.

One day there were two funerals:  a big funeral--the
rich man died; and a little funeral--Yankele the thief
died.  They both died at the same time, buried at the
same time, coming up to Heaven--rich man goes first.

Okay, the rich man--and you know, there's a huge
scale.  Okay, first they put on his good deeds; it
didn't take much--a little briefcase--an angel brings
the good deeds, puts them on one side, that's it.  Now
comes the bad side; trucks are coming, you know? The
Yiddele sees there is no hope for him--you know? He's
at the end.  Okay, he's sitting there and shivering,
and he knows, "In a few more seconds they'll decree I
have to go to hell, they'll push the button, and I'll
be a barbecued rich man."

Now listen to this--at the very last second something
happened, and suddenly the high court says, "You're
going to Heaven."  The high court says, "You're going
to Heaven."  The rich man looks at the scale--the bad
side is so heavy, and the good deeds is
nothing--suddenly he sees--something wrong with the
scale.  And he asks one of the angels, "What's going
on here?" They answered him, "Don't you understand?
Your friend, Yankele the thief, stole away all your
avayras, all your evil deeds."

It's a gevalt story, you know? What a story, you know?
Mazel tov.  Such a holy story, you know? Good Yontif. 
Peace.

--From the series, Shlomo in Santa Rosa, Sunday,
November 30, 1980 (22 Kislev, 5741), Parashah Miketz. 
One more part coming up.  Recorded and transcribed by
Reuven Goldfarb.