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The Rebbe of Lublin was a great Rebbe, and he lived in Lublin. He did not live in Lvov. He lived in Lublin. They were thinking of calling him the Rebbe of Lvov, but he didn't live there, and he didn't even like visiting Lvov.
Every morning, he would sit at the head of his table and pray, 'H' I'm praying for my breakfast.' And at that moment, his servant would come out and bring him his breakfast. At that point, the Rebbe would say, 'H' thank you for my breakfast.' And the servant was bothered, as he knew he wasn't Gd. He had some friends that were pretentious and gaudy, who thought they were great, but he knew he wasn't Gd. He was bringing the rebbe his breakfast, not Gd. The next day, as always, the Rebbe did the same, coming home, sitting in his seat and singing to Gd, 'H' I'm praying for my breakfast.' The servant then brought out the breakfast, and the Rebbe said, 'H' thank you for my breakfast.' And the servant went back to the kitchen, angry, wanting to yell, 'When will he learn my name?!! I've been working for him for years. I am not Gd. Does he not know where his breakfast comes from?' To note, saying 'servant' is OK. This is the 1800s. Being a servant was a good job. The next day, the same thing happened, and the servant was angered that the Rebbe shows appreciation to Gd and not to him. The servant then came up with a scheme. He decided that he won't bring him breakfast the next morning. A better scheme would've been to bring the Rebbe bull's-eye eggs. The Rebbe liked them scrambled. Bull's-eye would've thrown the Rebbe for a loop. That next morning, the Rebbe started praying, 'H' I'm praying for my breakfast.' The servant came out with an empty tray. That was funny in an ironic way back then. The field of comedy wasn't fully developed yet. It was pre-vaudeville. At that exact moment, there was a knock at the door, and a man stood there thanking the Rebbe, as his wife is OK. He stood there with food, and asked the Rebbe to take it, as a gesture of their appreciation. And the Rebbe ate it and said, 'H' thank you for my breakfast.' How the eggs were still warm is a miracle that nobody can explain to this day. And from that moment on, the servant knew he would never get thanked. Lessons of What Followed He understood from the incident that he would never be appreciated, as all comes from Gd. To feel fulfilled, he started looking to alcohol. Yet. He showed up to work every day, on time, and always made breakfast, lest he lose his job to another thankful congregant. It turns out the servant didn't get the raise he was hoping for. It was impossible for him to find the right time to ask for a raise. Gd got in the way of that too. What bothered the servant even more was that the Rebbe couldn't even thank the guy at the door. It appears he forgot that guy's name too. Check out the song on Journeys II The Blog Tags Widget will appear here on the published site.
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Comedy in Crisis… Yes! A stand-up show about sickness! Three years in the waiting room and David shares the reality of love, hardship and joy with you in laughs.
Sunday - October 18 @ 8pm Shir Hadash - Jacob Rubin St. #1 Jerusalem, Israel For Tickets Click Here My friend’s pig wanted to wish you all a Hog Sameach. You get it? Chag Sameach. Americans can’t say the “Chet.” They say “Hag Sameach.” But this is a hog. So, Hog Sameach. A pig would say that. Most American say “Happy Holiday.” Americans aren’t pigs. Eating too much on Sukkot does not make you a pig. It makes you a person with an upset stomach, who put on twelve pounds. I hope that clears up any misconceptions about why the pig is saying “Hog Sameach,” and people from the US do not. Though, Americans can be quite friendly. Sukkah- A hut that is poorly built. Not a mitzvah. H’ knew that is the best a Jew can do. No Jew can build anything that lasts longer than seven days. And that is without rain. My Brother-in-law Teaching his Son to Build: ‘What you gotta do is take the soft side. Then you take the hard side of the Velcro. Tap as such… take the metal. Slip it through canvas. That’s how we build…’
Hakafot on Simchat Torah isn’t a Mitzvah. It’s tradition. Please don’t pull me into the dancing circle. It’s very uncomfortable. I don’t know when the tradition of pulling self-conscious people who don’t know how to dance, into a circle of people who don’t know how to dance, started.
I love the Torah. Let me celebrate the Torah as I do, by throwing candies at kids. Categories
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12/16/2021
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