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Classic chassidic tales. There's no better way to make a point than to tell a story...

Chassidic Stories

Chassidic Stories

There's no better way to make a point than to tell a story...

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“Meilech,” called the Maggid from his room. “Do you hear what they are saying right now in heaven?"
It once happened that that the young daughter of Nechunya the digger of wells fell into a deep well.
It once happened that the son of a non-Jewish family decided to convert to Judaism, an offense that could cost him dearly in those days, when it was illegal for a Christian to leave his faith.
“It is revealed to me from the heavens that the only profession in which you can succeed is thievery.”
One winter’s night, the family lay sleeping. Suddenly, they were awakened by a knock on the door. Clutching a candle, the teacher hastened to open the door. There he found a man half frozen and covered in snow.
The treacherous Jew, who had pretended to be a Catholic, would be put to death by burning in the city square.
It was a cold, wintry day, and he suddenly found himself in unfamiliar territory. Freezing and scared, he continued to wander deep into the night.
Rumors began to swirl that she and the tavernkeeper were up to no good.
Dressed in rags, with a pair of buckets of water resting on his rounded shoulders, the man looked up in surprise at the august group coming his way.
The village healer tried all her remedies, the big-city doctor prescribed a regimen of healthy foods, but the poor girl remained unable to move.
As he finally made his weary way to bed, he was arrested by the brokenhearted sound of Reb Zusha crying.
Glancing at the guest house, he saw a mysterious light in one of the windows, an ethereal glow the likes of which he had never seen.
“Rebbe,” she sobbed, “you are my last hope! My husband left me years ago, and I desperately want to move on with my life. Tell me, O tell me. Where shall I turn?”
Ivan Stepanovich stood on the platform, looking forward to Eliezer Paltiel’s trial the next day. This time, he felt certain he would be rid of the rich Jew once and for all. Afterwards, the Jew’s guilt could easily be used to incite a pogrom that would begin first in his village and then spread to the surrounding villages.
Informed that his son was in grave danger, the rebbe merely motioned with his hand to continue the festivities.
He took the ram’s horn to his lips, ready to blow. Yet, try as he might, not a sound issued from the horn.
Once exceptionally wealthy, Avigdor was now poverty-stricken. Mr. Tzaddok, once a pauper, had come into great wealth.
Not waiting another moment, he jumped into the fiery depths of Gehinnom.