The wheat merchant­—a Pesach story

Reproduced from “Time For My Soul: A Treasury of Jewish Stories For Our Holy Days” Rabbi Eugene and Dr. Annette Labovitz

Included in our daily prayers is a special petition for rain, which wakens the slumbering seeds of the soil to provide food for mankind. “You cause the wind to blow and the rain to fall.” This petition for rain is recited both in Eretz Yisrael and in the Diaspora, for we are conscious of the necessity for rain in the Holy Land during the winter months.

  The early settlers who returned to rebuild the land at the end of the nineteenth century depended upon rain for their very existence.

      In the winter of 1915, there was a terrible drought in Eretz Yisrael. It seemed as if the windows of Heaven were shut tight.  

The earth was parched; instead of the plush golden color of the winter wheat  crop, the fallow land lay barren.  

Fruit on trees shriveled.  Branches hung limp.  The wind, blowing across the arid land, created a huge dust storm.

    Little of the previous year’s wheat crop remained, and it was so costly that the ordinary person could hardly afford to purchase it. Famine, hunger, and fear were reflected on the distraught faces of the inhabitants of Yerushalayim.

      Days turned into weeks, weeks into months.  The winter sky dazzled from the glow of the sun, the horizon remained unclouded.  Pesach was rapidly approaching.  The settlers recalled the joyous ceremony in previous years of harvesting the wheat, grinding, milling, and finally baking matzos for the holiday.  Sadly, this year would be different.

       The leader of the Jewish community was Rabbi Yisroel.  He had guided his people through many difficulties and assisted them in their personal troubles.  

He suggested solutions to critical community problems, but never had he faced a dilemma of this proportion.  

He hoped that some financial help would reach Eretz Yisrael from the Diaspora, from Jews who felt obligated to support the Yishuv, the settlers who were rebuilding the land, but as the holiday drew closer, he doubted that any money would reach him in time.  

He also worried about where he could possibly purchase wheat, even if he did have money.  Rabbi Yisroel’s face reflected his pain, his heartache, and his helplessness.

      Toward evening of one particularly

dazzling day, Rabbi Yisroel heard the sou-

nd of bells, signaling a wagon approaching

his house.

Curiously, he stepped to a window and saw a Bedouin leading camels that were pulling a wagon laden with sacks of wheat.  In a split second, the Bedouin stood on his doorstep and queried:

“Are you the leader of the Jewish community of Yerushalayim?  I have a wagon load of wheat to sell at the fair market price. I know that you and your people need wheat for your forthcoming holiday.  I am offering to sell you my wagon load of wheat at the fair market price.”

     Rabbi Yisroel answered: “Yes, we need wheat for our holiday, but we have no money to pay for it.”

       The Bedouin merchant hesitated for a moment, then spoke gently.  “I will wait for the money.  I trust you to pay me.”  Rabbi

Yisroel said: “I will buy the wheat on the

condition that you set a date when payment

is due.”

      The merchant answered: “I will return a week after the holiday to collect my money.”  He turned to the workers who had been riding on top of his wagonload of wheat and ordered them to unload the wagons in the storehouse located nearby.  Soon, Jews ran from all over the neighborhood to help unload the sacks of wheat.

      As the workers unloaded the wheat, dusk descended over the city. Rabbi Yisroel ran home to fetch some lanterns. When he returned to the warehouse, the sacks of wheat were piled neatly inside, and the Bedouin merchant and his workers had gone.

      Rabbi Yisroel rejoiced that the Jewish community would have wheat with which to bake matzos for Pesach and leftovers to sustain them afterwards, but he still worried that he would not have the money to pay the Bedouin merchant.  

So he wrote letters to everyone he knew in the Diaspora, describing the emergency situation and appealing for help.  Money began trickling in.  Each mail delivery contained marks, dollars, francs, rubles, zlotys.  Rabbi Yisroel had accumulated the money to pay the wheat merchant.

      After Pesach, Rabbi Yisroel waited for the wheat merchant.  Days passed…one month…two months…three months.  

The merchant did not come. Over the years, Rabbi Yisroel guarded the money that rightfully belonged to the wheat merchant, but he never appeared to collect his money.

     Rabbi Yisroel realized that he had not much time in this world, so he revealed to his son-in-law the story of how the wheat merchant had saved the Jewish community many years before.  

He also told him where the money was hidden, and instructed him to guard it and keep it safe for another ten years, in the event that the Bedouin should show up to collect the money that was his due.  

“If he does not come in another ten years,” said Rabbi Yisroel, “then you may distribute the money to both the Jewish poor in Yerushalayim and the Bedouin poor living in the surrounding area.” The wheat merchant never returned to collect his money.