Yankel the Clay Carrier

Many years ago, in the city of Brod, in Russia, there lived a man whose name was Yankel. People called him Yankel the Clay Carrier because he used to go out of the city to dig sand or clay and bring it into town to sell to the brick-factory.

Although he worked very hard, Yankel barely made enough money to feed his wife and family. Yankel worked hard, even harder than his two weak horses that consisted of just skin and bones! Yankel horses were so weak because he could not feed them properly; hay was the best that he could afford, and that was hardly enough.

Yankel, however, was not the type of person to complain. He was always hopeful and believed that Hashem could always help.

One stormy, rainy day, as Yankel was on his way to the city with a load of clay, he saw a yid standing knee deep in mud, calling for help.

“Please do me a favor—take me into town,” he pleaded. “I’ll pay you whatever you ask.”

“I’m so sorry,” replied Yankel, “but you can see for yourself that my poor horses can hardly manage to move now! They certainly could not handle any more weight.”

“I have a suggestion,” continued the yid. “Tell me how much your load of clay is worth, and I will pay you even more. You can then empty it out and take me instead.”

Yankel agreed. They both tipped out the heavy load of clay and got back into the wagon. The horses, feeling the lighter weight, set off quickly.

On the way, Yankel asked his passenger his name. “Moshe Leib,” was the man’s reply.

“Are you by any chance the tzaddik, Reb Moshe Leib Sassover?” Yankel asked.

“I am Moshe Leib,” repeated the yid quietly.

Yankel now felt sure he was carrying a very important person, and he thanked Hashem for the privilege of being able to help this tzaddik.

When Yankel came home later than usual, his wife asked him: “Why did you come home so late today? Did you do so much business? You must have earned a lot of money!”

Yankel told her what had happened, and how he brought Reb Moshe Leib Sassover into town.

“How much did you get for that?” asked his wife.

“What are you saying?” exclaimed Yankel. “How can you even think I would charge anything for the mitzvah and privilege of helping a tzaddik?”

“Did you at least get a brocho from Reb Moshe Leib? It is already time we be able to live without struggling so much to make ends meet. Maybe Hashem will reward us for the mitzvah you did,” said Yankel’s wife.

Yankel decided it would be a good idea to follow his wife’s suggestion and go to the tzaddik to ask for a brocho—Yankel and his family definitely needed one.

Yankel came to the tzaddik to ask for a brocho, saying his wife had sent him. Reb Moshe Leib Sassover asked Yankel what he had in the house.

“I have nothing in the house,” replied Yankel. “All I own are two skinny horses.”

“So you will have one for Purim and one for Pesach,” said the tzaddik.

Yankel came home and told his wife what the tzaddik had said.

“Some brocha!” she exclaimed sadly. “It sounds like one horse will die before Purim and the other one before Pesach!”

Well, that was what happened, and Yankel sold the hides of the animals. He then had enough money for his family for Purim and Pesach.

After Pesach, Yankel went back to Reb Moshe Leib Sassover, and, with tears in his eyes, told him what had happened.

“Don’t worry, Yankel,” the tzaddik comforted him. “Take a bag and go out like a beggar. You will soon become an innkeeper.”

Yankel was puzzled but did not want to question the tzaddik on the strange meaning of his words.

Yankel went home, wondering how it could be possible for a beggar like him to become an innkeeper. He felt though, that if the tzaddik said so, it could be possible.

***

With a bag over his shoulder, Yankel left the town in middle of the night. He was ashamed to beg for money in his own hometown where everyone knew him. However, leaving home to beg for money was not too exciting either.

Not having much of a choice, though, Yankel set out wandering from town to town and from village to village. He would send as much as he could collect back to his family at home. Many days, he barely had more than a crust of bread just for himself.

One day, tired, cold and hungry, Yankel entered an inn and crawled onto the top of the oven to warm himself up.

As he was lying on the stove, two merchants came in and ordered a big, fancy meal. The innkeeper noticed that these men could afford to pay for service, so he served them himself.

As the innkeeper did so, they got into a conversation with him. They told him they were cattle dealers, buying cattle from ”pritzim” (land-owners). Just that day, they went to visit such a poretz. Unfortunately, they were unable to do business with him this time. The trouble was that this poretz had lost a few of his yiddish innkeepers, and he was now left without one.

“He sounded desperate,” said one of the cattle-dealers. “He must be a little crazy, because he said he would not sell us even one animal unless we come back with some yid who would take on the management of his inn. He didn’t care if the yid would be a poor beggar off the street—he just had to get someone.”

“But why a yiddish innkeeper and, if so, why was it so difficult for him to get one?” asked the innkeeper.

“The truth of the matter is, that each of his fellow landowners keeps on bragging, when they get together at parties, about the great ‘Moshke’ he has,” said one of the merchants.

“Yes, and this poretz is ashamed to admit he that he has no ‘Moshke’—’great’ or ‘not so great’,” said the second merchant.

“You can see how bad he feels about this, that he was even ready to lose doing business unless we could get a yiddish innkeeper for him,” said the first one.

“The trouble is,” he explained, “that this poretz has a name for being a very mean man and hard to get along with.”

“If that’s the case,” said the innkeeper, “which crazy person would want to work for such a poretz? He would have to be very desperate to take on such a job.”

“But we need to do something about it. Even if it would cost us a couple of hundred rubles to get such a man for the job, we would gladly pay that money. Maybe you know of such a person?”

“I think I have the man for you!” said the innkeeper, “I saw a beggar come in a little while ago and crawl onto the oven to warm up. Maybe—let’s see!”

Yankel, who had heard every word of the conversation, felt his heart begin to beat furiously. He remembered the words of the tzaddik, Reb Moshe Leib, that he, Yankel, with his beggar’s bag, would become an innkeeper! Some miracle!

So he immediately got down when he heard himself being called by the innkeeper:

“Hey, you! Come down! Someone wants to talk to you!”

The innkeeper brought him to the table where the two merchants sat. They looked at him, and did not seem to be impressed with his poor appearance, but that would be a problem for the poretz, not for them.

“We want to talk to you,” they began.

“I know. I heard everything you said,” said Yankel, “but before we discuss anything, I must eat.”

“Sure, sure!” they said and ordered a meal that Yankel had not seen in a very long time, if at all.

After the meal, and after they had bentshed with a mezuman, Yankel told them he was ready to take on the job of innkeeper for this difficult poretz.

The two merchants were very happy! They called in the tailor from that town to make Yankel some decent clothes. They paid for a room for him at the inn, to stay until the clothes would be ready. Yankel, meanwhile, enjoyed food and comfort fit for a king!

A few days later, the merchants brought Yankel to the poretz. He was delighted to hire Yankel as his new innkeeper. He immediately wrote out a contract to hand over the inn to Yankel, rent-free for two years. He also gave him money to pay for bringing over his wife and family, and to get them comfortably settled in their new home. The poretz also made the business deal with the two merchants, which he had refused to make earlier.

The two merchants, on their part, were so happy with their business deal that they readily kept their promise and gave Yankel a couple of hundred rubles, because without him, there would have been no business deal!

Now Yankel became an innkeeper. He worked hard and honestly and earned a good name for himself. Before long, he became very popular and was doing a thriving business.

The poretz was very happy, because never before did he have such a good innkeeper. The poretz was so happy with Yankel, that he appointed him to be the manager of his entire estate. Now, none of his friends could brag of a better “Moshke.”

As for Yankel, the former clay carrier, he became a rich man. However, he never forgot that he was once poor. He knew what it meant to be poor and hungry, so he was always ready to help any needy yid.

Now Yankel was known as Yankel the Innkeeper, but he was also known as the kindest and most charitable person in the area.

For his part, Yankel was thankful to Hashem for the great kindness and miracles He had shown him.