The Pots of Honey

This story took place during the time of Shaul Hamelech.

In Yerushalayim, there lived an old lady who was a widow. Her husband had passed away a while ago, and she was living by herself.

This lady happened to be very wealthy. She lived in a beautiful house, and had everything that she needed.

One day, for whatever reason, the lady had to go on a trip to a far away place. She was afraid that if she would leave her house for a long time, someone might ch”v break in and steal her money.

The lady could not take all her money with her either, so she did not know what to do.

Then, the lady got an idea. She took a few clay pots, and put some of her money on the bottom of each pot. After she put her money in the pots, she covered the money, with honey.

Now, there was no way of knowing that under the honey was money. Anyone would think that the pots were full of honey.

The lady then took the clay pots and brought them to her neighbor's house. She told her neighbor: “I’ll be going away for awhile. Do you mind watching my pots of honey for me? After all, I’m going to be away for a few weeks, and I don’t want my honey to get ruined or anything like that.”

“Sure,” the neighbor replied. “I would be more than happy to watch your honey.”

So, the neighbor took the clay pots, and put them in his basement. Then, the old lady went on her trip.

One day, while the old lady was away, her neighbor was getting ready for a big party. He was baking and cooking all kinds of things. Then, at the last minute, he ran out of honey.

He did not have enough time to buy more honey before his guests would arrive. What was he going to do?

Suddenly, he remembered the honey that the old lady had left with him. He would borrow some of the honey, and replace it before the old lady returned.

So, the man went into his basement and brought up the pots of honey. He started emptying the pots of honey, and when he reached the bottom, there was no more honey, but there was money!

The man thought to himself: “Where did all this money come from? It must be that my neighbor gave me these pots, not because she wants me to watch the honey, but because she wants me to watch the money!”

The yetzer hora started creeping into the man’s head. The yetzer hora told him: “Hey, why not take the money? Your neighbor won’t think you took it anyway, because it was so well hidden! Just take it. Come on!”

Unfortunately, the man listened to his yetzer hora, and took all the money for himself.

The next day, the man bought honey to refill the pots, and to pretend as if nothing had changed.

Soon, the old lady returned home from her trip. The first place that she stopped at, was her neighbor’s house.

“Hello,” she said. “I am back, and I came to pick up my honey.”

The man was a little nervous. He said: “Oh yes! Let me get the pots of honey for you. They were in the basement the whole time.”

The man then went into his basement, and brought the pots of honey to the old lady’s house. When the man left, the lady started emptying the pots.

When she reached the bottom, she expected to see her money, but, there was nothing there! The same thing happened with the other pots. There was no money on the bottom. All there was, was honey!

She thought to herself: “My neighbor must have stolen the money! What am I going to do now?”

The old lady was in trouble, since only she and neighbor knew where she had hidden her money. No one would believe here if she said that her neighbor had stolen her money!

She went to her neighbor to complain. “Excuse me,” she said, “you just gave me back my clay pots, but there is something missing from the pots. Maybe you found something in those pots?”

“Me?” asked the man. “I did not find anything in the pots. What would I find in the pots except for honey?”

The lady left, very disappointed. What was she going to do? Now she was in real trouble.

She decided that the only option she had left, was to go to the king, Shaul Hamelech. Maybe then she could get back her money.

So, she went to the king, and told him the whole story. The king said: “I cannot draw any conclusions without listening to both sides of the story.” He ordered his servants to summon the lady’s neighbor.

When the neighbor came, Shaul Hamelech asked him: “Were you watching this lady’s pots for her while she was away?”

“Yes, I was,” replied the man.

“What was in those pots?” asked the king. “Oh, the pots were full of honey,” replied the man.

“Was there anything else in the pots?” the king wanted to know.

The man was getting very nervous. “No,” he said. “There was honey up to the top.”

“No,” said the old lady. “Under the honey was money, and you stole that money.”

“What money?” asked the man. “The pots that you gave me had honey. There was no money.”

King Shaul said to the lady: “Do you have any witnesses who saw you put the money in the pots?”

“No,” answered the lady. “I did it in secret so that nobody should see.”

“Well,” said Shaul Hamelech, “then there is nothing that I can do for you.”

So, the lady had to leave the palace without any hope of getting back her money. She was so upset, that on her way home, she started to cry.

As she was walking home, a boy named Dovid noticed her crying. The boy said: “Why are you crying like that? Is anything wrong? Is there any way that I can help you?”

The lady did not think that this boy would be able to help her, but she told him her story anyway. Dovid said: “I think I have an idea that might be of some help to you. Why don’t you go home, and I’ll let you know if my plan is successful.”

So, the lady went home, and Dovid went to the king. Dovid told the king: “I met the lady who just came to you. She told me her story, and I think that I have a way to help her.”

“How?” asked King Shaul. “She had no witnesses.”

“Well,” said Dovid, “usually, when a robber steals something, he is very nervous, and he acts very quickly. If there really was money on the bottom of the pots, and the neighbor stole it there must be one or two coins that he missed and left behind.”

Shaul Hamelech said: “That’s true. I never thought of that. I will send one of my servants with you, to escort the old lady and her neighbor to the palace. Make sure to also bring the clay pots!”

So, Dovid went with one of the servants to call the old lady and her neighbor. They all came back to the palace, and the lady also brought the clay pots.

Shaul Hamelech told everyone about Dovid’s idea. He said: “We are now going to smash the clay pots. If we will see any money, we will then know that there was money in the pots and that it was stolen.”

The pots were smashed as the king had ordered. There were little bits of the pots all over. Suddenly, the lady’s neighbor gave out a big scream. On the floor, there were two coins that had fallen out of the pots.

When the king heard the scream coming from the man, he knew that he must have stolen the money from the bottom of the clay pots.

Later on, the man’s house was searched. Sure enough, they found the old lady’s money, which was returned.

The Dovid of this story soon grew up to be the great Dovid Hamelech!

The Rambam’s Visitor

The Rambam was once under serious suspicion. Among the great seforim that he had written, were certain seforim that were considered dangerous to talmidim who were not yet mature thinkers and scholars.

All the talmidei chachomim of the Rambam's period—and later—recognized his seforim as truly outstanding. The Rambam was also a great doctor and scientist. He wrote the “Moreh Nevuchim—The Guide for the Perplexed,” which he hoped would also be favorably received.

Indeed, those who were perplexed about the true beliefs of yiddishkeit, found in this book a guide to the true way of Jewish life. On the other hand, some people were afraid that if the book would be read by students who were not confused, it would cause them to be confused, and lead them off the right path. Some even doubted whether the same person wrote both the Mishneh Torah and the Moreh Nevuchim!

So, the Rabbonim in Germany decided to send someone to Cordova, Spain—where the Rambam was born and lived—to find out for themselves what sort of person was this great Rambam.

The Rabbonim sent Rabbi Meir. Rabbi Meir was accompanied by one of his older talmidim and made the long and difficult journey to Spain. Coming to the outskirts of Cordova, Rabbi Meir and his talmid decided to take a rest on the banks of the river and refresh themselves with the river’s clear water. Having satisfied his thirst, Rabbi Meir took out a sefer from his bundle, and began to study. After a while, the travelers continued on their journey. Neither of them noticed that Rabbi Meir had left the sefer on the bank of the river.

Arriving at the home of the Rambam, Rabbi Meir knocked on the door. A servant opened the door and let him in.

“The Rambam is having lunch. Who, should I say, wants to see him?” the servant asked.

“Just tell Rambam that the visitor sends his compliments, and wishes him to enjoy the eggs he is eating,” Rabbi Meir replied.

A few minutes later the servant returned, bringing the message: “The Rambam bids you welcome. He also wants to remind you that you left a book on the bank of the river.”

Rabbi Meir checked his bag. Indeed, the book was missing. He sent his talmid to retrieve it.

Soon, the Rambam came into the front room and heartily welcomed the Rabbi from Germany. He invited the visitor to eat with him. A strange dish was served. It looked like a human hand. Rabbi Meir thought: “Can it be that the Rambam is a cannibal, eating human flesh?” He declined the dish, saying that he was not very hungry.

“Well, then maybe you will have some good wine to drink?” the Rambam suggested, and he called out: “Petrus, get us some wine from the cellar.”

Again, Rabbi Meir was surprised. Is it possible that the Rambam drinks wine that is touched by a goy, which is against Halacha? Rabbi Meir politely refused the wine, asking for water instead.

Feeling tired and somewhat upset, Rabbi Meir excused himself and accepted the suggestion of the Rambam to retire to bed. “We will postpone our meal for tomorrow,” the Rambam said. Turning to his servant, he said: “Petrus, tomorrow you will kill the calf for the meal in honor of our guest.”

For the third time, Rabbi Meir was shocked. “Why did the Rambam not call a shochet?” he thought. “Does he not believe in shechita anymore? Has he really strayed so far from the Jewish way of life?”

Rabbi Meir paced the floor of his room all night. Even though he was tired from his long journey, he could not sleep. He was greatly disturbed and upset. Who would have thought that such things were possible from such a great man? He decided that he would speak quite frankly with the Rambam in the morning. He would tell him the purpose of his visit and demand an explanation.

***

Early the following morning, the servant knocked on Rabbi Meir’s door and said that the Rambam wishes to see him.

Again the Rambam greeted him with a gracious smile, and without giving Rabbi Meir a chance to ask any questions, he said to his visitor:

“My good friend, I know why you have come all the way from Germany to visit me. You have been sent to see with your own eyes what sort of a man I am, and whether I am still a believing and practicing Jew. I also know why you refused to eat last night, and why you refused to drink my wine. I am also aware that you did not sleep a wink last night and that you were haunted by the terrible thought that I seemed to have offered you human flesh, forbidden wine, and finally treifah meat. Now, my friend, let me explain all these strange things, and you will see how easily one can fall into error and suspicion if one lets one’s imagination get out of hand; how little one can rely on one’s own eyes and ears, much less hearsay.”

“You see,” continued the Rambam, “the strange dish that looked to you like a human hand, was nothing else but a special vegetable that grows in this country, but not in yours. It is a very wholesome food. You know, I am a doctor, and I attach great importance to a balanced diet.”

Rabbi Meir now felt ashamed that he should have suspected the Rambam of such a dreadful thing. “But how come you ordered your non-Jewish servant to bring the wine from the cellar?” Rabbi Meir asked.

“G-d forbid that I should do such a thing. You see, my servant Petrus is a Jew from birth, a very observant Jew. Don’t let the name mislead you. Petrus was the name of one of our chachomim, Rabbi Yosef bar Petrus, and according to the gemora in Yerushalmi, Moed Kattan, Rabbi Yose bar Petrus was the father-in-law of the great talmud chochom, Rabbi Yoshua ben Levi.”

Again, Rabbi Meir felt ashamed that he should have suspected the Rambam of such a thing. He was now eagerly waiting for the explanation of the “killing” of the calf, instead of shechting it according to halacha.

“The explanation of that is also simple enough,” the Rambam said, as if reading his mind. “You know, of course, that when a calf is removed from its mother after the mother had been shechted, such a calf does not require shecita, having the benefit of its mother’s shechita. I have been raising such a calf for a distinguished visitor.”

Tears welled up in Rabbi Meir’s eyes. He embraced the Rambam and begged him for forgiveness. The Rambam readily forgave him, of course. The two scholars spent the next few days in study and discussion, to the great delight of both, but especially Rabbi Meir.

On his journey back home, Rabbi Meir spoke glowingly of the Rambam in every Jewish community where he stopped. “From Moshe (Rabbeinu) to Moshe (ben Maimon) there was none like Moshe ben Maimon,” was the reputation which the Rambam gained. This was also the report which Rabbi Meir brought back to the Rabbonim of Germany, who had sent him to become acquainted with the Rambam.