The Family Book of Midrash by Barbara Diamond Goldin

Author:Barbara Diamond Goldin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780742579675
Publisher: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers
Published: 2013-06-25T00:00:00+00:00

Ta’anit 25a

The Hallahs

It was almost the Sabbath. But in Rabbi Hanina ben Dosa’s house, there was very little food for the festive meal. There were carobs from the carob tree growing in front of his house, but there was no meat or wine or braided breads—hallahs.

Rabbi Hanina was known as a doer of good deeds and his wife was as pious as her husband. She did not complain that they were poor and sometimes hungry. But she did worry that her neighbor, a prying gossip, would notice that there was no smoke coming from her chimney, no hallahs baking in the oven. Her face grew hotter and hotter, redder and redder as she thought of her neighbor laughing with the other women over how poor she was.

Then the Rabbi’s wife smiled. I’ll fool her by having a fire anyway, she thought. She walked over to the woodpile, picked up some sticks, and built a fire. Soon there was smoke coming from her chimney as well.

Before long, her neighbor noticed the smoke. “Ah, the rebbetzin is baking today for the Sabbath. But how can that be? Just yesterday, when I happened to be standing near their window, I heard her tell the Rabbi that she had no flour left. I’ll go over, wish her a good Sabbath, and while I’m there, take a quick look to see what is indeed baking in her oven.”

Rabbi Hanina’s wife saw her neighbor walk toward her door.

“Oh, oh, trouble. She wants to see what I’m baking. Oh, God, is there anything I can do?”

Rabbi Hanina’s wife ran and hid in the next room so she would not have to open the door.

Knock, knock.

The neighbor waited for an answer. There was none. She knocked again. Still no one came to the door. So she opened it herself.

She walked into the kitchen and over to the oven. To her surprise, loaves of browning hallahs filled the oven and on the table nearby, more loaves awaited their turn to be baked.

“Rebbetzin, Rebbetzin, come quick. Bring your bread shovel or your hallahs will burn!” the neighbor called.

“Coming!” Rabbi Hanina’s wife ran into the kitchen, carrying her bread shovel.

She looked into her oven and saw the hallahs as surely as did her neighbor. Beautiful, big, round hallahs all twisted and shaped, ready for the Friday night meal.

Calmly, she shoveled the hallahs out of the oven and put the braided dough in their place to bake.

“Good Sabbath,” she said to her neighbor. “Thank you for keeping an eye on my hallahs.”

“Good Sabbath,” replied the neighbor, who felt a little disappointed.

Rabbi Hanina’s wife saw her out the door.

“Thank You,” she whispered looking up. “We may be poor in some ways, but we are not poor in our love for God or in our experience of miracles.”

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