On a bitterly cold night on the outskirts of Vilkovishk, Velvel the Tailor and Gronam the Milkman were playing a friendly game of dreidel, when they heard a knock at the door. Surprised, Velvel opened the door to find an old man with a long gray beard shivering in the darkness. Quickly, Velvel brought him to the fire, and served him barley soup. When the color returned to the old man’s face, he noticed that the others were playing dreidel and asked if he might join them.
What followed was the greatest exhibition of dreidel that the two men—or any men—had ever seen. In less than an hour, the old man had parlayed twelve kopeks into sixty rubles, until his companions had nothing left to gamble.
Astonished, Velvel asked how it was possible for a man to have such luck.
“My friends,” the old man replied, “it is not luck. For I am the Prophet Elijah, come to reward your generosity with innumerable heavenly blessings.”
The men rejoiced, and they kissed Elijah’s hands and his cheeks. And the Prophet blessed them, and he blessed their houses and their animals; but somehow he neglected to give back the sixty rubles.
In the course of the holiday, Elijah would repeat the scam twenty-three times.
The Judgment of Velvel
Standing at the Gates of Eden, Velvel the Tailor watched with apprehension as the Angel weighed his sins and virtues upon the Scales of Justice. And although Velvel had been honest in his business dealings and had recited the Shema every night, his penny-pinching, along with his habit of stuffing his neighbors’ mezuzahs with scrolls of prosciutto, had tipped the balance against him.
Just as the Angel was about to cast him below, Velvel remembered the night when Elijah had come to his house in the guise of an old man, and fleeced him at dreidel.
And so, hearing the tale, the Angel called on Elijah, and Elijah appeared before them.
“It is true,” Elijah said, corroborating the story. “It was a cold night, and Velvel showed me great hospitality.” Then Elijah mounted the Scales of Justice, and tipped the balance toward righteousness.
Suddenly, a twenty-person SWAT team appeared and surrounded Elijah. Within seconds, the Prophet was under arrest, charged with eighty-nine counts of fraud.
The Angel shook Velvel’s hand. “Thanks for your coöperation,” he said. “We’ve been trying to nail this guy for years.”
“Glad to help,” Velvel said, removing his wire. “Now, how do I get back to earth?”
The Angel shifted awkwardly, and said, “Well, you’re still dead.”
Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/humor/2009/12/14/091214sh_shouts_brenner#ixzz0aSI2uVMn
Standing at the Gates of Eden, Velvel the Tailor watched with apprehension as the Angel weighed his sins and virtues upon the Scales of Justice. And although Velvel had been honest in his business dealings and had recited the Shema every night, his penny-pinching, along with his habit of stuffing his neighbors’ mezuzahs with scrolls of prosciutto, had tipped the balance against him.
Just as the Angel was about to cast him below, Velvel remembered the night when Elijah had come to his house in the guise of an old man, and fleeced him at dreidel.
And so, hearing the tale, the Angel called on Elijah, and Elijah appeared before them.
“It is true,” Elijah said, corroborating the story. “It was a cold night, and Velvel showed me great hospitality.” Then Elijah mounted the Scales of Justice, and tipped the balance toward righteousness.
Suddenly, a twenty-person SWAT team appeared and surrounded Elijah. Within seconds, the Prophet was under arrest, charged with eighty-nine counts of fraud.
The Angel shook Velvel’s hand. “Thanks for your coöperation,” he said. “We’ve been trying to nail this guy for years.”
“Glad to help,” Velvel said, removing his wire. “Now, how do I get back to earth?”
The Angel shifted awkwardly, and said, “Well, you’re still dead.”
Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/humor/2009/12/14/091214sh_shouts_brenner#ixzz0aSI2uVMn
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