A Really Good Purim

"Good Purim, Rebbe," the meek voice said. But it was lost between the flint-grey beard and the moth-eaten scarf.

 

The Koznitzer Maggid, the great Chassidic leader, looked up from his Purim celebration.

 

"Was that a breeze I felt?" he said. "Did someone open a window?"

 

"Good Purim, Rebbe," the man said again, scarcely a decibel louder. The Maggid looked around. Standing there in a tattered, oversized coat, a battered black hat, with two pitiful eyes staring out from beneath, stood Pinchas the Shlepper, the Maggid’s most destitute Chassid. He was the town porter and local doormat. People could wipe their feet on him and not even notice.

 

"Good Purim, Pinchas!" the Maggid cried. "Well, did you bring me m’shalach monot, – a Purim package?" Pinchas looked down at his cracking shoes. He did not have food to feed his own family. How could he bring the Maggid a gift?

 

"Pinchas!" the Rebbe shouted. "How long will you remain a shlepper? It’s Purim today. V’nahaphachu! Everything turns over! Go and stand at the head of the table." Pinchas moved over obediently. "Now, in your loudest voice," the Maggid said, "wish me a good Purim."

 

"Good Purim," he repeated. Some mice in the corner squeaked in response.

 

"Not like that. Louder, Pinchas!"

 

"Good Purim!"

 

"Louder, Pinchas!" The Rebbe’s Chassidim sitting around the Purim table joined in with words of encouragement.

 

"GOOD PURIM! GOOD PURIM!" After about a half-hour of trying, Pinchas let out a string of really inspired "Good Purims." The Rebbe’s eyes lit up.

 

"Now, Pinchas. Go out and bring me m’shalach monot. And I want you to wish "Good Purim" to every person you meet."

 

Pinchas strode down the town’s main street. "Good Purim," he called to everyone he met. "GOOD PURIM!" The townspeople were dumbstruck. "Was that Pinchas the Shlepper?" they asked.

 

Pinchas marched into the shop of the local wine merchant. "Good Purim, Reb Shmuel!" he said. "Give me three bottles of your best wine and I will pay you tomorrow, and if not, well it’s Purim today!" Reb Shmuel was shocked, but he seized the opportunity to perform a mitzvah and ran to the wine shelf, as his bewildered wife looked on.

 

From there, Pinchas went to the bakery. "Good Purim, Reb Meir! Give me five cakes and five loaves of bread and I will pay you tomorrow, and if not, well, it’s Purim today!" Again, he was met with the same enthusiastic response. Pinchas quickly ran back to the Maggid’s home to present him with his m’shalach monos — cake and wine. "Good Purim, Rebbe!" he cried, as he ran back out again for his family. The butcher, the tailor, the cobbler — Pinchas wished each one of them a special Good Purim.

 

Several hours later, in their little shack at the edge of town, Pinchas the Shlepper’s family heard several sharp kicks at the front door, which then burst open. Framed in the doorway was a man completely obscured by an armload of packages, except for his shiny new shoes, neatly pressed trousers and the top of a new felt hat — their father!

 

"GOOD PURIM, CHILDREN!" he shouted. His wife stared at him as if in a dream. Pinchas went over to her. "My dear, I have been a terrible husband and have made you and the children suffer for years. I promise that from now on things will be different. But first, set the table, it’s Purim today!" The table was quickly set — a meal fit for a king. "But children, before we begin…" Pinchas lined them up in front of the table. "Wish your father a Good Purim."

 

"Good Purim, Tatte."

 

"No, not like that. Louder!"

 

"Good Purim, Tatte!"

 

"No, louder!"

 

Across the town, the Koznitzer Maggid leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and smiled. "Sha, Sha!" the Chassidim all cried. "The Rebbe sees something. What is it Rebbe? Tell us."

 

"Right now," he replied, "Pinchas the Shlepper is teaching his whole family to say Good Purim, and all the angels in Heaven are listening with joy."

 

From that Purim on, Pinchas’s life changed. His new found confidence inspired others, who lent him money and started him in business. After many years, he became quite wealthy, and his home became a refuge for all the troubled and needy people in the area. His life was spent helping others and all who knocked on his door found endless encouragement in his hearty and heartfelt welcome.