Angels

Angels don’t say l’chaim on Simchat Torah, so they arose to sing G-d’s praises in the heavens at the usual time. They found heaven littered with strange objects: torn slippers, broken heels. "Yes," admitted the angel Michoel, "this is my merchandise"

When a matchmaker dispaired of arranging fitting spouses for the children of R. Levi Yitzchak, the rabbi replied with a keen spiritual insight.

It had been a drizzly morning, gray and overcast, and I stood like a soldier outside a local bagel shop.

Sit down for a moment. I’m about to tell a story, and trust me—you’ll want to be sitting down for this one. So begins the tale of a tortured Jew’s encounter with the enigmatic Man in the Train Station.

“Will I be able to do my job?” the Evil Side asked. “Will people really listen to me?”

The suddenness of the rebbe’s appearance in his city caught the chassid, along with his wide-open mansion, off guard. Left with no choice, he reluctantly surrendered his house so that it could serve as the rebbe’s accommodation.

None would buy the great soul of R. Levi Yitzchak on Rosh Hashanah.