The Tzaddik

Yom Kippur was nearly over. The fate of the little congregation would soon be decided. Everybody waited restlessly as the rabbi read the final prayers. Suddenly his voice was choked - he stood silent. Minutes passed, half an hour, an hour. Still the rabbi stood like a stone.

People grew worried. What was wrong? They could not know that the rabbi stood silent because he had received a terrible answer to his prayers. God had told him that the congregation would be punished for its sins and would suffer in the new year.

Only one person was not worried, a little boy who stood waiting in the doorway for his father. The silent rabbi and the white Torahs gleaming in the dark room filled the boy with awe and joy. He wanted to pray, to speak to God, but he was a farm boy who had not gone to school, so he knew no Hebrew and no prayers. The only way he could express his joy and excitement was by whistling.

His piercing whistle filled the quiet room. “Who did that? Who dares to whistle in the synagogue?” people cried out angrily.

But the rabbi raised his hand. He turned to face the congregation with a happy smile. “Where is the tzaddik (great and good person) who whistled a prayer from deep in his heart?” he asked. “That earnest whistle convinced God to forgive us for our sins!”

Everybody searched, but nobody found a tzaddik. Who could guess that the tzaddik was a little farm boy?