“I don’t remember the last time I didn’t sell even a single item,” Yankel sighed

17th-century Eastern Europe, the town of Sharayeh

Yankel didn’t have an easy life. When still a child, he’d been forced to work to help his father, and like many others in his times, had missed out on getting a proper yeshivah education. Only the elite, those whose parents could afford it, had been given the opportunity to learn. As an adult, Yankel’s life was filled with back breaking labor, day in and day out. But the most painful part of his life? The fact that he was an older man and he and his wife had never been blessed with children.

Today was proving to be one of the most difficult days of Yankel’s hard life. Nothing seemed to be working out. From arriving late to the carriage, his sack opening and its contents spilling all over the snow, the drunk wagon driver, and now having to trek through the endless snow with a heavy burden on his back, the day was proving itself to be exceptionally arduous.

“Finally! We made it!” Tzvi wheezed as they entered the town. “Let’s get going so we can still catch some potential customers. Come on!”

The two men trekked their way through the city, knocking on doors, haggling with peasants in the local marketplace, but they saw little success. Tzvi sold a trinket or two, but Yankel — not even that.

“I don’t remember the last time I didn’t sell even a single item,” Yankel sighed, toying with the pot in his hand. All around him merchants shouted at passersby, hawking their merchandise. “Okay, I will accept my fate. It is the Will of Hashem and He knows best.”

“The day’s not over yet, my friend.” Tzvi placed a hand on Yankel’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll make a few sales before the sun sets. You know what we need? A good hot drink to warm our bones. Let’s stop off at the Jewish-owned tavern and get a hot drink, then we can come back.”

“No, you go.” Yankel shook his head. “I can’t afford to take breaks, Tzvi, my wife is depending on me.”

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll be back soon, Yankel.”

A peasant lady walked up to Yankel and held out her hand.

“You… want to take a closer look at the pot?”

“Yes.”

Yankel handed over the pot he was holding and waited as she inspected it closely.

“How much?”

Yankel named his price.

The lady shook her head and tossed the pot back into Yankel’s hands before walking away.