Yankel sighed again and looked around the marketplace. He studied the desperate faces of the Jewish merchants who gazed at potential gentile customers as though they were Mashiach himself coming to redeem them from their troubles. They were all so desperate to make some parnassah, to feed loved ones at home. The hustle to score a sale was so time-consuming and tiring. Yankel thought to himself how Chazal say making a living is as difficult as splitting the Yam Suf.

“It’s so hard…” He whispered under his breath, feeling more forlorn than he had ever felt in a long time. “Ribbono shel Olam, couldn’t you have made me a rich man? Why can’t I just make a few sales so that I can go home already? Surely it isn’t hard for you to make that happen, Master of the Universe!”

Suddenly his ears perked up at the sound of coins jingling against each other and his eyes fell on a wealthy-looking businessman strolling through the marketplace.

“Cooking utensils! Something nice, who has some?”

Immediately the merchants all clamored for the businessman’s attention, yelling and shoving each other to present their wares to the man who had money. Yankel ran forward too, almost stumbling over his feet, waving about his pots and pans.

Through the commotion and din, the businessman laid eyes on the man standing next to Yankel. Yankel felt a lump form in his throat and a wave of frustration and sadness sweep over him as the businessman purchased the merchant’s entire inventory within a few minutes and handed him an entire bag of money.

The fortunate merchant’s eyes shone with happiness. Everyone else looked on in dismay, and the gentile merchants gnashed their teeth angrily and spat on the ground in disgust.

But then, before everyone’s shocked eyes, the just-paid merchant clutched at his chest and stumbled backward. Everyone watched as his face contorted in pain and he abruptly crumpled face-down on the snow, still and stiff as a board of wood.

Yankel rushed forward to help, but the man was already gone from This World. Almost immediately, like hungry vultures, the gentile merchants swooped in and began fighting over the bag filled with coins. Fists flew, boots landed thunderous blows, and screams filled the marketplace.

“Wild animals!” Tzvi said with a horrified expression as he appeared beside Yankel. “Let’s get out of here.”

But Yankel could not move. His eyes were riveted on the scene. Not so much out of shock at the violent merchants’ behavior, but more so by the sudden and profound lesson of seeing someone who in one moment was the envy of all, turn into a lifeless body lying in the cold snow.

The gentile merchants left with their loot, leaving behind a pile of churned up snow and mud, the deceased merchant lying in the same position he’d fallen in, a single coin resting underneath his lifeless, open fist.

“What’s the point of it all, Tzvi?” Yankel looked at his friend with tears in his eyes. “We take nothing with us to the grave anyhow! Not even a single coin.”

“Parnassah!” Tzvi looked at his friend in surprise. “Do you want food to fall from the sky? We’re not on such a level!”

“So parnassah, fine, but for what purpose? To stay alive so that we can come back tomorrow and spend another day like this?”

“That’s life, isn’t it?” Tzvi looked confused. “What more do you want?”

Yankel was silent. But he knew that he indeed wanted more.

Tzvi returned to Sharayeh that night, but Yankel remained in town. He went to a local inn and tried booking a room, but he had made no sales and could not afford the cost.

“Help me out and let me sleep somewhere,” Yankel begged the innkeeper.

“Sorry, but if I break the rules for you, I’ll have every beggar in town in my inn. Go to the back of the inn and try making a fire there. There’s one other person there who also couldn’t afford a room.”

Yankel went to the back of the inn and saw a man lying in the snow, his back to Yankel. There was a small, flimsy fire burning beside him, a small satchel resting under his head in lieu of a pillow.

Yankel lay down quietly, as close to the fire as possible, listening to the howling wolves and snow-filled winds in the distance.

Little did he know his life was about to change forever.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 883)