What did his bank account in Shamayim look like? Could he take even a single coin with him into the Next World?

17th century Eastern Europe, the town of Sharayeh

As  the wolves howled and the night became increasingly colder, Yankel found himself wishing he had brought along an extra pair of clothing. Around midnight, the stranger, who was sleeping near him,  awoke. He seemed to be about the same age as Yankel and also had a long beard. Hunched over from the cold, the stranger glanced over at Yankel, who quickly closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

The stranger took his blanket, walked over to Yankel, and let it drop over Yankel’s icy cold body. Then, he washed his hands with water from a small can near him and sat down next to the fire. As the flames danced and shadows flickered across the man’s lined face, he began to say Tikkun Chatzos from a tattered siddur. Tears fell from the man’s eyes and spilled onto the yellowed pages. The flames of the fire seemed to grow taller and flicker faster.

Yanklel watched all of this with shock. Such devotion, such passion, in sub-zero weather?!?

The man continued to weep, his shoulders heaving as he expressed his sorrow over the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash and the suffering of the Jewish People in this long and bitter galus. Much later, when he had finished, he closed his siddur and pulled out another sefer.

Instantly, his face was aflame with the holy glow of Torah. The tears were still wet on his frozen cheeks, but a smile had replaced his expression of grief. He sang the words of the Gemara and swayed, as if he were sitting inside a warm beis medrash, surrounded by a hundred other learners.

Yankel watched all this in complete awe. Eventually, with the image of the man learning by the fire imprinted in his mind, his weary eyelids closed and sleep overtook him.

The next morning, when Yankel awoke, the stranger was gone. Perhaps the previous night had all been a dream? Maybe he had seen a malach? Eliyahu Hanavi? Yankel davened and then hurried off to the marketplace to try once more to sell his wares.

This time, unlike the day before, customers purchased some wares from him, slowly but steadily. But the coins in his pockets did not excite him as they used to. Now he felt a certain numbness, as he understood more than ever how inconsequential the money was. What would be with him when he passed from the world? What did his bank account in Shamayim look like? Could he take even a single coin with him into the Next World?