About this book
A treasure trove of anecdotes that illuminate the lives, humor, and wisdom of Eastern European Jewish communities from the 18th and 19th centuries. A bestseller nearly a century ago in its original Yiddish and now brought to renewed life in translation by Jonathan Boyarin and Jonah Sampson Boyarin, these stories capture the essence of a world where tradition and ingenuity intertwined. From rabbis and scholars to everyday figures, the tales are alternately heartwarming, sharp, and deeply human, preserving the oral folklore of a vibrant culture at risk of being forgotten. This collection invites readers to laugh, reflect, and connect with the enduring spirit of Yiddishland’s Jews.
Advance Praise
“A collaboration of father and son, this fascinating collection of anecdotes, many hundreds of them, pays homage to notable forefathers. Funny, strange, and serious they are and beautifully translated from Yiddish for the first time. These anecdotes are testimony to the power of storytelling to conjure an entire world into being and rescue it from oblivion.”
—Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, co-author, Image Before My Eyes: A Photographic History of Jewish Life in Poland, 1864-1939
“When extremely talented Yiddish translators offer a book to us in English, it is a cause for celebration. As the Story Goes is a gift, especially for those of us who are hungry for authenticity. Can one call a book delicious? This one surely is. Every page contains nourishing glimpses into a world that is no longer but whose ideas are eternal. Every reader of this gem of a book will be grateful for the opportunity to encounter the ‘old country’ through these profound and enriching stories and sayings.”
—Arthur Kurzweil, author, The Persistence of Memory: My Father’s Ukrainian Shtetl-A Holocaust Reckoning
“A delightful and penetrating part of Jewish cultural inheritance that I hadn’t realized was so sorely missing. This book is an invitation to step right inside a vibrant ‘Yiddishland’ culture at once hilarious, painful, genuine, wise and dripping with ironic wit. Each story is a precious gem, whether the witty one-liner or intricate story within a story, touching on so many aspects of the political, social, religious, historical landscape of the times in the most matter-of-fact unassuming ways. I found myself laughing out loud and moved to tears.”
—Rabbi Aviva Richman
About the Author
Mordekhai Lipson was born Mordechai Yavorovsky in Bialystok in 1885. He attended the Radiner Yeshiva as a teenager before becoming a collector, writer, and Yiddish and Hebrew translator of secular and religious folklore in the States and Israel. He died in Tel Aviv in 1958.
About the Translators
Jonathan Boyarin is the Diann G. and Thomas A. Mann Professor of Modern Jewish Studies at Cornell University. His most recent previous book is Yeshiva Days: Learning on the Lower East Side (Princeton).
Jonah S. Boyarin is a writer, educator, and Yiddish translator. His original work and translation has been published in In Geveb, Ayin Press, and Jewish Currents. He is currently a doctoral student at Columbia University.
Selected Stories
Reb Berish Meisels, the rabbi of Warsaw, was once riding the train. Across from him happened to be sitting a Russian colonel, a terrible antisemite, who had a dog that he kept calling by a Jewish name, “Yankl.”
Reb Berish spoke up. “That poor dog, it’s a pity it has a Jewish name.”
“Oh yeah? Why?” asked the colonel.
“If not,” said Reb Berish, “they’d have made him a colonel.”
* * *
Reb Meirl of Premishlan once said: “If Moshiach wants to come peacefully, then we’ll eagerly await him. But if he’s going to arrive with righteous fury, bringing all the birth-pangs of the World to Come—then we’ll kindly excuse him. Better he not come at all.”
* * *
Leyzer Yashinovker, Nisn Rozental’s father, was known as the biggest heretic in all Lithuania.
When he was on his deathbed, he summoned his son and said, “Listen to me, Nisn. Your older brother has converted, so he won’t say kaddish for me. Your sisters have no obligation to say kaddish.
“You are the only one left. I’m begging you—don’t you say kaddish either!”
* * *
A German pastor was once arguing matters of faith with Moses Mendelssohn.
“If you believe in the Father,” said the pastor, “you must believe in the Son as well. That’s how the world is: People give a rich man’s son just as much credit as they give his father.”
“Yes,” retorted Mendelssohn, “but not the kind of son whose father will live forever!”
* * *
There was a rich Jew named Moyshe Rozenson who lived in Vilna. He was a notorious Christian missionary. He printed books supposedly proving that the Nazirite was the Messiah, and he would distribute them free of charge. Everybody in Vilna knew better than to have anything to do with him or his books.
Rozenson once complained, “It’s so frustrating. I left the books out by the kitchen window, hoping that a poor man would break in and steal them. But he breaks in, steals a silver spoon, and doesn’t touch the books.”
* * *
When Reb Pinches, the author of the Haflo’oh, came to Frankfurt to be the rabbi, the entire town came out to welcome him, a whole sea of people.
Later he was asked, “Rabbi, what were you thinking at that moment?”
“I imagined,” answered Reb Pinches, “that I was being carried out on my burial boards, and the big crowd was on the way to my funeral.”
* * *
Reb Ayzl Slonimer tended to be extremely lenient in his rulings. His rabbinical judge, however, was very stringent.
Once, they were discussing the general issue of leniency and stringency.
Reb Ayzl argued, “Look, here’s how it is. You don’t always have to rule like the law is written. But the law always has to be written like you rule.”
* * *
Reb Meir Michl, the rabbi of Shat, was terribly afraid to issue halakhic rulings, lest his rulings turn out to be incorrect.
One time, he was seen chasing after a Jew whose chicken he had just declared nonkosher, begging the man to at least let him pay for the chicken.
Eventually he resigned from his post, and he never served as a rabbi thereafter.
