By Nechama Bar
Yechezkel sat on the banks of the lake with a rod in his hand. He tossed the line into the water again and again but caught nothing.
He did not give up for he could not possibly return home without fish. He got into his little boat and rowed around the lake time after time and put his net into the water. But he caught nothing.
“We have the Purim meal later today and I will not leave here without a fish for the month whose mazal is fish!” he mumbled to himself with some despair. One hour after another passed. He was sweaty and his eyes hurt but he continued to try.
Then, Yechezkel felt something heavy in his net. Yes, it was a big fish flapping about! He was happy but not completely so. He had to catch at least one other fish. Why? Because Yechezkel worked for the paritz (the local lord). He had an inn for which he paid rent every year. In addition to the inn, he had the license to fish in the lake and as payment he had to give half the fish he caught to the paritz. What if he caught just one fish? Of course, that belonged to the paritz.
Yechezkel was an honest man and the paritz relied on him. He had never taken more than they had arranged. But today was Purim and how could he have a meal without fish? If the paritz did not have a fish to eat, nothing would happen, but what sort of Purim meal would it be without fish?
It was late and Yechezkel still had only one fish. He had misgivings but finally decided to take the fish home. He prayed that the paritz would not find out.
“At my first opportunity I will give the paritz double,” he consoled himself as he walked home.
The Purim meal was celebrated with great joy and song. Zelda, his dear wife, made a tasty dish of the fish and the children in costume who sat around the table contributed to the joyful Purim atmosphere.
Yechezkel figured the paritz would not find out about the fish but unfortunately, one of the neighbors smelled the fish and tattled to the paritz.
The paritz quickly sent his servants to bring the disobedient Jew to his home.
“What did you do? Why did you break our agreement?” yelled the paritz.
Yechezkel trembled. He knew that the fish belonged to the paritz. “My master knows that I never did this before. But this time it was a special day for us, the holiday of Purim in which the Jews were saved …” he explained, and he began excitedly to relate the story of the Megilla.
“Yes, yes,” interrupted the paritz. “I also know the story and I even ate hamantashen today. But what does that have to do with my fish?”
“On this day we have a festive meal and the mazal of the month is fish. How can I not have a fish at this meal? I promise to compensate you and give you double the next time.”
Yechezkel was fortunate and the paritz accepted his apology though not before warning him that if he did this again he would regret it.
A short time later a meeting was held of all the noblemen and squires throughout Poland. The event was magnificent. The purpose was to discuss government matters but the main topic of discussion ended up focusing on the Jews. Each one contributed his share of complaints against the Jews. One told about a Jew who did not pay his rent, another told about some imagined injustice that was done to him, and our paritz told about the fish that the Jew had the nerve to take for himself.
The atmosphere warmed up and a paper was brought out on which was drafted an order to expel the Jews from the kingdom. The paper was passed around so everyone could sign their names. However, before the first paritz could sign, the door opened and in walked a nobleman who looked particularly distinguished. He was wearing a fine uniform which was decorated with dazzling jewels. A silence fell on the assembled. As a sign of respect, they passed the paper to him so he could sign first.
The nobleman read the document as everyone watched in silence. Then, to their surprise, he made a dismissive motion with his hand and said, “Nonsense! For foolishness like this you want to expel the Jews? You think the Christian tenants will be any more reliable? They won’t be! They will drink and carouse all day and won’t be productive on your property and you will lose your wealth. There is nobody more reliable than the Jews,” he declared. Then he tore the paper up in front of the astonished eyes of all present. Without saying another word, he got up and left.
For a few moments, the noblemen sat there frozen in their places, finding it hard to absorb what they had just seen. Nobody recognized the nobleman but in their pride, none of them dared to speak up and ask who it was who had just walked in and canceled their plan.
Our paritz did not recognize the nobleman either. But being curious and unable to hold himself back, he asked a close friend, “I am embarrassed to ask, but who just walked in and stopped us from expelling the Jews?”
To his surprise, the friend said, “I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t know either and I thought of asking you but was embarrassed.”
It slowly became apparent that nobody in the room knew who the man was.
When the paritz arrived home he hurried to call for Yechezkel. He told him the story and said, “G-d watches over you. His eyes are open for you like a fish whose eyes are always open.”
Yechezkel listened to the story in amazement and said, “According to the way you describe his clothing, the magnificent blue and purple, I imagine that it was Mordechai HaYehudi who came to save us again in the month of Adar.