#chelm

[polishwave]

Uważajcie, co robicie, to się może źle skończyć.

[shtetlcore]

The Wise Men of Chelm vs. And They Were Chevrusas

The Wise Men of Chelm

And They Were Chevrusas

Voting ended onFeb 28, 2023

The Wise Men of Chelm believe they can solve any problem. And confidence is all you need, right?

The chevrusas are study partners and they’re very, very close. They get each other on a level nobody else does. They spend hours together late into the night. Without each other, they’d be adrift.

[evilkitten3]

the saddest thing about having mostly goyische friends (who i adore) is that i can't bring up chelm bc no one knows what i'm talking about and frankly i think chelm stories were one of the best parts of childhood so y'all are missing out

[bonyassfish]

I was so flabbergasted when I found out Chelm was a real town. Here I thought it was a place made up for stories about a group of dumb but creative folks. Sorry not sorry to the people of Chelm, Poland, bc every ashkenazi jew thinks ur town is full of stupid people

[jewishpangolin]

Podcast Idea

Welcome to Night Vale, but it’s set in Chelm.

[trek-tracks]

Consider: a Yiddish version of Lord of the Rings featuring the Battle of Chelm's Deep

[begins-with-an-absence-of-desire]

I need Matthew post Chelm like nobody’s business. Roleplay thread, prompt, even just pm I have a mighty need!!!

[hachama]

New Story of Chelm

The Rabbi, the Devil, and the Borscht

Inspired by my love of Chelm and a conversation about Jewish exorcism.

Chelm, as you may know, is a special town. When angels were distributing all the kinds of people all over the Earth, the angel with the bag of fools tripped and dropped quite a lot of them in Chelm before continuing on. As a result, things are a little backwards there. The greatest fool in Chelm is considered wise, and the wisest man is considered a fool.

Every Wednesday night, the Rabbi of Chelm would close up the synagogue early to get home, because every Wednesday his wife made him the best borscht in all of Chelm.  Students would try to get invitations to dinner on Wednesdays, because everyone knew how good the borscht was, but the Rabbi's soup pot was small and could only feed a few people.

And so life went for many years, the Rabbi rushing home on Wednesdays to enjoy his borscht.

One Wednesday, as the Rabbi was settling down to enjoy his dinner with his wife, the baker knocked urgently on his door.  The Rabbi listened patiently as the baker explained that his son was acting strangely, and the baker thought he might be possessed by a devil.

Wanting only to give the good man peace of mind, the Rabbi packaged up his dinner and followed the baker back to his house.  Inside, the baker's son was indeed behaving strangely. The Rabbi asked for a chair and a small table to be brought to the room where the baker's son was held.

"Good evening," the Rabbi said pleasantly. "I hear you are not feeling well. Is there anything I could do to help?"

The baker's son sat in the corner, staring and snarling, but not answering. The Rabbi set his borscht down on the table and pulled a spoon from his pocket. He said a blessing over his food, and took a bite.

As the smell of the borscht spread through the room, the baker's son's snarling quieted. The boy inched closer to the table, before grating out a single word: "Hungry."

The Rabbi paused. "You're hungry? I'm very sorry to hear that. Perhaps if I share my dinner with you, you might leave this boy?"

The baker's son growled and retreated several steps. "NO"

"Is there something else I could do to help you?" asked the Rabbi. 

"NO"

"That's really too bad." The Rabbi continued eating his borscht. 

Again, the boy inched closer, staring at the Rabbi's spoon. "Hungry" he whined, quieter this time.

"I'm very sorry to hear that. I might share with you, if you promise to leave the boy," the Rabbi said again.

The boy grumbled, but reached for the bowl. 

"Do you promise?" asked the Rabbi.

"YESSSS, HUNGRY" the boy howled, and, satisfied, the Rabbi allowed the boy to take the bowl. The baker's son drank the borscht greedily until it was all gone and dropped the bowl on the floor. Then, the boy fell fast asleep, no longer growling.

The Rabbi knew that the boy was safe, and returned to his own home.

A week later, just as the Rabbi was sitting down to eat his borscht, another urgent knock came at the door. The tailor's daughter was behaving strangely. The tailor thought she might be possessed by a devil.  The Rabbi again packed up his dinner and followed the tailor to his home, went into the room where the girl was held, and sat down to eat.

"Good evening," the Rabbi said pleasantly. "I hear you are not feeling well. Is there anything I could do to help?"

The tailor's daughter immediately scrambled across the floor, whining "Huungrrryyyyy"

"I'm very sorry to hear that. I might share with you, if you promise to leave the girl," the Rabbi said. The tailor's daughter nodded, reaching for the bowl.  The Rabbi, satisfied, allowed the girl to take the bowl. She drank all the borscht greedily, even licking the bowl when it was all gone, and fell fast asleep.

Seeing that the girl was safe, the Rabbi again returned to his home.

For many months this continued. Every Wednesday, the Rabbi would sit down to eat his dinner, and every Wednesday someone from the town would come knocking on his door, a family member showing signs of being possessed, and every Wednesday, the Rabbi would take his dinner to the home of the possessed person, and every Wednesday the devil would eat all the Rabbi's borscht.

Until finally, one Wednesday, the butcher's son said, in the gravelly voice the Rabbi had come to associate with the devil, "Rabbi, I must tell you the truth: I am the same devil that possessed the baker's son, and the tailor's daughter. I am the same devil that has possessed many of the people of this town."

The Rabbi, surprised, asked "Why? Why do you continue to trouble us?"

The devil in the butcher's son replied, "For the borscht!"

-----The End----