Home

On the outskirts of St. Petersburg, there once lived a wealthy Jewish merchant. He had a large shop that sold the finest wares and a big house where he lived with his wife and three sons, Moshe, Mendel, and Menachem.

The sons were as different from one another as they could possibly be. They did not eat the same foods, enjoy the same work, or have the same opinions about anything. Even their hair and eyes were different. Moshe had red hair and brown eyes, Mendel had blond hair and blue eyes, and Menachem had black hair and gray eyes.

One morning, the merchant looked in his mirror and saw that his hair was turning gray. He knew that one day, in the not-too-distant future, he would be too old to take care of his business. He wanted to leave it to his three sons, but they did not get along together. When he brought them to the shop to teach them how to run it, they could never agree on anything. If Moshe said, "Papa, buy furs," Mendel said, "Papa, buy jewels," and Menachem said, "Papa, buy silks." If Moshe said, "Charge three rubles," Mendel said, "Charge five rubles," and Menachem said," Charge eight rubles."

One evening, the merchant called his sons into the parlor and spoke to them with sadness in his heart. "I am growing old," he said, "and soon I shall give my shop to one younger and stronger than myself. I had hoped you could all work together, but, alas, that can never be. So I have decided to send all of you out into the world for a while to see what you will do with the money I shall give you."

To each son he gave a large sack of rubles and a horse. "Go," he said, "and return to me in four years' time. Whichever one of you brings me the best wares to sell shall have the shop as his own."

Moshe, Mendel, and Menachem each took one sack of rubles, mounted their horses, and galloped off in different directions.

As the years passed, the merchant became grayer and more wrinkled, and his shoulders were bent with age. He tired easily and longed for the day when he could give the shop to another to run. He looked forward to the return of his sons with great eagerness.

The first to come back was Moshe, but he was so changed that his father could barely recognize him and took him at first for a beggar. Moshe stood in rags before his father, his eyes downcast in shame.

"What wares have you brought for me?" asked the merchant.

"Oh, Papa," cried Moshe, "I traveled far and purchased the finest furs. But one night, on the way back to St. Petersburg, I slept in a forest. As I slept, thieves came and took the furs, the rest of my money, and even the horse. It was only through the kindness of a farmer who gave me a ride in his wagon that I was able to come back to you today."

The merchant was happy to see his son home safely, but he was saddened that Moshe had brought no goods to show for all the time and money. Clearly, this was not the son to whom the merchant could entrust his business.

A few days later, Mendel arrived home. He, too, had tattered clothes and no horse or money. He, too, had no wares for his father.

"Oh, Papa," he said, "I sold my horse. Then, with the money you gave me, I boarded a ship for the Orient. There I bought the finest jewels. But one night, as I was returning to Russia by sea, there was a terrible storm. All the merchandise on the ship was washed overboard. I and the other merchants were lucky to escape with our lives."

Mendel hung his head, and a few tears trickled down his face. He was sorry that he had disappointed his father.

The merchant was thankful that Mendel's life had been spared, but he knew that this son was not suited to run his business either.

Days passed, and the merchant waited anxiously for the return of Menachem. Then, one bright morning, the merchant looked out the window and saw Menachem walking up the hill to the house. Menachem had no horse and carried nothing in his arms. The merchant's heart sank, but he tried not to make a judgment before he had spoken to his son.

"Oh, Papa," Menachem said, "I hope you will be pleased with me. I have no furs, no jewels, and no silks to give you, but I have something more valuable. I have not traveled far -- only to St. Petersburg, to the university. I have spent all the money and sold the horse, but I have received a fine education. What I have learned can never be taken away from me. It cannot be lost. It cannot be stolen. I hope you will feel that I have used my money wisely."

The merchant heard Menachem, and the joy in his heart made his face light up.

"The shop shall be yours," he said, "because you have indeed brought something even more valuable than wares."

To Menachem, the father gave his business, secure in the knowledge that this educated son would run it well. Menachem, with love for his brothers, secured work for each as an apprentice with local tradesmen. When the father died, he died in peace, knowing that his sons were provided for and that his business would continue to grow and prosper.

Toby Rosenstrauch, and award-winning columnist, lives in Boynton Beach. Fla.