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Peaceful Tuesday: A folk tale

By Toby Rosenstrauch
September 12, 2008

In case you didn't know, a vinkel is a small corner of the world, and good things can happen even in the smallest places.

In the little town of Vinkel, which might have been somewhere between Minsk and Pinsk, there once lived a mayor named Shmeryl and his wife, Sora Gittel. A river flowed peacefully through the town. The river, however, was the only peaceful thing in Vinkel. The townsfolk were always fighting, even on the Sabbath. The rabbi berated the people, reminding them that it was improper to fight during God's time of rest, but they ignored him.   

One morning, Shmeryl came upon a crowd that was watching two men shake their fists at each other.

 "I say, a sock and a sock, a shoe and a shoe," shouted one man. "That's the only way to get dressed."

"No, you are wrong," the second man insisted. "The right way is a sock, then a shoe, then the other sock, then the other shoe." He waved a sock and a shoe in the first man's face. By the time the mayor had pushed his way through the crowd, one of the men had a bloody nose. 

Shmeryl separated them. "If you cannot decide who is right, both of you should go barefoot," he said. The men drifted away, still muttering.

On another street, more people gathered. 

 "My pink house is prettier than your green one," shouted one woman. 

"A yellow house is much nicer than pink or green," shouted another.

"White is right," one man exclaimed. 

The mayor had no solution to this argument.

In front of the bakery, women fought over challahs.

"My challah has the most raisins," shouted one woman. "It has 22."

Another woman ripped open her braided loaf and counted the raisins within. "My challah has more. It has 32," she said.

Women plucked their challahs apart, counting raisins. The cobbled street was soon covered with tufts of bread.   

Shmeryl tried to stop the fights, but if he stopped one, another started. At last, he asked the town council for help, but they could think of no way to make peace. He asked Sora Gittel for an idea, but she was too busy fighting with Fat Feivel, the butcher.

Every night, as Sora Gittel lay asleep, Shmeryl sat at his window stroking his long beard, wondering what to do. 

One day, a boy came to the mayor. "In Minsk there is a wise man," said the boy. "He is called Solomon, the Brilliant. Perhaps he can help you."

"Take my horse and wagon," said Shmeryl. "Bring him to me."

The next day, the boy brought Solomon, the Brilliant, to Vinkel. Sora Gittel prepared a feast of matzo ball soup, cholent, and chicken, an assortment of vegetables, fruit compote, three different kinds of cake, and sweet wine. She felt it was most important for the guest to be well fed so that he might have the strength to attack such a weighty problem. When Solomon had eaten, Shmeryl tried to explain the town's troubles, but Solomon was so full of food that he fell asleep. The mayor had to wait until morning before he could talk to the wise man.

"It will take time, but I can bring peace," Solomon promised.

"You shall be an honored guest in my house for as long as it takes," said Shmeryl.

"First, the town council must proclaim every Tuesday as Peaceful Tuesday," said Solomon. "All who fight on Tuesday should spend the night in jail."

After hours of arguing, the council passed the law. On the first Tuesday, there were no fights -- until noon. By that hour, everyone had forgotten the new law. Fights broke out, and by evening, the jail was full. Some people were locked in the barn with the cows. The next Tuesday, there were no fights -- until sundown. Again the jail was full. Some people were locked in the stable with the goats.

By the third Tuesday, the townsfolk learned that they could put off fights until Wednesday. Peaceful Tuesday became the only day that anybody worked. 

"One day of peace is not enough," Shmeryl said.

"Have the council forbid fights on Fridays and Saturdays," said Solomon.

A law was passed forbidding fights on those two days as well. It took time, but people learned to hold Friday and Saturday fights until Sunday. The Sabbath became the day of rest and peace it was meant to be, but Shmeryl was not satisfied.

"Now," said Solomon, "pass a law forbidding fighting any day but Thursday."

The council did so, and the town was in an uproar! How could so many fights be held on just one day? 

"I'm sorry, but unless you want to go to jail," said the mayor, "you may only fight on Thursdays from now on."

People did not want to go to jail or spend the night with cows and goats, so they  held a meeting to discuss the new laws. At once an argument started. Shmeryl jumped up on a barrel and shouted, "Quiet! Quiet!" The people fell silent.

"You have learned to stop fighting for days at a time," said Shmeryl. "Surely, you can hold your fights until this meeting is over." 

The townspeople agreed. They talked about ways to stay out of jail. Fat Feivel, the butcher, was the first with an idea.

"I will not have to haggle with customers about the price of meat if I put up signs," Feivel said. "Customers will buy at my prices or not at all."

People applauded.

Yakov, the baker, was next with an idea. "It will not be necessary to fight over which challah has the most raisins if I put exactly 36 in each."

"What if I want more raisins?" asked Fat Feivel.

"Buy two challahs," said Yakov, "or even three."

The two men who had fought over the right way to put on shoes and socks decided to do it one way on weekdays and the other way on Saturdays and Sundays.

Pincus, the painter, raised his hand.

"There will be no arguments about colors if we paint all houses blue," he said. 

The townsfolk approved of the idea to paint all houses the same color, but they chose purple.

On and on went the meeting. People agreed to hold all fights until Thursday, but there would only be enough time for the most important fights on that day.

All week, as they worked, everyone thought of Thursday and which fights to have. But by Thursday, old disagreements seemed unimportant, and few fights remained.

Weeks passed, and people chose battles carefully. On weekdays, work got done. On the Sabbath, the townsfolk prayed in the quiet synagogue. On Sundays, they had picnics on the banks of the river.

Mayor Shmeryl was happy to pay Solomon, the Brilliant, for his advice. He himself drove Solomon back to Minsk in his wagon.

Joyfully, the council changed the name of the town from Vinkel to Peaceful Tuesday, in honor of the first day of peace the people had ever known. A big sign saying Welcome to Peaceful Tuesday greeted every visitor. 

For some time afterward, strangers who came to town on Wednesday through Monday did not understand the sign. They thought they had arrived on the wrong day, went home, and came back on a Tuesday.

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