It’s been a hard and draining time, friends. A lot is happening both good and bad. I promise that I have a post in the works. Be patient with me. In the meantime, I am going to plagiarize a story from a great collection of stories called Rachel the Clever: and other jewish folktales, compiled by Josepha Sherman. I am literally going to verbatim tell the story to you, so please know that I can not take credit for this fabulous tale. It is highly relevant to my upcoming post. Consider it a little bedtime story from me to you:
Rachel the Clever
Once, long ago, there lived a king who was very proud of his clever wits. So proud of them was he that he vowed to marry only a woman who was as clever as he. Now, one day the king stopped at an inn. There he heard the innkeeper boasting about his daughter, Rachel, who was so clever she could solve any riddle. The king frowned.
“I don’t like liars,” he told the innkeeper. “I will ask you three riddles. If your daughter can solve them, you will be rewarded, but if she fails, you shall lose your inn. First, what is the fastest thing? Second, what is the richest thing? Third, what is the dearest thing?”
Sadly, the innkeeper went home to his daughter, Rachel, and told her what the king had said. Rachel smiled. “You won’t lose the inn, Father. Go to the king and tell him that Thought is the fastest thing, life-giving Earth is the richest thing, and Love is the dearest thing.”
When the king heard these answers, he frowned again. He had vowed to wed only a woman as clever as he. Could that woman be Rachel, a common innkeeper’s daughter?
“If Rachel is as clever as she seems,” he told the innkeeper, “I wish to meet her. She must come to my palace in three days–but she must come neither walking nor riding, neither dressed nor undressed, and bringing a gift that is not a gift.”
Sadly, the innkeeper went home, sure that Rachel could never solve the puzzle. But Rachel thought for only a few moments, and then she smiled. “Don’t worry, father. I know what to do. Please buy me a goat, a fishnet, and …hm… two doves.”
Bewildered, the innkeeper did as he was asked. Rachel wrapped herself in the fishnet and sat on the goat so that one leg dragged on the ground. Clutching the doves, she set off for the royal palace.
“I’m Rachel, the innkeeper’s daughter,” she told the king with a grin. “I’ve come to you neither riding nor walking, as you see. With this fishnet wrapped around me, I’m neither dressed nor undressed.”
The king felt himself start to smile. “And the gift that is not a gift?”
“Here!”
Rachel released the two doves. Before the king could catch them, they fluttered wildly out the window. The king burst into laughter.
“That was most certainly a gift that was not a gift!” he said.
Now, Rachel was as pretty and kind as she was clever, and the king (when he forgot about being proud) was equally handsome and just as kind. They looked at each other once, and liked what they saw. They looked at each other twice, and forgot he was a king and she was only an innkeeper’s daughter. They looked at each other three times, and the king said, “I wanted to marry a clever woman. You are surely she. Rachel, will you marry me?”
Rachel happily agreed.
Ah, but all at once the king remembered to be proud. “But you must never disagree with any of the judgments I make at court,” he warned.
Rachel sighed. “Very well.”
So the king and the innkeeper’s daughter were married, and lived so happily that for a long time the king forgot about his pride. But one day Rachel saw a peasant at court with a sad, sad face.
“I own a mare that gave birth under my neighbor’s wagon,” he told her. “The king had ruled that the foal belongs to my neighbor.”
“Why, that’s not right!” cried Rachel. “Go stand under the king’s window with a fishing rod and pretend you’re catching fish.”
The peasant obeyed. When the king asked him how he could catch fish on a marble floor, the peasant answered, as Rachel had told him, “If a wagon can give birth to a foal, then I can catch fish on this marble floor.”
When the king heard this answer, he knew that only Rachel could have given it. His pride overpowered his love.
“Since you have broken our agreement,” he told Rachel, “you must leave the palace.” Even as he said these harsh words, the king felt his heart break. But his pride was still stronger than his love. “You must leave,” he repeated, “but you may take your dearest possession with you.”
Rachel didn’t weep or wail. Instead, she slipped a sleeping potion into the king’s cup. As soon as he was sleeping soundly that evening, Rachel wrapped him in a blanket, hoisted him up onto her back, and carried him out into the night. The guards, remembering what the king had said and thinking that Rachel was carrying a golden treasure, never stopped her.
The king woke to the sound of birds, and found himself lying under a tree in the middle of a grassy field. Rachel was beside him. “What…why…?” the king stammered. “What am I doing here?”
Rachel smiled gently. “I was following your order,” she said. “You told me I could take my dearest possession with me. And that, my love, is you.”
The king looked into Rachel’s warm eyes. And as he looked, he forgot all about his pride, this time forever. “Will you forgive me?” he asked.
“Of course. And will you listen to me before you make your judgments?”
“Of course. Come, my dearest possession,” said the king. “Let us go home.”
And You Shall Love 