A Shabbat Story: When the Ben Ish Chai Brought Justice from Above

In the alleys of old Baghdad, one man made it his mission to torment the Jews. His name was Khalil, and his cruel imagination knew no limits. His beady, restless eyes scanned the streets for his next opportunity to cause pain. One day, he would destroy a Jewish vendor’s vegetable stand at the market. Another time, he might dump a bucket of sewage on an elderly Jewish woman passing by.

But the times he truly cherished were the Jewish holidays. He celebrated them in his own twisted way.

During Chanukah, when families placed their menorahs outside their doorways to publicize the miracle, Khalil would sneak by and smash them to pieces. During the Hebrew month of Elul, when Jews sound the shofar (ram’s horn) each morning to awaken the soul, Khalil filed complaints with the police, claiming the sound disturbed his sleep as if the calls of the city’s muezzin (Muslim prayer leader) weren’t far louder. Sukkot and Passover became week-long harassment festivals for him.

But his worst cruelty came on the holiest days, Tisha B’Av and Yom Kippur. On these days, it’s forbidden to wear leather shoes as a sign of humility, so Jews walked in only socks, since rubber slippers weren’t yet invented. Knowing this, Khalil would scatter broken glass and nails throughout the Jewish streets before dawn.

Eventually, the community could bear it no longer. A group of men went to their great Torah leader, the holy Rabbi Yosef Chaim of Baghdad known as the Ben Ish Chai, a sage, Kabbalist, and spiritual guide whose teachings are still studied today.

The Ben Ish Chai listened carefully, his heart full of pain for the suffering of his fellow Jews.

“Go home,” he told them gently. “Today, with Hashem’s help, this matter will be resolved.”

Moments later, his assistant was already on his way to Khalil’s home. Despite his wickedness, Khalil had one redeeming quality, he was an excellent carpenter.

“I have a well-paying job for you,” the assistant said cautiously.

“Who’s it for?” Khalil asked, puffing out his chest.

“For Al-Hakham Al-Kabir,” the assistant replied with respect, the title meant “the Great Sage,” and Khalil immediately understood this was the famous rabbi of the Jews.

He smirked proudly to himself. Even the Jewish rabbi needs me, he thought.

When he arrived, Rabbi Yosef Chaim looked up briefly from his books and pointed toward the courtyard. “The door of the toilet room came off its hinges. Can you fix it?”

“Of course,” Khalil answered with confidence.

But things didn’t go as planned.

He installed new hinges and positioned the door. Yet every time he tried to fasten it, the hinges broke. Again and again, the door refused to stay in place. After several frustrating attempts, Khalil lost his temper. He cursed aloud, using the name of his prophet: “In the name of Mohammed and all the spirits, to hell with this!”

Suddenly, from inside the toilet bowl, a foul-smelling head emerged and asked: “Did you call me?”

Khalil’s eyes bulged in shock. “Who… who are you?”

“I’m Mohammed, your prophet,” the angry head replied.

“N-no-no!” Khalil shouted in horror.

And the head sank back into the cesspool.

Still determined to fix the door, Khalil tried again. When he failed once more, he let loose another curse, again calling on the prophet’s name. The head reappeared, even angrier this time. “I heard you summon me again!”

Terrified, Khalil dropped everything, his tools, the door and ran out of the rabbi’s house as fast as he could.

When his friends saw him sprinting through the street in a panic, they stopped him and demanded an explanation. Still shaking, he told them everything.

“You mean Mohammed, the holy prophet in sewage?!” they shouted.

Furious at what they saw as blasphemy, they turned on Khalil and beat him so violently that he didn’t survive.

And the Jews of Baghdad? They finally had peace in their streets and quiet on their holy days.