A Shabbat Story: The Maharal’s Kindness: A Lesson in Honor and Trust

Rabbi Shmuel Reich sat in silence, his head in his hands. All around him were piles of ash and smoke, the remains of his once-spacious home. A wound on his forehead still bled from the blow of one of the Christian rioters, but he hardly noticed. His thoughts were with his community, deeply worried about the fate of the Jewish families who had also lost everything.

Rabbi Shmuel was a pillar of the community. His generous heart, deep Torah knowledge, yirat Shamayim (awe of Heaven), and great wealth had allowed him to lead the local Jews as “Head of the Community.” But now, the recent violent antisemitic attack had left its mark. Several Jews had been killed, many were injured, and almost all property had been looted or destroyed.

Though he had lost all his possessions, Rabbi Shmuel’s greatest concern was how to help rebuild what had been lost. He thought about the widows, orphans, and families in need of shelter and food.

Suddenly, a familiar figure stood beside him. It was his wise and G-d-respecting daughter, Pearl (also known as Penina). Seeing her filled him with sorrow. He remembered that she had recently become engaged to a promising young Torah scholar, Yehuda Liva, who would later become known as the Maharal of Prague, one of the greatest Jewish thinkers and leaders in history. His yahrzeit (anniversary of passing) is on the 18th of Elul.

Before the attack, Rabbi Shmuel had promised his future son-in-law a generous dowry, enough for the young man to dedicate himself to Torah learning without financial worry. But now, with everything gone, he feared he could no longer keep his word. And if he couldn’t, would the engagement be called off?

With a heavy heart, Rabbi Shmuel wrote to the groom in Prague. He explained the tragedy and gave the young man permission to cancel the engagement and consider other matches whose families could still support him.

While this was happening, Pearl did not sit idly by. She borrowed a sack of flour on credit and used it to bake fine rolls. Then she went to the marketplace with a simple stall, hoping to sell the bread and help her parents. After standing there for hours, a soldier on horseback rode by, speared three rolls with his weapon, and prepared to ride off without paying.

Pearl cried out, explaining that her family’s livelihood depended on every coin. She begged him to return the bread. The soldier paused and apologized. He told her he hadn’t eaten in three days and had no money. Her tears moved him. Reaching under his seat, he pulled out a large, heavy pillow and tossed it to her.

“This was taken from the looted goods,” he said. “If I don’t come back with the money in three days, keep it as payment for the bread.”

Three days passed, and the soldier never returned. Pearl, curious about the unusually heavy pillow, gently opened the thick seams. Suddenly, pearls spilled out everywhere. Someone had hidden a fortune inside.

Just as they were debating whether to inform the Maharal that the engagement could go on, a letter arrived from him. In it, he wrote that he refused to cancel the engagement. Under no circumstances, he said, would he embarrass a Jewish daughter over money. As for making a living, Hashem, who feeds and sustains all His creatures, would surely help them too.

The couple eventually married, and Pearl’s father rejoiced in being able to support such a righteous and holy son-in-law. It was a home built not only on faith, but also on honor, humility, and trust in Hashem’s kindness.