The Five Words That Revealed a Hidden Torah Giant

“Has anyone seen the silver spoons that were on the table?” shouted the head servant, his voice echoing through the large home. “They were here, and now they’ve vanished!”

A wave of panic spread through the household. These weren’t just any spoons, they held both emotional and monetary value. The servants rushed to check the sink. They pulled open drawers. Maybe someone had already washed and put them away? They even searched the garbage. But the spoons were gone.

“I think I know what happened,” said one young servant, looking nervous. “There was a poor guest who asked for food earlier. Maybe... maybe he took them.”

The head servant raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember what he looked like? Can you identify him?”

The servant nodded with certainty, and a few others quickly joined him in searching for the man they now believed had stolen the spoons.

They found him not long after. He was a traveler known by the simple name “Shlomo.” At that time, no one knew who he truly was. In the years to come, the Jewish world would know him as Rashi, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, one of the greatest Torah and Talmud commentators in Jewish history, whose clarity would illuminate Jewish learning for generations. (His yahrzeit, the anniversary of his passing, is on the 29th of Tammuz.)

But back then, Rashi was on a personal journey of spiritual refinement, traveling in self-imposed exile as a form of growth and inner holiness.

The servants grabbed him. They searched his bag. They even checked his clothing. But the spoons weren’t there. Still, they dragged him back to the house, unsure what to do. The head servant had a clear response: “He must have sold the spoons already. Make him pay for them.”

Rashi didn’t argue. He had no money. So they took his outer garment, his coat, as payment and pushed him out of the house in shame. Life inside the household quickly returned to normal.

But before he left, Rashi did something unusual. He took out some black ink and wrote five words on the front door of the house. Five times he wrote the same word: Shlomo Shlomo Shlomo Shlomo Shlomo.

Sometime later, the owner of the home, some say it was the great Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi returned. As he closed the door, he was struck by the strange message. Five identical words. “Shlomo” written again and again. Curious, he called over a servant.

The servant bowed and said, “I’ll clean it off right away. It’s meaningless.”

But the homeowner didn’t agree. He sensed something deeper. He called the head servant, who explained the incident with the missing spoons and the poor guest who had been accused and punished.

The homeowner immediately ordered them to find the guest and bring him back. He needed to understand what this strange writing meant.

Once again, the servants found Rashi who still had no idea why he was being brought back a second time. When the homeowner saw him, something stirred within him. He could tell this man was not ordinary.

He greeted Rashi kindly and asked, “What is the meaning of the five words on the door?”

Rashi didn’t respond with a speech. He reached into his worn bag, took out his quill, and began to vocalize the five identical words, turning them into a brilliant and poetic message:

Shelama Shlomo? Salma Shlema Shilema?

These five words form a clever and meaningful sentence:

“Why did Shlomo have to pay with his garment (salma shlema) for something he didn’t steal?”

The homeowner understood immediately. This man was no thief, he was a sage of extraordinary depth. He apologized sincerely for the wrongful accusation, returned Rashi’s coat, and sent him on his way with honor and deep respect.