(The following was taken from a write-up written by Torah and Hora’ah)
One of the stories Rabbi Ezrachi often shared during Elul was the remarkable tale of Yusta, the tailor of Tzippori (Shir HaShirim Rabbah 6:1, pasuk 12). Rav Ezrachi regarded this story as a cornerstone of Elul and teshuvah — not only for its profound moral lesson, but also as a vivid illustration of the power of the human spirit and the inner battles it must overcome.
The Tailor of Tzippori
In the Galilean city of Tzippori lived a simple man named Yusta, a tailor by trade. On the edge of the upper market, carved into the wall, stood his small stall. From the day he came of age, Yusta stood faithfully at his post, needle and thread in hand. Over the years, his presence became part of the city’s scenery — as fixed and predictable as the sun rising over the hills. From dawn until sunset, Yusta bent over his work, stitching, patching, and mending.
Through the alleys of Tzippori he would walk, needle proudly pinned to his cloak, as if proclaiming: “The Tailor of Tzippori — that’s me, Yusta.” Although Chazal taught that it was undignified to go out that way, and that carrying a needle stuck in one’s garment on Shabbos did not even count as carrying. But to Yusta, dignity was worth far less than another customer. Perhaps the sight of that needle would remind someone of a loose button, earning him two extra coins. And those two coins might mean salted fish for supper instead of going without.
If this seems trivial to you, well -- perhaps it should. But to Yusta, who knew nothing of lofty aspirations or human greatness, food was everything.
Yusta worked diligently for his customers. He patched tears so skillfully they all but disappeared. He attached buckles like a seasoned craftsman. Occasionally, he even received an order for an entire garment. Yet for all his labor, he was unnoticed and unappreciated, by others and by himself. He neglected his own life, letting it drift by, one day bleeding into the next, one button after another.
At last, he reached the height of his career. All the townspeople acknowledged him as “The Tailor of Tzippori,” the very title for which he had labored his whole life. But then the dark thoughts came: ‘Is this all? Is this how my life will end? Is this what I have devoted my years to?’
We do not know what brought him to the breaking point. Was it the arrival of Elul? The piercing blast of the shofar? Perhaps a single line of mussar that touched his heart? What we do know is that one day, Yusta dared to dream. And on that day, he vanished from Tzippori. No one knew where he went, or which road he took. In truth, no one wondered much. Yusta was quickly forgotten, his “prestigious” post as “Tailor of Tzippori” filled by another eager tradesman.
Many trials befell Yusta — hardships and silent moments of despair, known to no one but himself. Yet one day, he reached the capital city, seat of the king and his ministers. To everyone’s astonishment, the poor tailor from Tzippori soon adapted refined manners as if born into royalty. In that city of grandeur, he discovered human greatness and noble aspiration. Yusta was transformed and reborn, and even won the favor of the royal court. How this wondrous change came about we do not know; the Medrash doesn’t tell us. Obviously, it is not for us to imitate.
In time, the honorable Yusta requested an audience with the king himself, and wonder of wonders, he was granted it. Standing before the throne, Yusta found favor in the king’s eyes. The king discerned in him unusual promise, sensing he was a man of stature, capable of great service to the crown.
“What is your request?” asked the king, graciously. “Whatever you want shall be done. What is your desire? You have found favor with me; whatever you ask will be granted.”
Yusta now stood at the moment of opportunity. Longings for his hometown of Tzippori welled up within him. Though Tzippori had long forgotten Yusta, he had never forgotten Tzippori. He still dreamed of raising its stature, of lifting his city higher.
“If it pleases the king,” Yusta replied with reverence, “and if I have indeed found favor in your sight, appoint me as Duke of my native city, Tzippori.”
Without hesitation the king answered, “Yes, indeed, there is none wiser or more discerning than you to govern Tzippori. You shall be the next Duke of Tzippori.”
Now, for the last time in his life, Yusta returned to his needle and thread, sewing himself a splendid robe with his own hands. He crowned his head with a stately turban, bade farewell to the royal court that had been his home for the past few years, and departed in honor, surrounded by an impressive entourage, to assume his new role in his old hometown.
In Tzippori, excitement spread quickly. The king’s emissary had announced that a new duke was soon to arrive. Curiosity and tension filled the streets: Who was he? Would he be for them, or against them?
The appointed day came. With royal procession, Yusta’s entourage entered through the city gates and ascended the hill to the governor’s palace. As the dignified procession passed, the sages of the city rubbed their eyes in disbelief. “Impossible!” they exclaimed. “It is Yusta! The poor tailor who disappeared years ago, whose fate no one knew!” The city buzzed with speculations. Some insisted, “It can’t possibly be Yusta, the one who once sewed our missing buttons!” while others insisted, they could not be fooled by royal robes. Others dismissed it with scorn: “Nonsense!”
Meanwhile, the Duke himself took his seat of authority, and announced his wish to tour the city and fulfill his noble duty.
The people of the city so curious as for his identity that they proposed a test: “If, during the tour of the marketplace, the duke passes by his old stall without so much as a glance, then the rumor is false, and he is not Yusta. But if, when he approaches, he casts even a fleeting glance at that dark little niche where he once labored, then we shall know beyond doubt that he is Yusta.”
Their plan seemed to make sense, and everyone gathered to see what would happen.
The moment of truth soon arrived. The noble duke advanced slowly through the marketplace until he reached the familiar corner. There he paused. His eyes lingered on the humble stall, peering inside with a long, searching gaze.
Whispers rose at once, swelling into a murmur and then into a cry that filled the marketplace:
“It is he! It is Yusta!”
And Yusta himself heard it. Indeed, it seemed he had long anticipated that very moment.
The duke suddenly ordered the royal carriage to halt. He turned to the whispering crowd. Silence fell, and with a meaningful smile, he said:
“Ah! You marvel at the transformation that I underwent. You are utterly astonished. But know this — I am more astonished than you! Upon myself I could say the pasuk (Shir HaShirim 6:12): ‘I did not know; my soul made me chariots for a princely people (Amei Nadiv).’”
A charming story indeed. But the Medrash did not write it in order to record the history of the dukes of Tzippori. Why, then, is this story considered Torah? How is it meant to change our lives? What is its eternal message? Why was this preserved for the generations? And what is the meaning of the pasuk that Yusta quoted about himself?
Rabbi Ezrachi raised yet another searching question on the Medrash. The people’s wonder at the poor tailor who had risen to become ruler of the city is clear. Yusta’s own wonder at himself is also understandable. But why, asked Rabbi Ezrachi, does Yusta tell them that his astonishment is greater than theirs? Were they not all marveling at the same miracle?
Rabbi Ezrachi explained that no, their amazement and his astonishment were worlds apart. The people marveled at an enigma beyond their grasp how a tailor could have become a duke. But Yusta was shaken by something far deeper.
Let’s take a careful look again and understand what he said to the people of Tzippori:
“You wonder how Yusta the tailor became Duke Yusta. But I wonder over something else entirely: how could Duke Yusta have ever been a tailor?
“If within me lay the talents, the gifts, the potential to rule, how could I have wasted the best years of my life hemming garments and mending buttons? I labored, I strove, and in the end, I won the ‘great title’ of ‘The Tailor of Tzippori!’ And what was it worth? Trivialities, vanities! Was this to be the summit of my life?
“I, Duke Yusta, once thought my highest aspiration was a neighbor’s torn cloak or an extra coin to buy a supper of salted fish. Could such smallness really have defined me?!”
And he continued: “Your amazement lies in how I have changed, which is indeed a wonder. Perhaps one day I will even write a self-help book and call it ‘From Tailor to Duke.’ But this is not the true marvel. The real wonder is: I did not know not my own soul.
“How could I, the tailor, not recognize myself? How could I have failed to see that the gifts within me were chariots prepared for greatness? How could I not have known that Heaven had set me apart for nobility?”
Then Yusta proclaimed: “I have come to raise up Tzippori. And the first truth you must learn from this little stall, this dark alcove in the marketplace where I once sat, is to choose: will your life’s goal be trifles and distractions, or will you walk as one who lives for eternity?
“Do not remain tailors. You are rulers! Cast off the pettiness, the empty pursuits that consume your days. Think of eternity. Walk as one who knows he is eternal. If only you will yearn for it, if only you will it, the help of Heaven will be yours, for the Creator stands at your side.” As the Medrash teaches: “Nadiv - ‘the noble one’, is Hashem.” Thus, the pasuk, ‘Ami Nadiv’ means “with me, Hashem’. If you set Hashem as your aim, He Himself is with you to bring your success.
And Yusta’s cry filled the marketplace of Tzippori. It lamented, “I knew not my own soul.” Don’t be ignorant, don’t neglect yourself. Know yourself, know your power, aspire! G-d is with you!
