Moshe the fisherman peered into the water. “What has happened to the fish? I was counting on fish for our Purim feast.” Moshe cast his nets again and pulled them in--nothing at all. Dusk was falling and Moshe began to pull in his nets for the final time when he saw something silver shimmering in his net. Why, it was as fine a fish as he could have hoped for.
Just then, a thought caught him. According to his contract, half of every catch belonged to the landlord. So by right, this fish was the landlord’s. Moshe was caught in a quandary. He couldn’t give up this fish, for he desperately wanted it to honor the festival, but to withhold it from the poretz (landlord) was equally impossible. Finally he came to a decision. This fish he would keep; tomorrow’s catch would go entirely to the poretz.
Moshe set off for home in a happy mood, the silvery fish tucked under his arm. But, he was not alone. Piotr, the gardener, was standing behind the hedges. “This Moshe, who the poretz thinks is so trustworthy, is making off with the poretz’s fish. These Jews always think they can outsmart everyone, but now, I’ll have the last laugh.”
Piotr was trimming the hedges in front of the manor house when the poretz came out for his afternoon stroll. He pretended to be murmuring to himself, but made sure the poretz overheard: “Imagine, Moshe keeping that huge fish for himself, and giving nothing to the poretz.”
“What’s that you say?” said the poretz. “Moshe didn’t bring me any fish today, but I thought he just didn’t catch anything.” “Well, I saw him carrying home a nice one just about an hour or so ago,” said Piotr, hiding his glee.
“If that’s so, I’ll soon know about it,” said the angry poretz, dispatching a servant to bring Moshe to him immediately.
“What happened to my fish, Moshe? Is this how you repay my trust?” “Please, sire, I can explain,” stammered the frightened fisherman. “Today is our festival of Purim and I had to have a fish for our meal. I never intended to steal from you for I am planning tomorrow to bring you my entire catch and keep nothing for myself.”
“I don’t care about your holidays! It’s my fish!” The poretz was furious.
“Please let me explain. Every month has a celestial sign and this month’s sign is the fish. It reminds us that just as fish never close their eyes, G-d never closes His eyes--He always watches His people to protect them from harm. Long ago on Purim He saved us from the wicked Haman. Please forgive me this once and let me keep the fish. I will make it up to you.”
The poretz allowed himself to be persuaded. “You may keep the fish, but if it ever happens again, I’ll hang you,” he said, pointing to a huge oak.
Some days later was a meeting of all the landowners of the district. Each had some complaint: one had lost a fortune gambling and was now in debt; another was having trouble paying for the redecoration of his mansion; a third couldn’t meet the payment on his gilded carriage. One of them spoke out: “Who is to blame for all our troubles? The Jews, of course. They are the managers of our estates, inns, finances. They’re ruining us!”
Another landowner piped up, “My Jews are just like that! They are so lazy, they never work!” Then the poretz spoke up, “My Moshe even kept all the fish for himself because it was some holiday or other for him!”
“Let’s get rid of those parasites for once and for all! I’ll draft a proclamation expelling them from our territories, and you all sign,” said one of the leading nobles. There was general agreement all around, as the Russian gentry anticipated the end of all their woes.
Suddenly all gazes were drawn to the doorway. There, unexpectedly, stood the royal prince himself, resplendent in his sapphire blue robes. “Sire,” began a duke, “won’t you sign our document about the Jews?”
The prince read the document. “Surely you jest,” he said. “For these so-called offences you want to banish the Jews? You must be mad. On whom do you propose to rely, on the Poles who hate you, or on your servants who rob you blind? My friends, you will be doing yourself a great disservice, for you will never find servants more loyal and capable than the Jews.”
A buzz passed through the hall. “With your permission,” the prince said, and tore the paper into pieces. Then he left the room without another word, leaving the embarrassed nobles to stare at one another in wonder.
The poretz returned home full of confusion. How could the prince have appeared and then vanished so fast? It could only have come from Above.
When he arrived home he sent for Moshe. “I saw your G-d today. He came to protect you at our meeting.”
“What are you saying, Sire?” The poretz told him about the decree and the strange appearance of the prince. “Oh, no, Sire,” replied Moshe, “You cannot see G-d. Perhaps Mordechai came to save us, just as he did on Purim so long ago,” he added hesitantly.
“Well, whatever it was, it seems you have had some good fortune from your festival...and your Purim fish!”
