Posted in Other Ramblings

Yesterday I was comforting a friend, and the story of Nachman Ish Gamzu came up.  This is actually one of my favorite stories from the Talmud and something I try to remind myself a lot.  Worth it enough that I wanted to share it with people that might not know it:

A story is told in the Talmud about the great Torah Sage Nachum Ish Gamzu who always said, “Gam zu letovah—This too is for the best.” One day, Nachum Ish Gamzu traveled to the Roman Emperor to give him a treasure chest full of precious metals and jewels as a gift on behalf of his community. That night he slept at an inn and stowed the jewel-laden chest in a secret hiding place. When Nachum Ish Gamzu was asleep, the innkeeper switched the chest with another.

The next morning,when Nachum Ish Gamzu was about to leave the inn, he opened the chest, and to his dismay there were no longer diamonds and rubies inside. Instead, the entire vessel was filled with sand. Nachum Ish Gamzu said, “Gam zu letovah—This too is for the best,” and continued on his way. He arrived at the palace and said, “Emperor, because of our great respect for you, my town is presenting this gift to you.” The Emperor opened the chest and saw the sand. He thought, well, there must be something else beneath it. He sifted through the sand. He dug his hand into one side of the chest, then the other. But all he found was sand. The Emperor said, “For mocking me, I will have you put to death.” Nachum Ish Gamzu’s reaction was, of course, “Gam zu letovah.” Immediately, in walked one of the sovereign’s advisers (the Talmud tells us it was Elijah the Prophet in the guise of a Roman senator). “What are you talk­ing about?” Elijah declared. “Do you think the Jews are so stupid? Do you think they are so foolish they’d give you simple sand?! This must be the same sand that Abraham (the Patriarch) used when he fought against the four kings.6 Abraham single-handedly conquered the most powerful kings of his time. Do you know how he did it? He possessed magic sand. He threw it into the air and the sand turned into knives and spears and arrows.”

“Really?” responded the Emperor. “Let’s try it out.”

At that time, the Emperor’s forces were in the midst of a war. They were trying to conquer a neighboring province, so the Emperor sent this chest to the front lines with his soldiers and they began to throw handfuls of sand toward the enemy. Lo and behold, the sand was transformed into these magic secret weapons! In a day or two, the Roman army was able to over­whelm the entire province. The Emperor thanked Nachum Ish Gamzu, saying, “Because you did this for me, I’m going to reward you with a chest of gold and silver. Take it back to your people and tell them that if they should ever need anything, they should come to me. I’ll be happy to oblige them.”

On his way back home, Nachum Ish Gamzu stopped at the same inn. The proprietor asked him, “What gift did you bring the Emperor that he showed you such honor?” He replied, “Well, you know, I had this chest full of sand. I brought it to the Emperor and this magical sand turned into arrows and spears when thrown at his enemies.” The innkeeper heard this and said to himself, “Wow! That’s the sand in my backyard!” So what did the man do? He filled up an entire wagon full of sand. The innkeeper brought it to the Emperor and said, “You know that sand Nachum Ish Gamzu brought you last week? This is the same stuff.” The Emperor was overjoyed and imme­diately sent the wagon of sand to the troops. When the “magic sand” turned out to be a sham, the infuriated Emperor ordered the execution of this deceitful innkeeper.

I copied that story from Chabad.org by the way, since they do a great job telling it. 

The story reminds us that even when we think bad things are happening, G-d knows the true purpose and would only do things that really are the best for us.

This story is often compared to a story about Rabbi Akiva.  Rabbi Akiva was a great sage in his own right, but also happened to be a student of Nachum Ish Gamzu.

Rabbi Akiva would say, “Kal d’avid Rachmana letav avid—What­ever G-d does, must be for the good.” He once traveled with a candle, a rooster, and a donkey: the candle so he could study Torah at night, the rooster—his alarm clock—to wake him up to study Torah, and finally the donkey to carry his possessions. Rabbi Akiva stopped at a city. He tried to get lodging at an inn but there was no room avail­able. Rabbi Akiva went from house to house but nobody would let him in. So what did he do? He walked into the neighboring woods and set up camp. All of a sudden, a strong wind kicked up and extinguished the candle. A few moments later, a fero­cious lion emerged from behind his tent and killed his donkey. What was left? The rooster. A ravenous cat appeared and devoured it. Rabbi Akiva was completely stuck. What did he say? “Whatever G-d does, must be for the good.”

The next morning, Rabbi Akiva discovered that a band of robbers had attacked the town during the night, mercilessly killing the people and stealing their money. The robbers escaped into the forest. If they had seen the candle, or heard the noise of the rooster and donkey, Rabbi Akiva would have met the same fate as the townspeople. G-d had saved his life by extinguishing his candle and taking his animals.

There is a big difference between  Nachum Ish Gamzu and Rabbi Akiva. Nachum Ish Gamzu said, “Gam zu letovah”: Even though something may appear negative, it is itself good. The chestful of sand itself was good, regardless of the loss of the precious jewels. And so it was. This was his philosophy (and one I try to emulate) Nachum Ish Gamzu’s approach was not that he would later see the value of the sand; its worth was immediate and intrinsic.

On the other hand, in the story of Rabbi Akiva, the actual loss of his donkey and rooster, according to him, was not good. But it was a smaller loss compared to a greater loss. Rabbi Akiva would eventually see the good the very next day. But the immediate sacrifice was viewed as negative.

All of us can learn a practical lesson from the above. When we’re taking a trip, for example, our tire might suddenly blow out. We think, “Oy vey! It’s going to kill our plans. We’ll have to spend hours changing the tire. Then we’ll have to stay at a motel instead of making the trip in one day.” Now, we could say, “Perhaps G-d is saving us from yet a worse situation that would have taken place had we continued our trip as planned.” But the emes—the truth—is that standing on the side of the road with a flat tire at that time is in itself good. Even events that are not readily perceived as being positive are totally good, since everything comes from G-d and G-d is all good.