Shimon the Leper

“Papa! Papa!” rained the squeal of delight from the upstairs of the stone house where a family from the town of Tsfat lived in Israel. Shimon entered his home hot and tired from a long day working as a carpenter in his little village. He was nearly 30 years old and happily married to his wife Miriam. They had been blessed with two adorable children, Daniel and Sarah, and it was Sarah who ran down the stairs first and reached up to hug her daddy’s strong neck.

“I missed you today, Papa.” Shimon hugged her tightly. “I’m home now, Sunshine, so let’s find something to eat from your mother.”

Daniel also loved his papa, but being the older son he held back just a little bit.

“Hi, Papa! Can we play catch this evening after dinner?”

“Yes, of course, my son. When we are finished with our reading of the Torah we will play.” Shimon gave his son a big hug, and Daniel enjoyed it, even though he was trying to act more mature now that he was nine years old. He knew how important it was that he read and understand the Torah since it would be only four more years until he had his bar mitzvah celebration. At that time he would be required to read aloud in the local synagogue and answer the questions about the Holy Book from the Rabbi. After that, he would be considered a man, and also a member of the synagogue that they all attended each Shabbat.

The village they lived in was about a four day walk from Jerusalem, where they would go to the temple each year to offer sacrifices. Daniel and Sarah enjoyed the journey since they could be with their friends and family in the caravan. It was a lot of fun, even though the walk was long and tiring.

One day, Shimon was sitting in his workshop when he noticed a small white spot on his lower leg. It was about the size of a denarius, but it didn’t itch. “Hmmm, I wonder what that is,” he thought to himself.

Over the next several days he forgot about the spot on his leg, and he worked just as hard as usual. His neighbor had ordered a table and chairs from him. Shimon wanted to finish the set as soon as possible, doing the finest job that he could. He hoped his neighbor would be pleased and recommend him to others.

Daniel came into the shop to bring him a falafel sandwich for lunch. “Papa, the work that you do is so fine. I hope I can be as good of a carpenter as you someday.”

“Of course you will, my son. Why don’t you stay here this afternoon and help me. I will show you how to be an excellent craftsman.” Daniel was overjoyed. “Yes, Father, I would be happy to learn from you.” After lunch the two worked hard on the table, getting the legs the exact same length and carving intricate designs into the side panels. Father’s carving tool slipped just a little bit and the blade went into his hand. Shimon didn’t feel anything. But Daniel cried out, “Papa!! Look at your hand!”

Shimon looked at his hand. It was deeply cut. He quickly applied a nearby rag to stop the bleeding. But there was fear in his eyes. He could not feel the cut. There was no pain at all. He remembered the white patch on his leg. It had grown in size to bigger than a shekel, and there were other white patches as well. Father’s heart skipped several beats. He quickly ran from the shop and away from his horrified son. Leaning heavily against the wall behind his workshop he thought, “What could it be?”