Rabbi Akiva Meets a Shipwreck Survivor, and Rabbi Meir Outruns a Snake

Rabbi Akiva stood on the shore and watched a ship come apart. Planks jumped. People went into the Mediterranean with their mouths open. He knew one of the faces. That face went under. The water closed.

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The Man Who Should Have Drowned

Days later, or weeks, the count is lost. Akiva was walking inland when the same man came toward him on dry dust, hair combed, clothes that had been washed. Alive.

Akiva stopped him with a hand.

"How are you here. I saw you drown."

The man did not dress it up. After the ship broke he went under. A wave put him back on the surface and ran him onto the beach. He woke with sand in his teeth and the sea behind him, done with him.

The Loaf the Sea Returned

Akiva asked the only question that mattered. What had stood between him and the water.

The man thought. A small thing, almost too small to say. A few days before the voyage a hungry stranger had put out a hand. He had given away the loaf packed for his own mouth, the only food he was carrying. That was all.

Akiva named it at once. The loaf had come back as a body. "Cast your bread upon the waters, for you will find it after many days" (Ecclesiastes 11:1). He had cast it once. The waters that should have kept him had released him instead.

Akiva did not give a speech. He looked at the living man and let the numbers sit in the air. One loaf. One stranger. One shore.

Meir Heard the Snake and Ran

Rabbi Meir left the synagogue early one afternoon. His colleagues noticed. He was not a man who cut a service short. He had been walking when a snake spoke in the grass.

"I am sent to kill Rabbi Judah the Antoti and his whole family, because he has never given alms."

Meir raced. He reached the river before the snake and stopped on the bank. He conjured it by the Name not to cross until he said so. Then he covered his face and ran for Judah's house.

The House That Took Him for a Thief

Judah's household did not know him. They took him for a thief. They pushed him into the stables until dinner. At the table they would not let him eat until he insisted. He asked for a loan as charity. They answered him rudely.

Meir put out the lamp. He uncovered his face. Torah stood on the skin so hard the room filled with light. The family fell on their faces. They knew him then.

He sent Judah's wife and each child to a different house in the village. He stayed. "Do not open the door, no matter who calls, until morning."

After two hours he gave the snake permission. It crossed the river. It entered the house. It rose toward Judah.

Meir stood in its path.

"I have just been fed in this house. I have just received charity from this man. The decree against him is voided."

The Door That Stayed Shut

The snake went outside and coiled around the walls. It put on Judah's wife's voice and cried to be let in, she was freezing. The door stayed shut. It put on the eldest son's voice, terrified of beasts. The door stayed shut. It put on all the children's voices at once. The door stayed shut.

Its mission had nowhere left to go. The snake threw itself down from the roof and died in the yard.

Morning. The family came home. None of them had touched the door in the night. Meir showed Judah the dead snake in the dust. Judah, who had never given a coin to a poor man, promised from that hour to give alms until his hand hurt.

On one shore a loaf had already bought a body back from the sea. In this yard a meal given late had bought a household back from a snake. God had sent the errand for a lack. The lack had been filled. The errand ended on the stones.