Rav Huna once woke to find that four hundred of his casks of wine had soured into vinegar. This was not an inconvenience. This was ruin.
Word spread. Rav Yehudah, the brother of Rav Salla the Holy — some say it was Rav Adda bar Ahavah — came to visit, accompanied by other rabbis. Their opening was blunt. "Let the master examine himself carefully."
Huna bristled. "What — you suspect me of wrongdoing?"
"Shall we instead," the rabbis answered mildly, "suspect the Holy One, blessed be He, of executing judgment without justice?" The logic was pitiless: something has gone wrong in your wine, and nothing goes wrong in the universe that heaven has not noticed. So look.
Huna folded his arms. "If you have heard something, tell me."
"We heard that the master has been withholding the vinedresser's share of the prunings."
Huna flared. "What does that thief leave me? He has already stolen the whole crop!"
And the rabbis answered with a proverb that cut through his defense: "There is a saying — whoever steals from a thief comes out smelling of theft."
Huna stood silent. Then he said: "I promise to give him his share."
And the Talmud (Berakhot 5b) preserves two endings. Some say the vinegar turned back into wine. Others, more soberly, say that the price of vinegar rose that week until it matched the price of wine. Either way, the loss was undone the moment the withholding stopped.
Righteousness, the sages taught, does not absolve you from the fine print. Even a holy man owes the gardener his prunings.