There was a man who lived in the Greek city of Laodicea, and he had a rule he followed every week of his life. Whenever he found some particularly fine food in the market — the best fish, the tenderest meat, the freshest fruit — he would buy it and set it aside, not for today's table, but for Shabbat. If he saw it on Sunday, he saved it for Saturday. If he saw it on Thursday, he saved it for Saturday. Nothing truly good entered his house during the week. Everything good was reserved for the seventh day.
The tradition says he became immensely rich. His kavod Shabbat — his honoring of the Sabbath — was so complete that the world began honoring him back.
The story reaches its climax when Rabbi Hiyya, one of the great sages of the early third century, came through Laodicea and was invited to a meal at this man's house. Rabbi Hiyya stepped inside, and the servants brought in the food — but not on ordinary plates. The trays were silver and gold.
The rabbi stared. Even for a prince, this was lavish beyond reason. And the Laodicean, watching his guest's face, explained: "Everything you see is because I save my best for Shabbat. What I give God returns me in kind."
Gaster's Exempla (no. 119, 1924) uses this story to argue that the Sabbath is not a tax on the week. It is an investment in the week. The man who gives the seventh day his finest finds the other six days quietly enriched.