A scholar traveled on a boat with a group of merchants. They pressed him for information — What merchandise have you brought? Where is your cargo stored? He answered vaguely: my goods are with me. They searched the hold. No barrels. No crates. No bundles. They mocked him. A trader without goods is no trader at all.
When the ship docked, Roman custom officials boarded and inspected the cargo. They seized everything the merchants had brought — taxes, tariffs, confiscations. The merchants were ruined on the pier.
The scholar walked off the ship carrying nothing visible. He went straight to the Beit HaMidrash, the local study hall, and delivered a lecture. The hall erupted. The local community recognized his learning, honored him, and provided for his every need. The city opened its doors.
The merchants, now destitute, came begging to him to intervene with the local authorities. For the sake of his stature — a stature they had mocked the previous morning — he did. He pleaded on their behalf, saved them from starvation, and arranged for their return home.
Gaster's Exempla (No. 386, 1924) draws the moral from Proverbs 3:15 — she is more precious than rubies, and all the things you can desire are not to be compared unto her. Wisdom, the rabbis say, is the one commodity no customs agent can tax. A scholar travels light and arrives rich. A merchant travels heavy and arrives broke. In the end, the one who had the least on the boat was the one who had the most.