Rabbi Shimon ben Halafta was invited to a brit milah — the circumcision of an eight-day-old child. He arrived, sat with the family, recited the blessings. The child was ill, gravely ill, and everyone in the room knew it. Rabbi Shimon prayed for the infant, and the infant lived (Gaster, Exempla No. 239).
On his way home from the feast, the same rabbi was accosted by a group of children who mocked him cruelly in the street. He said nothing to them directly. He simply uttered a word, and the house nearby collapsed. It was the house of the mocking children's family.
By a miracle, the owner of the house was untouched. He came running out of the rubble, understood what had happened, and threw himself at Rabbi Shimon's feet. He begged forgiveness for his children's behavior and pleaded for them.
The rabbi forgave. The story ends there.
The Ma'aseh Book tells this strange pairing of miracles for a reason. The same prayer that can save a sick infant can also flatten a house of bullies. The same tongue that heals can also condemn. What matters is the heart behind the word.
Rabbi Shimon ben Halafta was not a cruel man. He was a channel — and when cruelty entered the channel, cruelty came out. When mercy entered, mercy came out. The lesson is not "be nice to sages" (although yes, be nice to sages). The lesson is that speech, in the mouth of the righteous, has the weight of stone and the weight of breath, and a community gets the one it has earned.