"Rabbi for a Day" is a Jewish tale.

Once upon a time, there lived a man named Jacob Kranz, who came to be known as the Preacher of Dubno, famed far and wide for the wisdom he offered his people and for his parables.

He traveled from town to town teaching the people all he knew. One year, on the fifth night of Hanukkah, the rabbi looked up at the night sky and smiled, and when the people asked him why he smiled, he began to tell them a tale of Hanukkah, one they did not often hear.

"Our Jewish month is one lunar cycle," said the preacher, "beginning with the new moon. So it is that in the Jewish calendar, the first half of the month, each night grows a little lighter, but after the full moon, until the 29th or 30th, each night grows a little bit darker."

The people nodded, for they understood the first night of Hanukkah falls on 25 Kislev, and so, for each of the first five nights of the holiday, the sky grows a little darker.

"So it is," said the preacher, "that the fifth night of Hanukkah is the darkest night of the whole year, but when we light our candles, we symbolically call forth a new cycle, and we relight the year."

The people nodded thoughtfully, and then they understood why their holiday was called the Festival of Lights. They cheered the rabbi for his wisdom and for his warmth.

"And tomorrow, the first of Tevet, the new moon will appear, and each night will grow a little brighter. And tomorrow, too, I will be moving on to a new town."

That evening, as a coachman drove the wise rabbi to his lodging, the coachman sat on his box and wondered what it might feel like to be so honored and revered as the Preacher of Dubno. What must it feel like to ride into town to cheers and happiness? What would it feel like to earn the love and admiration of everyone, near and far?

The coachman turned to the Preacher of Dubno and said, "I wish I could feel as you do."

"How's that?" the preacher asked.

"I'd like to know what being revered feels like," the coachman went on. "Would you consider exchanging your robes for my clothes — just for a day? I'd like to pretend to be you, just to know how this feels."

The Preacher of Dubno smiled, for he liked his coachman. The man was a cheerful and agreeable soul, and now the rabbi saw that he was also curious. Still, the rabbi was wise enough to know that such a ruse could cause some trouble. Perhaps the coachman was not quite as smart as he appeared.

"My friend," he said, "you know it is not clothes that make a man, and it is not my clothing that makes me a rabbi. What if someone were to ask you to explain a difficult passage in the law? You might make a fool of yourself, and others would believe the Preacher of Dubno was no longer helpful to them."

The coachman was no scholar like the preacher, but he was no fool, and so at last he convinced the wise man to exchange clothes with him.

The next morning when they rode into a village, all the people ran out to greet the great preacher. They hailed his entry into town, never knowing that the man they cheered was only a simple coachman. Then they led him to their synagogue, leaving the real preacher to follow with the horses and carriage.

Now every single resident of the village approached to shake hands with the wise man, and to say, as was the custom, "Shalom Aleichem, Rabbi."

The false rabbi was overjoyed and basked in their attention. Then he sat at a table surrounded by all the scholars and important people of the town. The real rabbi sat in a corner, carefully observing, hoping there would be no trouble.

"Rabbi," one of the wisest men of the village said, "I wish you would explain this passage in the Talmud that none of us can understand."

At this the true rabbi cringed. What would his imposter say? He feared they were about to be found out, and wondered how would he explain this to the scholars.

But the false rabbi, the coachman, did not flinch. Instead he furrowed his brow and looked into the sacred text before him. In truth, he could not even read, but he could pretend, and after a moment, he sat up straight and shook his head. "How could you ask such a question," he said, pretending to be surprised. "This passage is so obvious, even my coachman can explain it to you."

And so he called to the real Preacher of Dubno. "Driver," he said, "please come here for one moment and explain to these so-called wise men this simple law."

And so did the preacher of Dubno learn of the special wisdom of his coachman!