The Doctor and the Baker
A young doctor, fresh out of medical school, set out to find the perfect town to start his practice. A small, bustling community seemed ideal—somewhere people needed a doctor.
Along the way, he met another young man—a baker, recently trained at a top culinary school, eager to open his own bakery. They struck up a conversation and soon realized they were in the same boat, both searching for the right place to launch their careers.
“Why not look together?” the doctor suggested. “After all, ‘Two are better than one’ (Ecclesiastes 4:12), right?”
The baker shook his head. “Listen, you seem like a good guy, but we’re after opposite things. You need a town with plenty of sick people—somewhere people need a doctor. Me? I need a place where folks are healthy and hungry. I’m selling cakes, not cough syrup. So, better we go our separate ways.”
Wine and the Temple
When God commanded Aaron, He was very clear: “When you enter the Communion Tent, neither you nor your descendants may drink wine or any other intoxicant” (Lev. 10:9).
It’s not an intuitive command. Why are the priests forbidden from drinking wine when serving in the Temple? Isn’t it, after all, a symbol of joy?
The answer lies in what each represents: the Temple and wine. The Temple is a place of holiness, clarity, and elevation—a sanctuary where the soul awakens to its highest calling.
Wine, on the other hand, does the opposite. It dulls the senses and clouds the mind. It is used to console mourners and numb the sting of sorrow.
The Temple calls for mindfulness, for a focused spirit, for the full awakening of the soul. Wine, in contrast, clouds those very things. Like the young doctor and baker, they serve very different functions. One demands precision, the other offers release.
And so, just as the doctor needs a city with patients to heal, and the baker a town where people are healthy and hungry, the Temple and wine must remain apart. Each has its place—just not together.
(Adapted from Mishlei Yaakov, pp. 217-218)