The Two Innkeepers
On the first night, the minister and his entourage arrived at a small country inn. The innkeeper, keenly aware of his guests' importance, spared no expense. The finest room? Naturally. A view that would have any poet scrambling for his pen? Without question. A feast? He laid out a spread fit for a royal court.
The next morning, the innkeeper presented the bill. The minister paid it, barely glancing up, and moved on. He never gave the innkeeper another thought.
The following evening, the minister arrived at a second inn—a humble establishment owned by an unpretentious man named Jake. Like the first innkeeper, Jake provided the best of what he had—the finest room, the finest food, and every comfort he could offer.
But there was one crucial difference. Jake was not merely serving an important guest; he was honored by the minister’s presence. It was a major event in his modest life, and he took it to heart. He went to great lengths to ensure his guest’s comfort, not out of duty, but out of pleasure. Charging for such an experience? The thought never even occurred to him.
When the minister inquired the next morning what he owed, Jake smiled warmly. “Sir, it was my great privilege to have you stay at my inn. There’s no charge. You honored me just by coming—that is more than enough.”
The minister, who had seen his fair share of flattering hotel managers and fawning servants, was deeply touched by this sincere gesture. Filled with affection for this simple man, he presented him with a valuable gift, worth many times more than the cost of his stay. More than that, he kept in touch with the innkeeper for years, a bond formed by kindness freely given.
Ephron's Missing Letter
When Abraham sought a burial place for Sarah, he turned to Ephron the Hittite, a landowner in Hebron. Ephron owned the field containing the Machpelah cave, which would become the resting place of the patriarchs and matriarchs of Israel. This was no ordinary plot of land.
The Torah describes their negotiations with subtlety and precision. Abraham wished to purchase the cave at full price. Ephron—at least in words—offered it as a gift. Yet when the moment arrived, Ephron readily took the payment in full: 400 silver shekels.
And then, the Torah does something remarkable. Ephron’s name appears eight times in this passage. Seven times, it’s written in full, with all its letters intact. But the eighth time, when Ephron accepts the payment, his name is missing a letter: the Vav is gone.
The Sages saw in this a profound truth: “A selfish person is overeager for wealth and does not know that it will be his loss” (Proverbs 28:22). Who was this selfish person who chased after money but lost something far greater?
This, the Sages taught, refers to Ephron. And what was the loss that he failed to foresee? That the Torah would write his name without the letter Vav.
Does it matter how Ephron’s name is spelled? What is the significance of a missing letter?
Missed Opportunity
There are those who serve God with an eye on the reward. They do what is required, fulfill their obligations, and in return, they receive what they expect—no less, but also no more. Like the first innkeeper, they offer service as a transaction.
And then there are those who see mitzvot not as duties, but as privileges. They do not ask, What will I get? but rather, What more can I give? They rejoice in the chance to serve, knowing that the true reward of a mitzvah is the connection it creates—with God, with the Jewish people, with eternal values.
Ephron had a choice. He could have given freely, transforming a simple transaction into an act of generosity that would have echoed through history. Instead, he took the money. He got his price, but he lost something immeasurable: God’s eternal favor.
The Torah records Ephron’s name eight times, but the final instance is marked by the missing letter. He gained silver, but he lost something far greater: the chance to become part of a far greater story.
The Torah is precise; each letter counts. When we give, we gain. When we withhold, we lose.
(Adapted from Mishlei Yaakov, pp. 41-43.)
