Once upon a time, back in the old country, there was a woman named Leah. She was the Rebbetzin — the Rabbi’s wife.She was the envy of the other women in the village: she had a girl who came in every day to help; real silver candlesticks for Shabbat; she had pretty clothes; her children were the smartest and best behaved. And of course she was married to the rabbi.

The other women in the village did different things to help their families. None was very happy with their lot. Every day, it seemed, one would come to the Rebbetzin to talk, to complain, to seek answers. Monday, Mrs. Frankel came. She was the pharmacist’s wife and ran the shop where her husband worked. She also cared for her five children and was getting ready for her daughter Malka’s wedding in the summer. She was very busy and very tired. The widow Jarkow still had three young boys at home. She came on Tuesday after she sent them off to school, on her way to pick up the laundry from other villagers that she took in to clean and mend. She had a garden, which helped her to feed her growing boys, but she often had to rely on the generosity of others. It hurt her to ask for help, and sometimes she missed her husband so much she didn’t know how she could go on. Wednesday was market day, and no one came to visit: they were all buying and selling and bartering. But on Thursday the Rabbi’s wife dropped in on Old Mrs. Levin. She had long since raised her children, seeing her three girls off into marriage and her son go to study with a Rebbe in the city. She relied on her daughters to help her through her life — ensuring there was food, clothing, fuel for her fire. She was lonely, but for a cat and the couple of chickens and geese she kept. She wondered what was left for her in life. Friday, everyone was busy getting ready for the Sabbath, and on Saturday there was prayer, and food, and rest. Other women came other days, all with their problems, their sorrows, all carrying their piece of jealousy, begrudging the Rebbetzin what she had, what they thought she had. They didn’t know how hard she had to work, that along with caring for her own children, she had to ensure that the poor children of the village could go to school; that they had clothes and food. She had to entertain every visitor and ensure a full and lavish table. She could not run out to the store without hat and gloves. She could not be seen in tears, she could not raise her voice. No matter her intelligence, her independent nature, the Rabbi’s wife had to maintain her demure, smiling silence. It was a man’s world, even if she — like every other woman in the village — had to carry a heavy burden to ensure it was maintained to the satisfaction of men.

One Sunday, the Rabbi’s wife went to every woman in the village. At each house, she said the following: Come to my house tomorrow. I want you to bring all your troubles. Wrap them up and bring them to my house and I’ll take care of them for you.

The next morning, a line of women could be seen walking to the big beautiful house that belonged to the Rabbi’s family. Every woman had a different package or bundle with her. Some were wrapped in cloth, other women carried boxes or bags. Some were neatly wrapped, while others simply grabbed their load of troubles and left the house.

In her large drawing room, the Rabbi’s wife told the women: “I know you all have your troubles, and that they sometimes seem more than you can handle. I know that you look at your neighbors and think that they don’t have half the problems you have. I asked you to wrap up your troubles and bring them here today so that you could be rid of them. In their stead, you must take someone else’s package of problems. I have even wrapped up my troubles.” Here she indicated a tiny little box, prettily wrapped and topped with a bow.

The women were silent, but thrilled. They wandered among the packages. Periodically, one would try to lift a bundle, only to find it was to heavy to bear. Mrs. Levyn went immediately for the smallest box, the Rebbetzin’s, only to find she couldn’t raise it from the table where it sat. Mrs. Frankel tried to swap with the doctor’s wife, Mrs. Pinsky, but Mrs. Pinsky strained her back trying to lift the sack Mrs. Frankel brought. By the time an hour had passed, everyone had tried everyone else’s batch problems. Everyone but the Rebbetzin, who sat and watched it all, not bothering to check out the other parcels.

Eventually, the women all sat down, quietly chatting. They sipped the tea and ate the cookies that the Rabbi’s wife had prepared. Another hour passed and the women slowly began to get up. As they rose, they reached for their own package, marveling as they took them how light they were. They paid their respects to the Rebbetzin, thanked her, and all returned to their homes, a little happier, a little lighter in step.