While Chelm is a real place, it is also the setting of a beloved form of Jewish folktales. Learn more about the origin of “Chelm stories” in the papercut video below. In a typical Chelm story, fools are faced with a difficult problem to solve, and then come up with an ingenious solution! Let’s see how the wise users of Chelm handle technology.
origins of the Wise Users of Chelm
Once upon a time, a very rich and very powerful man named Bissel Gaytes was flying around the world in a private jet. Now, everyone knew Bissel to be a philanthropist, even if he was the one who benefited the most from his generosity. No one saw a contradiction with this, because to make one person’s life better is still a mitzvah, nu, even if that person is you? As he was flying, his jet hit a cloud! This crash did not make a sound and no one was injured, but the reverberation was enough to open the hatch of the jet, and let down one hundred thousand laptops. The laptops rained down on Chelm like a swarm of locusts. This is how the Wise Users of Chelm first encountered technology.
Ziml the Sofer
Ziml is the sofer in the town of Chelm. He enters every piece of information into the holy town records. Every morning, he captures the time of the sunrise, the temperature, the dew, the humidity, the location of his slippers, whether the breeze ruffled his window curtains, the length of his nose hairs, and dines on exactly 60 groats of oats that were left soaking overnight. Then, he mounts his donkey and heads to the town center to hear the news, which of course, he records on a scroll and meticulously files in alphabetical order by Day of the Week.
This is the day that the laptops fell from the sky! Miraculously, none of them were damaged. The townspeople were very curious about these boxes that were making lots of lights and “beep beeps.” One thought they were miniature accordions! Along with the laptops, came a new townsman, Itzik Pinchas.
“What is your trade, Mr. Pinchas?” inquired Ziml, thinking that he better update the town registry as soon as possible, just after he weighs the ink in his pen, receives the official report on any deceased chickens from the previous night, and steeps his tea.
“Why, I am an Implementation Partner!” replied Itzik Pinchas. “I accidentally fell out of a jet plane and now I am here to make your systems better.”
“Wow,” though Ziml, thinking he had never heard of this profession before. “I wonder what is a system!”
The Wise Men of Chelm were in the town square, muttering and sputtering as they always do. Ziml made sure to record this in the log. He did not know that Itzik Pinchas was following him.
Over a warm plate of kasha varnishkes, Ziml and Itzik got to know each other. They found out that they had so much in common! They both loved keeping track of obscure information, and were relied upon to do so. So imagine Ziml’s surprise when Itzik opened his accordion box (which lit up with the brightest light Ziml had ever seen, much brighter than the ne’er tamid in the shul), and showed him a two-dimensional scroll with the serial number and birthday of every other accordion box in the collection.
Ziml was mildly worried about sorcery at this point, but he decided to keep his concerns from the Wise Men of Chelm or else nothing would ever change. Ziml secretly hoped that the “inter-net” could help the townspeople catch more herring, and he wanted nothing to jeopardize that.
Very soon, Ziml learned all of the ins and outs of the accordion box, which he had begun to call a “laptop.” What a novel invention! Using his laptop, he was able to generate a list of all of the data that he needed to collect for the day. Beginning with the sunrise, the temperature, the dew, etc…
Now, every day, Ziml would consult his laptop and then he would go about the town, fulfilling his scribal duties. In the afternoon, he visited the courts to update the Disputes Log. These accounts are stored in a giant book that requires 4 children to hold the corners of the page and run about 100 meters each time it must be turned. When he completed his entry, he would dutifully check off the step on his laptop. Then, he would move on to his agricultural data collection.
In this way, Ziml never forgot which data he was supposed to keep track of! The information about each topic (from his nose hairs to the town population to the dispute log) resided each in their own location. However, he could manage each of those locations on his special, new computer. AHHHH, isn’t technology wonderful?
Yossi and the Portal
Well, the whole town of Chelm gathered to say goodbye to Boris, who was going on a shpatzir to Ostropol. Many tears were shed; men, women, and nonbinary townspeople waved their hats, bubushkas, and kitchen towels. Goodbye, Boris.
The next day, Yossi the Shoemaker realized that someone from Chelm was required to login to the Portal of Bissel Gaytes to provide an update on how the Chelmers were using the laptops that fell from the sky. While this was a little bit unorthodox (since the Chelmers did not ask for the laptops), after 18 days of deliberation, the Wise Men decided that they would sign a contract after the fact. In fact, this gave much benefit to Bissel Gaytes who could claim the mistake as a tax write off and no benefit at all to the Chelmers, who already had the laptops and now were required to write a Grant Report. However, this was the situation that they were in. Plus, Boris was the person who had the login info for the Portal… and he was off to Ostropol.
So, Yossi convened the Wise Men. They mumbled and grumbled… they sputtered and muttered… 86 hours went by … until…
“Aha!” shouted Berel. “We will GUESS the password!”
With men as wise as these, it was not difficult for them to come up with the password. In fact, the first passcode they tried was correct. “Bless you, Hashem,” they praised! “For You have planted our minds with the password, “Ch31_M123!”” They were particularly pleased with the 1 + underscore combo. Only someone as brilliant as Boris, and as clairvoyant as the Wise Men, could have guessed this very tricky cipher.
Alas, Bissel Gaytes was aware that this could happen, and he wanted his Portal to meet the utmost security standards. The Wise Men were devastated when Yossi told them that the Portal required “Multi Factor Authentication” and of course, the code went to Boris, and he was nowhere to be found.
This week, the Chelmers were reading the parsha Ki Tissa, in which Moishe receives the tablets from the Holy One. After a bout of rigorous davenning, no less in the middle of Shabbat shacharit, Shlomo the Wise Man shouted out that he must check Boris’ tablet to see if there was a code. He was very pleased with himself, because this was an example of Torat chayim (living Torah). Shlomo was a very holy, not to mention wise, man.
Yossi was delighted when the code stored on Boris’ tablet (which also fell from the sky, and was found under his pillow) granted him access to the Bissel Gaytes Portal. Now, he could finally submit his Grant Report!
As soon as he logged in, he got right to work. He explained all of the good things the Chelmers had done with their new technology. For example, all of the carpenters were now filling their days playing Shtetlcraft. All of the bakers were upping their sourdough game. And all of the yentas were on a new social media platform called L$HN. After about 33 hours of being distracted, he returned his attention to the Bissel Gaytes Portal.
Much to Yossi’s surprise, right there in the top portion of the Portal screen was the name Boris AND A LITTLE PICTURE OF BORIS’ PUNIM. Yossi looked down at his hands, where a small wart reassured him that they were, indeed, his hands. In his screen reflection, he saw the glare of his wireframe glasses, that were, indeed, his glasses. If he was Yossi, and he was pretty sure he was, then how could the Portal say Boris??? This was very disconcerting; it had to be rectified immediately!
So Yossi navigated to the tab of the Grant Report where he could update the list of Chelmers who were associated with the grant for the laptops that fell from the sky. He found the little checkbox next to Boris’ name that said, “This person no longer lives in Chelm.” Gently wiping a tear and heaving a sigh, Yossi checked the box. He sure missed Boris!
Suddenly, Yossi’s Portal screen went blank. How could this be?
He typed in the password, summoned the Tablet, and even muttered a little prayer. Now he would never meet his Grant Report deadline. Why was Boris lurking in the Portal? Yossi thought that he had moved to Ostropol. Was he secretly inside of the laptop?
In a fit of rage and agony, Yossi went to find the Wise Men. After 62 hours of discussion, it was determined that the best course of action was to submit a Support Ticket to the keepers of the Bissel Gates Portal. So off went the Ticket into the ether, then the ethernet, then more ether, then the Support Inbox. Much to Yossi’s surprise, they wrote back immediately. Can you guess what they said?
The Angels who staffed the Supportal were very understanding and said this happens all the time, and they have been waiting for the Developers to fix it. Yossi thought this was a very strange metaphor for G!d. He as more familiar with phrases like “The Omnipresent” or “The Sovereign.” These Bissel Gaytes crew seem to make his world turn upside down. Nonetheless, they created a new Portal Account for Yossi, with his own password (!), that he could use to complete the Grant Report.
Poor Yossi was so verklempt after all of this mishegas that he decided he was done with the Portal, done with the grant, done with technology, and done with Chelm. He didn’t even submit the report. Instead, he packed his very simple possessions, including a fresh batch of borekas, the lovely smell wafting down the block, and set out down the road that leads to Ostropol. The Chelmers never saw him again.