Meyer, a lonely widower, was walking home one day. He was wishing something wonderful would happen to his life when he passed a pet store and heard a squawking voice shouting out in Yiddish: “Quawwwwk…vus macht du…!”
Meyer rubbed his eyes and ears. He couldn’t believe it! Meyer stood in front of an African Grey that cocked his little head and said: “Vus? Kenst reddin Yiddish?”
In a matter of moments, Meyer purchased the bird and carried the parrot home. All night long he talked with the parrot…in Yiddish. The parrot listened while sharing some walnuts.
The next morning, Meyer began saying his prayers. The parrot wanted to pray, too. Meyer hand made a miniature yamulke for the parrot. The parrot also wanted to read Hebrew, so Meyer spent months teaching him the Torah.
On Rosh Hashanah, Meyer rose, got dressed, and was about to leave when the parrot demanded to go with him. Meyer explained that a synagogue was not a place for a bird, but the parrot pleaded and was carried to the synagogue on Meyer’s shoulder.
Meyer was questioned by everyone, including the rabbi. At first, the rabbi refused to allow a bird into the building on the High Holy Days, but Meyer convinced him that the parrot could pray. Wagers were made on whether the parrot could speak Yiddish or not.
All eyes were on the two of them during services. The parrot was still perched on Meyer’s shoulder as one prayer and song passed…but the parrot didn’t say a word. Annoyed, Meyer said “Pray, parrot! You can pray…do it now while everybody’s looking at you!” The parrot said nothing.
After services were over, Meyer realized he owed the synagogue over four thousand dollars. He marched home, saying nothing. Finally, several blocks from the temple, the bird began to sing an old Yiddish song.
Meyer stopped and looked at him. “You miserable bird…you cost me over four thousand dollars today. Why? After I taught you the morning prayers, taught you to read Hebrew and the Torah. And, after you begged me to bring you to a synagogue on Rosh Hashanah…Why did you do this to me?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” the parrot replied. “Think of the odds we’ll get on Yom Kippur!”
On the morning of Rosh Hashanah as the congregation was filing into the Synagogue, Rabbi Liebenberg noticed little Max standing in the foyer of the Synagogue staring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names with small flags mounted on either side of it. The six-year-old had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the rabbi walked up, stood beside the little boy, and said quietly, ‘Boker Tov, Max. ‘Boker Tov, Rabbi Liebenberg,’ he replied, still focused on the plaque. ‘ Rabbi Liebenberg, what is this?’ he said, pointing to the plaque.