xaxam | Good joke I've never heard before

The governor of a 19th-century Polish village is prevailed upon by a learned non-Jewish cleric to humiliate the town's Jewish populace by issuing it a challenge: "Have your greatest scholar meet me on the bridge over the raging river tomorrow at noon. Each of us will have a heavy weight tied to his foot, and the first one stumped by a question about the Torah, Talmud or commentaries will be cast by the other into the waters."

The members of the Jewish community, in no position to refuse the ultimatum, anxiously huddle. "Whom can we send?" they ask. "Who can be assured of being able to answer any question the priest may pose?" "Who could possibly stump the non-Jew?" None of those present offers their services.

Until, that is, Shmiel the shneider (tailor) confidently steps forward to volunteer. Known as a decidedly unscholarly fellow, he would not have been anyone's first, or 81st, choice. But he insists he can better the challenger and, well, he's the only candidate.

And so, at the appointed time, Shmiel and his opponent take their positions on the bridge, ball and chain attached to each man's foot, a crowd of supporters on each of the river's banks.

Surveying the tailor, the non-Jew smiles benevolently and offers Shmiel the first shot. The Jew does not hesitate. "What does eini yode'a mean?" he asks loudly.

The cleric, not even pausing to think, shouts out his entirely accurate answer: "I do not know!" The crowd gasps at the response and Shmiel, beaming triumphantly toward the townsfolk, unceremoniously pushes his momentarily confused opponent off the bridge, into the raging waters. The crowds disperse, one jubilant, the other perplexed.

Back at the shtetl town hall, Shmiel is roundly congratulated for his ploy. "How did you come up with so brilliant an idea?" they ask. Radiating modesty, Shmiel responds that it wasn't hard at all. "I was reading the teitch (the popular Yiddish translation of the great scholar Rashi's commentary on the Torah)," he explains, "and I saw the words eini yode'a in Rashi's
commentary. I didn't know what the phrase meant, and so I looked at the teitch and saw, in Yiddish, the words 'I don't know'. So I figured," Shmiel said, his face aglow with wisdom, "if the holy teitch didn't know what the words meant, there was no way on earth some priest would!"