תָּנוּ רַבָּנַן: לְעוֹלָם יְהֵא אָדָם רַךְ כְּקָנֶה וְאַל יְהֵא קָשֶׁה כְּאֶרֶז. מַעֲשֶׂה שֶׁבָּא רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר בְּרַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן מִמִּגְדַּל גְּדוֹר מִבֵּית רַבּוֹ, וְהָיָה רָכוּב עַל חֲמוֹר וּמְטַיֵּיל עַל שְׂפַת נָהָר, וְשָׂמֵחַ שִׂמְחָה גְּדוֹלָה. וְהָיְתָה דַּעְתּוֹ גַּסָּה עָלָיו מִפְּנֵי שֶׁלָּמַד תּוֹרָה הַרְבֵּה. נִזְדַּמֵּן לוֹ אָדָם אֶחָד שֶׁהָיָה מְכוֹעָר בְּיוֹתֵר. אָמַר לוֹ: שָׁלוֹם עָלֶיךָ רַבִּי! וְלֹא הֶחְזִיר לוֹ. אָמַר לוֹ: רֵיקָה, כַּמָּה מְכוֹעָר אוֹתוֹ הָאִישׁ! שֶׁמָּא כׇּל בְּנֵי עִירֶךָ מְכוֹעָרִין כְּמוֹתְךָ? אָמַר לוֹ: אֵינִי יוֹדֵעַ, אֶלָּא לֵךְ וֶאֱמוֹר לָאוּמָּן שֶׁעֲשָׂאַנִי: ״כַּמָּה מְכוֹעָר כְּלִי זֶה שֶׁעָשִׂיתָ״. כֵּיוָן שֶׁיָּדַע בְּעַצְמוֹ שֶׁחָטָא, יָרַד מִן הַחֲמוֹר וְנִשְׁתַּטַּח לְפָנָיו, וְאָמַר לוֹ: נַעֲנֵיתִי לְךָ, מְחוֹל לִי! אָמַר לוֹ: אֵינִי מוֹחֵל לְךָ עַד שֶׁתֵּלֵךְ לָאוּמָּן שֶׁעֲשָׂאַנִי וֶאֱמוֹר לוֹ: כַּמָּה מְכוֹעָר כְּלִי זֶה שֶׁעָשִׂיתָ. הָיָה מְטַיֵּיל אַחֲרָיו עַד שֶׁהִגִּיעַ לְעִירוֹ. יָצְאוּ בְּנֵי עִירוֹ לִקְרָאתוֹ, וְהָיוּ אוֹמְרִים לוֹ: שָׁלוֹם עָלֶיךָ רַבִּי רַבִּי, מוֹרִי מוֹרִי! אָמַר לָהֶם: לְמִי אַתֶּם קוֹרִין רַבִּי רַבִּי? אָמְרוּ לוֹ: לְזֶה שֶׁמְּטַיֵּיל אַחֲרֶיךָ. אָמַר לָהֶם: אִם זֶה רַבִּי — אַל יִרְבּוּ כְּמוֹתוֹ בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל. אָמְרוּ לוֹ: מִפְּנֵי מָה? אָמַר לָהֶם: כָּךְ וְכָךְ עָשָׂה לִי. אָמְרוּ לוֹ: אַף עַל פִּי כֵּן, מְחוֹל לוֹ, שֶׁאָדָם גָּדוֹל בְּתוֹרָה הוּא. אָמַר לָהֶם: בִּשְׁבִילְכֶם הֲרֵינִי מוֹחֵל לוֹ, וּבִלְבַד שֶׁלֹּא יְהֵא רָגִיל לַעֲשׂוֹת כֵּן. מִיָּד נִכְנַס רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר בְּרַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן, וְדָרַשׁ: לְעוֹלָם יְהֵא אָדָם רַךְ כְּקָנֶה וְאַל יְהֵא קָשֶׁה כְּאֶרֶז. וּלְפִיכָךְ זָכָה קָנֶה לִיטּוֹל הֵימֶנּוּ קוּלְמוֹס לִכְתּוֹב בּוֹ סֵפֶר תּוֹרָה תְּפִילִּין וּמְזוּזוֹת.
The Sages further taught in praise of the reed: A person should always be soft like a reed, and he should not be stiff like a cedar. An incident occurred in which Rabbi Elazar, son of Rabbi Shimon, came from Migdal Gedor, from his rabbi’s house, and he was riding on a donkey and strolling on the bank of the river. And he was very happy, and his head was swollen with pride because he had studied much Torah. He happened upon an exceedingly ugly person, who said to him: Greetings to you, my rabbi, but Rabbi Elazar did not return his greeting. Instead, Rabbi Elazar said to him: Worthless [reika] person, how ugly is that man. Are all the people of your city as ugly as you? The man said to him: I do not know, but you should go and say to the Craftsman Who made me: How ugly is the vessel you made. When Rabbi Elazar realized that he had sinned and insulted this man merely on account of his appearance, he descended from his donkey and prostrated himself before him, and he said to the man: I have sinned against you; forgive me. The man said to him: I will not forgive you go until you go to the Craftsman Who made me and say: How ugly is the vessel you made. He walked behind the man, trying to appease him, until they reached Rabbi Elazar’s city. The people of his city came out to greet him, saying to him: Greetings to you, my rabbi, my rabbi, my master, my master. The man said to them: Who are you calling my rabbi, my rabbi? They said to him: To this man, who is walking behind you. He said to them: If this man is a rabbi, may there not be many like him among the Jewish people. They asked him: For what reason do you say this? He said to them: He did such and such to me. They said to him: Even so, forgive him, as he is a great Torah scholar. He said to them: For your sakes I forgive him, provided that he accepts upon himself not to become accustomed to behave like this. Immediately, Rabbi Elazar, son of Rabbi Shimon, entered the study hall and taught: A person should always be soft like a reed and he should not be stiff like a cedar, as one who is proud like a cedar is likely to sin. And therefore, due to its gentle qualities, the reed merited that a quill is taken from it to write with it a Torah scroll, phylacteries, and mezuzot.
אָמַר רַבִּי יוֹחָנָן: כׇּל יָמָיו שֶׁל אוֹתוֹ צַדִּיק, הָיָה מִצְטַעֵר עַל מִקְרָא זֶה: ״שִׁיר הַמַּעֲלוֹת בְּשׁוּב ה׳ אֶת שִׁיבַת צִיּוֹן הָיִינוּ כְּחֹלְמִים״, אָמַר: מִי אִיכָּא דְּנָיֵים שִׁבְעִין שְׁנִין בְּחֶלְמָא? יוֹמָא חַד הֲוָה אָזֵל בְּאוֹרְחָא, חַזְיֵיהּ לְהָהוּא גַּבְרָא דַּהֲוָה נָטַע חָרוּבָא, אֲמַר לֵיהּ: הַאי, עַד כַּמָּה שְׁנִין טָעֵין? אֲמַר לֵיהּ: עַד שִׁבְעִין שְׁנִין. אֲמַר לֵיהּ: פְּשִׁיטָא לָךְ דְּחָיֵית שִׁבְעִין שְׁנִין? אֲמַר לֵיהּ הַאי גַּבְרָא: עָלְמָא בְּחָרוּבָא אַשְׁכַּחְתֵּיהּ. כִּי הֵיכִי דִּשְׁתַלוּ לִי אֲבָהָתִי — שְׁתַלִי נָמֵי לִבְרָאִי. יָתֵיב, קָא כָּרֵיךְ רִיפְתָּא, אֲתַאי לֵיהּ שִׁינְתָּא, נִים. אַהְדַּרָא לֵיהּ מְשּׁוּנִּיתָא, אִיכַּסִּי מֵעֵינָא, וְנִים שִׁבְעִין שְׁנִין. כִּי קָם, חַזְיֵיהּ לְהָהוּא גַּבְרָא דְּהוּא קָא מְלַקֵּט מִינַּיְיהוּ, אָמַר לֵיהּ: אַתְּ הוּא דִּשְׁתַלְתֵּיהּ? אֲמַר לֵיהּ: בַּר בְּרֵיהּ אֲנָא. אֲמַר לֵיהּ: שְׁמַע מִינַּהּ דִּנְיַימִי שִׁבְעִין שְׁנִין. חֲזָא לַחֲמָרְ[תֵּ]יהּ דְּאִתְיְילִידָא לַיהּ רַמְכֵי רַמְכֵי. אֲזַל לְבֵיתֵיהּ אֲמַר לְהוּ: בְּרֵיהּ דְּחוֹנִי הַמְעַגֵּל מִי קַיָּים? אֲמַרוּ לֵיהּ: בְּרֵיהּ לֵיתֵאּ, בַּר בְּרֵיהּ אִיתֵאּ. אֲמַר לְהוּ: אֲנָא חוֹנִי הַמְעַגֵּל. לָא הֵימְנוּהוּ. אֲזַל לְבֵית הַמִּדְרָשׁ, שַׁמְעִינְהוּ לְרַבָּנַן דְּקָאָמְרִי: נְהִירָן שְׁמַעְתָּתִין כְּבִשְׁנֵי חוֹנִי הַמְעַגֵּל, דְּכִי הָוֵי עָיֵיל לְבֵית מִדְרְשָׁא — כֹּל קוּשְׁיָא דַּהֲווֹ לְהוּ לְרַבָּנַן הֲוָה מְפָרֵק לְהוּ. אָמַר לְהוּ: אֲנָא נִיהוּ, וְלָא הֵימְנוּהוּ, וְלָא עָבְדִי לֵיהּ יְקָרָא כִּדְמִבְּעֵי לֵיהּ. חֲלַשׁ דַּעְתֵּיהּ, בְּעָא רַחֲמֵי, וּמִית. אָמַר רָבָא: הַיְינוּ דְּאָמְרִי אִינָשֵׁי: אוֹ חַבְרוּתָא אוֹ מִיתוּתָא.
§ The Gemara relates another story about Ḥoni HaMe’aggel. Rabbi Yoḥanan said: All the days of the life of that righteous man, Ḥoni, he was distressed over the meaning of this verse: “A song of Ascents: When the Lord brought back those who returned to Zion, we were like those who dream” (Psalms 126:1). He said to himself: Is there really a person who can sleep and dream for seventy years? How is it possible to compare the seventy-year exile in Babylonia to a dream? One day, he was walking along the road when he saw a certain man planting a carob tree. Ḥoni said to him: This tree, after how many years will it bear fruit? The man said to him: It will not produce fruit until seventy years have passed. Ḥoni said to him: Is it obvious to you that you will live seventy years, that you expect to benefit from this tree? He said to him: That man himself found a world full of carob trees. Just as my ancestors planted for me, I too am planting for my descendants. Ḥoni sat and ate bread. Sleep overcame him and he slept. A cliff formed around him, and he disappeared from sight and slept for seventy years. When he awoke, he saw a certain man gathering carobs from that tree. Ḥoni said to him: Are you the one who planted this tree? The man said to him: I am his son’s son. Ḥoni said to him: I can learn from this that I have slept for seventy years, and indeed he saw that his donkey had sired several herds during those many years. Ḥoni went home and said to the members of the household: Is the son of Ḥoni HaMe’aggel alive? They said to him: His son is no longer with us, but his son’s son is alive. He said to them: I am Ḥoni HaMe’aggel. They did not believe him. He went to the study hall, where he heard the Sages say about one scholar: His halakhot are as enlightening and as clear as in the years of Ḥoni HaMe’aggel, for when Ḥoni HaMe’aggel would enter the study hall he would resolve for the Sages any difficulty they had. Ḥoni said to them: I am he, but they did not believe him and did not pay him proper respect. Ḥoni became very upset, prayed for mercy, and died. Rava said: This explains the folk saying that people say: Either friendship or death, as one who has no friends is better off dead.