The Jewish tradition abounds with stories about the wondrous powers of giving tzedakah. In fact, our Sages say that tzedakah gives more to the giver than the recipient! It should therefore come as no surprise that throughout the ages Jews both simple and illustrious have tried to always fulfill their charitable obligations - even when times are rough.

Although Jewish law asks that a person give at least 10 percent of his or her earnings to charity, the law also sets an upper limit as to how much a person should give since no one is supposed to become impoverished in the pursuit of tzedakah. However, if you happen to be a great tzaddik (righteous person) like Reb Meir of Premishlan (1780 [?] - 1850) then you are obviously allowed to stretch the rules, as the following story shows.

When Reb Meir was a young man - and before he became renowned as a Chassidic Rebbe - he was so poor that his entire livelihood came from just one milch cow. But despite his meager earnings, he and his wife always managed to put a little money aside. This money was used to buy meat that was distributed to the poor every week, in honor of Shabbat.

One week it was already Wednesday and Reb Meir still didn't have a single coin in his pocket.

It was inconceivable to the tzaddik that a week should pass by without him performing his unique means of giving tzedakah. He therefore took a seat next to his cow to ponder the situation. Yet no matter how hard he tried to think up some way to raise the necessary money, the answer kept eluding him.

His concentration was suddenly interrupted by the loud mooing of his cow - and at that moment the solution to his problem dawned on him.

That night, after his wife had already gone to sleep, Reb Meir led his cow to the shochet (ritual slaughter). Reb Meir joyfully took the meat from his own cow and distributed it to all the poor folk of the town.

In the morning, his wife went out to milk the cow - but it was nowhere to be found. When her frantic searches failed to turn up the missing cow, she ran to tell her husband the dreadful news.

"The cow is lost!" the sobbing woman exclaimed.

"No, my dear," Reb Meir reassured her. "The cow isn't lost. It has ascended to heaven."

Although we are not excepted to sell the cow - or house and home - to fulfill our tzedakah obligations, we can learn a simple but profound lesson from Reb Meir. The money we give to tzedakah is never lost. Even as the coins drop down into this tzedakah box, they are ascending upward to heaven.