There was once a very rich and very stingy couple who lived in a small village in Eastern Europe. They observed every mitzvah of the Torah but, oddly enough, their "piety" did little to improve their characters. In fact, it had just the opposite effect on them. They were so sure they were doing everything right (after all, didn't they have the monetary reward to prove it?) that they added the sin of arrogance to their sin of being close-fisted.

Word of this couple's behavior reached Reb Shmuel Munkis, who was a follower of Reb Shneur Zalman, an early Chassidic rebbe and the founder of Chabad. Reb Shmuel had pity on the poor, misguided couple and he decided to teach them a lesson that would help them mend their ways.

The chassid arrived in the couple's village shortly after the end of the last Shabbat in Elul - the night when Ashkenazi Jews begin to recite prayers of forgiveness called Selichot in preparation for the holiday of Rosh Hashanah.

Reb Shmuel went straight to the couple's door and asked if he could stay with them for a few days. The chassid had taken the precaution of dressing in his finest clothes, which was a good thing because the couple eyed the stranger with a critical eye.

"You must let me stay with you," Reb Shmuel regally commanded. "I am a learned man and I cannot bear to mingle with the common people. I was advised that only you would be worthy of appreciating my distinguished company."

The couple was sufficiently flattered by the chassid's words to invite Reb Shmuel into their home. They very much wanted to show honor to their distinguished guest and prepare him a meal, but Reb Shmuel refused their offer.

"I am weary from my journey," he said to them. "My only wish is to rest undisturbed, so please show me to my room."

The couple hurried to escort the great man to his room and Reb Shmuel pretended to go to sleep.

A few hours passed and midnight was now approaching - and with it the hour to go to synagogue and recite the Selichot prayers. The couple tiptoed to the door where their distinguished visitor was "sleeping." Since not a sound could be heard inside the room, the husband softly knocked on the door.

"Don't bother me!" Reb Shmuel roared. "Didn't I tell you I wanted to sleep?"

"But, Rabbi," the wife timidly replied, "it's almost time to go to synagogue. Surely you don't want to sleep through Selichot."

"Selichot? What are Selichot?" Reb Shmuel roared once more. "I told you I want to sleep. Don't bother me again with your nonsense."

The couple was aghast at their visitor's words.

"What kind of Rabbi are you?' the woman yelled out, totally forgetting her previous awe. "Even the simplest Jew in town could tell you about Selichot. You ought to be ashamed of your ignorance."

Reb Shmuel opened the door to his bedroom and stood in front of the surprised couple.

"Oh really," he said to them. "Perhaps, then, you can tell me what this Selichot business is all about."

"I would be happy to," the man said indignantly. "Selichot are prayers we say to God because we want to have a good year. We ask Him to make our cows give lots of milk and make sure our chickens will lay lots of eggs so we can have lots of money."

"What?" Reb Shmuel yelled out so loudly that both the man and his wife jumped backwards in fright. "You mean to say that grown adults get up at midnight to ask the King of the Universe for milk and eggs? I've never heard of anything so ridiculous in my life."

The couple suddenly realized that their distinguished visitor was right. Surely there must be more to Selichot and Rosh Hashanah than asking God to give them what they want.

That Selichot night they actually paid attention to the words of the prayers and when they did so they realized that they had much to ask forgiveness for. They returned home with contrite hearts and humbly asked their visitor to show them how to become servants of God. Reb Shmuel, of course, was more than happy to show them the way.