Once, there was a rabbi who devised a way to create for himself a helper to accomplish daily chores. Just as God had created Adam out of the soil and led to the existence of the rabbi, so did the rabbi create the Golem out of clay. He was enormous, towering over the rabbi with immense height, and in possession of the strength of many men.

His intention was for the Golem to aid him in moving items around the synagogue, performing strenuous tasks that took a toll on the rabbi. In the morning, the rabbi woke up and went up to the attic to turn on the Golem for his daily tasks. The rabbi was free to spend his day immersed in prayer and other activities while the Golem performed his mindless work throughout the day. When the sun went down, the rabbi went back up to the attic with the Golem, sat him down, and turned him off for the night.

This schedule went on for a long time, with the rabbi thoroughly enjoying his newfound time away from the menial labors of his usual days. The golem was clumsy at times, and his strength was too great, causing distress to his workplace at times. The rabbi knew that he must keep the Golem away from others, for the risk of danger would be too great. He was successful, always herding the Golem up to the attic every night, and peacefully switching him off, leaving the Golem at peace after his work.

One terrible Friday as the rabbi prepared to go to bed, he realized in horror that he had forgotten to turn off the Golem. He was too far away to go now before the Sabbath arrived, and was caught in a terrible dilemma. He knew the golem would cause destruction for the entire weekend if left alone and awake, but he could not break the Sabbath to turn off his creation. Eventually, the rabbi decided to wait out the Sabbath without going back for the Golem; he would give his creation its first taste of freedom.

When the rabbi returned to the attic, he found the room in ruins. He followed a path of destruction down and out of the synagogue and into the streets, hearing screams for help and avoiding ruined houses in search. Many people had crossed the path of the Golem during the Sabbath, and some had suffered gruesome fates. The Golem did not understand its own strength, nor did it feel any emotion towards the humans it encountered. It had merely wandered and explored like a child in a park, mindlessly picking up, throwing, and crushing anything it saw fit.

The rabbi was distraught, and found the Golem alone by a river. He coerced his creation back to the attic under the cover of darkness, away from any of the townspeople calling for justice against the culprit. The rabbi destroyed the Golem alone, and scattered the clay through the attic, the attic of the very building you see in the above picture. He had learned his lesson, never to attempt an act of God. The rabbi had undertaken the task of creation in order to make a more perfect automaton, and now his creation had backfired in punishment.

It is believed that the remains of the Golem still reside in the old attic, that the dust on the floorboards still contains the clay that was the rabbi’s creation. The synagogue no longer allows any personnel or visitors up to the attic, but still the memory persists of the rabbi’s forgetful night and the Golem’s path of destruction.