I am? fortunate to have met some truly righteous people over the
course of my lifetime. Some are observant Jews, others are not, and some aren’t
Jewish. Many are hidden tzadikim.
These are individuals who are good and do good. The Talmud relates (Avoda Zara
24a) the story of Dama Ben Nesina, a non-Jew from Ashkelon who respected and
honored his father and was meticulously honest. The purpose of Rebbe Eliezer
relating Dama’s story in the Talmud was to teach a profound lesson about
righteousness and respect.
A Cancelled
Flight
Two weeks ago, a non-Jewish neighbor
of mine, from Peru, told me a story. She was booked to go visit her family in
Lima. She had two weeks vacation from work. After subtracting two days for her
travel to Lima and back, she wanted to maximize her 12-day visit, which was jam
packed. Her booking took her from Washington to New York, from where, after a
two-hour layover, she would head to Lima. Unfortunately, after numerous delays,
her New York flight to Peru was cancelled and rescheduled for 24 hours later.
Naturally, hundreds of passengers were upset, as was my neighbor. For
passengers in the upper classes of travel, the airline provided hotel and food
vouchers. For those unfortunate travelers in basic economy class, the airline
provided nothing!
As my upset neighbor was heading
toward the terminal exit to find a hotel shuttle, she saw a young couple
sitting on the floor with two toddlers and a baby. Their clothing revealed that
they were far from well off. They looked sad and weary and were conversing in
Spanish. Overhearing their conversation, she realized that they needed help.
She came over to them and struck up a conversation. Their situation was
difficult. They had come to the U.S. (legally) on work visas. Unfortunately,
their employer went bankrupt. They tried finding work but were quickly running
out of money. They decided that they had better return to Peru before their
funds completely ran out. They had just enough cash to purchase highly
discounted tickets, which entitled them to no compensation if a flight was
delayed or cancelled.
My neighbor asked the young father
how much money he had. Sheepishly, he reached into his pocket and showed her
six dollars. He said, “We had just enough for the tickets. We figured that we
would be given food on the plane, and once we got to Lima my cousin would meet
us.” My neighbor took them to an airport restaurant and treated them to dinner.
She then got them a hotel room with breakfast included and handed them money
for incidentals. After telling me this, she said, “After I met this young
couple, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. I understood why – at that moment, at
that place, at that time – G-d put me there. I was no longer upset about losing
a day of my vacation because G-d gave me an opportunity to help someone in
need. G-d also reminded me to be grateful for all the blessings I have.”
A Righteous Woman
Shortly after my wife and I moved to
Silver Spring, over 22 years ago, I walked into a shop in the White Oak
shopping center. That’s when I met a very special woman, who was the
proprietor. The shopping center had a mix of customers representing all races
and religions. Because of the superb level of customer service, my family
became loyal customers.
In late 2008, the store needed to
relocate. Although there was concern about starting a new business during a
recession, their previous landlord had left them no option. After much
deliberation, they chose the Kemp Mill Shopping Center as the site for their
new shop. Kemp Mill is the heart of suburban Washington’s frum community. In keeping with the spirit of the neighborhood, she
decided that the store would close at 3 p.m. on Friday and remain closed on
Saturday (the busiest day at their previous location). Soon, representatives
from various shuls, day schools, and yeshivas started dropping by for
contributions, and more and more religious families and rabbis became
customers.
After the store was on its feet, the
proprietor decided to move from her old neighborhood to a location close to the
store. She found a town house in Kemp Mill surrounded by shomer Shabbos Jews. When
she moved in, she placed a new mezuzah in a beautiful case on her front door. It
was shortly thereafter that she met her first meshulach, the first of many. When she casually mentioned to me
that “rabbis” were coming to her door for contributions, I asked her how she
decided what amount to give. She said, “I don’t know – whatever’s in my purse.”
I subsequently learned that this righteous woman was one of the neighborhood’s
top tier contributors to meshulachim.
One day we were discussing another
matter, and the lady said that a meshulach
had just left. I felt compelled to mention that the reason she was being
visited frequently was due to her great generosity – and that she might want to
consider reducing her giving a bit since she was being stretched pretty thin.
She listened patiently and we ended our brief conversation.
The next morning, I received the
following email from her. I felt humbled. I thought about how often many of us
(I include myself) don’t really give the meshulachim
enough time or very much money, how sometimes they irritate us, and how often
we are impatient when they arrive. After reading her email I realized that I
needed to work on my middos and my
perspective.
Story of a Meshulach
“Yes, yes, yes. I know. My house has
been marked. However, there’s a place in my heart that’s touched by these
raggedy, Israeli rabbanim who look for a mezuzah before they knock on the door.
Sure, they all have an official letter of endorsement, a story to tell of the
hardships of poverty, and an accent so thick that most of the time I don’t know
what they’re saying, but I get the message anyway. They are just doing what
they have to do. As do we all.
“This one was young, probably not
more than 30 years old. He stood at the door wearing his ill-fitting suit and a
huge, silly smile. He was a happy boy on a mission. His every sentence was punctuated
frequently with ‘baruch Hashem.’
“‘Okay, so come inside and tell me
your story,’ I say. ‘It’s getting cold with the door open.’ And he does. I hand
him a drink. He sits down at the table and explains his cause. This one is to
supply Pesach food for the needy in southern Israel. I listen as patiently as I
can. Is the essence of his message any more or less different than that of those
before him who have knocked on my door? No. It’s a simple tzedakah appeal for yet another worthy cause.
“His name is Natan-el, and he wants
to show me his plastic-encased letter from Rabbi Heinemann, and I really don’t
want to see it. He was too sweet; he was going to get money anyway. What’s the
point? I tell him, no, he doesn’t have to show it to me, but I do have to find
my wallet. And he looks at me strangely and says, ‘Thank you.’ Finally, after
locating my forever misplaced purse, I give him the money, and then he asks if
I could give a little more to help his own family, and I write him a check.
“Nate rises from the chair to leave, and I ask
him if he’s going back home. He says not yet, soon though. I dig back into my
purse and find a dollar, fold it, and hand it to him. ‘Your shaliach mitzvah money,’ I tell him. ‘Safe
travels.’ He takes it, stares at it, and says, ‘I needed this,’ and puts it
into his shirt pocket. But he’s no longer a smiley boy; now, he’s actually
quite somber. Nate removes his hat, leans over the table under the light, and
parts the hair on the left side of his head. I see an ugly scar.
‘Look, a bullet,’ he says. ‘I was
shot in the head, a coma for two weeks. I came back.’ It had happened when he
lived in a settlement near Gaza. As he walked to the door, he says, ‘Baruch Hashem, I do this even with the
bullet there.’ And he made that silly, big smile once more and left.
“Nate had knocked on my door as I
was reading an email about the slaughter of the Fogel family,* and I saw those
pictures that I was advised to skip over. Nate, with a bullet in his brain,
knocks on doors to raise money for those who are hungry. He doesn’t climb over
fences and murder the innocent. There is a ‘baruch
Hashem’ in each step he takes and each door he reaches.
“We gotta open the door!”
Mending the Net
After reading her incredible words,
I responded, “You are truly a tzadeikes.”
She immediately replied:
“For me it’s really not about righteousness.
Never was. I believe our mettle is put to the test by the seemingly unlovables
who cross our path, the ones who slip through the cracks because of their
difficult personalities or circumstances – or anything else, for that matter. I’ve
walked a tightrope of hope so many times, and fallen off more times than can be
counted, but it was the net of faith always underneath me that allowed me to
make another long climb back up the ladder. I just try to mend the holes in
someone else’s net.”
Over the past decade this righteous
lady messaged some thoughts to me from time to time. I’ve decided to share the
following four stories.
Six Houses
“When I was a kid, we were very poor.
It was rough. My grandmother had a habit that annoyed my mother and grandfather
enormously. No matter how little food there was in the house or how few dollars
we had, no one was ever turned away. There were more than a few arguments about
her little habit.
“Anyway, after one particular
argument with my grandfather, I asked grandma why she did it. Her answer was
this: ‘When G-d is sad and discouraged by what we do on earth, He’ll send a
messenger down from the heavens. The messenger will go to six houses, from the
very richest to the very poorest, and ask each house to give what they can
afford. The penny from the poor man is worth more than the dollar from the rich
man. If at least two people do as they were asked, G-d sees that there is
goodness in the world and grants us hope and blessing.’
“I don’t know where my grandma got
this story; perhaps she made it up. But it has always been a guiding star in my
life.”
What’s our
Legacy?
“Every now and then, an idea pops
into my head – one that’s usually inspired by an event of some sort. Anyway,
this one is about legacies and what we do – or don’t do with them – how the
choices one makes today can also impact a whole lot of tomorrows, not only for
yourself but future generations as well.
“So, let’s take the Jewish legacy
and compare it to inheriting a parcel of prime real estate and choosing what to
do with it. Do you build a lovely house? Sell the property to a developer? Or
allow the lot to go neglected, consumed by weeds and trash? Wouldn’t it be nice
if we all took our Jewish inheritance seriously and built lots of lovely
houses?”
A Word Fast
“Today, Shabbat, was actually the 9th
of Av. I had a dream, just prior to waking, about crumbs left post-Shabbat on
my dining room table, and no matter how many times I tried wiping them away
with a cloth, these stubborn remnants of food continued to remain. It was quite
frustrating. Someone in my dream was watching these vain attempts and said,
‘Just brush them off onto the floor,’ and I replied, ‘No, that would only bring
more problems. Ants.’
“Now Tisha b’Av was stuck in my head.
Why? Well, just as we refrain from food and drink for 25 hours, we should set
aside a day for a ‘word fast.’ No speaking at all, to anyone. Just quiet
prayers to G-d. Why? Well, maybe G-d would like an authentic silent offering
rather than a hunger strike. Too often, we don’t watch our words towards each
other; they’re spewed out with careless abandon. And just like those crumbs on
my tablecloth, there’s an urge to brush them to the floor when we can’t clean
them up. Out of sight, out of mind. Unfortunately, not really, because we’re
taken down to a lower level of disarray since, once the ants march in, there’s
a more difficult battle to wage.
“Because of our own use of weaponized
words and self-defeating verbal daggers, we create animosity amongst Klal Yisrael; our enemies only need to
stand by and watch. It is then that we are most vulnerable. [Note: This was
written in August of 2022] And, as go the Jews, so goes the world. It’s always
been our playing field, but we keep giving up the ball. Easy fast...”
In a Single Heartbeat
“Yesterday was long, hard, and
bitterly freezing from beginning to end – one of those days when nothing goes
the way you try to make it to go but rather takes on a life of its own.
Yesterday assumed the persona of a rebellious teenager at odds with his
parents. Yesterday... was difficult.
“By the time 5:45 hit, I was more
than ready to bolt out of the store and go home. The temperature had now
dropped down to the teens with nasty gusts of wind blowing bitterly. As I
walked to my car muttering, ‘Why do I live here? I could live in Florida!’ my
phone pinged with a text.
“Oh, what now, I thought. But it was
my sweet daughter reminding me of items that I might want to pick up as the
snow was falling. No-o-o, I do not want to walk back across the parking lot and
go into the supermarket. I do not want to see or talk to anyone, an impossible
feat to accomplish when stepping into Shalom’s market. I just want to go home.
But I head to the market.
“As I pushed my cart into Shalom’s,
an elderly Chinese woman with a cane dangling from her cart approached me and
whispered something...
“‘I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.’
Quietly, again she spoke: ‘Will you buy me food?’
This is what happened next: In a
semi-detached, borderline cranky tone, I said ‘Okay, get what you need, and I’ll
be waiting in the soda aisle.’
“She came back a few minutes later
with a small pack of chicken thighs and an onion. And in that moment, a stark
realization suddenly washed over me. Let’s call it what it actually was: a hard
smack in the head.
“‘That’s all you want?’
“‘My food stamps come tomorrow,’ she
said. ‘But what if they don’t come? I be good.’
“I look at her small package of
chicken and tiny onion and say, ‘Why don’t we see if there’s anything else you
may want in case the food stamps are late.’ We walked down the aisles, together
this time, with me encouraging her to get a few more staples: Bread, cheese,
eggs, some fruits and vegetables. A small treat.
“Once we were done, we were on to
the checkout. I put her in front of me, leaned over, and told the cashier that
I was paying for her order, to add to my own.
“While the cashier was bagging her
foodstuffs, the lady squeezed between our carts and came over to me, and not
just to say thank you. She took my face in her hands, kissed my both cheeks,
looked me in the eyes, and said, ‘I love you – bless you – I love you.’ She
picked up her bags from the counter, placed them in a cart, and quietly slipped
away. I made sure she was able to get home safely.
“There are extraordinary moments
when the face of G-d presents – sometimes, by using another person as His
messenger. When this happens, perceptions of the world around you are changed
in a single heartbeat. While Moses had his Burning Bush moment, I can say mine
was thanks to an old Asian woman walking with a cane.”
Noah’s People
Over 30 years ago, while serving as
a rabbi in Cape Town, South Africa, I became involved with righteous Christians,
some of whom became Torah-observant Noahides; others became righteous converts.
Upon our return to the United States, I was invited to become one of the
rabbinic advisers to CUFI, Christians United for Israel. Their rabbinic
advisers are exclusively Orthodox. These righteous Christians are steadfast
supporters of Israel. Since October 7th, they have collected
hundreds of thousands of dollars for relief organizations in Israel. They have
sent many volunteers, with a variety of skills in medicine, engineering, and
agriculture. Some have military training and are assisting the Israeli security
forces. Pastor John Hagee, who founded Christians United for Israel (together
with the late Rabbi Aryeh Scheinberg, z”l)
spoke powerfully last November at the Washington March for Israel, attended by
300,000 peaceful supporters of Eretz Yisrael.
Hagee is despised by the woke and liberal
left for his outspoken support of G-d, Israel, and the Jewish People, as well
as his disdain for Hamas and the “antisemite enablers on university campuses.” In
his remarks at the Washington rally, he said, “Choose Israel or Hamas. There is
no middle ground in this conflict! You are either for the Jews or against them.
You either stand for good or for evil. To the leaders of Israel, you alone
should determine how this war is conducted and concluded. You decide – no one
else!... Israel, remember, you are not alone. Today, tomorrow, and forever, we
stand shoulder to shoulder. G-d bless the Jewish State.”
Pastor Hagee has, on numerous
occasions, stated unequivocally, “When you bless the Jewish People and Israel,
the G-d of Israel will bless you.”
In these difficult times, I find
comfort in knowing that there is still righteousness in our world. When we
concentrate our energies on simple acts of kindness and charity, we defeat the
evil darkness that seems to have descended upon us. By our actions, we bring
G-dliness and goodness down to earth.
May Hashem bless Klal Yisrael and the chasidei umos ha’olam (the righteous of
the nations). May Hashem bless and protect our brave soldiers and redeem our
hostages.
Am
Yisrael Chai!
*In March, 2011,
a Palestinian terrorist infiltrated the village of Itamar and murdered the
Fogel family on a Friday night, decapitating their toddler. The Fogel’s
12-year-old daughter discovered the horrific scene when she returned home late
Friday night after spending the evening at a friend’s house. Sadly, since 1948,
our Palestinian neighbors consistently prefer murder and mayhem to peace and
prosperity.
