Rebbetzen Tziporah –. ELUL

 Dear friends,

When words don’t work, stories sometimes do. 

You can see yourself in the characters, and in a certain sense, sometimes they become part of you. I recently heard a story that I hope will become part of me.

There is a yeshiva in Bnei Brak for boys in their teens. The Rosh Yeshivah, Rav Shayish (his real name) closed his Gemarah to end the class, when a boy stopped him before he could enter his study. “I have to talk to you”, Motti (not his real name) said. The Rav opened the door to let him in. “My mother just called. The doctors told her that my father’s diagnosis is terrible. They don’t see him living much longer. Rebbe! I’m 15. There are 10 kids in the family all younger than me.” At that point he had no more words, only sobs.

The Rosh Yeshivah said, “We have to do what we can. It’s Thursday night. Let’s get 10 of you and take a van down to the Kotel. When we get there we’ll say the entire book of Tehillim and the 13 attributes of Divine mercy. That’s what we can do. It’s pikuah nefesh, we have to do everything possible. The boy got his friends together and at 11 when the van arrived, somehow there were only nine boys. One wasn’t there. 

No one knew what to say when suddenly a boy from another class appeared. Avner (not his real name) had a backpack on, but when they asked him to join, he said no. “I have to get home. I live in Ofakim, and if I don’t leave right now, I’ll miss the last bus”. The Rosh Yeshiva looked at him, and said, “it’s pikuach nefesh. Go to Ofakim on the early bus tomorrow”. 

The boy looked him in the eye, and said, “You don’t understand. My father lost his job two years ago and hasn’t found work. What my mother brings in isn’t enough. My little brother knows the score. His Bar Mitzvah is next week. There’s no way we could do it in a hall the way everyone does. 

My mother told him that instead, we’ll have the best Shabbos ever. We’ll invite the whole family for the entire Shabbos. She gave me a job. When the stores close late on Thursday night they leave out whatever they think is looking a bit old, and won’t be sold on Friday for whoever wants to take it. I have to be there. She’s counting on me."

There was nothing to say.

The Rosh Yeshivah told him to make the choice he felt was right. Avner walked away. The other boys considered their choices – they would have to beg boys who barely know Motti to come. Before they had a chance to head back to the dorm, they saw Avner coming towards them. “I’m in. I’ll go from the Kotel to Highway 1 and stand until I get a hitch. I’ll be in Ofakim before dawn. The stuff will still be there.” The three hours of Tehillim and middos HaRachamim passed. Rav Shayish faced the next “issue”. It’s Thursday night and the boys were hungry. Offering teenage boys cake doesn’t cut it. He called one of Meah Shearim’s caterers Rav Cheshin, (real name) who stays open late, and got him to open up for the “starving” bachurim. 

The entire Cheshin family (some of whom I know personally) are known for their chessed, dedication to Hashem’s torah, and utter lack of materialism. “You think this is chessed?” Rav Cheshin said with his trademark smile. 

“I’ll show you a chessed that I never believed would come my way”. He opened the back room, and showed them the large containers full of food. “A man ordered 160 portions for a sheva brachos on Shabbos. I called on Friday to ask where to deliver the food. “We cancelled two days ago,” said the man on the phone. “No one cancelled,” I told him. Then I heard the “I told you to call” fight begin. He thought she was supposed to call, and she thought that he was. The blame, and the humiliation, were tangible. 

I offered them a compromise. I’ll take the loss if they make peace between them and stop talking about it…. Within a few moments, Avner had nothing to worry about. The food had found an address There was enough for the Shabbos, for Melaveh Malka, and for a snack before Shabbos for everyone. Before anyone could say another word Rav Cheshin said he won’t allow anyone else pay the van needed to deliver the food.

Rav Shayish told the story that Shabbos when he spoke to a large pre-Elul group. One man challenged him. “No one is so poor that they don’t make a Bar Mitzvah”. It was only after Rav Shayish opened his eyes to the Other Israel that he believed him. “It’s not going to happen,” he told the Rosh Yeshivah. Get the boy from Ofakim here as soon as he comes back. I’m going to pay the whole thing. Hall. Catering. Band. Photographer. It’s all on me.

 

You may be wondering why I am telling you this rather long story?

Many of you may have heard the famous parable of the Baal HaTanya in which he describes Elul as being a time when “The King is in the field”. Normally reaching a monarch is mission impossible for an ordinary person. Once a year the King comes to you where you “work”– your field, willingly and lovingly. Hashem wants to meet us as we are, in the field, dirty from our bad choices and sweaty from our bad deeds – in Elul He accepts us. 

 

You may have also heard another description of Elul.  The pasuk from Shir HaShirim “Ani LiDodi, ViDodi Li”, the first letter of each word spells out the word Elul when placed together. “I am for my Beloved, and my Beloved is for me” is what the message of Elul is.

Step back. Notice that before “My beloved is for me”, I have to be in a place where I can honestly say, “I am for my Beloved”. The King will come to the field when you are ready to receive Him. This is one reason that shofar is blown every day in the synagogue in Elul. It is to inspire you to think and ask. Am I really there? Honestly?

 

You are

You really are

 

Now look back at the story and find yourself. Find the piece of you that cares enough to see someone else’s agony as their own, like Rav Shayish. Be like Motti who didn’t give in to despair. Find yourself in Avner who was literally ready to walk the extra mile. Maybe there’s even a bit of Rach Cheshin hiding inside somewhere.

Most of all, use this time to review the good and holy choices you have made this year and rediscover who you can be.

 

Love, and every Brachah for a ketivah vechatimah tovah,

Tziporah