Sunday, November 10, 2019

No Despair



And he said, "I will surely return to you at this time next year, and behold, Sarah, your wife, will have a son. (18:10)


The Torah dedicates what seems to be an excessive number of pesukim to detail the wonderful news concerning Sarah Imeinu's impending motherhood. This begins with the three angels that visit Avraham Avinu, in order to notify Sarah that she would bear a son. The angels ask Avraham, "Where is Sarah, your wife?" He responds that "she is in the tent." Afterwards, the angel tells Avraham that Sarah will give birth to a son. The Torah interjects to tell us how old Avraham and Sarah were, so that the reader understands that only a Divine miracle could enable Sarah to give birth. Sarah hears and "laughs" at the impossibility of this occurring. Then we note Hashem's critique, "Is anything beyond Hashem?" Sarah denies her initial response to the news. This is followed later with the news that, indeed, Sarah has just given birth commensurate with the time designated by the angel. This lengthy description and detail of Yitzchak's birth seems superfluous, especially considering how many halachos Chazal derive from each extra letter in the Torah.


Horav Eliyahu Schlessinger, Shlita, cites Horav Tzadok HaKohen, zl, m'Lublin in his Divrei Sofrim who explains that a Jew should never be me'ya'eish, give up hope. Ha'yipalei mei'Hashem davar? "Is anything beyond Hashem?" (ibid.18:14) should be the believing Jew's motto in life. Nothing is beyond Him. The Torah seeks to emphasize how little hope there was for Sarah to bear a child, and, yet, she did. The Torah is teaching us that we should never give up hope, because nothing stands in Hashem's way. Rav Tzadok adds that just as a Jew should never despair over the lack of physical salvation, so, too, should he not abandon the thought of spiritual salvation. Regardless of how far he has distanced himself from the Torah way; or how deep he has sunk into the muck of moral depravity, he can return and Hashem will welcome him.


The concept of yiush does not apply to the Jewish nation, for it is a people that was founded after all hope had been lost. Avraham and Sarah were barren, past the child-bearing age. No one would have thought twice about Sarah giving birth - even after the angel had told them that this would occur. Sarah laughed, although she knew nothing was impossible for Hashem, but she felt this miracle was unnecessary. Had Hashem wanted her to have a child, she would have had one earlier. There is no reason to create a miracle if it is not necessary.


Sarah did not realize that Hashem chose this moment because of its propitious nature. Particularly now, when all hope for a child had been lost, when no one - even Sarah - believed it would occur, Hashem decided to teach us and the world a lesson: Hayipalei mei'Hashem davar - nothing is beyond the Almighty.


Rav Tzadok adds that the future redemption for which we are all waiting will occur under parallel circumstances, when people will have despaired over the geulah, redemption. As our nation was initiated l'achar yiush, after and beyond hope, so will our redemption materialize under similar circumstances.


Avraham Avinu taught us to never give up. When Lot was taken captive and it seemed impossible to rescue him, Avraham assembled 318 members of his household and pursued Lot's captors. In an alternative explanation, Chazal say only Avraham's trusted servant, Eliezer, whose name has the gematriya, numerical equivalent, of 318, went with him. The name Eliezer implies, Elokei avi b'ezri, va'yatzileini m' cherev Pharaoh. "The G-d of my father came to my aid, and He saved me from the sword of Pharaoh." (Shemos 18:4) The sword of Pharaoh was already on Moshe's neck. It seemed hopeless, and, specifically at that moment, Hashem came to his aid. Eliezer/318 is the gematriya of yiush including the kollel (adding number one, by including the entire word.) Therefore, yiush is 317, with the entire word added as one, making it 318. With hope, one drives away yiush. A Jew believes in Hashem, and this conviction energizes within him the ability to hope beyond hope, beyond reason.


A life steeped in emunah is an entirely different life than one lived without this sense of faith. The Navi, Chavakuk (2:4) says, "The righteous person lives by his faith." The life of a tzaddik can only be lived with emunah. A life based on such a deep and penetrating faith is what makes him a tzaddik. He lives by a completely different set of rules.


Living according to a different set of rules aptly describes those tzadikim who are bound up with Hashem through their emunah. As the Kaliver Rebbe zt"l, writes, "These are people who put all of their piety, erudition, and moral greatness at the service of their people." These were individuals who confronted misery and death with equanimity. It was all a part of their avodas Hashem, service to the Almighty. This is not a thousand years ago, but as recently as sixty-five to seventy years ago, during the tragic years of persecution when myriads of Jews died while a cultured world stood by and silently turned their heads away in indifference. When the Nazi murderers entered a town, they first sought out its leaders - the rabbis. They would torture these giants of Torah and avodah with all of the cruelty they could muster. These tzadikim, however, paid no attention to their suffering and sanctified Hashem's Name in public, such that at times even the Nazi beasts stood in rapt silence.


One of the giants who miraculously survived the war and merited to rebuild his chassidus in America was Horav Shlomo Halberstam, zl, the Bobover Rebbe. His exploits on behalf of his brethren are legend. We can best describe this individual who was respected, admired and loved by all - regardless of Chassidic affiliation or level of spiritual persuasion and observance - by something he said after he had been saved at the last moment from the Gestapo firing squad.


It was in Neimark, Galicia that the Germans finally caught up with the elusive rabbi. The gentiles watched mirthfully as Rav Shlomo, his young son, Naftali and the Rebbe's sister were being led away in handcuffs to the Gestapo chief. This was it. Their last attempt to escape to Slovakia had failed. It was certain death.


Later on, when the Rebbe spoke about those moments, it was not about his fear of death. What he chose to talk about the most was his backpack and its contents. In it there were: manuscripts of his grandfather's writings; his Tefillin, written by the famous Rav Moshe of Pshevorsk; and the notebook containing the transcription of seven hundred articles by his saintly father. Each of these items was his "provisions" that he had packed in preparation for his meeting with the Gestapo chief.


The Rebbe's life was spared through a series of miracles. As he referred back to that time that he sat in the cold dungeon waiting for his verdict, praying as he had never prayed before, he said that his only request was that if his life were somehow spared, "I should remember for the rest of my life that all the world is nothing but utter futility and that a Jew never has anything worthwhile, but the service of Hashem." He survived, and he remembered. He lived by a different set of rules.

[Pninim Al Hatorah]