With the Help of the Maestro
By Rabbi Yaakov Asher Sinclair
“Every man whose heart inspired him.” (35:21)
Apart from being Poland’s prime minister (1919), Ignacy Jan Paderewski (1860-1941) is one of the greatest pianists of the last two hundred years. A large part of his success comes from his tremendous stage presence and charisma.
In 1891 the pianist sets out on a tour of the United States, which brings him great acclaim. His name at once becomes synonymous with the highest level of piano virtuosity.
America becomes the place Paderewski tours most often (over 30 times in 50 years) and his second home. At one of his performances at the Metropolitan in New York City, there sits a lady named Sally Goldstein, together with her five-year-old son, Joey, neatly decked out in his tuxedo.
Sally wanted Joey to be a pianist, so she thought it worth the high price of a ticket in the stalls for Joey to hear the master. Sally catches sight of an old friend in the row behind them and starts to talk to her. Joey becomes a little impatient and so he gets up from his seat and wanders towards the front of the theater toward a door marked NO ENTRY.
Unable to read, Joey blithely saunters through the doorway. At that moment the lights started to dim. An expectant hush grips the audience. And out into the spotlights walks… Joey Goldstein! The crowd starts to murmur, but Joey, seeing the beautiful large Steinway in the middle of the stage, toddles over to it. He hikes himself up on to the piano stool, gives a casual flip of the tails to his tux, and with tremendous aplomb begins his favorite piece, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” “Plink plonk plink plonk, plink plonk plonk.”
The crowd becomes agitated — where is Paderewski? Just then the master comes on stage, goes straight to the piano, and, placing his two relatively enormous hands on either side of Joey’s, he says quietly to the boy, “Young man, you’re doing fine. Just keep going!”
And with this, Paderewski begins to interweave the most sublime harmonies and counterpoint into Joey’s plinks and plonks. They play on together. The piece rises to a crescendo, and as they strike the final chord the audience rises to a standing ovation.
Paderewski leads Joey down to the front of the stage where they both bow deeply to the ecstatic applause of the audience.
“Every man whose heart inspired him.” From where could slaves who had spent hundreds of years in crushing captivity find the artisanal skills to construct something as fine and sophisticated as the Mishkan?
When a person tries to serve G-d, even though his efforts are about as sophisticated as a nursery rhyme, G-d says, “You’re doing great! Just keep going!” Out of our feeble attempts He builds the sublime. As long as we are sincere and humble the Maestro will elevate our paltry efforts into something we never dreamed possible.
• Sources: based on the Ramban and a story heard from Rabbi Yirmyahu Abramov.
• Sources: based on the Ramban and a story heard from Rabbi Yirmyahu Abramov.
Reprinted from the Parshat Vayakhel 5779 email of OHRNET, the Ohr Somayach Torah Magazine of the Internet.
One Good Turn
By Tzvi Yaakovson
Our neighbors asked if we could lend them an electric kettle for a few days. Their kettle had broken, and they thought that we might have a spare. My wife immediately assured them that they could borrow our kettle. I am not certain why she said that, since we have only one electric kettle for our own use.
“Are you really letting the neighbors use that?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “It’s a chesed. Why not?”
“And what will we do in the meantime?” I said.
“We’ll use our Shabbos urn!” she replied.
Of course, she was right. The electric kettle is used to boil water during the week. The Shabbosurn, which is much larger, also boils water, as well as maintaining its temperature throughout Shabbos. Why couldn’t the neighbors use their own Shabbos urn? Well, that was none of my business. Why shouldn’t we do a mitzvah?
We handed over our kettle and placed the Shabbos urn on the kitchen counter. We filled it with water, brought it to a boil, and watched as steam billowed out of it. Then we turned on the Shabbos mode and left it to keep the water warm overnight. In the morning, the water was cold. We boiled the water again, and it remained hot for several hours before cooling off once again.
To make a long story short, we discovered that the urn had broken. We bought a new one, but the lesson was clear: If we hadn’t loaned our regular kettle to our neighbors, we wouldn’t have discovered the malfunction in our urn until Shabbos morning. A simple act of chesed spared us from a Shabbos without hot water.
Reprinted from the February 27, 2019 email of the Yated Ne’eman.
You Won’t Believe What This Man Did for His Competitor
By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg
In January, a fire destroyed the building that housed Yossi Heiman’s Fish Market in Borough Park, Brooklyn, leaving him with no place to operate his business and no ability to draw income. Shea Langsam owns a similar store, Fish to Dish, just a few blocks away. One would have thought that as sympathetic as he may be for his competitor’s poor fortune, he would welcome this opportunity to acquire new customers and increase his business.
Instead, Shea did something truly remarkable. When he learned of the fire, he picked up the phone and called his competitor. “When he [Yossi] said that he needs a facility to process and deliver orders for his customers, I said, ‘Why not join me in my store?’ As fellow community members we all try to help each other as much as we can.”
An Official Citation from New York
Shea received an official citation from New York State Assembly Member Simcha Eichenstein for his incredible kindness, welcoming his competitor to operate out of his space until the store could be rebuilt.
The story is extraordinary for many reasons. It is an example of seeing fellow community members as part of one family, putting their needs ahead of our own aspiration to make more money or grow our business. But the story is exceptional for another reason: It is a truly genuine display of true faith, a great example of genuine trust in G-d not existing in the form of empty lip service, but being put into practice in a very real way.
When I saw this story, I was immediately reminded of a powerful passage in the Chazon Ish’s classic work Emunah U’Bitachon:
What we see in life is people like Reuven, who is a moral person, always speaking of trust in Hashem, condemning excessive efforts in life, and expressing his abhorrence of constant pursuit of financial means. Indeed, he is a successful person: he lacks no customers in his store, and he does not need to expend efforts in that direction. He loves the concept of trust in Hashem, because even that concept smiles upon him.
The Challenge to Reuven
The Great Truster in Hashem
And suddenly, we are surprised to see Reuven, that great truster in Hashem, conferring secretly with his assistants and consultants as to how to stop a potential rival who plans to open a store just like his. Reuven is very upset by this threat; at the beginning he keeps his feelings to himself, because he is embarrassed to reveal them to his acquaintances, fearing their derision.
But with time, he loses his sense of shame, and begins to act openly with the aim of preventing the rival from carrying out his plan. Gradually he gravitates towards the crooked path, and his sense of shame evaporates: he openly commits low and deplorable actions – in public. The competition between him and his rival becomes widely known and is the talk of town – and still he feels no shame, but rather comes up with baseless and untrue reasons and explanations in order to justify his actions.
Over time he becomes even more sophisticated and adds new explanations, claiming that everything he is doing against this rival is for the sake of Heaven and is morally acceptable. He actually fools himself into believing this, and fools others as well – simple people or those who love a good fight, and usually he attracts fight mongers, and gossip lovers; Satan creates peace between them all so that they can build a stable fortress of strife and arguments, speaking evil of others, lies, tale bearing and baseless hatred – all of which shorten men’s lives.
The Phenomenon of People
Who Pray with Great Intention
The Chazon Ish is describing a phenomenon of people who pray with great intention, talk about G-d and divine providence frequently, regularly employ expressions like “Baruch Hashem,” “Be’zras Hashem” (with the help of G-d), “Chasdei Hashem” (G-d’s Kindness) and yet when the rubber meets the road, they abandon faith and erase G-d from the picture. One cannot talk about believing in G-d and then be ruthless in business, undercut competitors, take excessive initiative or be paralyzed with anxiety and worry about things beyond our control.
True faith in G-d means catching ourselves before getting anxious about our competitors or feeling fear about our income and reminding ourselves that while we should take initiative, work hard, be creative, and have ambition, we must leave the rest to G-d, our senior partner in any enterprise.
Real faith means taking G-d to work with us and feeling not only His presence everywhere we go, but His partnership and investment in us and in our success.
Living with Genuine Faith in G-d
Minimally, faith in G-d means we need not worry, but Shea Langsam has taught us that living with genuine faith can mean even more. With faith in G-d, we can even find the capacity to help a competitor, recognizing that G-d can partner with both of us and bring us each great success and prosperity.
The sentence in Psalms (81:10) says Lo yiheyeh becha el zar, which is usually translated as don’t have among you a foreign god. The Kotzker Rebbe offers an alternative, fantastic homiletical interpretation. He explains, don’t relate to G-d as a zar, someone who is foreign, distant and a stranger. Don’t talk about G-d while failing to maintain a real, personal and intimate relationship with Him.
We talk about G-d a lot, we even claim to talk to G-d three times a day. But many of us leave Him in shul, we say goodbye when we close the siddur. Real faith means taking G-d to work with us and feeling not only His presence everywhere we go, but His partnership and investment in us and in our success.
Reprinted from the February 24, 2019 email of Aish.com
A Ticket to Heaven
In a small Ukrainian town lived a Jewish merchant whose name was Akiva. He was a pious and charitable man, highly respected in his community. As the years rolled by and Reb Akiva began to age, he decided to spend his remaining years in the Holy Land and to be buried in its sacred soil.
The Jews of the small town received the news with mixed feelings. They were sad to part with Akiva, knowing that the town would not be the same after he had gone. At the same time, they were happy for him, (and a little envious,) for he was fortunate to fulfill the fondest dream of every Jew.
Reb Akiva was gone, but not forgotten. The townspeople often wondered how he was, and whether he had reached the Holy Land safely, for in those days it was a difficult and dangerous journey.
Imagine their surprise when Reb Akiva suddenly returned to his native town! Hardly a year had gone by since he had left for the Holy Land, and here he was back again!
People flocked about him to take a look at that wonderful man who had been to the Holy Land, and to hear a report of the cherished Land of their ancestors. Reb Akiva readily answered the torrent of questions. Yes, he had been to Jerusalem, visited the Western Wall, the Tomb of Mother Rachel, Hebron and the Cave of Machpelah, Tiberias, Safed, Meron and the other holy places. "I could feel in my breath the holiness of those places, and I felt like hugging every pebble on the ground," Reb Akiva told them.
"But why did you come back?" they asked.
At this, there appeared a little sadness in his eyes, but the question remained unanswered.
Soon after his return, Reb Akiva became ill. He grew weaker from day to day, and he felt that his days on earth were numbered. It would not be long before he would have to return his soul to his Maker. He sent for the gabbaim (wardens) of the chevra kaddisha (holy burial society). They came and sat down at his bedside, waiting for the dying man's instructions as to his funeral arrangements, and whatever else he wished to tell them before departing.
They sat and sat, in solemn silence. Reb Akiva said not a word. Finally they rose and wished him a refuah sheleimah (complete recovery). Reb Akiva thanked them for coming, and asked them to return the following day.
The next day the gabbaim came again, and waited patiently for a long while. Again Reb Akiva said nothing to them, except to ask them to return the following day. Grudgingly, the impatient gabbaim returned the following day. This time, Reb Akiva began at once:
"You are wondering why I have asked you to come, again and again. You are also wondering what the reason could be for my returning from the Holy Land. I am ready to tell you.
"You see, it was my custom to go every year to the fair in Berditchev to buy and sell different wares. Every time I was there, I used to spend at least Shabbos with the saintly Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, of blessed memory, may his merit shield us. Early one Sunday morning I came into the Rebbe’s house as he was saying the morning blessings and preliminary prayers.
I sat down quietly and listened to the holy words coming from his lips with great devotion. Presently a man rushed into the house. Greatly distraught, and with tears in his eyes, he told the Berditchever Rebbe that a large sum of money had been stolen from him. Moreover, it was not his money, for he was a trustee, and various merchants engaged him to act as their buyer.
Now, no one would ever trust him again, and he would no longer be able to make a living. And how could he ever repay the money that had been entrusted to him?
"The Berditchever Rebbe calmed him a little, and asked him, 'Is there anyone you suspect in the theft?'
"'Yes, I suspect the innkeeper's maid,' the man answered.
"The maid was summoned. Her eyes were red from weeping. She burst out crying again, swearing by everything that was holy that she had not touched the man's money. She complained that the innkeeper had beaten her and threatened to send her away, but she was quite innocent.
Her father, a poor water-carrier, who had come with her, also swore that his daughter was an honest girl, and suggested that the whole thing might be nothing but a frame-up by the trustee who desired to embezzle the money. The innkeeper, on the other hand, kept accusing the maid. In the meantime, the commotion had attracted curious spectators, and the turmoil grew.
"The Rebbe silenced them all. He said, 'I have no doubt that a theft has been committed, but I am also certain that the girl is innocent. If anyone present would be prepared to place this sum of money on the table, I would give him my word that he would have a share in the World to Come!'
"Hearing this, I stepped forward and said, 'Rebbe, will you give it to me in writing?'
"'Yes,' the Rebbe said, and I took out a bundle of money, counted out the amount, and placed it on the table.
"The saintly Rebbe handed the money to the man who had been robbed. He said a few kind words to the girl, blessing her that the Almighty should reward her for the shame and pain she had suffered unjustly, and everybody left with a feeling of satisfaction.
"The saintly Rebbe finished his prayers. Then he requested his shamash bring a quill and ink and paper, and he wrote, 'Open the Gates of Gan Eden to the bearer of this note,' and signed his name.
"As he gave me this note, the saintly Rebbe told me not to speak about it to anyone, until the very last day of my life; then I was to instruct the chevra kadisha that on my death they were to place this note in my hand and bury me with it.
"The following day, when I came to the Rebbes house, he opened a drawer and brought out the amount of money that I had donated the previous day. He told me, 'Last night the man who stole the money came to me and confessed his wrongdoing. He had never stolen before, but he could not resist the temptation. However he was moved by the generosity of the man who took money out of his own pocket, at the risk of being suspected of the theft, in order to help a fellow Jew in distress. And so,' the Rebbe continued, 'if you want your money back, you may have it in exchange for the note I gave you.'
"I refused to take the money, and suggested that it be given to the poor girl who had been unjustly accused of the theft. This made the saintly Rebbe very happy.
"Needless to say, I cherished that note like the apple of my eye. For safety I placed it in the binding of my old Siddur and sealed it carefully.
"Before I left for the Holy Land, I turned over most of my holy books to the Beit Hamidrash. Among them I inadvertently included also my old Siddur. This is why I returned from the Holy Land. . . ."
After pausing for a moment to draw a deep breath, Reb Akiva concluded:
"Yesterday, and the day before, when you visited me, I felt that I had still some life left in me. But today I feel is my last day on earth. I ask you therefore to be sure to bury me with the note of the saintly Berditchever Rebbe."
Then Reb Akiva recited his last prayers, closed his eyes, and died peacefully and happily, confident that he would have a place in the World to Come.
Reprinted from the Parashat Pekudei 5779 email of Chabad.Org Magazine.
A Mesiras Nefesh Commitment Towards Keeping Shabbos
Rabbi Shlomo Brevda The Steipler Gaon
The following story of mesirat nefesh as told by Rabbi Shlomo Brevda shows the sacrifices made by our gedoliim and the previous generations that they had to endure in order to keep the Shabbat and should be an inspiration for us to realize the wonderful gift that we have today to be able to keep the Shabbat properly and without suffering....
The Steipler Rav, Horav Yaakov Kanievsky, zl, was a gaon and a tzaddik. His brilliance and encyclopedic knowledge of Torah was only overshadowed by his righteousness and total devotion to serving Hashem. Prior to his engagement to the sister of the Chazon Ish, he shared an incident with her that happened to him in Siberia. He felt it was important that his intended be fully aware of his mesirat nefesh for mitzvot.
As a solider conscripted into the Czar’s army, the Steipler was forced to perform back-breaking labor in the frigid cold of the Siberian winter. Regardless of the overwhelming toil and below-freezing conditions, he performed the difficult work because he knew it was the only way that he could continue to serve the Almighty. The problem was that army demanded that everyone work seven days a week. This obviously created a problem on Shabbot. The Steipler emphatically declared that by no means was he going to work on Shabbat. The Russian officer did not need more than one insolent Jew who had the gall to refuse his orders. He predictably flew into a rage, typical of the anti-Semitic brute that he was. Suddenly, he stopped screaming, as a diabolical smile crossed his face.
Yes, he would grant the Steipler’s request on the condition that the he pass a little test. If he could prove himself to be a strong warrior, he would be permitted to observe Shabbat. The test was “simple.” The captain ordered his soldiers to form two rows opposite each other, arming themselves with wooden planks. The Steipler was to “attempt” to make it from one end of the row to the other as the soldiers beat him mercilessly with their planks. If he survived the ordeal, he would be allowed to observe Shabbat.
The Steipler understood the situation. He was probably risking his life, but Shabbat was worth the ordeal. He put his hands over his head as protection, whispered a heartfelt prayer and forged ahead. The guards began to beat him with all they had: no mercy, no sensitivity, just pure brutal malevolence. The pain was intolerable, but the reward of keeping Shabbat was the pot of gold at the end. Inch by Inch, he trudged forward, blinded by pain and covered with blood. He reached the end of the line and collapsed.
With a faint smile on his lips. He made it! The Shabbat that he cared about so much must have surely protected him. The captain reluctantly gave in to the Steipler’s demand to observe Shabbat. The Steipler lay on the ground, bloodied and broken. Nobody bothered to pick him up, but he did not care. He had triumphed over the cruel officer. He had triumphed over the yetzer hara, the evil inclination. He had won Shabbat Kodesh!
The Steipler concluded the story, looked at his intended kallah and asked, “Are you prepared to join me in a continuous quest of self-sacrifice for Torah and mitzvot? This is the life I plan to lead.” The future rebbetzin, the mother of today’s pre-eminent gaon, Horav Chaim Kanievsky, Shlita, replied in the affirmative, and they became chattan and kallah.
There’s a famous saying that goes “As much as the Jews kept Shabbat, the Shabbat kept the Jews!” The Shabbat that we keep today and that we kept throughout the generations is the secret that has kept the Jewish people alive as a great nation until this very day.
Reprinted from the Parshat Vayakhel 5779 email of Rabbi Amram Sananes as written by Jack E. Rahmey.
The Challenge of Donating Tzedakah
The Volozhiner Yeshivah was once in serious financial straits, and they sent Rav Chaim Brisker, O”BM, to Minsk to raise a large sum of money. Rav Chaim stayed with the well-known philanthropist Reb Baruch Zlatowitz, O”BM.
Reb Baruch promised to help raise money while Rav Chaim continued learning in his home. After several days, Rav Chaim asked Rav Baruch how successful he had been.
Reb Baruch said he had already raised half of the necessary funds. Rav Chaim expressed his satisfaction and continued learning. A week later, Reb Baruch said he had all the money. Rav Chaim thanked his host warmly and returned to Volozhin.
Later, Rav Chaim learned that Rav Baruch had donated the entire sum from his own pocket. The next time they met, Rav Chaim asked the philanthropist, “If you were donating money anyway, why did you keep me there for two weeks?” “Does the Rav think it is easy to give away so much money? I had to work on myself to part from the first half of the sum, and then it took me even more time until I could finally part with the rest!”
Reprinted from the Parshas Vayakhel 5779 email of Torah Sweets Weekly edited by Mendel Berlin.
Hashem and the Silversmith
“He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.” (Malachi 3:3)
Rav Paysach Krohn related that once a seminary class in England was trying to understand the Pasuk in Mishlei (25:4) which refers to Hashem as purifying the waste out of the silver as a metaphor for purifying Klal Yisrael, so the class decided to go on a field trip to visit a silversmith.
They watched as the silversmith held the silver in the hottest part of the fire, and one of the girls asked if he could just leave it there instead of standing and holding onto it.
He answered, “No, it had to be watched meticulously because if it was left in too long, it would lose its structure and get destroyed.”
Another girl asked, “How long should it be left in?” and the silversmith responded, “Until it’s ready”.
She persisted and said, “How do you know when it’s ready to take out?”
He answered, “It’s ready to come out when I see my reflection in the metal, and that means that the process is done.”
His words echoed within the girls as they gained understanding to the words of the Pasuk. The girls realized that Hashem sometimes has to put a person through a refining process, and has to “hold him to the fire”. However, Hashem is always watching him meticulously in order to purify him, and not to destroy him.
When is this process done? Only when Hashem sees the reflection of His Image in us. When Hashem sees us acting in His ways, we can be removed from the “fire”. The way we act and behave will demonstrate to Hashem that we have been purified and refined.
Reprinted from the Parshas Vayechi 5779 email of Torah U’Tefilah compiled by Rabbi Yehuda Winzelberg.
Two are Better than One
In honor of the Kiddush that I made in shul on Shabbos for the birth of my daughter, I invited my parents and my in-laws to spend Shabbos with us and join in the Simcha. Both sets of parents went from Yerushalayim to Beit Shemesh where I live.
When my parents arrived, I went out to help them with the suitcases to bring them into the house. As I was carrying the suitcases, I noticed two shtreimlach (Chasidisha hats worn on Shabbos) in the middle of the street.
I asked my father if they were his. My father checked and he acknowledged that they were both his. I wondered why he needed his two shtreimlach when he only needed one for Shabbos?!
I told my father with a smile: “Wait and see the hashgacha pratis that will happen here, and we will put the story in Tiv HaHashgacha in Tiv Hakehila. My father was pleased with my faithful answer and anticipated seeing how Hashem prepared the extra shtreimel.
As Shabbos approached, we were getting ready to go to shul, and my father-in-law was going through his things looking for something. I asked him what had happened and why was he so upset?
He said that it seemed that he forgot his shtreimel in Yerushalayim and how could he go around on Shabbos without a shtreimel? This will look ridiculous!!! Abruptly, I told him that there was an extra shtreimel prepared by Heaven with special hashgacha.
Reprinted from the Parshas Pekudei 5779 email of Tiv Hakehila.
