Some weeks ago I was privileged to lead a fabulous group of women to Poland once again. This time, instead of walking under the blazing Nine Days sun, the frigid cold greeted us. Though we wore layers of clothing and all the right gear to keep us warm, we still felt the icy cold. I wondered at the miracle of our existence. Only through the nissim and chassadim of HaKadosh Baruch Hu did any person live through the fire and devastation, and begin life anew.
Our first night there, we walked through the bais hachaim in Warsaw. There are many tzaddikim whose kevarim remain there, inviting tefillos and bakashos to soar. There are also stories of our nation told through the stones piled one on top of the other. Mass graves discovered. We came upon a Magen David in the ground, steel grates below. This was testimony to the little children who scurried through the sewers, nicknamed ‘sewer rats’, searching for food to bring back to their famished families from the other side of the ghetto walls. Only their slight bodies would fit through the stench-filled underground. The night was hauntingly beautiful as we explored the many kevarim in the dark.
As we exited and walked to the bus, I noticed that one of the women had only one of her black and white patterned gloves on her hands.
“Oh wow!’ I said, as I took her freezing hand into mine. “You lost your other glove?”
The young woman gave me a shy smile. “No…” she replied.
I looked at her puzzled and then noticed the woman standing next to her. The matching glove was on her hand.
“I couldn’t find my gloves, not sure if I left them in my bag on the bus. Miriam noticed my hands and gave me one of her gloves.”
“Tell me something,” I said. “Did you know each other before?”
They both shook their heads. “Nope, we just met.”
I could not believe it. The chesed I had just witnessed touched me deeply.
I heard my mother’s voice, giving a shiur about the shibbud Mitzrayim, our difficult time as slaves in Egypt.
My mother would ask ‘what turned it all around?’ What was the moment in the pasuk that gives us the secret to Geulah? “V’gam ani shemati es naakas Bnei Yisrael – And I also heard the cries and screams of Am Yisrael.” ‘V’gam – and I also’ means that Hashem heard our cries in addition to us all hearing the cries of one another.
Do you want to know how to bring the Geulah to the world?
It is not enough to scream out from your pain and suffering. You must hear the cry of the person sitting next to you. You must open up the gates in shamayim for the aching hearts of those waiting for refuahs, yeshuas, simchas and shalom. Daven for the lonely, the broken-hearted, the ones who toss and turn all night as they hold shattered dreams in their hands.
How easy it is to say ‘I have my own problems’ when confronted with the challenges of another. But HaKadosh Baruch Hu wants us to get out of our bubble and wake up.
Even if it means discomfort.
This young woman could easily have made believe that she did not see the woman walking besides her with hands that were bare. She could have said that she only had her gloves, no extras, and shrugged her shoulders.
Instead she saw the need and removed herself from a place of warmth.
This is how Moshiach comes.
When we stop making excuses, and make a difference.
Moshe Rabbeinu is growing up in the palace of Pharaoh. He leaves the gleaming marble luxury home to see the pain of his people. He is then described as ‘Vayigdal – and he grew.’ If you truly want to be a gadol, if you wish to raise a child who is a gadol – great, it is about opening your eyes and feeling the tza’ar that is right in front of you.
We have an opportunity now unlike any time we have lived in. Our nation needs us. The anguished, the hurt, and the wounded. The sobs of the children screaming ‘Abba’! The young wives and mothers who now must face life alone. The earth of Eretz Yisrael is crying out to us from all the karbanos that she must hold. This is our moment. Feel you brother’s and sister’s pain. Take off your glove and share the warmth with another.
