Good Shabbos2

Blessing In Disguise

Posted on November 4, 2020 (5781) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha | Level: Beginner

In Pashas Vayera, Sora, the 90-year-old wife of Avraham, receives a most surprising piece of information from an even more surprising source. She is told by Arab nomads, who had found obliging accommodation in Avraham’s house, that in one year she will have a child. Instinctively, she reacts in disbelief to this prediction. She laughs.

Immediately, Hashem appears to Avraham He is upset. “Why did Sora laugh? Is there something that is beyond the Almighty? At the appointed time I shall return, and behold Sora will have a son (Genesis 18:12-13).

Hashem’s ire must be explained. After all, Sora was not told by Hashem that she will have a baby. She was informed by what appeared to be Arab wanderers. And though the Talmud explains that the three nomads were indeed angels sent by the Almighty, they did not identify themselves as such. So what does G-d want from Sora?

A man once entered the small study of the revered the Steipler Gaon, Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievski with a plea. “I’d like a blessing from the Rav. My daughter has been looking to get married for several years. All her friends are married and she would like to get married too, but nothing is working. Can the Rosh Yeshiva bless her to find her bashert? (appropriate one),” he asked.

The Steipler turned to the man and asked, “Is this your first daughter?”

“No,” replied the distraught parent, “Why do you ask?”

“When she was born did you celebrate with a kiddush?” ( a celebratory party in a religious setting)

The man was perplexed. “No. But, that was 27 years ago,” he stammerred, “and she was my third girl. I may have made a l’chayim while the minyan was leaving shul, but I never made a proper kiddush. But what does a missed kiddush 27 years ago have to do with my daughter’s shidduch (match) today?”

“When one makes a kiddush at a festive occasions,” explained Rav Kanievski, ” each l’chayim he receives is accompanied by myriad blessings. Some are from friends, others from relatives, and those blessings given by total strangers.

Among those blessings are definitely the perfunctory wishes for an easy time in getting married. By not making a kiddush for your daughter, how many blessings did you deprive her of? I suggest you make your daughter the kiddush that she never had.”

The man followed the advice, and sure enough within weeks after the kiddush the girl had met her mate.

At the bris (circumcision) of his first son (after ten girls), my uncle, Rabbi Dovid Speigel, the Ostrove-Kalushin Rebbe of Cedarhurst, Long Island, quoted the Ramban (Nachmanides) in this week’s portion.

The reason that Hashem was upset at Sora was that even if an Arab nomad gives the blessing, one must be duly vigilant to respond, “Amen.” One never knows the true vehicle of blessing and salvation. Hashem has many conduits and messengers. Some of those messengers’ divinity is inversely proportional to their appearance.

What we have to do is wait, listen, and pray that our prospective exalter is the carrier of the true blessing. And then, we have to believe.

Quite often, we have ample opportunities to be blessed. Whether it is from the aunt who offers her graces at a family gathering or the simple beggar standing outside a doorway on a freezing winter day, blessings always come our way. Sometimes they come from the co-worker who cheers you on at the end of a long day or the mail carrier who greets you with the perfunctory “have a nice day” as he brings today’s tidings. Each blessing is an opportunity that knocks. And each acknowledgment and look to heaven may open the door to great salvation. The only thing left for us to do is let those blessings in.

Good Shabbos.

First Impressions

Parshas Vayera

Posted on November 13, 2019 (5780) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

It is a blistering hot day. Abraham, that paragon of hospitality, is sitting by the door anxiously looking for passersby that he can invite into his home. Suddenly, he sees three dust-covered desert nomads trudging down the road. Before he brings them into his house, Abraham asks them to wash their feet, because he suspects they might be pagans who worship the dust of their feet. Then he feeds them lavishly.

Before they leave, the travelers, really angels in disguise, inform Abraham that Sarah would give birth in a year. Sarah overhears and bursts into laughter. After all, Abraham is one hundred years and she herself is a sprightly ninety, not exactly the height of the child-bearing years.

The Almighty, however, does not consider the situation humorous. He asks Abraham why Sarah found this a laughing matter, and Abraham, in turn, rebukes Sarah for laughing.

Let us consider for a moment. What had Sarah done wrong? After all, she did not know that the dusty wayfarers were really angels. Why then should she have thought that their blessings were efficacious? Can she be blamed for finding the fanciful good wishes of these wayfarers laughable?

The commentators explain that Sarah might indeed not have known that the wayfarers blessing her were angels, and this was exactly the reason she deserved to be reprimanded. She saw before her people who dressed differently, spoke differently, thought differently, and therefore, she looked down on them. She did not consider the blessings of such people worthwhile.

But how could she judge who is worthy and who is not? How could she know what lay within the hearts and souls of other people? How could she determine their inner value?

This was the reason Sarah was reprimanded. She took one look at these dusty wayfarers and instantly jumped to the conclusion that they were worthless people whose blessings were equally worthless.

A young man approached the stately house and knocked on the door. There was no response. He knocked again. Still no response.

Suddenly, he heard a hoarse voice speak. “What are you doing here, young fellow?”

He turned and saw an old man dressed in tramp’s rags sitting on the ground, his back against the wall. He had not noticed him before.

“I’ve come to see the great sage, old man,” the young man replied. “I want to become his disciple and learn from his knowledge and wisdom.”

“Hah!” said the tramp. “He doesn’t have so much knowledge, and he has even less wisdom.”

“How dare you?” the young man replied in a flash of anger. “What does a person like you know about knowledge and wisdom?” He turned back to the door and resumed knocking. Still no response.

The following day, the young man returned. His knock was answered by a servant who showed him into the presence of the sage. Amazingly, the sage seemed to be the identical twin of the beggar.

“You recognize me, don’t you?” said the sage, “I was the man sitting on the ground. I am afraid I can not accept you as my disciple.”

“But why?” the young man asked plaintively. “How was I to know it was really you?”

“You saw a man,” said the sage, “and based on his outward appearance you decided that he could know nothing about knowledge or wisdom. You can never be a disciple of mine.”

In our own lives, we are called upon to make value judgments about other people all the time.

Whether it is in a business, social or any other setting, we tend to jump to conclusions about new people. We rely on first impressions. We look at their clothing, their accessories, their bearing, their air of sophistication or lack of it, and we make assumptions about their intelligence, character, talents and social standing. First impressions are certainly important, and we should always try to make a good first impression on others. Nonetheless, it is unfair to pigeonhole and stereotype people on the basis of external appearance. Appearances can be deceiving, and we could be missing out on some very fine blessings.

Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.