The Short Vort
Good Morning!
Today is Thursday the 27
th
of Iyar 5780 and May 21, 2020
“No Free Lunch”
Yehudah Steingot (name changed) is my father’s cousin.
Like my father, he was born in Yerushalayim in 1929.
Recently, at the age of 91, he made his first trip to Chutz L’Aretz to attend the Chasunah of his great-grandson.
My cousin had accepted my invitation to stay over at my home and regale me with tales of Eretz Yisroel of long ago.
He was pleasantly surprised to see in a formerly unbeknownst to him Jewish outpost called Passaic; there was a Shul which had around the clock minyanim.
The next day he announced that now that he is in New York would like to visit 770, as he heard so much about it.
He asked me how much the bus and subway would cost as he began to check how many dollars he had.
It was then I noticed that all he had was a five-dollar bill. The 200 Shekalim he exchanged for dollars disappeared faster than he imagined.
“R’ Yehudah, there is no problem I will lend you the money.”
He shook his head in disbelief and turned to me.
“Let me tell how we grew up in Eretz Yisroel in the 1940s. One day I was returning from Bnei Brak to Yerushalayim. In those days, there was no direct bus, so I traveled from Bnei Brak to Tel Aviv, and from the old Central Bus Station, I took a bus to Yerushalayim.
One scorching summer day, after arriving in Tel Aviv, I treated myself to an “Artik” (a popsicle). I was only 14 years old, and I was not adept at budgeting money. After purchasing my Artik, I proceeded to the bus platform for Yerushalayim.
As I was about to board the bus, I realized I was a few “grush” short.”
I interrupted and asked, “What did you do? Ask someone to borrow a few pounds?”
My cousin shot me a look that conveyed his incredulousness.
“Ask to borrow money? I would never be a debtor to anyone, even for a few Grush.”
“So, how did you get home?” I wondered.
“Near the bus station were second-hand stores that bought and sold all types of trinkets and jewelry. I had the wristwatch that I received from my grandfather for my Bar Mitzvah. I entered the store, asked the man how much he would give me for the watch. He handed me the money, and I gave him the watch. I then took the bus home.”
“I don’t understand,” I protested.
“Weren’t there other frum people on the line who would have gladly given you the few coins you were short as a gift?”
R” Yehudah stood tall as he rebuked me.
“Have you forgotten your Sefer Mishlei? Did not Shlomo HaMelech teach us “Soneh Matanos Yichye”- “He who hates gifts will live”?
Hashem did not grant us the Zechus to live in Eretz Yisroel by accepting handouts; we thrived because we followed the advice of the wisest of all men. We worked for the land.
I would do anything, even if it were selling my Bar Mitzvah wristwatch, to avoid taking a gift from someone. Nor would I allow myself to be indebted financially to anyone.
On the bus, a friend of mine sat down next to me. Excitedly he showed me the new wristwatch he had just bought at a local second-hand store. It was “my” watch. He said to me, “Hashem sent me a Metiza, look at the nice watch I just bought. It looks exactly like the one you received for your Bar Mitzvah. Do you have your watch on you? Let’s compare them.”
“My watch is not on my hand now, but don’t worry, I know it’s in good hands.
Hashem sent me a Metziah as well today.”
“What was it?”
“He sent me life.”
“If Not Now, Then When?”- Hillel
Ron Yitzchok Eisenman
Rabbi, Congregation Ahavas Israel
Passaic, NJ
