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Thursday, March 28, 2024

Parshas Vayera – Excuses Excuses

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Rabbi David Bibi expounds on the Sedra of the week
Rabbi David Bibi expounds on the Sedra of the week
As we begin this week’s portion we find that Abraham is sitting outside his tent. It’s been three days since he circumcised his entire household and as the rabbis teach us, the third day is the most difficult. G-d lets the sun really shine that day as he comes to visit Abraham teaching us the importance of Bikur Holim. It’s a classical Middle Eastern Hamseen or heat wave and nobody is out.

Then suddenly Abraham sees three men in the distance and he pardons himself from Hashem in order to attend to them. Here we see how much G-d values man who goes out of his way for his fellow man.

And we see the true kindness of Abraham. Abraham had many potential excuses not to get up himself to serve the guests.

He was a wealthy man with many servants who could be called upon to serve the guests. He was an honored man, known among the populace as a Priest of G-d, and serving guests might be beneath one of such honored stature. He was recovering from surgery on the hottest of days, both excellent reasons to simply say, “not today”. And possibly the greatest excuse of all was that at that moment, he was talking to G-d and nothing else should matter.

How often are we presented with an opportunity to do a misvah, yet we come up with an excuse? I remember Mr. Siegel, my seventh grade teacher quoting George Washington Carver, “Ninety-nine percent of the failures come from people who have the habit of making excuses. “

He wasn’t into excuses. I recall hearing a story where the morning flight of four men from Telz in Cleveland and headed to New York is diverted to Washington. After arriving in BWI, they meet up with and form a minyan with six Chasidim who have also been on their plane. Another man appears, says kaddish and as he does so, bursts into tears. When queried he relates that his recently deceased father had, the night before, come to him in a dream reminding him that it was his yahrzeit and asking him to say Kaddish. The man offered some feeble excuse as to why he couldn’t get to a minyan. The father inquired, ? What if I were to send you a minyan? Would you say kaddish for me then?? ?

Most of us are not so lucky to have someone in heaven adjust weather and airport traffic control to overcome our excuse. Excuses are the nails used to build a house of failure.

As children of Abraham, our DNA has built into it the ability to overcome any excuse.

Haham Ovadia z’sl often told us of our responsibility to have guests over especially those less fortunate and less involved. Often we think we are doing them a favor by inviting them, but typically in doing Chesed, chesed is done for us. Let’s never forget the phrase coined by my friend Jack Doueck that chesed is a boomerang. And we never can realize where the good will come from, but we should be assured that although we don’t do chesed expecting a return, return it will.

Let’s close this week with a beautiful story told by my dear friend Rabbi Paysach Krohn.

He writes: The Sages (Nedarim 81a) teach, Be attentive to the children of the poor, because from them Torah will flourish [because they are not encumbered by other involvements (Ran)].

The word Torah literally means teaching, hence the Talmudic phrase can be understood to mean that we should be attentive to the children of the poor, for there is much we can learn from them. In this touching story told to me by my son-in-law, Rabbi Shlomo Dovid Pfeiffer, we learn sensitivity from a poverty-stricken family.

Chezky Silverman (names have been changed) of Chicago was learning in a yeshivah in Jerusalem and loving every minute of it. His chavrusas were all Americans except for his afternoon chavrusa, Yankel Bernstein, an ebullient young married Yerushalmi.

Yankel and his wife had five children and although the family was poor, his enthusiasm for life and Torah was contagious.

One Thursday afternoon Yankel invited Chezky for the Friday-night meal. Chezky delightedly accepted the invitation as he looked forward to meeting Yankel’s family. The Bernsteins lived in an apartment complex on Rechov Shmuel Hanavi. Chezky had been told that the Bernsteins were poor, but he was not prepared for what he saw in their apartment. After Kiddush, when he made Hamotzi, Yankel was cutting the challah into very thin slices. Could the family be relying on this challah to last for all the Shabbos meals? Chezky, who came from a well-to-do home, could not bear the thought.

The meal soon became an anguished ordeal for Chezky as he saw the minuscule portions of fish, soup, and chicken Mrs. Bernstein served the children. Chezky’s own portion was larger than anyone else’s, and he felt guilty, for he understood that he was getting more at the expense of the Bernsteins. Although the divrei Torah and zemiros were lively and the children certainly seemed happy, Chezky vowed he would never come there again for a meal. It just wasn’t fair to Yankel’s family.

A few weeks later Yankel again invited Chezky for a Shabbos meal but Chezky said he already had other plans. Again and again Yankel invited his younger chavrusa, and each time Chezky had another excuse for not coming. Finally Yankel understood that Chezky’s excuses were just that — excuses.

One afternoon Yankel said directly, “I’ve invited you numerous times since you came that Friday night months ago, and each time you refuse me. Did we not treat you right that first time? Were our standards of kashrus not up to yours? Did any of my children say something that upset you?”

Chezky was surprised at how sensitive Yankel was to his refusals. He couldn’t hide the truth any longer. “I’ll tell you honestly, Reb Yankel,” he said. “I had no idea how you and your family lived. That Friday night I couldn’t help but notice there was not much food to go around the table and frankly I felt guilty eating anything because I knew it was at the expense of your wonderful children.” Chezky had to hold back his urge to cry.

Yankel put his hands on Chezky’s shoulders and said, “You really are considerate, but let me explain and I think you’ll understand.

“My wife and I come from poor families. When we were married, we discussed the likelihood that we would live the rest of our lives below the standards of many of our friends. We decided from the start that if we were to be blessed with children, we would invite guests once in a while to teach the children the middah (trait) of hachnasas orchim (hospitality to guests).

“We don’t have guests very often, but when we do, it is to show the children that we share the Ribono Shel Olam’s blessings with others.”

Chezky understood Reb Yankel’s explanation but still couldn’t allow himself to eat again at Reb Yankel’s home. Maybe sometime in the future he would reconsider, but not now.

As Lag B’Omer approached, Chezky planned a trip north to Miron, where thousands gather every year at the tomb of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. He mentioned it to Reb Yankel, who assured him that the trip was worthwhile. Reb Yankel said he would go along and bring his two eldest sons.

They planned to meet on Rechov Malchei Yisrael where the buses to Miron were gathering. In a festive mood, Chezky got up early and decided to surprise Yankel’s children. He went to a nearby makolet (grocery store), bought a few ice-cream sandwiches, and brought them to Yankel’s apartment. As he entered the home he called out to the children, “Here, look what I bought for you lich’vod (in honor of) Lag B’Omer.

The children took the ice-cream sandwiches, dutifully said their quick thank-you’s, and scampered out of the apartment.

Chezky was surprised. The Bernstein children could not have been accustomed to eating ice-cream sandwiches too often, and surely it was something special to them. Why hadn’t they reacted with greater enthusiastic thanks, instead of just muttering a few words and running off?

A few minutes later, Chezky could hear rumbling up the steps. Before he could turn around there were 15 neighborhood children in the Bernstein dining room around the table. They were each excited as they waited for the two oldest Bernstein children to come into the room.

In a moment the two Bernstein boys came to the table with the ice-cream sandwiches and knives in their hands. With meticulous care they cut the ice-cream sandwiches into small portions and with beaming smiles handed a section to each of the children who were present. Then, in unison, the Yerushalmi children theatrically licked the white lining of ice cream frozen between the brown top-and-bottom crackers, smiling and joking as they devoured their special morning treat.

Chezky observed the scene and turned to Reb Yankel who stood beaming at the dining room entrance. Their eyes met. There was no need for words — they both understood. Indeed the children had absorbed the message.

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