Opportunity Knocks

When the knock came on my door, my yetzer hara (evil inclination) was the one who answered it. There, on my doorstep stood a man, who upon sensing my presence, began to list all of his woes in rapid succession—in Hebrew, no less. I began to meander my way through the kids on the floor, and all the mess that kids on the floor are wont to make, looking for some spare change. I began to roll my eyes, muttering under my breath at the sheer audacity of this man, interrupting Me—ME! Doesn’t he know I am BUSY? What gives him the right to burst into my life and disrupt my equilibrium?!

My yetzer hara was doing a happy little jig all around me as I scrounged around for a few coins. The nerve! All of sudden, my good inclination (yetzer tov) burst on the scene and grabbed me by my self-righteous cranium and gave me a good shake.

“Don’t you remember what we learned in Rebbetzin Samet’s Shmiras HaLoshon class?!” It screamed. “How could you have already forgotten?!”

I stopped mid-way between the sofa and door.

My Yetzer Tov, seeing my thoughtful pause, began to disseminate the last lesson on overdrive.

“Remember?!” It yelled. “To give Tzedakah (charity) is worth six blessings (brachos)! But, if you give even a little bit of tzedakah, but you give the person in need a bracha and a smile, you get eleven brachos! You could give a hundred shekels with a sour face, and you only get six—but if you give two shekels with a smile, a word of encouragement, YOU CAN GET ELEVEN BRACHOS! ELEVEN!”

My yetzer hara stopped mid-dance, as the import of what I heard made its impact. Yes, yes! I do remember! How could I have forgotten! For who would I rather be—the giver, or the one who unfortunately, has to take. That man out there most likely has a hard time having to take from others—do I have to make it worse and show him that I don’t want to give? Should I deny him his dignity because I am currently feeling inconvenienced? Or could I choose to heap upon my head almost double the bracha for giving the same tzedakkah, albeit with a different countenance?

My Yetzer tov waited with bated breath. My Yetzer hara tugged at my skirt with a hopeful look. All of this, of course, took mere seconds in the sphere of regular time—but in spiritual minutes, they were looking at me on that big plasma screen in Shamayim wondering which I would choose.

I looked at my children around me, busily engaged, oblivious to their mother’s spiritual tug of war. These are the moments, I thought, when we build our spiritual arsenals—not with words, but with actions. They may not heed all of my words, a lot of the time. But my actions they will heed—most of the time.

I walked to the door determined to do right by this broken man on my doorstep. A man who would rather not ask, but who now finds himself, hand outstretched, waiting for me to put a little bit of hope inside it. But more than my money, he needs my compassion, my understanding. More than money he needs my encouragement—and my bracha. My yetzer tov gives me the thumbs up—my yetzer hara hangs his head in shame. I walk towards the outstretched hand, and deposit a few coins. And then, in some of the only Hebrew I know, I begin to bless this man from the depths of my being.

“May it be with hatzlacha, with health, for good…”

His face is transformed. His face lifts, and he gives me something in return. He begins to bless me! He is a giver, a part of Klal Yisrael, and he too wants to give, and he does.

And so what could have been a two second exchange of change, on a doorstep somewhere in Eretz Yisrael, became something more. It became an opportunity for spiritual elevation. What could have been a mundane and unnoticed incident, became an impetus for change.

So the next time you find yourself in the maelstrom of your life, and a tired and shamefaced yid is at your doorstep, don’t let the moment pass you by—for you never know when opportunity knocks.