Sparks of Kindness

The longest distance in the world is the distance between the brain and the heart.

 

Last week I wrote about how difficult it is to take our intellectual knowledge and bring it down to the emotional level, so that we are actually living what we know to be true.

 

Little did I realize that I would soon be given the test of a lifetime. One of the largest real estate companies in Israel recently went bankrupt. The company was enormous – controlling a whopping 10% of the real estate market! In addition to owing one billion shekels to the banks, contractors and suppliers the company left close to five thousand apartments unfinished. The banks are claiming the unfinished structures as payment for their debt, and thousands of families throughout the country are in danger of losing their homes — while continuing to pay enormous mortgages for apartments that will never be theirs.

 

My son is among them. Years ago, as a newly married couple, he and his wife bought a tiny two and a half room apartment on the fifth floor. As their family grew the apartment became too small. In addition it was extremely difficult for my daughter-in-law to climb the five flights of stairs while carrying an infant in one arm and holding a toddler's hand with the other.

 

So when sale of apartments in a new building project close to their house opened up, they jumped at the opportunity to purchase a four room apartment. Several projects were put up for sale at the same time, but my son chose this particular project because the company building the project had been in existence for over forty years and had constructed dozens of projects throughout the country. He did his homework, made sure it was a good investment, sold his home, transferred his mortgage, took on additional loans and held down two jobs to repay the loans, to be able to provide his family with a home.

 

But although he had done everything according to the books, Hashem had different plans. Left wing activists found some minor illegalities in the construction, and claimed that it impinged on Arab land. There was a two year legal battle. During that time, construction ground to a halt and the families who had purchased the apartments were forced to rent elsewhere (at great expense to themselves). Although the Supreme Court ruled in favor of the construction company, the company incurred enormous losses that they were not able to absorb. They owe over a billion shekels to the banks, to their workers, to the contractors, to the suppliers and to the struggling families who purchased apartments. The struggling families are the bottom of the list.

 

When my daughter phoned to tell me the news, I went into a state of shock. My poor child! If it had been me I could have coped with it, but to see my son and his wife suffering financial ruin… well, there's really no words to express how I felt. I kept on repeating the words that I am constantly telling our readers – that everything is for the best; that we don't understand the entire picture; that we face challenges to bring out the best in us. My son and his wife are tzaddikim, living these concepts as they try to cope with this new reality. But as for myself, well, on an intellectual level I know that everything I write is true, but I was having difficulty integrating that knowledge into my heart. So I keep on repeating the words that I constantly espouse – emuna, emuna, emuna. I try to actualize my emuna through prayer, and I constantly repeat that Hashem is giving us this challenge to refine us and bring us closer to Him.

 

In an amazing case of siyata d'Shemaya, Divine Providence, I heard the following story just a few days before the real estate company went bankrupt. I find myself constantly thinking of the story's message as I try to integrate that message into my own life – to bring the message from the realm of the intellectual to the realm of the heart.

 

Rebbe Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev once spent the night at a small unassuming Jewish Inn somewhere in Poland. As was his custom, he awoke at midnight to recite Tikkun Chatzot, the midnight lamentations for the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash.

 

When the innkeeper heard someone crying in the middle of the night, he jumped out of bed to investigate. He was shocked to find the famous Chassidic rabbi, Rebbe Levi Yitchak, sitting on the floor, sobbing hysterically. "Rebbe," he interrupted him, "what happened? Why are you crying?"

 

Rebbe Levi Yitzchak told the innkeeper that he was crying over the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash.

 

"What's that?" asked the innkeeper.

 

Rebbe Levi Yitzchak explained that the Beit Hamikdash was the one physical place on earth that housed God's presence. He described how the Kohanim offered the korbonot, and how the Jewish Nation's prayers were funneled directly to God's Holy Throne. He told the innkeeper how the Romans had destroyed our people's glory, and that, as a result, we were dispersed among the nations. The innkeeper started crying bitterly at the immensity of the tragedy that had occurred to the Jewish people.

 

Rebbe Levi Yitzchak tried to comfort the innkeeper. "Tisha b'Av is the day set aside to mourn the destruction of our Beit Hamikdash," he began. "The intensity of our mourning lessens at noon. Until noon we are not allowed to sit on a chair or do any work, after noon, we are allowed to sit on a chair and work. Yet, the actual destruction of the Beit Hamikdash occurred at noon, and continued on until the following day. The Beit Hamikdash burned from the afternoon of Tisha b'Av until the afternoon of the following day."

 

The innkeeper was confused. If the Beit Hamikdash was burning, then it would seem that we should intensify our mourning, rather than make it less.

 

"But we lessen our mourning because, with the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash, Hashem took out His anger on bricks and stones – and not on our people. Had Hashem's full wrath been directed to the Jewish people, we, the Jewish Nation, would have been completely destroyed. There would have been nothing left of us. So in a sense, it was a manifestation of Hashem's lovingkindness that He destroyed the building –even such a holy building – instead of destroying our holy People."

 

Rebbe Levi Yitzchak continued speaking to the innkeeper, consoling him for the destruction of the mere bricks and stone that comprised the Beit Hamikdash. "We must be so grateful, so happy, that Hashem took out his wrath on an edifice, and not on us, His beloved people. Come, let us dance, let us rejoice that Am Yisrael Chai, we, the Jewish People, are alive. We exist, could there be a greater reason for rejoicing?"

 

And with that, the two men, the great Chassidic Rebbe, Rebbe Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, and the simple innkeeper started dancing. They danced in abandon, with sheer joy that Hashem in his mercy had kept His people alive.

 

They danced and they danced, and they continued dancing. They made so much noise that several of the Chassidim who were traveling with Rebbe Levi Yitchak of Berditchev woke up from the ruckus. They ran into Rebbe Levi Yitzchak's room and were surprised to see the Rebbe and the innkeeper prancing about like two young children, singing and clapping, twirling and prancing.

 

"What happened? Why are you dancing?" one of them asked.

 

The simple innkeeper stopped dead in his tracks. Spreading his hand wide, he broke into a beatific smile and beamed, "Because… because the Beit Hamikdash was destroyed!"

 

Yes, it's a humorous story, but it's message rings true. Baruch Hashem that Hashem's judgment is on an apartment, and not, God forbid, on our souls. Baruch Hashem that we have the Torah to guide us, and to help us get through such challenges. Baruch Hashem we have so much to be grateful for.

 

May Hashem give all of us the strength to face our individual, tailor-made challenge and find the spark of Hashem's kindness that is hidden within it.