A Jewish Mother's Prayer
Moshe could not believe his eyes. Standing not far from him
in the courtyard of the Hertzlia Beit Knesset HaGadol was a
fine, G-d fearing avreich who bore an amazing resemblance to
an old friend - the grandson of Zalman Oren, one of the top
ministers in the government of David Ben Gurion. Could it be?
Moshe came up to him and said, "Excuse me, but by any chance,
is your name Oren?" To Moshe's amazement, the answer was
affirmative. Not able to hold himself back, Moshe remarked,
"Who would have believed Zalman Oren would have grandchildren
who keep Torah and mitzvos!" The avreich answered, "Let me
tell you an interesting story."
My grandmother, may her memory be blessed, was a simple
woman. Friday afternoons, as the sun was setting and the
shadows grew longer, Jewish women would be busily preparing
for the holy Sabbath. On a table they had placed a cloth with
candles on it, to be lit when it was time for the Shabbos to
start -- spreading kedusha over the entire creation. The
women would utter a prayer that they merit to bring up
upright children, and see grandchildren going in the straight
way, too. My grandmother was not at all Torah observant, but
she, too, would light Shabbos candles, covering her eyes just
as she remembered seeing her mother covering hers.
Her prayer about her offspring was different, though. She
would say, with sincerity and heartfelt hope, "May my
children go in the path of Ben Gurion. Master of the Universe
- give me children who have children who will be like the
Prime Minister - David Ben Gurion!" Shabbos candlelighting
was the only Jewish practice that remained to her, and Friday
afternoons, she felt the kedusha of the Shabbos, and wanted
to continue with the practice. She knew it was a time to say
a prayer and ask for something, and not knowing any better,
she picked the prayer that she picked.
Many times, after she lit, she would say to herself, "Why
should I say a prayer now? I'm not religious, so what good
will it do me?" Still, she kept saying her prayer, every
week, and understandably, her aspirations were glued on the
likes of Ben Gurion.
Her husband Zalman was one of Ben Gurion's cabinet ministers
and closest aid, and whenever her husband would speak about
Ben Gurion, it would be only with praise and admiration.
It was the first of Cheshvan, 5713. My grandfather came home
with wonder on his face. As always, as he sat at the table
waiting for the hot water to boil for his coffee, he began to
tell of what had happened that day.
"Today," he said, "the prime minister went to Bnei Brak and
met with the Chazon Ish - Rav Karelitz. I do not have words
to describe how he was affected by that meeting. The prime
minister is known to always be very calm and collected, but
when he left that meeting he was so impressed by the Chazon
Ish, he was extremely excited. He could not stop talking
about him, and was not able to be calm until he finally said,
`If I had not seen him myself, I would never have believed
that such people exist.'" Zalman and his family talked about
the matter for days, and my grandfather did not realize how
all this affected my grandmother.
The next Friday afternoon, she stood across from the candles
and prepared herself to say a different prayer. Earlier that
day, she had said to herself, "If Ben Gurion thinks so highly
of this man, then he must be someone special!" She lit the
two candles, circled her hands above them, covered her eyes
and said, "Master of the Universe! May it be Your Will that
my descendants go in the way of HaRav Karelitz, for if Ben
Gurion is impressed by him, he must be a very great person.
Master of the Universe! Give me grandchildren like HaRav
Karelitz!"
It did not matter that she did not know the Chazon Ish. If
Ben Gurion thought so highly of him, she did, too! From then
on, every Friday when she lit candles, a small tear would
appear in the corner of each of her eyes, and she would pray,
in unknowing simplicity, "Master of the Universe! May they be
like HaRav Karelitz!"
The years went by. A generation came, and then another. In
time, the short but heartfelt prayer bore fruit. The world of
Torah continued to stand, and eventually met up with one of
her grandchildren. So here I am, keeping all the mitzvos,
working hard at reach out programs trying to bring other Jews
back into the fold, and "going in the way of HaRav
Karelitz."
So often, a person who considers himself average will
discourage himself from taking a small step in the right
direction, to improve and uplift himself. He is convinced
that he will never become a tzaddik, and never become a
talmid chacham, so he passes up opportunities for progress in
those directions. If he sees a certain step as a minor detail
or only slight progress, while in his eyes, the distance to
be traveled is so very far, he says to himself, "Why
bother?"
My grandmother's was a simple prayer from a simple person -
without kavanot or yichudim. She was not a Gadol HaDor, and
not wife of a Gadol HaDor. Who knows what would have become
of me had my grandmother listened to that voice in her heart
that sought to discourage her by saying, "What good will it
do you? You're not religious!" What if she had given in to it
and said, "You're right! I'm going to stop this silly
praying!" But no, she continued on, praying for the welfare
of her grandchildren, and the prayer helped, for now she has
a grandson who keeps the Torah and mitzvot!
This moving story is a lesson for all of us - good is good,
even if it is only a small good. A step forward is never to
be treated lightly, even if looks like a small step. Don't
treat such small steps lightly, and never allow a step
backwards! Never stand still and never give up, and silence
that voice that only wants prevent your growth!
With Blessings of the Torah The Editor
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