There really are a lot of things to worry about, and teach,
in a Torah household: honoring parents, kashrus, laws
of and feelings towards Shabbos and festivals, tzedoka,
maaser, brochos, good manners and so on. The list goes on
and on.
We keep busy teaching and reminding ourselves, our children
and our peers of what is right and proper. Lots of work and
constant effort.
Yet there is one aspect of this whole thing that I've been
wondering about lately: my attitude towards the
mitzvos. No, not the doing of the
mitzvos. We all know that we need to do them. And I'm
not even referring to the need to work at having more
kavona when doing a mitzva. No. That is also
obvious.
I'm talking about the wish to do the mitzvos,
the desire to do them. To my attitude towards performing
them. I'm talking about a feeling of urgency that says,
"Hurry! Go to it! Do it right now! Grab that mitzva
immediately! Don't risk the chance of losing the opportunity
of doing this mitzva, chas v'sholom!" With exclamation
marks!
And, if it ends up that I cannot actually do it or if that
mitzva no longer needs to be done, I can't help asking
myself if I get a proper feeling of sadness that I was not
the one able to fulfill that particular opportunity.
Intellectually, I know that this is the proper attitude I
should have. But I keep wondering: do I actually have it in
practice?
Not really.
And even if I do express that sometimes, do I show it enough
so that my family and friends know it, and therefore, during
those times when they don't have it, perhaps they will
remember and emulate what I try to do? After all, there are
so many things that I keep reminding people to do or
think...
Do I think about this enough, so that I develop and
strengthen this attitude of zerizus, eagerness and
alacrity towards mitzvos, in myself? And if I don't
what does that say about me and my overall level of
frumkeit?
Last Friday I went downstairs to a neighbor, family L.
Several of the children were in the kitchen while their
mother was preparing for Shabbos. I asked the 14-year-old son
if he wouldn't mind toveling four plates for me
sometime when he goes to the mikve. I meant anytime
within the next 2-3 weeks, since the plates had already been
lying in my closet some five weeks.
The 14-year-old stood up and immediately walked out of the
room. He returned a minute later, putting on his jacket. When
I realized that he intended to do it right away, I protested
and said that any time within the next few weeks would
be wonderful.
His mother asked if I really meant it and I said I did. She
proceeded to explain that as Dushinsky chassidim, her
son had already been to the mikve that morning before
davening, and intended to go again shortly before
Shabbos. Was I sure that would be O.K.?
I stood in awe before this 14-year-old and his mother, he for
being prepared to jump up and to do a favor to some lady he
hardly knew, and she, for expecting it of him. I would have
considered myself a saint if I had done an equivalent favor
by the following week. And, yes, his sister delivered the
plates to me a few hours later.
*
I know that if I heard that my neighborhood grocery was
having a going-out-of-business sale and was liquidating
everything at half price, I would rush over there as soon as
I could to stock up. And if I didn't have a previous
appointment, but was sitting at home, dressed for the street,
not doing anything particularly vital, with no sick children -
- or whatever, I would surely get up and hurry out to the
store immediately in order not to miss that sale.
Now add this to the above scenario: we are desperately short
of money, with credit being given to us with a sour face. I
am hungry and have five hungry children coming home shortly
from school with nothing to feed them. Add to that a small
amount of cash that has just come my way.
How fast would I get up and run to the sale on the corner?
You bet I would hurry. What's the question? I'd even borrow
the cash if I had to, and ask everyone I met on the way for
ideas on best buys.
Yet, what do I do with my mitzva opportunities? Do I
act and speak as if these are as urgent as quelling a hunger
pang? How often, when the opportunity arises, does my mind
run to think of all the reasons for not doing it at that
moment, rather than running to get my coat?
Any ideas on fixing things up?
I guess the easiest thing is to begin trying to do
every mitzva that crosses my path as soon as possible.
Actually putting anything I am doing aside and "running to
get my coat."
And if I can't do it, at least to be sorry, and to show and
verbalize my disappointment, especially if there is someone
else in the room. I should speak with regret and express my
disappointment. At least this way, I am using the lost
opportunity for something positive.
In fact, a friend said that Rebbetzin Sheinberg taught her
that I should also make a real effort to find someone else
who will do whatever I am unable to do.
There is more, too. I can begin anticipating the next
eventuality, plowing up the field, so to speak, to get it
ready for the seeds, and mindsetting myself with alacrity,
verbally, and avoiding flip expressions like "I'll do it
whenever I get the chance," which too often leads to "Oops, I
forgot."
Although I was taught that it is better not to talk about
mitzvos I perform, perhaps it would be beneficial to
mention the joy I experience in getting to perform a
mitzva, and the pride at being the one who was able to
complete it. These daily successes create excellent "dinner
conversation" that applies to all ages and reinforces this
characterisitc in doer and listener alike, while expressing
sadness over those times when we miss out. Such conversation
provides an important lesson to our children that we value
the activities of mitzvos enough to speak about them
at least as often as we talk about whom we saw today and what
we are planning to buy next week at what sale.
I wonder if, perhaps, there is even another additional
benefit, which we cannot see or feel.
Perhaps, putting these kinds of words and ideas into the air
is in itself a good thing. Perhaps, by constantly sharing
such thoughts with our family and friends about the details
and feelings of performing mitzvos, it will work as a
kind of "positive pollution antidote," that is, spreading the
love of Hashem's commandments throughout our neighborhood,
city and our Land.
Tzvia Ehrlich-Klein is the author of ON BUS DRIVERS,
DREIDELS AND ORANGE JUICE (Feldheim); A CHILDREN'S TREASURY
OF SEPHARDIC TALES (Artscroll) and HAPPY HINTS FOR A
SUCCESSFUL ALIYAH (Feldheim). She writes for various
publications in Israel, England and the U.S.A.
