A Tehillim rally recently held in the
Tamir Hotel was attended by hundreds of women. Aside from
being inspired by the speeches delivered, we were deeply
moved to be part of some fifty rounds of the complete Sefer
Tehillim jointly said by the audience, rather, the
participants -- for we did not only come to `hear' but to `be
heard'. One of the messages presented was: Why start the
good `habit' of Tehilim when the going is rough when you can
be close to Hashem EVERY DAY, when thing are normal!
Additionally inspiring was the fact that
simultaneously, in locations on three other continents and
many cities around the globe, similar Tehillim groups were
joining us in our recital, creating a Crown of Glory for
Hashem.
Tehillim groups are constantly being
organized in neighborhoods and apartment buildings. This is
the way these sessions work: Signs are put up inviting the
women for a (weekly) 15 minute session to begin promptly
at..... The women come and pick up a booklet containing about
5 Psalms from a pile on the table (first saying the prayer
preceding the recital of the entire Tehillim). As soon as
they finish one booklet, they take another, until the pile
has disappeared -- usually within 15 minutes for ten-or-so
women. (When Tehillim becomes more familiar, it goes
quicker.) That's all there is to it. No special commitment.
If you can't come one week, you try to come the next.
And when you've all finished -- without
talking in between -- one woman says the prayer afterwards.
So simple. And such a wonderful feeling to be part of such a
project. It is uplifting, inspiring, cleansing. And it helps
for whatever ails you. Guaranteed to bring you closer to
Hashem! And to your neighbors.
In this world so filled with problems and
pain, we often do not realize the everyday wonders, favors
and miracles that Hashem, in His infinite kindness, performs
for us. Recently, three events took place in our small
community that are so marvelous, each in its own way, that
they cannot be overlooked.
The first is the story of a woman I will call
Tikva. Although only in her mid-forties, she suffered from
asthma and her health began to deteriorate. She developed
severe breathing problems which continued to worsen and then,
she frighteningly lapsed into a coma. Our whole community
prayed for her daily, recited Tehillim and refrained from
speaking loshon hora for the sake of her recovery. But
the doctors were not optimistic. She developed a hole in her
lung, but in her condition, it was too risky to operate. Her
life hung in the balance and it was difficult to feel
hopeful.
One of her closest friends, shortly due to
give birth, sat up with her all night. The yeshiva
bochurim went to pray for her on Har Hazeisim during
the day, and when her twelve-year-old nephew put on
tefillin for the first time at the Me'oras Hamachpela,
we all said Tehillim with renewed fervor. Maybe it was in the
merit of our Ovos and Imahos buried there, but that very day
marked the turning point, the beginning of Tikva's
recovery.
She emerged from the coma and began to speak,
thinking that only a few hours had elapsed. The hole in her
lung began to heal on its own. The doctors were amazed.
Shortly afterwards, she was released from the hospital and a
month later she celebrated her recovery with a seudas
hoda'a in our community. Then I saw her at a sheva
brochos, smiling and chatting with her friends. My
neighbor asked me, "Do you see the walking miracle?" the same
thought had just crossed my mind, too. Sometimes we don't
have to wait until techiyas hameisim to witness a
resurrection.
*
The second miracle happened to a woman I will
call Rachel because like Rochel Imenu, she was childless for
a long time. Thirteen pain-filled years of dashed hopes,
disappointment, and despair. Although seemingly calm and
cheeful, she must have suffered in her silent house. In our
small community of large families, the sounds of other
people's children could be heard outside her door all the
time.
One night Rachel invited several of us to her
home for a shiur. One woman brought her small baby
along with her. It had been fast asleep but awoke suddenly
and started crying.
How strange its cries sounded in this always
quiet home. It seemed to strike a poignant chord, and I am
sure I was not the only one attuned to it. At that moment I,
and surely the others, prayed silently, but with all the
concentration we could muster, that a baby's cries should
fill this home, too. The cries of Rachel's own baby.
Incredibly, it happened. The sound barrier
was broken. Like our matriarchs who were finally blessed with
children of their own after many years of tears, Rachel now
has her own little miracle to hold and behold, a blessing all
the more precious for its having been withheld.
"You turn the barren housewife into a joyful
mother of children." These beautiful words from Hallel are
even more meaningful now, to Rachel and to all of us who know
her.
*
The third event came in the form of a wedding
invitation. Two young people are about to join their lives
and build a Jewish home. Nice, but it happens almost every
day. What's so special about this particular wedding? One
might say it is not much short of a miracle.
The kalla, whom I will refer to as
Nitzan, was born to totally secular, left-wing parents in a
kibbutz in northern Israel. She grew up knowing nothing of
Yiddishkeit, although she did learn some Jewish history in
school, taught as just another subject. As she grew older,
the corrupt, amoral lifestyle of the kibbutz disgusted Nitzan
and she left in search of an answer to her spiritual quest.
Not knowing where to start, she first groped among the
religions of the Far East, but she soon realized that this
was not what her heart was seeking.
Finally, she found her way to Jerusalem and
to a women's seminary. There she found her answer and claimed
her own legacy, the Torah. It was at this time that we first
met Nitzan and invited her to come to us for a Shabbos, then
another Shabbos. Her joy in the mitzvos was contagious
and we all enjoyed having her with us. Despite (or perhaps
because of) all the difficulties she had to overcome,
especially the opposition of her family, the levels Nitzan
has reached are truly inspiring.
Her chosson, Dovid, born to a
traditional Sefardi family, went off the Torah path for a
long time. After serving in the Israeli army, he lived a
secular life in the United States for several years, but
eventually, the meaningless materialism made him decide to
return home, in every sense of the word. To his family, to
Israel, to learning in a yeshiva and leading a Torah life.
The wedding of Nitzan and Dovid was a true
Kiddush Hashem. The kalla's parents and relatives
finally met their daughter's religious friends and saw them --
not through the distorted media stereotype -- but as genuine,
caring people who wanted the best for Nitzan. The wedding was
a cross section of the Israeli population: Israelis and
Americans, Ashkenazim, Sefardim, secular and many shades of
religious observance. Two vibrant scenes still stand out in
my mind: the first is of Nitzan dancing with her mother and
two sisters in a tight circle, faces glowing with joy,
surrounded by a larger outer circle of her friends. Almost
all were young Israeli baalos tshuva who had struggled
to find an answer, as she describes it. Each one alone is a
miracle!
The second scene, which I glimpsed through
the mechitza, consisted of Nitzan's two elderly uncles
happily dancing with their arms around the shoulders of the
chosson's friends. Some heads were bare, others were
covered with borrowed silk yarmulkas, knitted kipot or
black hats. All the guests were joyfully celebrating this
very special event together.
If only the unity felt at that wedding could
spill over into all of our daily lives and hasten the coming
of Moshiach... But with miracles like these, happening all
the time, can that time be far away?
