Chana looked at the stack of unpaid bills in front of her
and felt the tears trickling down her cheeks. There was no
way she could pay them all -- the rent was due in two days,
tuition by the end of the week, and then there were the gas,
electricity and water bills, all of which had to be paid by
the end of the month.
Then, on top of everything else, Dovid had come home from
cheder today bursting with excitement over the trip
his class would be taking on Chanukah. The trip cost $10 --
a small sum, but money Chana just didn't have.
It's hard to believe Chanukah is just around the corner,
thought Chana sadly -- and it would be the children's first
without their father. It had all happened so fast. She had
gotten a call that Yaakov, just 32, had a heart attack at
work. The next thing she and the children knew, he was
gone.
Chana and Yaakov were baalei teshuva, and both sets
of parents had cut off contact with them years earlier. When
Yaakov died, Chana was suddenly alone. Friends and
neighborhoods sent over food packages and played with the
children, but it was Chana who had to deal with the day-to-
day reality of living without a husband.
The couple had never been wealthy, but they had always
managed to scrape by. After Yaakov's death, Chana began
working full time, but whatever she earned, it never seemed
to be enough.
And now Chanukah was coming and there was no money for
bills, much less Dovid's class trip or even small presents
for the children.
What hurt Chana the most wasn't that her children lacked
material things, but that she had so little time to spend
with them. She knew there was no way she could cut back on
her work hours. Then again, she also knew her children
needed her. Leah was still waking up with bad dreams in the
middle of the night and Dovid was having problems at
school.
Fortunately, an avreich from the neighborhood had
recently started to learn with him twice a week. It wasn't
much, but it seemed to be helping. For months Dovid had been
falling behind in his learning and was getting into constant
fights at school. At least now, things were starting to
improve.
Chana's thoughts drifted back to her 10 years of marriage --
and the 10 wonderful Chanukahs she and her husband had
shared. She recalled the first year of her marriage, when
Yaakov had lit their small, dented brass menorah on
the porch of their tiny Yerushalayim apartment, his deep
voice echoing out into the frosty night air. She had made
potato latkes -- and they weren't bad, especially
considering they were the first she'd ever made.
The next year Dovid was born, and two years later, Leah.
More menorahs were added to the windowsill, and Chana
perfected her latke-making technique. Three years ago the
family had moved into a slightly larger apartment, and
pictures of the family dancing and singing near the candles
and munching on crispy potatoes latkes flitted through
Chana's mind.
Last Chanukah had been particularly beautiful -- though no
one knew it would be Yaakov's last. They lit candles, played
dreidel and ate lots of latkes. And then, on the last
day of Chanukah, the family walked up and down the
neighborhood counting the dozens of menorahs
glistening from porches and windowsills.
"Ima, look how many candles there are," Leah had cried.
"It's like the world is celebrating Chanukah. Everyone knows
that Hashem does miracles."
At that moment, Chana was overcome with pride. She and
Yaakov had sacrificed much to build their Jewish home, but
it had all been worth it.
I still have that Jewish home, though Chana, coming back to
the present. She resolutely wiped away her tears and made a
silent promise to herself to make sure her Jewish home
remained strong.
Chana thought for a moment and then picked up the phone. She
called Dovid's rebbi, who was already familiar with the
family's financial situation. Reb Yitzchok told her Dovid
could go on the trip even if she couldn't afford to pay for
it. Chana thanked him profusely and hung up the phone. At
least now Dovid would go on the trip -- though she knew he
hated feeling like a charity case.
Chana crossed that expense of her list, but the relief she
felt was minimal. She went over the numbers again and again,
but there was just no way she could pay off all her
bills.
A knock at the door interrupted Chana's thoughts. It was
Shlomo, the avreich who learned with Dovid. But it
was Tuesday and he learned with Dovid on Mondays and
Wednesdays.
After giving Dovid a warm hello, Shlomo walked into the room
where Chana was sitting. Before Chana could ask Shlomo why
he had stopped by, Shlomo placed an envelope on the
table.
"Take it," he said. "It's a little Chanukah gelt from
Vaad Harabbonim."
Chana opened the envelope and couldn't believe what she saw.
Inside was enough money to not only pay off all her bills,
but also to pay for Dovid's class trip and to buy Chanukah
presents for both the children.
Chana tried to protest, but Shlomo was already on his way
out the door.
"Happy Chanukah," he called and was gone.
Chana had heard of Vaad Harabbonim, the volunteer
organization that distributes tzedokoh throughout the
year to families in crisis, who have nowhere else to turn.
She knew the organization operated under the guidance of
HaRav Yosef Shalom Eliashiv, HaRav Moshe Halberstam, HaRav
Shmuel Auerbach and other Torah leaders. What she didn't
realize was how great a difference the organization would
make in her own life.
With tears in her eyes, Chana thought back to what Leah had
said just the year before, while she was counting the many
menorahs in their Yerushalayim neighborhood:
"Everyone knows that Hashem does miracles."
"Yes," said Chana softly, "He really does."
Money can be given to the Vaad HaRabbonim by credit card
at 1-800-22-36-36. Its address is c/o Rabbi S. Blau, POB
98108, Jerusalem 91050
