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Home
and Family
What a Miracle!
by Yisca Shimony
Feiga Leah paced back and forth in her little kitchen,
as much as its confined space afforded. She was too
upset to concentrate upon the tasks on hand, but
finally managed to bring herself back to reality and
returned to the confines of her small world. With
nimble fingers, she reached for two tin plates on a
wooden shelf and placed them on the table. She then
removed a steaming pot from the crude stove, a
contraption heated from underneath by a large tin can
filled with lit coals, and ladled some hot soup into
them. The soup was beginning to get cold as she stood
gazing into empty space, oblivious of the sounds and
sights around her. After a few moments, she pulled
herself together again and looked at the still steaming
soup. She gathered up the tray and hurried into the
inner room.
The voice of her husband, R' Zerach Braverman, was not
its usual. His Shabbos zemiros lacked their
regular volume and zest; it was not vibrant and lively,
but rather weak and sad. By contrast, the sound of
joyous singing filtered in through the small window, as
the traditional tunes of Shabbos were vocalized by
their neighbors.
Feiga Leah sighed as she entered the room with the
still warm soup. Her husband looked up and noticed his
wife's sad demeanor and in a low voice, reminded her,
"It's Shabbos. We are not permitted to be sad." She
lowered her eyes and blurted, "But what is going to
happen to those poor souls? To Reb Leibel and Reb
Moshe, to Reb Boruch and Reb Akiva and the other dozen
folk like them? They are all so poor. They are
homeless, have no one to cook for them, no money to
purchase food..." Her voice faltered. "Until now, we
were able to supply them with one hot meal a day from
our Free Kitchen. What is going to happen now?" At
least on Shabbos they were invited to various homes,
but what about the coming week?
"Shabbos! Shabbos!," said R' Zerach, shrugging his
shoulders. It was best not to dwell upon the dreadful
situation, especially when there was nothing they could
do, anyway. As if they had not tried everything in
their power during the week...
Neither sighs nor tears could help improve the sad
condition, and certainly, these were forbidden on
Shabbos. They simply didn't have money, and without
necessary funds, nothing could be done. The Free
Kitchen for the Poor which they had managed to maintain
up till then would be shut down. The couple ate the
meal in silence.
In the year 5650, a group of Torah scholars came from
Europe to settle in Jerusalem, among them R' Zerach
Braverman. A talmid of the righteous R' Nochumke
of Grodna, he had gone on to study in the famous
Volozhiner yeshiva, with great diligence, but upon the
death of Hagaon R' Yisroel Salanter and the news of the
arrival in Jerusalem of Hagaon R' Yehoshua Leib Diskin,
he had decided to come, as well. He and his wife had
decided to open a Free Kitchen to ease the plight of
Jerusalem's poor and hungry people. And now that they
found themselves without any funds, forced to
discontinue the Kitchen, they were broken-hearted.
After the meal, Feiga Leah ventured to ask about the
future, but R' Zerach only shook his head. It was best
not to dwell upon the dreadful situation. R' Zerach
went off to the beis hamidrash where he sat and
studied, as he did every Friday night, until,
exhausted, he would return home very late, or remain to
sleep on a bench until the first minyan. But this
Friday night was different. R' Zerach sat with the open
sefer in front on him, going through the motions,
but found himself unable to concentrate. Hard as he
tried, he could not muster his usual diligence; his
mind refused to deal with the text. In vain did he try
to act as if nothing had happened; in vain did he try
to banish his worries and replace them with the
sweetness of Torah study but there was no escape this
night.
Feiga Leah tried similarly to shake off her sad
thoughts revolving about her unfortunate neighbors, the
poor and homeless, by immersing herself in reading her
holy books, the weekly parsha with ivre-
teitch translation, the beautiful midroshim
and commentaries of her Tzeina Ureina and her
techinos prayers. But the miseries of the poor
continued to stare her in the eye and her thoughts kept
reverting to their lean, stricken figures... She dozed
off, book on her lap, dreaming of the poor stretching
out empty plates, only to be turned away...
The Shabbos dragged on thus and passed, somehow, for
the couple, torn between sad reality and hopes for some
sort of a miracle to salvage their Kitchen.
Twilight brought on the first stars and Shabbos was
over.
Feiga Leah ushered out her Shabbos with the traditional
"Gott fuhn Avrohom" and "Yehi Rotzon"
prayers, adding this time a special plea, "Hashem, have
mercy upon those poor. Help us find a way to continue
to maintain our Free Kitchen... Please bring upon us a
good week with good and joyous news." She then
davened maariv.
She entered her small kitchen and could not help
noticing the huge pots staring at her from their
shelves, buffed to a shine, waiting to be used. Her
work began on motzoei Shabbos, as she began
peeling and cutting quantities of vegetables and
soaking them in water until the following morning. It
was a labor of love that kept her busy until late in
the evening. That was, until this week, when she had
not been able to scrape together any money for
provisions.
R' Zerach always went to the Kosel on motzoei
Shabbos. This time, his prayers were very fervent;
they even took on the pathos of erev Yom Kippur.
He tried to escape his depressing thoughts as he poured
himself into the words of the prayers, which took much
longer than usual.
In her kitchen, Feiga Leah was squirming with
inactivity. She looked around and decided to keep
herself occupied rather than succumb to depression.
"Don't I know that everything Hashem does is for the
best?" She adjusted her apron and with determination,
picked up one big pot, poured some water from a
pitcher, took a brush and some sand, and with all her
might, started scrubbing its already shiny exterior.
Her mind was busy reviewing all the possibilities.
"Where can help possibly come from?" she pondered
obsessively. "There are very few rich people in
Yerusholayim, if at all. And they have already extended
themselves beyond their means, what with donations and
loans. Help must come from the outside." She knew that
in the diaspora, Jews, especially the rich ones, were
doing their best to support the Torah community in
Eretz Yisroel, to provide for the scholars who had no
source of income, to raise money for hospitals. Still,
each town and city had so many poor, widows and orphans
of their own to support!
"Only Hashem can help, and only He knows how..." she
whispered, half praying, half convincing herself.
She worked for hours, thinking all the while of the
various possibilities of reopening the Kitchen, and
realizing the impossibility of the situation.
It was close to midnight when suddenly, R' Zerach stood
before her, holding something in his hand. He was
smiling broadly. "Look! Here is the miracle!" he cried
out.
"The miracle? What do you mean?" Feiga Leah couldn't
understand why her husband looked so happy. "What are
you holding in your hands? Is that the miracle you're
talking about? Tell me!" Hope spread its warmth through
her heart.
R' Zerach laid the bundle on the kitchen table and told
his story. "I stayed at the Kosel until late, praying
with all my might. As I passed through Shaar
Sh'chem on my way home, I heard my name being
called. I looked right and left and finally spied
someone standing in the darkness, right by the Gate. As
soon as he saw he had caught my attention, the figure
moved towards me. I myself am not sure if it was a man
or an angel..." he added in a reverent whisper. "He
placed this bundle in my hand and said that someone had
given it to him to deliver to me, to be used as I saw
fit."
"I hesitated, not knowing what to do. I didn't know
this man, after all, and was wary. `You ARE R' Zerach
Braverman, aren't you?' he asked. `Yes,' I replied
weakly, `I am.' `Well, this is for the poor,' he added,
making sure that I was holding the package securely."
"Who was he? Did he say his name?" Feiga Leah asked
curiously, wiping her hands and drawing near the table.
"No. In the shadow of the Gate, I was unable to see his
face. His speech was strange and foreign, like someone
from abroad. Most puzzling was that beyond making sure
that I was R' Zerach, he didn't ask me any further
questions. He just placed the bundle in my hands and
disappeared, even before I could blurt out my thanks. I
was in a daze, like in a dream. I couldn't move,
couldn't talk. I can hardly even remember what exactly
happened, the details, the description... Like I said,
it seemed like a dream.
"I stood there in a trance for several moments and when
I came to my senses, the man was gone. Vanished. And I
was left holding this bundle in my hands. Were it not
for this bundle, Feiga Leah, I would still say that I
had been dreaming..."
"A man or an angel, what difference does it make!"
exclaimed Feiga Leah, undoing the string of the parcel
to uncover a large sum of money. "Our prayers have been
answered! Hashem must have approved of our deeds and
sent His messenger in the darkness of night, when we
thought all hope was lost..."
The following day, a hot meal was served to dozens of
Jerusalem's hungry and homeless, as usual -- if a bit
later than usual...
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