She was a slender woman who wore a drab, flat sheitel
and the same outfit every day: a faded black skirt and a
striped blouse. As she rushed to the bus in the mornings, she
barely uttered more than a hurried "Shalom" to those she
encountered along the way.
However, the pleasant manner in which she smiled at everyone
and the warmth of her "Shalom" which was always accompanied
by a polite nod, starkly contrasted with her dull clothing.
Indeed, I had known her for nearly seven years and every time
I met her, I would be greeted by the same nod, the same
"Shalom."
"Her name is Perele. All of her children are married and she
lives in a tiny apartment behind the commercial center. I
think her husband passed away a few years ago," Shoshi told
me. And Shoshi always knew what she was talking about.
Shoshi and her husband managed the small simcha hall
underneath the shul and ran its catering services. She
was the first to know when a simcha would take place,
and when secrecy was called for, such as in the case of an
upcoming engagement, she could be trusted. She had also made
at least ten shidduchim herself and was reported to
have more up her sleeve. So who was I to doubt Shoshi?
Recently, Perele seemed overworked, and although she
continued to walk briskly, Shoshi also noticed the change in
her and was concerned about her.
"We have to help her," she said to me. "Who knows what
problems she has. I've never said more than a `Hello' to her
and whenever I invite her for a Shabbos meal, she refuses,"
Shoshi told me while the two of us were waiting our turn at a
teacher's meeting.
"They say that she never buys more than bread, milk, cheese
and eggs in the grocery store," Shoshi continued. "Very basic
items, you'll agree."
"One time, I bought her a variety of tempting food products
and placed them in an unidentified carton near her door. That
door is drab, too, without any name plate. It's about as
anonymous as Perele," she concluded.
A few days later, we learned that a chessed
organization whose purpose was to provide needy families in
the neighborhood with food supplies, was being formed. "The
principal of the local Beis Yaakov has agreed to allow the
students of the highest grades to collect food items for this
purpose and is also planning a Rosh Chodesh party to launch
the program. The organization is headed by R' Tiomkin and his
wife, a pair of devoted askonim.
"They're very special people, I've heard," Shoshi stressed.
"Their sole concern in life is gemilus chassodim." And
as I already said, Shoshi always knows what she's talking
about.
A few days later, Shoshi knocked on my door very briskly.
"Let's go to the new organization's office now," she said
without much ado. "I want to register a few needy families
with them."
"Why not call?"
"The secretary said we have to fill out an application. The
phone can't do the mitzva for us."
"Okay," I replied. "Just let me change my shoes."
The two of us walked to the edge of the neighborhood, until
we reached a small warehouse which had once belonged to an
elderly bicycle repairman who had recently donated it to this
chessed organization.
The secretary, a young kollel wife named Tami, was busy at
the computer. Nonetheless, she said, "This organization has
been functioning on a very modest basis for three years. R'
Tiomkin has always tried to remain behind the scenes. Yet at
the advice of gedolei Yisroel, he has decided to
broaden his activities and to appeal to the public for
contributions. This is so he can include additional families
to his circle of chessed.
"It's shocking how some people in our very own neighborhood
live," Tami continued. "Rebbetzin Tiomkin told me about a Jew
right up the block who lives alone. One day she found him
scrounging through garbage bins in search of food. Poor
thing, he had nothing to eat and subsisted on the castaway
leftovers of neighbors. It's frightening to think there might
be more people like him in the area, unknown to us."
"Like Perele," Shoshi whispered in my ear.
"Hunh?" Tami asked.
"Never mind," replied Shoshi. "I mentioned the name of one of
the women we want to include on your list. She lives by
herself and is probably no better off than the man you
described, though I am certain she wouldn't stoop that low,
no matter how desperate she is. But we don't really know
anything about her."
Tami nodded and printed out a letter. "R' Tiomikin doesn't
come in to the office in the mornings. But his wife will
receive you. She'll be here in a minute. If you like, you can
wait for her in her room. It's small, but you'd be surprised
how much chessed is carried out between its narrow
walls. That's where she receives all of the applicants as
well as those who wish to recommend needy people in the
neighborhood."
We pressed into the small inner room where we seated
ourselves on a bench.
Moments later, the door opened and Perele walked in. She was
wearing her striped blouse and faded black skirt, and nodded
to us politely.
At first, I was happy that she had taken the initiative to
help herself by applying for assistance. But then I wondered
how Shoshi and I would discuss her case in her presence...
Perele did not sit down beside us on the bench. Instead, she
put on her glasses and turned on the computer on the desk.
Then, after sitting down behind it, she said,
"I am sure that Tami has told you that my husband only comes
to the office at night. I'm usually here in the morning and
try to ease his work load."
Then, without even giving us a moment to blink, she
continued, "I am happy that after three years of distributing
tzedoka incognito, we have managed to build up the
organization and to enable additional families to benefit
from it.
"Now, how can I help you?"
