11:30 p.m. The end of a busy day. Mrs. I. is on the line.
"Would you be able to give a short, 15 to 20 minute
shiur on Shemiras Haloshon following a Tehillim group
in my home tomorrow night? Sorry I am calling so late, but
you were the last name on the list. No one else can give the
shiur. It's getting hard to find a speaker every
week."
The phone connection was not too good and I missed a few
points. I debated her offer. In the morning I planned to be
at an out-of-town bris, followed by a long day of
work. Come home. Take a bite. Nap? and walk over to the other
end of Bnei Brak to give a shiur.
There was something very compelling about this lady. I told
her that the upcoming simcha would hopefully give me
some inspiration as to my exact topic. I felt comfortable
speaking to her and admitted that I felt I couldn't refuse
her. Recently, I had given occasional shiurim, a few
classes here and there. I had given a `no' to a lady down the
block and around the corner. Yet, somehow, I found myself
committed to her, not only for one evening but I even
promised bli neder to try to come every week. I
actually couldn't believe it myself.
The next day flew by. Betwixt and between, I decided on a
topic close to my heart. Simcha. Happiness. Serving
Hashem with joy and with a wholesome heart.
Ture, it was officially a shemiras haloshon shiur but
they were flexible. True, it was Asseres Yemei Tshuva
and the audience was probably expecting a more intense and
serius topic. But I felt that simcha it would be.
A brisk twenty-minute walk warmed me up and brought me to the
front door of a small, spotless apartment. Sparsely
furnished, the Divided Tehillim booklets on the table. A
candle in the corner. I joined the Tehillim `joggers' and had
a moment's respite.
Launching into one of my favorite topics, I covered a few of
my stories about great personalities who emitted great joy at
all times and situations, noting that simcha energizes
us, gives us the strength to persevere. The audience was with
me, jokes and all.
As I drew my comments to a close, the hostess asked for
permission to add a few words of her own. My pleasure.
She nodded at the woman sitting next to her to confirm the
veracity of the story she was about to tell.
"I had mentioned to you on the phone that I was recently
widowed," she started.
Oh, no! This was EXACTLY the part of the conversation that
had not been audible. Had it been, I might have given a
different shiur or, at least, modified my remarks. I
had made quite a few remarks relating to marriage, to
creating a happy home atmosphere and a joyful marriage.
She pointed to the large candle burning in the corner, a
ner neshoma for her late husband. This weekly evening
had been organized in his memory.
"I miss my husband and was yearning to speak to him. Last
night he appeared to me in a dream," she said. "It seemed as
if we were speaking on the telephone. I was very happy to be
able to speak to him. I asked him how everything was going
for him. He assured me that everything was going well. `There
is only one thing that I ask of you. Try to work on the
midda of simcha'."
There was a long pause. "Thank you for bringing us a
shiur on simcha."
I was stunned. The room was totally silent. I thanked her and
walked out of the door on shaky feet. She accompanied me and
asked me to please return.
It wasn't me. "Rabbos machashovos... Many are the
thoughts in the heart of man."
