Bracha sighed as she struggled to balance her books as she
and her friend Leah walked home from school. Ninth grade had
been overwhelming them since its beginning two months ago and
as they walked through the crisp autumn air, their homework
weighed as heavily on their minds as their books did on their
shoulders. "So," Bracha said, shifting the weight of her
books yet again, "have you thought of an idea for your
chessed report?"
"No," sighed Leah in response, watching some birds flying in
formation overhead.
"Me, neither," said Bracha. "I thought I'd tackle our biology
homework on the food chain first. Which continent do you
think would be most interesting? If I do Asia, I could end up
with the Bengal tiger. Maybe Australia... What is it?" Leah
had suddenly gotten a dreamy look in her eye.
"That's a great idea. The food chain."
"Well, it was our teacher's idea, it's not my idea of
anything great. I mean... it's great as far as Hashem's
greatness, but as a homework project..."
"No, not the food chain, the mitzva chain," Leah
corrected her. "For our chessed report," she
continued, in answer to Bracha's puzzled look. "I'll follow
the trail of a mitzva and see where it leads."
"I'm sorry. I'm not following."
"One mitzva leads to another, right?" Leah explained
patiently as Bracha nodded. "So all I have to do is notice
someone doing a mitzva and see where it leads. See,
like Mrs. Sherer across the street." They had stopped
opposite the small house of their neighbor, who had also been
observing the birds' flight but had in appreciation been
throwing out crumbs on her lawn for them to feast on. Mrs.
Sherer was an elderly lady who lived on her own and had seen
better days. "She's feeding the birds. That's a
mitzva. All I have to do is observe her and see where
the mitzva leads."
"Well, you can't camp outside her house, can you?" Bracha
asked, always the pragmatist.
"No, I guess not," said Leah, sighing again. "Well, better
get going if we're going to get any of our homework done."
The girls continued in companionable silence until they
reached Leah's house where they entered, took off their muddy
shoes, dumped their schoolbags and made for the kitchen,
where Mrs. Singer always had a snack waiting for them. Bracha
almost always came home with Leah before continuing on to her
own house.
"Hi, Ima, what are you doing?" Leah asked as she sat down at
the table.
"Hi, Leah, Bracha. How was your day? I'm frosting a cake."
"Oh, yeah?" Leah said, her eyes lighting up.
"Sorry, this one isn't for you. It's for Mrs. Sherer across
the road. I thought I'd do something for her. She's all alone
and I'm sure she never bakes for herself and I know how she
loves sweet things. I'll bring it over to her and chat a few
minutes and then get started on dinner."
Bracha and Leah exchanged a meaningful look and Leah's eyes
sparkled. "That's wonderful!" she told her mother. "There you
go," she continued looking at Bracha, "two links in the
chain."
"What are you talking about?" her mother asked, and the girls
filled her in on their homework assignments and Leah's great
idea and how she already saw Mrs. Sherer's kindness of
feeding the birds being rewarded with a cake of her own.
"That's a wonderful idea," Leah's mother said, "but you know,
sometimes it takes ages, even generations, for the
consequences of a mitzva to be felt."
"But that's if people aren't really looking to see it, or if
it isn't something major," countered Leah. "I bet if we're
vigilant and pay close attention, we'll see it sooner. It's
like ripples in a pond; if you aren't looking, you don't see
them."
"Vigilant?" echoed her mother, smiling.
"It's on our vocabulary list," explained Bracha.
"Oh, listen, if you're so keen to do a mitzva, your
father and I are invited to a wedding tomorrow night. If you
could stay home with the younger kids and watch them,
vigilantly, of course," her eyes gleamed, "you'll be helping
me fulfill the mitzva of gladdening a bride."
Leah looked like she could do with some cheering up herself
at this announcement.
"Tell you what," her mother offered, "how about if Bracha
sleeps over and I come home and tell you about all the
mitzvos I did 'cause you enabled me to go to the
wedding."
"Oh, in that case, no problem."
Her mother left the kitchen, with the cake, and the girls
settled down to do their homework.
The next evening, Bracha arrived with her overnight bag.
Leah's parents ordered pizza for the girls and Leah's three
younger siblings, and went off to the wedding, with Leah's
reminder to follow the mitzva chain ringing in their
ears.
"Hi, Malka," her friends called to Mrs. Singer as she entered
the wedding hall. "I'm so glad you came."
Malka joined her friends and smiled and cried with them at
the chuppa, sang and danced with them before the
kalla and then settled down at the table to enjoy the
meal with some pleasant conversation. Halfway through the
meal, one of the women started talking about the problems
she'd been having with her neighbors. Malka frowned. Her
friend thought it was because she had difficulty hearing over
the music and started talking louder.
"Batya, I think that's loshon hora," Malka reminded
her.
"But it's just horrible, the way they've been acting. No
consideration, and I'm not exaggerating..." she defended
herself.
Elisheva poped in, "Still, I think Malka's right. It IS
loshon hora, especially if you're telling all of
us."
"No," Miri corrected her. "It's allowed if she tells three
people."
"No, that's if the person whom it's about tells three people,
then you can repeat it," Elisheva informed her.
Batya interrupted, "But it's about me."
"That's not what she means," Malka replied.
"But maybe she wants advice. Then it's letoeless, for
a good purpose." Just then, Devora wandered over to their
table.
"Oh, good, Devora. You can help us settle an argument," Batya
said, relieved, and began to tell her about their discussion.
Devora actually gave classes in shemiras haloshon.
"Well, it is loshon hora but it seems to have been
letoeless. Even more so if I can get any of you to
participate in the new class I'm starting next week..."
The women around the table sounded interested, but on second
thought, were afraid to commit themselves because they might
not have the time to attend, session after session.
"Well, it's not a class in the conventional sense of the
word. It's more like a phone chain."
Malka smiled at the word `chain.'
"You see," continued Devora, "loshon hora works like a
broken telephone chain, where one person tells another and
then the second person tells a third and so on. Not only do
they spread the original telltale but it gets convoluted in
the process so that the original story, which was bad enough
to begin with, gets embellished to ten times worse. What I
want to teach is the laws of loshon hora in the same
way, using a phone chain one evening a week.
"Here's how it works. I call one lady and explain a law
regarding shemiras haloshon. She then calls the next
person on the list, who then calls Number Four. I want to get
about ten women doing this together. The last woman on the
list calls me back and has to relate to me the law the way I
explained it to the first woman. This only takes about
fifteen minutes for each person. Not only is each member of
the chain studying the laws, but she is also modifying her
usual phone behavior so that she's more careful with how she
listens to and transmits information."
All the women were enthusiastic and immediately signed up for
Devora's shemiras haloshon phone chain.
It was after eleven when Leah's parents returned happy but
exhausted from the wedding. The scene that met their eyes
made them exchange amused looks. The snores and snuffles of
their ten-year-old son Dovi could be heard from the upstairs
bedroom. On their living room carpet, Bracha was snuggled
under a blanket with Shoshana, their precocious four-year-
old, asleep next to her. Leah was lying on her back with
Ruthy, her two-year-old sister, contentedly sprawled over her
stomach. Malka took Shoshana upstairs while her husband
relieved Leah of her precious bundle and then went to bed
himself. Then Malka nudged the girls awake.
"So, how'd it go?" she asked as their eyes fluttered open and
they looked at her groggily.
"Okay." "Fine."
"So did you do a mitzva at the wedding?" Leah asked
eagerly, remembering the deal she had struck with her
mother.
"Sure did. I even became part of a new chain. I guess it's a
popular idea these days. And you know what? I think I learned
something else about the mitzva chain."
"What?" asked Bracha, propping herself up on her elbow.
"Like a real chain, if completes a circle by coming back to
the person who started it." She pulled out two pieces of
wedding cake from a plastic bag she had taken along in her
purse. "It all began with crumbs for the birds, right? Well,
anyone care for some cake and cocoa?"
Both girls were wide awake now and made straight for the
kitchen.
"Well," said Bracha a few minutes later, her mouth full of
cream, "I think you'll get an A for your chessed
report."
"But that's nothing compared to the real reward I'll get."
The next morning dawned bright and cool again and as the
girls walked together to school, the birds twittered happily
in the trees and a van delivering` meals on wheels' stopped
outside Mrs. Sherer's house.
