I work in the office of an organization which was established
over fifty years ago in downtown Jerusalem. We have dozens of
wooden chairs in good condition which are not in use any more
and we're offering them free to anyone interested in taking
them.
A few weeks ago, a notice was put in a local newspaper and so
far, several people have come by. Yesterday, a young married
religious woman appeared whom I recognized as having taken
some chairs the previous week, asking if she could take some
more.
"I live in an area where there are lots of poor people and I
would like to bring some chairs to my neighbors," she
explained.
"Of course," I agreed. "Do you remember where they are
stored?"
She nodded, then mentioned that her car was parked in our
parking lot behind the building and that her baby was asleep
in the car. She asked if I would mind keeping an eye on him
while she brought the chairs. I suggested she bring the baby
to my office so I could watch him while continuing my
work.
A few minutes later, she returned with a baby inside a baby
carrier (sal-kal) which she placed on the floor in
front of my desk. I suggested she put it facing away from me
as he might be frightened of a stranger.
She said that the baby had just woken up but that I shouldn't
worry because he was a very placid baby who wasn't afraid of
strangers and wouldn't cry.
"What a blessing it is to have a baby like that," I said. His
mother went upstairs to finish with the chairs. I heard him
gurgling, playing and talking to his toys, and decided to go
over to him and `introduce' myself.
You can imagine my surprise in discovering that he was a
Downs Syndrome baby, about a year old . . . And I had just
said to his mother how lucky she was and what a blessing it
must be to have a baby like hers. I felt terrible. I hoped
that I hadn't hurt her feelings. It must be difficult to
raise a child with Downs Syndrome.
The baby continued to play happily until his mother returned.
She gave him a drink and thanked me profusely for the chairs
and for my services.
Then, as she picked up her baby, ready to go, she turned to
me and said with a sweet smile, "You know, you're right. It
really IS a blessing to have a baby like this." And then she
left.
P.S. Anyone interested in chairs — the offer is still
good. Please call between 1-3, 0545-665-245.
Milk of Jewish Innocence
by S. Weinbach
My five-year-old grandson received, along with the others of
his age group in the family, five shekels for Chanukah
gelt. Seeing how happy everyone else was with their
varying sums, he treasured his big round silvery coin and
would take it out to look at every once in a while.
One morning in mid-Teves, in the heat of the pre-school
frenzy, he casually asked his mother what five shekel can
buy.
"Hmmm," she replied without giving it much thought, "a bag of
milk, for example," and proceeded with her other busy
duties.
That afternoon, this rosy-faced cherub (a grandmother aside -
- he has blond hair, blue eyes and he radiates with pink
happy cheeks and an almost mischievous twinkle in his eye),
who is altogether `with it' in cheder, comes home
proudly with — a bag of milk!
It was his first time alone in the grocery and he wanted to
see if his coin would truly produce a bag of milk. And ever
since then, he has become the family milkman, duly and daily
buying all of the family's milk requirements.
Of course, he got his Chanuka gelt back and still has to
decide what to do with it. But he has gotten his first lesson
in economics.
I, personally, was beside myself. To think that a five-year-
old was that innocent as not to desire anything, was not
lacking anything in his pure life, that he had not pestered
someone to take him to a store to purchase something with his
wealth!
I imagine that very few are those five-year-olds anywhere in
the Jewish world who would not know what to do with money. I
was instantly reminded of the stories I have read about
gedolim, especially those in Eretz Yisroel, who did
not know tzuras hamatbeia, who could not differentiate
between a coin of value or a simple penny, because they were
totally absorbed in the world of Torah. I used to think it
was an exaggeration . . .
May their like not fade away from this so-material world!
