Highlighting: “Rays of Hope: Finding Chizuk in Challenging Times” by Rabbi Chaim Aryeh Zev Ginzberg. Mesorah Publications. 2023. Hardcover. 370 pages. ISBN-13: 978-1422639368.
(Courtesy of Artscroll) Rabbi Chaim Aryeh Zev Ginzberg is a beloved rav in Cedarhurst, who has engaged thousands of readers with his incisive articles in the Torah world’s most prestigious periodicals. Rabbi Ginzberg has a genius for weaving together personal stories, Torah hashkafa, encouragement and chizuk, communal issues and, yes, gentle and spot-on mussar.
In “Rays of Hope,” his new book of a collection of his writings on many different topics, he takes us “up close and personal” with memories of his own nisyonos—including his terrifying bout with Covid, when the doctors felt there was no hope left for him; as well as the losses of his beloved daughter Sarala and his oldest grandson, Chanoch Jeger.
Rabbi Ginzberg’s courageous and uplifting responses to these losses—which include his founding of the well-known “Ohel Sarala” global initiative—give us chizuk and meaning to the challenges we all face.
The following is an excerpt from this uplifting book:
• • • •
Saving Klal Yisrael … With Chessed
We live in frightening times. A number of years ago, no less a personality than Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv expressed to those closest to him that this is the most dangerous and frightening time in Eretz Yisrael, since the founding of the Jewish state. His grandson wondered whether that was not somewhat of a guzmah (exaggeration). In all his years in Eretz Yisrael, Rav Elyashiv had surely witnessed indescribable difficulties and suffering. (In fact, he lost a 12-year-old daughter in one of the many bombings of Yerushalayim, during the 1948 War of Independence.)
Rav Elyashiv responded briefly and pointedly, “There is a madman in Iran who is consumed with hatred for klal Yisrael and has or will have nuclear weapons, with every intent of using them on Eretz Yisrael. Is there anything more dangerous than that?”
If we are truly living in such a dangerous time—as the gadol hador posited—what can we do about it—other than, of course, pour our hearts out in tefillah? Even the most ardent Zionists, who always looked to some form of political leadership to help us out of a mess, have had a change of outlook. After Oslo, the expulsion from Gaza (not disengagement, but expulsion), and recent political and military debacles, it is patently obvious that not one of the colorful cast of personalities in leadership positions in Eretz Yisrael today, has a clue as to how to move forward from here.
Is there anything we can do to somehow turn the tide and bring rachamei Shamayim upon us in these troubled times? The answer—Chazal teach—is, “Yes.” The midrash relates that when Avraham Avinu met Shem for the first time, he asked him, “What did you do while you were in the teiva during the mabul?” Shem replied, “Our days and nights were spent providing food for the many animals that were with us in the teiva.”
This midrash needs explanation: Why would Avraham Avinu—who was not alive during the mabul—want to know how they occupied their time in the teiva? What practical lesson could he glean from this information?
The Philadelphia rosh yeshiva—Rav Elya Svei—explained that what Avraham Avinu wanted to know was: When the flood was raging in all its fury, what did you do to arouse Hashem’s mercy? Shem responded that their days were filled with feeding the animals, which is pure chesed. Performing genuine chesed is the most potent method of arousing divine mercy.
Avraham absorbed this message well and derived the following lesson: If caring for animals provided the merit to save people during the total destruction of the flood, how much more effective would it be to care for human beings—created in the tzelem Elokim—as a way of invoking salvation during a time of Hashem’s wrath! And so, Avraham Avinu dedicated his life to performing chesed for his fellow man, to the extent that he became forever associated with chesed—as the pasuk testifies: “Titein … chesed l’Avraham.”
Every small act of chesed is of paramount importance, and every person must make time for chesed in his daily life. Our gedolei Yisrael have taught us this by example, through their commitment to doing chesed, despite the multifaceted responsibilities they carry in leading klal Yisrael.
The Chofetz Chaim—even at an advanced age—would personally make the bed for an overnight guest at his home, despite the availability of others to do so.
The Chazon Ish—who never wasted a moment from learning—would give of his precious time to speak with anyone who came to him, because—he would explain—he is obligated to perform chesed like anyone else.
When the Manchester rosh yeshiva—Rav Yehuda Zev Segal—would leave yeshiva at night to return to his home, he would deposit the students’ letters in a mailbox on his way, and before doing so, he would say, “Hareini mechavein lekayeim mitzvas asei shel chesed—It is my intention to fulfill the positive commandment of doing chesed.”
The Individual Dimension
We are a community of great chesed, boasting more wonderful organizations than I can list. But these are communal chesed undertakings. What about us, as individuals? Do we let even one day go by without doing chessed for another person?
The Chofetz Chaim in “Ahavas Chesed,” challenges us to perform a cheshbon hanefesh every night before we go to sleep, and ask ourselves if we did at least one act of chesed for someone on that day. That someone else can be a spouse, parent, child, sibling or stranger; it’s not the identity of the recipient that is important, it’s the act of chesed that counts.
If, as Rav Svei teaches us—based on the midrash—chesed is the only thing that can arouse divine mercy in a time of din, then it behooves each and every one of us to do our part—to do a little more chesed for our fellow Jew. It is not a difficult assignment. We just have to open our eyes a bit wider and then grab the opportunities.
Years ago, the menahel of Mesivta Torah Vodaath—Reb Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz—entered his shiur room to begin a session, and there were not enough chairs in the room. He noticed that two students had gone out, and each had brought back just one chair for himself. He said to them, “You each brought back a chair for yourself, so you are each a schlepper. Had you each brought in the chair for the other fellow, you would be a baal chesed.”
Chesed opportunities abound. We just have to open our eyes to notice them. Recently, the first real snowfall of the season happened early on a Friday morning. One fellow, quietly—without being asked—came early and shoveled the walkway and steps to our shul, so it would be easier for people to enter.
Everyone saw the need—but one individual reacted—and his individual act of chesed was mezakeh the rabbim. An insignificant act; “No big deal,” you may be thinking… The midrash begs to differ. The midrash says it’s these very acts that avert Hashem’s wrath.
A Chaver in Need
And then, there are some acts of chesed that provoke such a tumult in Heaven, that you can practically hear the footsteps of Mashiach around the bend. One such act of chesed happened to a member of my family a while back. My eldest daughter, Shoshana, was on her way to her special-ed teaching job in Brooklyn—one winter morning—and turned onto the road leading from the Nassau Expressway to the Belt Parkway. Apparently, a large pothole had developed, and it caused one of her tires to be sliced in half. After her incident, another six or seven cars hit the same pothole, with the same results.
Stranded on the side of the road in an unsafe place, she called me for help. But being far from the area (and, truthfully, not knowing how to change a tire, either), I did not know what to do. I decided to try Chaverim. Within minutes, they called back and said that one of their members was driving in the area, and he would attempt to help.
About half an hour later, my daughter called me with the most uplifting story that I have heard in a long time. A member of Chaverim named “Binyamin” (no last name given) stopped and quickly changed the tire on my daughter’s car. The other stranded motorists expressed out loud to my daughter that, “You, Jews, are always available to help each other out.”
Then, Binyamin did a most incredible thing. He proceeded to change the tires on all the other stranded cars in that spot, and that included people from a wide range of races and nationalities. When they wanted to pay him, he refused. My daughter explained to her new friends that he belongs to an organization called, “Chaverim,” whose members volunteer their time and expertise to help people, for free. (My daughter did hand them envelopes from Chaverim, in case they would want to send a donation to the organization to help defray their costs. They all said they would gladly do so.)
Then—to underscore the message—the following occurred: As the various folks were getting back into their cars to return to their own little worlds, they turned to my daughter and said, “You Jews are such special people. It’s surprising that with people like ‘Benjamin,’ your Messiah still has not appeared. You truly do deserve his coming.”
If Chazal record in the Talmud for posterity the statement of one Arab praising the Tanna, Rabbi Shimon ben Shetach (“Blessed be the God of Shimon ben Shetach”) for his act of integrity, then I wonder what was going on in Shamayim when those words of praise for the kindness of the Jewish people were expressed on the Belt Parkway that cold morning!
Undoubtedly, those other drivers never heard of the midrash we quoted earlier or of Rav Elya’s explanation of it. But one thing is certain… That morning of chesed brought the footsteps of Mashiach that much closer.
Let’s not underestimate the great power and influence that a little chesed can have in arousing Hashem’s mercy and bringing an end to all our suffering. After all, it may truly be said, one day, that saving klal Yisrael is as easy as changing a flat tire.
