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May 18, 2013 /9 Sivan, 5773
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Hashgachah Pratis: Readers Respond (Continued from Last Week)


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Jungreis-Rebbetzin-Esther

I have been sharing personal testimonies on the subject of hashgachah pratis, chosen from a plethora of letters that have reached my desk. Each of these stories reflects a different challenge ranging from problems of health, parnassah, shidduchim and loss of dear ones (some of which I have yet to publish). These difficulties, to one extent or another, at one time or another, have challenged all of us.

In all these stories, in every aspect of our lives, G-d’s hashgachah pratis – guiding hand – is evident. We need only open our eyes to see it all. More saliently, these stories testify that the best therapy, the best tranquilizer, the best anti-depressant, cannot guarantee that which simple tenacious emunah, faith in Avinu Shebashamayim, our Heavenly Father, can accomplish.

In every aspect of our lives, Hashem’s hashgachah pratis is obvious; were it not for our highly pressured, crazed society that creates blockage in our hearts and minds, we would all be aware of it. But the din and noise of our times keeps us running so fast we do not know who we are. Blindly we forge ahead and cry out to the emptiness in the dense darkness of night.

During the Yom Tov of Pesach, as we relate our story at the Seder, we are reminded of G-d’s open intervention in our national and personal lives. It is He who enabled us to break loose from the iron chains of Egypt and go forth to Sinai.

Alas, we no longer see or hear the Voice of G-d whispering to us and prodding us along our path. We are citizens of the 21st century. Our lives are complex, we don’t have time, we have to keep running – and even if by some chance we would hear that Divine whisper, see that Heavenly Hand, the continuous noise that pounds away at our minds and hearts does not give us time to contemplate or consider the covenant we sealed at Sinai. It never occurs to us that there is something more to our lives and that G-d is forever holding us, even in our most painful moments.

In last week’s column I shared a letter written by a mother whose daughter had undergone the most horrific suffering. Three days before her wedding, she received the ominous news that the wedding was off. Her daughter’s intended chassan decided he couldn’t go through with it. The shock to the family was devastating, but obviously the one hit hardest was the daughter, the kallah – the young innocent girl who had counted every day until she would come to the greatest moment in her life, her wedding.

How, the mother agonized, could her daughter pick up the pieces? And it didn’t stop there. Apart from the personal suffering, there were a thousand and one challenges that had to be dealt with: How to break the nightmarish news to relatives, friends and acquaintances. How to inform the more than 350 guests who were planning to attend. How to deal with the wedding hall and caterer, to whom substantial deposits had been made. Could something be salvaged?

And then there was the wedding gown. Just two weeks earlier her daughter had her final fitting. “She looked like a vision,” the mother wrote, “joyously twirling and dancing in front of a mirror. That gown was now carefully stored in a special closet. My daughter glimpsed at it several times a day. The wedding gown that had evoked joy and gladness now evoked tears of pain.”

These little things, the mother added, had become symbols of sadness. And then there was the challenge of facing people, hearing the gossip, the innuendo, the whispers. “Did you hear?…Do you know what really happened?…What a rachmanis – how will she ever find a good shidduch again?”

With all that, she continued, “The greatest challenge was protecting our daughter from a total meltdown. The cry that came forth from the depths of her soul was so painful that I don’t think I will ever forget it. How could my daughter face her friends? How could she ever pick up her head? We tried to comfort her. We took her for therapy, but nothing could pick her up. Every day, every night, no matter what we were doing, that nightmare hung over us like a sinister shadow.

“Our beautiful daughter had always been a warm, easygoing, smiling girl. Now she was depressed and had no desire to talk to anyone. It took a while before she was ready to date again, and then we discovered yet another problem: there weren’t too many options for a girl who had a broken wedding on her resume. Every time a good shidduch was recommended, the parents of the boy would respond: ‘That girl – isn’t she the one…..’ and that was the end of it.

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Menachem
(Via E-Mail)

The Rema writes (Ohr Hachaim, 494:4), “It is customary to spread branches of trees in our synagogues and homes [on Shavuos] in order to commemorate that which the sages say [Rosh Hashanah 16a] that on Shavuos the world is judged concerning [how many] fruits the trees will produce [that year].”

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A flash of red caught my eye, and I looked up and saw a cardinal perched on the picnic table on my deck. What a miracle, I marveled. You’re beautiful. Thanks, Hashem. And then my mind’s wheels began to roll, and it struck me that several miracle stories had come my way this week. The stories prodded me to think of and feel Hashem’s presence as a more tangible and vivid reality.

Over the years I’ve received letters from all over the world in which people share feelings and thoughts they’ve experienced upon becoming became Torah observant. Usually these letters arrive not long after the writers had heard one of my speeches. No matter where a particular speech took place, and no matter whether I spoke the language or had to use a translator, the magic always works. In reality, it’s not magic at all but a little voice in the soul – the “Pintele Yid,” that spark of G-d’s Word engraved on all our neshamahs. Here is one recent letter.

By the time these words are printed, there will be only a few more days left before Shavuos. We hope that up until that point, we will still have been counting the days of Sefiras Ha’Omer with a bracha, but we also know that too often, despite our best efforts, we drop out of counting with a bracha some time before the count is complete.

In this week’s parshah the Torah tells us that the bechorim were replaced by the levi’im to serve in the Mikdash. The Torah says that there were 273 more bechorim than levi’im. Those bechorim could not simply be replaced, and had to be redeemed. Hashem told Moshe that each bechor should give five shekalim to Moshe, who, in turn, should give them to Aharon and his sons. With that, they would be redeemed.

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Question: As the shamash in a small community shul with an aging population, I am faced with numerous challenges. The following is only one of them. During sefirah, different people daven for the amud for Ma’ariv. Once, a bar mitzvah was one of them. On another occasion, a very recent ger lead the service. Were these individuals allowed to lead the congregation in counting sefirah? I also wonder, in general, if everyone should be trusted to lead the counting. What if someone forgot to count on one of the previous nights but does not inform anyone of this?

No Name
(Via E-Mail)

More Articles from Rebbetzin Esther Jungreis
Jungreis-Rebbetzin-Esther 485x300

Over the years I’ve received letters from all over the world in which people share feelings and thoughts they’ve experienced upon becoming became Torah observant. Usually these letters arrive not long after the writers had heard one of my speeches. No matter where a particular speech took place, and no matter whether I spoke the language or had to use a translator, the magic always works. In reality, it’s not magic at all but a little voice in the soul – the “Pintele Yid,” that spark of G-d’s Word engraved on all our neshamahs. Here is one recent letter.

Jungreis-Rebbetzin-Esther 485x300

Last week I wrote about the many disappointments in life. So often we dream of something, wish for something, pray for something – only to discover that when it happens, it is not quite the way we envisioned it. I illustrated this concept through a Hungarian story I recalled from my childhood about a little boy who more than anything else wanted a rocking horse, a coveted toy in Hungary.

There is a Hungarian tale I’ve always found meaningful and yet sad. It is about a little boy who always wanted his own rocking horse. (In Hungry a rocking horse was a toy that belonged to only the privileged few.)

For several weeks now we’ve been discussing lack of gratitude – one of the most destructive forces in our society. When people think everything is coming to them, they become selfish, angry individuals. They do not know how to reciprocate. They do not know how to be grateful and, worse still, they become bitter and destructive elements in society. They make miserable sons, daughters and marriage partners. They have no regard for parents, grandparents, Torah teachers and the elderly.

As I’ve noted in recent weeks, appreciation is a lost concept in our society. Even when we are blessed by the many kindnesses of G-d, we tend to take them for granted and delude ourselves into thinking we are responsible for them all. In vain did our Torah warn us not to fall into the trap of “my strength and the power of my own hand accomplished this.”

My saintly father, HaRav HaGoan HaTzaddik Avraham HaLevi Jungreis, zt”l, taught me that before I address an audience I should ask myself, “What will the people take home from my message? What am I giving? Will it enhance their lives? Will it bring the individual closer to Hashem? Will it be a life-altering experience?”

Nachman and Raizy Glauber, a”h, were killed in a horrific automobile accident. Their unborn baby survived for a short time but then joined his parents in olam haba. The tragedy shocked us all.

Last week I published excerpts from a letter written by a suffering mother whose rebellious son had not only turned his back on his family but had also rejected his Jewish faith. This woman’s husband had given up on the young man but she was determined to keep the door open in the hope he would yet come back.

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