(Reprinted from Di Yiddishe Heim, Summer 5752)
Yiddishe Heim Editor's Note: The recent untimely, tragic loss of Nechoma Greisman, may her memory be a blessing, was far more than a shattering blow to her family and loved ones. All in the Chabad world, and countless others whose lives this unusual young woman touched, and by her touch, changed and blessed, are still numb and grief-stricken. We pray that our wonderful memories of her special personality, her pure and holy spirit, her vivid teachings and great accomplishments, and our belief that all His Deeds are the Ultimate Good, will help us bear our pain.
Among her many talents, Nechoma had a gifted pen; we were grateful for the occasional article she was able to submit to us. The following is an article she sent us about 15 or so years ago, which was never printed. It tells us so much about its writer.
After a detailed examination, the doctor called me in and said gravely, "Lady, the situation is very serious; an operation is necessary." "How much will it cost?" I held my breath. "About a thousand lira -- for you, 950."
Well, there was no choice. The operation was performed, and since then my washing machine has been functioning very well, thank G-d. Since we arrived in Israel, I had been washing some things by hand, sending some laundry to a service (expensive) and occasionally using other people's machines (awkward). When our own machine was finally installed, can you imagine my disappointment when we couldn't get it to start?!
Three impatient weeks I waited -- the only machine repairman in Tsfas is harder to get than the Prime Minister -- wasted a few afternoons when he promised to come and didn't, and then the verdict: The machine had obviously been dropped somewhere en route from New York to Tsfas, and the fall had not only caused exterior scratches, but had also cracked the timer inside.
At first I was upset and angry and worried about the big bill. But only for a second, because immediately I imagined a different scenario. What if, G-d forbid, my husband or I had suffered a severe injury and needed expensive surgery? What if one of us had been scarred for life? (The machine was fixed but the dents and scratches remain). I truly felt happy. I sincerely said, "Boruch Hashem all this happened to the washing machine. I'll even part with the special discount price of 950 lira willingly. This whole balagan (mess) might be a kapparah (atonement) for us."
I could have felt kind of smug about my perfect thoughts but, in truth, my reaction of taking it all calmly and thinking "all this is a kapparah for something worse," was something I had learned from a very special woman. Mrs. Schreiber was a divorcee with a 12-year-old daughter, who taught 4th grade in the same school where I taught 3rd grade for three years. We traveled home together almost daily -- a boring one-hour subway ride, and we got to know each other very well. Without sermons, drama or fanfare, but by living example, I learned so much from her.
We used to get paid twice a month. Since she was the sole bread-winner in her household, her check meant more to her than it did to most of the staff, who were supplementing their husbands' salaries or saving for the future. One morning she handed Eliahu, the jack-of-all-trades in the school, her paycheck, still in the envelope, and asked him if he could cash it in the bank for her, since he was going there. On our way out, Mrs. Schreiber asked him, "Did you have a chance to cash my check?"
"What check?" Eliahu looked puzzled.
"The one I gave you this morning."
"What? I thought you told me to mail that envelope." A look of embarrassment crossed his face. We all realized the check was by now probably lost. I wondered how Mrs. Schreiber would react to the loss of two weeks' income. "Boruch Hashem," she said. "If Hakodesh Boruch Hu wanted to take away that amount of money from me, He could have done it in so many unpleasant ways. It could have been stolen; I could have spent it on doctors or to cover a loss from a fire. Hashem in His Kindness took it away so painlessly." I couldn't believe my ears. Was she for real? No anger, no bitterness, only thanks to Hashem.
My brother is the Lubavitcher shaliach in a community on the West Coast, and so is involved in building a school, shul, mikveh, etc. etc. He is always looking for people who can donate a sizable sum. One day he approached "Bill Cohen" and said, "Nu, Bill, maybe you can help us out?"
Now Bill is a prominent and wealthy cardiologist who had recently built a very expensive home with a beautiful swimming pool in an exclusive suburb. His wife is a nurse in a private hospital. Their two children attended the Lubavitch day school. The Cohens had recently begun keeping Shabbos; their brand-new kitchen was kosher. My brother had a learning session with Bill every Wednesday evening and they had become close friends.
"If I had the money, I would gladly give you as much as you want. I don't have a cent now!"
"Come on, Bill. Don't be funny. What's $2,000 to you? And to us it means a lot."
"You don't understand. I'm dead serious. Josh had an appendectomy six weeks ago. Amy is going to the orthodontist for braces. The payments on the house and cars, the landscaping of the garden, the maintenance bills for this big house and the cars add up. We still owe for last summer's trip to Puerto Rico, and insurance is sky-high these days..." He enumerated the cost of each item as he ticked them off. "You may not believe this, but we've been eating a lot of spaghetti lately. We don't go out anymore and we've stopped Amy's piano lessons. It's terribly rough now."
Mrs. Shapiro, about 60 years old, was visited by two girls of Bnos Chabad a few years ago. They convinced her of the importance of a kosher mezuzah, and she finally agreed to buy one, as there were no mezuzos at all in her home. Upon hearing the price of a mezuzah she began bemoaning her financial state, saying she really couldn't afford so much, and that religious Jews were always ripping off the population. The girls spoke about the protection a mezuzah affords and how it is a security investment, but she strongly argued her terrible financial state. Suddenly she looked at her watch and said: "Oh, it's 3:30. I must run. I have an appointment every Thursday with Andre. He's the best hairdresser in Brooklyn, and I can't be late or he'll drop me as a customer!"
I wonder how many multiples of the price of a mezuzah Mrs. Shapiro has parted with just for Andre!
Rabbi Yehuda Hanassi, one of the greatest Tanaim, used to honor rich people. This behavior needs explanation. Why should a tzaddik take notice of a person's wealth? Shouldn't he honor someone whose character, piety or such are outstanding? It is obvious that Rabbi Yehuda reasoned that if Hashem has entrusted this person with so great a fortune, he must certainly be relied upon in the eyes of the Al-mighty to utilize his wealth for good and worthy ends, and is therefore deserving of honor.
We are told that one who gives tzedakah (charity) freely is rewarded with generous earnings, yet many of us find it difficult to open our hand wide. We just don't see the plus so clearly -- only that we are now minus a sum that could have bought a new dress or shoes or whatever. However, gifts, tax refunds, work bonuses -- all are G-d-given. And who says that good mental and physical health, and the pleasure of being parents of children who give us nachas, are not parnasa? Let us not take this form of earnings lightly. Any wise, wealthy person will admit that money cannot buy health, happiness or peace of mind. You say it too -- but he knows it.
It's too bad that many people have distorted values and waste what they could well use. Money can be a blessing or a curse -- it can buy things of great value or be squandered on things of little importance.
In HaYom Yom (page 76) the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, of blessed memory, noted, "Even with the greatest toil, no one can earn one cent more than what G-d has ordained for that particular person. One must do as much as necessary, but one must remember that the actual work is merely secondary; the main thing is G-d's blessing and one earns that blessing by being an honest Jew, praying with a minyan, observing Shabbos carefully, keeping Kashrus with great care, seeing that one's children are educated by teachers who are good religious Jews themselves."
At the farbrengen of Nissan 11, 5736 (1976), the Lubavitcher Rebbe Shlita taught a most profound, yet simple lesson based on the tragic life of one of the richest men in the world, who had recently died. Owning two billion dollars, he could have done with his money whatever he chose. Yet due to his own unwise choices, added to mental imbalance, either caused or compounded by drug abuse, he remained imprisoned in his own home, afraid of being kidnapped, forever surrounded by protective servants and body-guards, and not always sure that they were to be trusted either. He was unable to come and go as he pleased, was even afraid to eat food that had not been tested for poison. He always imagined that everyone wanted to take away his money.
His massive fortune did not buy him freedom -- whereas a poor youngster is free to come and go as he pleases. Even a prisoner in jail is "freer" -- at least he does not fear for his life at every moment and he knows that eventually he will be freed. How ironic and tragic that he was imprisoned by the very thing with which he could have done so much good for the world -- yet all the money remained in banks, stocks, etc. He did not enjoy it, and he didn't allow anyone else to enjoy it either. The money remained without a truly worthwhile purpose. Of course, he couldn't take it with him, and since he left no children, his various relatives bitterly fought each other for some of the fortune. In the end, the U.S. Government and lawyers were the richest "heirs."
The Rebbe ended by saying that however much money Hashem gives a Jew -- even if it be a "mere million," let him spend it as Hashem wants, so that it shall fulfill the purpose for which it was given. If Hashem sees that one is worthy, He will give him more.
It is clear that among Jews and (l'havdil) gentiles, young and old, rich and poor, there are those to whom money is their master, and those who are the "Baal habatim" -- the masters over it -- making it secondary in their lives.
Lucky are those who have friends like Mrs. Schreiber.
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