Outside, the world seems scary. But inside, we feel completely secure. A peak of Artscroll’s newest release, A Life of Bitachon, by Rabbi Yitzhak Dwek
A Note from Victoria Dwek for Between Carpools readers:
I had the privilege of reading my father-in-law’s book, A Life of Bitachon, when it was an earlier draft. And as much as I internalized the messages through reading the book, as a family member, though, I get to see what bitachon does in real life. And how it doesn’t only make everything seem good, it also changes circumstances.
Often, when I’m at my in-laws’ home, I see my father-in-law receive a lot of visitors. And while I only hear the knocks at the door and don’t know any names or stories, I know that most of them come to hear how to strengthen their bitachon, because it works. Bitachon, at the very least, changes perception of a situation, and even better, helps us merit the yeshuah and changes the situation completely.
I had a friend who suffered what most would consider a sad event in her life. She called me and said, “Everyone is telling me, ‘I’m sorry.’ They’re crying when they’re around me. But I’m happy. I don’t see what’s sad. Is there something wrong with me?”
There is and was nothing wrong with her. She simply had a high level of bitachon, where she was able to see the event as good. But–that doesn’t mean there was something wrong with the other people either. For ourselves, we can be strong. But when other people endure something, we can’t tell them to be strong. We have to be empathetic. I feel fortunate to be part of a family where this is matter-of-fact.
After I read the book a second time, I called my father-in-law. I had a question.
“yissurim are supposed to give us kaparah, atonement for sins. But what if someone, because of their high level of bitachon, doesn’t feel yissurim. They have that ‘high tolerance of pain,’ and only see everything as good. Do they still get the kaparah?”
And while I won’t get into the response now, I wish that we shall all merit to feel this way. Below is an excerpt from A Life of Bitachon by Rabbi Yitzchak Dwek and published by Artscroll/Mesorah, which I feel proud to share with you. -Victoria Dwek
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Excerpt from A Life of Bitachon/ By Rabbi Yitzhak Dwek/ Reprinted with permission from Artscroll/Mesorah Publications.
A Real-Life Lesson
Allow me to share with you, dear reader, a personal and meaningful vignette from my early childhood in Aleppo, Syria.
Life in Syria was scary. When my mother was expecting me, there were pogroms in which the non-Jews burned the synagogues and Sifrei Torah. Anxious and terrified, my parents went to hide in the home of an Arab neighbor, who was supposedly protecting them. But as he “welcomed” them into his home, these are the words he used to “comfort” them: “I will take care of you, not like the Israelis who are cutting open the stomachs of the pregnant Palestinian women and murdering the children.” This was his brand of “hachnasas orchim” (hospitality). As I grew up, life continued to be scary. The non-Jews sometimes tormented us and beat us up on our way to school. Think about that for a moment. Today, kids are greeted at school with smiling faces and music. But for us, every trek to school was filled with trepidation and fear. We didn’t dare wear yarmulkes outside. Often, if a non-Jew asked if we were Jewish, we found ourselves in a quandary: Should we tell the truth and be beaten, or lie and pose as Arabs with Arabic names? Neither option was pleasant, to say the least.
We were tormented at times by the Arab children. When we arrived at our school, we were dressed in our white-and-blue little uniforms, along with many bruises, if not physically, then certainly emotionally.
But our kindergarten rebbi, whom I remember with much fondness, Chacham Dovid Boukai, brought us close and instructed us to repeat after him the words of Yeshayah (8:10): עֻצוּ עֵצהָ ותְֻפָר דַּבְּרוּ דָבָר וְלאֹ יָקוּם כִּי עִמָּנוּ אֵל —Plan a conspiracy and it will be annulled; speak your piece and it will not stand, for Hashem is with us.”
We sang along joyously, and the words “ki imanu Keil” meant so much to us, for we knew that the Al-mighty was with us always. And as we sang, we jumped up and pointed upward to Hashem.
Even now, more than 60 years later, the singing — and the faith it evoked in me — is such a vivid and warm memory.
Every day of my childhood was a lesson in emunah.
This is in line with what Rav Yitzchak Zev Soloveitchik taught:
Life teaches bitachon to those who contemplate it well, even more than can be learned from sifrei mussar (books of ethics) (Yalkut Emunah U’Bitachon, p. 494).
The Stone Stood in His Way
I was blessed and privileged to grow up with the message of the importance of bitachon during my childhood years in Aleppo, Syria. I enjoyed a very close relationship with my paternal grandmother, Rabbanit Bolisa Dwek. Her husband, who passed away in 1929, was a rabbi and president of the yeshivah in Aleppo and a successful businessman, as well as an accomplished speaker. She remained a widow for many decades and lived in our house during those years.
My grandmother would put me to sleep with a powerful story about the Baal Shem Tov, which she told over and over again until it was imbedded in my memory and in my heart. It was a story I never tired of hearing.
Shalom made a living brewing and selling arak. One day the Baal Shem Tov came to town to collect tzedakah for the poor, and Shalom was only too glad to host the eminent sage for the night. The children of the house greatly enjoyed the presence of the holy Baal Shem Tov, who told them stories, sang songs with them, and imbued them with beautiful lessons.
The following morning, the Baal Shem Tov bid Shalom farewell as he prepared to move on to the next town to continue with his mission. Shalom and his family pleaded with him to stay.
“How can I stay?” the Baal Shem Tov asked. “The poor are depending on me.”
Finally, Shalom offered to match the sum of 100 rubles that the Baal Shem Tov hoped to raise that day. The Baal Shem Tov agreed to stay for another day, and Shalom’s family was happy.
But the following day the same scene occurred, until once again Shalom offered the Baal Shem Tov 100 rubles from his own money.
This went on day after day until Shalom, who was not a wealthy man, had no money left to offer.
What he did have was a semiprecious stone, which he used for emergencies. If ever he was in need of funds, he would pawn this stone and then redeem it when he would obtain the money to do so.
This time, he pawned the stone for several hundred rubles and thus was able to buy the privilege of hosting the Baal Shem Tov for another few days. When the money ran out, the holy man finally left Shalom’s home.
Shalom, who had a large family, was left not only guestless, but penniless. There was literally nothing to eat in the house and no money for food. The children went to sleep hungry. Shalom turned to Hashem and began to daven for salvation.
Suddenly, he was interrupted by the sound of banging on his front door. It was a bunch of drunkards and they were demanding drinks. There was no arak to be had in Shalom’s house and no money to manufacture any. But the drunkards wouldn’t leave Shalom alone. Finally, they asked him if he had the empty barrels in which he usually made arak. When he replied in the affirmative, they told him to put water into the barrels and then at least they could enjoy the taste of arak.
Shalom did as they asked, and as they enjoyed their pseudo-alcoholic beverages, they began throwing coins of all denominations in his direction in payment.
Years passed, and the Baal Shem Tov was once again passing through this town. Looking for Shalom, he was directed to the richest section of town. The Baal Shem Tov knocked on the man’s door and was ushered into a marble foyer by a smartly dressed butler. As he waited for the master of the house to appear, the Baal Shem Tov gazed at the silk drapes, ornate furniture, and plush couches decorating the home. At last, Shalom arrived to greet his honored guest. He sat down with the Baal Shem Tov in his lavish living room and expressed his joy at seeing him once again. But then he turned to the Baal Shem Tov and with the confidence of a wealthy man, queried, “With all due respect, why was it necessary for you to take my last ruble, so that my family was left literally starving?”
The Baal Shem Tov smiled and replied, “I saw that you were destined to merit great wealth. The only thing that was holding you back was your dependency on the stone you pawned whenever you needed funds. Until you would depend solely on Hashem for your needs, you could not receive this abundant blessing.”
Bitachon is the key to all berachah. If we depend on someone (or something) else, Hashem puts us into that person’s hands. If we depend on ourselves, Hashem puts our success into our own hands. But if we truly depend only on HaKadosh Baruch Hu, then we will be completely in His hands and merit to receive the greatest berachos.
But while we need to keep our focus on Who is the Source of all that we receive in this world, the value of true bitachon runs much deeper than that.
For more information about A Life of Bitachon click here.
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