סרטנוק ךמוס inspiration on coping with םילפונ€¦ · olam haba? one amoira says...

בס"ד

Letters of Chizuk and Inspiration on Coping with

Pregnancy loss and Stilbirth

Words of Comfort Support and Emunah

Encouragement and Hope for the future

Short Practical Hallachos

קונטרס

סומך נופלים

דברי חיזוק והתמודדות

להפלה ולידה שקטה

חורף תשע"ט לפ"ק

בס"ד

Letter of ChizukFrom Rav Moshe Wolfson Shlit”a

Letter of ChizukFrom Rav yitzchok Zilberstein Shlit”a

Letter of ChizukFrom Harav Elimelech

Biderman Shlit”a

Words of ChizukFrom Reb Avrohom Mordche

Malach Shlit”a

Letter From Rebbitzen

F. Twerski

קונטרס

סומך נופלים

דברי חיזוק והתמודדות

להפלה ולידה שקטה

יהושע הערשקאוויטש מו"ץ בבית הוראה נטעי גבריאל

ברוקלין נ.י.

יו"ל ע"י מכון "בנים ובני בנים"a project of Mikvah USA

in conjunction with Bonim Uvnei Bonim

כתובת המחבר:Rabbi Y. Hershkowitz

1620 40th streetBrooklyn NY 11218347-415-6918

הרשות נתונה להעתיק לצלם או לתרגם מהקונטרס ללא מטרה מסחרית, כדי להגדיל תורה ולהאדירה

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Table Of Contents

Letter of Chizuk from Rav Moshe Wolfson Shlit”a .................................7

Fullfillness of the nashuma - fullfillness of the mother

Letter of Chizuk from Rav Yitzchok Zilberstein Shlit”a ......................... 11

Where is this child now?

Letter of Chizuk From Harav Elimelech Biderman Shlit”a ...................... 13

The Saga of a Soul’s Journey /The Saga of a Soul’s Journey / The Enlightening Answer to a Perplexing Question / The Source of Moshe Rabbeinu’s Humility / We Live in an Upside-Down World / From a Father’s Eulogy for His Daughter / A Comforting Classic Parable / The Age-Old Question of Human Effort vs Fate / What Happens to The Missing Years of Life / The Departed Neshamah—A Protective Shield / One Answer to “Why Was This Child Born If It Was Destined to Die Young?” / In Closing

Words of Chizuk from Reb Avrohom Mordche Malach Shlit”a ................ 22

Parashas Mishpatim to the Rescue / When No Answer Is the Best Answer / When It Hurts, One Cries Out / Gilgulim, and Reward & Punishment / The Importance of Judging the Whole Picture / Iyov’s Troubles No Longer a Mystery / Rabbi Akiva and Gilgulim / Order or Disorder? / “Order” Beyond Our Limited Understanding / The Greater the Mystery, the Greater the Comfort /

Letter from Rebbitzen F. Twerski ..................................................... 41

Opening words / Realms of Eternity / Mourning Rituals / Lessons of the Sages / Never Quite The Same

Halachos ...................................................................................... 49

7

Rav Moshe Wolfson Shlit”a

I would like to express a number of thoughts that I hope will, to a certain

degree, ease your situation. It is possible that my words will offer you

nothing new, but my feelings of sympathy impel me to try.

Each morning we recite the Elokai neshama blessing, in which we refer to

Hashem as “Ribbon kol hamaasim, Adon kol haneshamos- Lord of all works.

Master of all souls.” Later at the conclusion of the Pesukei D’zimrah portion

of Shacharis, we speak of Hashem as “Borei kol haneshamos, Creator of all

souls.” Why is it that in reference to the neshamah, Hashem is referred to

first as an Adon- Master- and then as Borei- Creator?

To answer this question, we must first understand the following teachings of our Sages, which are explained in the writings of the great

tzaddikim of later generations. In Heaven there is a Heichal Haneshamos

“the Sanctuary of Souls” from which all neshamos come. Our sages state

that the Final Redemption will not come until all souls have left this Heichal

and descended to this world (Yevamos 62a).

Each neshama has its own unique mission to fulfill in this world, and is allotted the lifespan necessary to fulfill that mission.

Some neshamos belong to a very exalted class. They are of such a

sublime nature so holy, sparkling, and brilliant, that they simply cannot bear

to exist in this world even for a short time. They too, however, must leave

the Heichal Haneshamos so that it will be emptied, and for other reasons

known only to Hashem.

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And so Hashem chooses a particular couple who will draw such a

neshamah down to this world. It departs its source near the Throne of Glory

and is immediately placed in an environment in which it is at home, in an

environment that is heavenly in nature. A woman who is with this child carries

within herself not only a child, but an entire Gan Eden as well. A flame from the hidden light of Creation shines above the child’s head and by that light the

child sees from one end of the world to the other. A heavenly angel learns the

entire Torah with the child. All this occurs with every Jewish child.

However, these special neshamos of which we have spoken cannot bear

to separate themselves from their sublime existence and sully themselves

by living on this earthly world. And so they are spared this discomfort and

are returned to their Father in Heaven having fulfilled their mission by leaving the Heichal Haneshamos and residing within their mother, thus bringing the

world one step closer to the Final Redemption.

And what of the mother, who had endured, hoped, and in the end was

so terribly disappointed? She is of flesh and blood and her feelings are understandable. In loftier moments, however, in moments when intellect can

overcome her emotions, the mother can free herself of her earthly thoughts

and share in the elation enjoyed by her neshama. Then she will be infused

by a feeling of true joy-the joy of a wealthy person who takes reckoning of

all his business endeavors, and sees that his profits far outweigh his losses.

She has been zocheh to have had as her guest a pure, holy neshamah,

accompanied by a heavenly light, a heavenly malach, and a heavenly Torah.

The Ribbono Shel Olam has created a beis medrash for this neshamah

within her. And when this neshamah left her, some of the kedushah that had

entered her remained and will not leave her for the rest of her life.

She had merited to bring Moshiach’s arrival closer by offering a sacrifice for this purpose. She is not left with a mother’s usual compensations; all that

she has endured has been lishmah, not for personal joy and satisfaction.

She has served not as a worker who awaits immediate payment, but as a

loyal soldier, who is ready to suffer wounds in battle in battle solely for the

glory of the King.

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Was it all worth it?

In painful moments, when disappointment sets in and normal human

feelings dominate one’s mood, the answer may be negative. When holiness

breaks through, however, when the intellect of the neshamah speaks and

the joy of the Jewish soul bursts forth, then there is an answer of an entirely

different nature. This answer is accompanied by a song of triumph, the joy

of the victor, the deep-rooted satisfaction of one who has earned something

of immeasurable value.

In the Heichal Haneshamos, the Jewish souls are, figuratively speaking, banim lamokom [children of Hashem]. That sanctuary is their source, and

their Father in Heaven is their Creator. When they descend to this world

clothed in human form, they are seen as servants, with Hashem as their

Master.

In the morning, when we arise from our slumber and are still mired in our

earthliness, when the physical part of our being prevails, we say : “Modeh

ani Lefanecha… Ribbon kol hamaasim, Adon- I gratefully thank You… Lord of

all works, Master of all neshamos.” In effect we are saying, “You, Ribbono

shel Olam, Who directs this world with exacting providence, a world in

which every occurrence is part of Your eternal plan: You are the One Who

determines the destiny of every neshamah, in harmony with Your master

plan.” Following the recitation of Pesukei D’zimrah and Az Yashir, however,

we raise ourselves above the Ani- there exists no I. Then the Ribbono Shel

Olom is not seen as the Adon, the Master over His servants, but rather as

Borei, the Creator of us, His children. Then we can also perceive Hashem

over certain special neshamos- those that fulfill their mission without having to be seen as servants clothed in earthly bodies.

In the early morning, our frame of mind permits us only to recite a

brachah for a neshamah that resides within a body. It is later, in the midst of

the Shacharis prayers, when we are in an uplifted state, that we can express

a blessing even for those sparkling neshamos that are too sublime to enter

this earthly world.

One should realize that the term “miscarriage” is not found in the

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believing Jew’s dictionary. The term implies that one’s efforts have ended in

failure, that all has been in vain. That is incorrect, for when a Jewish woman

carries a child, it is never in vain.

May the Ribbono Shel Olom, grant you nachas and good health. May you

merit to bring into this world and raise healthy children and grandchildren

who will toil in Torah study and mitzvos. May you and your husband derive

much joy and satisfaction from your family, and together escort your

children to the chuppah with joy and feelings of gratitude to the One Above.

May you, Along with Klal Yisrael, merit to greet Moshiach, whose arrival you

have brought closer.

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Rav Yitzchok Zilberstein Shlit”a

A woman who miscarries, r”l, or gives birth to a child that passes

away, should not say, “It was all for nothing.” Her efforts have definitely accomplished, as the Gemara states, “From when is a child worthy of

Olam Haba? One Amoira says from the moment of birth… Ravina said, “From the moment of conception” (Sanhedrin 110b). In Igros Moshe, Rav

Moshe Feinstein (YOREH DEAH vol 3, 138) writes that the halachahh is in

accordance with Ravina.

This means that any fetus, from the moment of conception, has

earned a place in Olam Haba and will come to life at the time of techias

hameisim as a perfect tzaddik without sin. Rav Moshe adds that this

neshamah will come to life without the pain and discomfort that is normally

associated with techias hameisim. The mother who carried this fetus

merited to do a great chesed, for through her this neshamah achieved its

tikkun.

When Pharaoh decreed that all Jewish baby boys be thrown into the

Nile, Amram, who would become the father of Moshe Rabbeinu, separated

from his wife. His daughter, Miriam, said to him, “Your decree is worse than

that of Pharaoh. For Pharaoh’s decree only denies them this world, while

your decree (not to have children) denies them the World to Come.” Rashi

(Sotah 12a) explains, “For since they will not be born they will not go to Olam

HaBa.” We see from here that it would have been worthwhile for a neshamah

to descend to this world although it would be thrown into the Nile, and so

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Rav Yitzchok Zilberstein Shlit”a

would have been worth while for its parents to live through this pain and

suffering, so that the neshamah should merit Olam Haba.

The Gemara also states that Mashiach will not come until all neshamos

in a Heavenly chamber called “Guf” (עד שתכלה כל הנשמות שבגוף) will leave that

chamber and descend to this world (Yevamos 62a). Thus, by conceiving a

child, the mother has brought the Geulah closer. Surely, this neshamah will

serve as a melitzah tov (advocate) in Heaven for its parents who have

brought it to its tikkun.

We say to the mother: If a great king would entrust you with a very

precious item, wouldn’t you rejoice? And even when he would request that the item be returned, you would rejoice that you had merited to safeguard

the item for a period of time. Similarly, every woman who carries a child, is

holding that precious item for the King of kings. She is like an aron kodesh

in which lies a Sefer Torah; a light of Hashem is over the child’s head as

learns the entire Torah inside its mother.

The Gemara (Avodah Zara 3b) states “During the fourth hour of the day,

Hakadosh Baruch Hu sits and teaches Torah to young children.” Holy sefarim

state that this refers to the fetus inside its mother. Therefore, accept the

Heavenly judgement with love and do not become depressed. Good times

will come. In the meantime, realize that you have brought this child to its

tikkun.

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Harav Elimelech Biderman Shlit”a

Dear Precious, Grieving Parents:

As I empathize with your deep pain, please allow me to share certain

basic Torah concepts that I hope will comfort you as you mourn your loss

Life Challenges Are a G-d-given Gift: Although you are now experiencing

unbearable pain, know that by challenging you to deal with this immense

grief, Hashem has gifted you with the spiritual opportunity to reveal the major

purpose of Creation, as you utilize this time of mourning to strengthen your

belief in Him. It is beyond the power of mere human beings to understand

the reasons why G-d causes painful events. What is in our power when

facing what is totally beyond our understanding, is to fortify ourselves with

the belief that was imbedded in our hearts at Sinai when we were chosen to

be the Hashem’s holy nation and G-d proclaimed, “I am Hashem your G-d.”

At that time, by declaring Naaseh v’Nishma, we accepted that first of the Ten Commandments, which obligates us to fully believe that nothing in this

world is random—that every occurrence has meaning and purpose.

The Saga of a Soul’s Journey: I am sure that when you discovered that you

were about to welcome a child into your family, you joyously looked forward

to raising that newborn, whose pure soul had been close to Hashem’s Holy

Throne. And when its time came to descend to This World to fulfill its specific mission, it descended eager to achieve that lofty goal, after which it could

once again bask in G-dly Glory. Now, totally unexpectedly, that precious soul

has returned to its former place, close to Hashem’s Holy Throne, where the

occupants of the Upper Spheres celebrated its swift, successful completion

of its earthly assignment. They joyfully welcomed back this pure soul that

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had rectified itself without having to experience a long earthly life filled with trials and misfortunes.

Understandably, those left behind—especially its parents—are

overwhelmed by grief. So our challenge is to strengthen ourselves in our

trust that everything Hashem does is for the best. This fundamental Torah

concept is clearly stated in Tehillim 92:3: “We must proclaim Hashem’s

kindness by having faith in Him even when our lives seem to be as dark as

night.”

The Enlightening Answer to a Perplexing Question: When an outstanding

young student of the Ramban, (known as Nachmanides; 1194-1270), for

whom a shining future was foretold, suddenly passed away, the Ramban

purified himself and then penned a small note. In it he requested that when the soul of the deceased arrived On High, he should inquire why he had been

destined to die long before his potential had been reached. After signing the

letter, the Ramban instructed the Chevra Kadisha burial society to place it in

the student’s hand immediately before burial. That very evening, the student

appeared to his illustrious teacher in a dream. He said, “The note you sent

with me opened all the Heavenly Gates until I reached Gan Eden, where I was

sure I would surely succeed in fulfilling my holy mentor’s request. However, with the perspective I now have, everything that happened to me is so clearly

for my benefit that I cannot in good conscious pose your question.”

This true story, related by the Ramban, teaches us that it is not our place

to delve into the unknowable. Instead, we must have faith, we must trust

and believe, that sometimes G-d decrees that selected souls must come

down to This World for only a very short time. Even though this appears to

us as cruel, the soul itself is not only serene, but rejoices in having fulfilled its assigned mission in the shortest possible time.

The Source of Moshe Rabbeinu’s Humility: On Simchas Torah 5679/1918,

the Rebbe Rashab of Chabad (Rav Sholom Dov Ber Schneerson, 1860-1920),

cited the verse (Bamidbar 12:3) that proclaims that Moshe Rabbeinu was the

most-humble of men to have ever lived. “How did Moshe achieve that lofty

level?” the Rebbe asked. We know that Moshe possessed the book of Adam

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Ha’Rishon that states that in the generation before the advent of Mashiach,

humankind, including the Jews, would sorely lack a clear understanding

of G-d’s ways. This would cause overall religious observance to weaken to

the extent that even the performance of mitzvos would be lacking in pure

intent. However, he also foresaw that some people in the pre-Messianic age

would fulfill their religious duties in the correct halachic manner, and that they might even perform them with the self-sacrifice called for by the many physical, emotional, material, political, and societal challenges they would

need to contend with.

When Moshe Rabbeinu realized that there would one day arise a

generation of Jews who would serve G-d wholeheartedly despite their

lack of clearly understanding His ways, he was overcome by a spirit of the

highest level of humility as he stood in awe of those Jews—the Torah-true

Jews living in our era—whose wholehearted service of Hashem flourishes despite the black clouds of denial of G-d that threatens their loyalty to the

All Powerful Creator.

You, grieving parents, are now experiencing the pain of an event that is

nearly impossible to understand and accept. Hashem has hidden His face,

so you contend with one of life’s most painful challenges. By strengthening

your faith in Him, by standing strong and continuing to fulfill your religious obligations out of trust and love and belief despite a lack of clarity and

profound understanding, your service is more precious to Hashem than that

of great tzaddikim. In fact, even our great teacher, Moshe Rabbeinu, was

humbled by your greatness.

We Live in an Upside-Down World: A broken-hearted young man

once came to the Rebbe of Gur, the Penei Menachem, zy”a, (Rav Pinchos

Menachem Alter, 1926-1996) and poured out the bitterness of his heart.

His beloved only child, who had been born after many years of marriage,

had sickened and died. The father asked what Hashem wanted from him

by taking away this precious gift. The Rebbe answered with a story. “When

I was a child,” the Rebbe said, “I was once in a bank and I saw a Jew enter

with a large sum of money that he handed over to the teller. I pitied the man

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for having to give his hard-earned money to a bank official without having anything left over for himself. Later, when I saw another man come in and

receive a huge sum of money from teller, I was very happy that this Jew

merited to be given such a generous gift.

“But then I grew older and began to understand the ways of the world,

so I realized that I had totally misunderstood that incident. The man whom I

had pitied for giving all his money to the bank was actually wealthy. He had

just concluded a successful business deal and was depositing the profits so that his money could earn him more, by way of interest. The other man, who

had received a lot of money, was actually taking out a loan and would now

have to repay the entire amount plus interest and other charges.

“The lesson I learned that day has stood me in good stead,” said the Penei

Menachem. “Not everything that happens in This World is as it appears at

first glance. Sometimes a person seems to have suffered a loss, when in reality he has gained much. You should not be asking what Hashem wants

from you. Hashem has not taken something from you; rather He has given

to you. Even though you, with your limited human eyesight, cannot see the

gain, know that Hashem is the Great Giver Whose only motivation in creating

This World was to benefit humanity. In this topsy-turvy world we are simply not able to understand immediately who has actually profited or lost.”

From a Father’s Eulogy for His Daughter: When the great marbitz Torah,

Rav Moshe Shapiro (1936-2017), zt”l, was giving a hesped (eulogy) at

the funeral of his daughter, he mentioned the gemara (Kiddushin 30) that

states that there are three partners involved in the creation of a person:

Hashem, the father, and the mother. And there is a well-known halachahh

that a partner may not withdraw assets from a partnership without first obtaining permission from the other partners. Then he asked: So how can

Hashem, one of the three partners, take back His portion (my daughter’s

neshamah) without the consent of the other partners, myself and my wife? It must be that this occurrence is a positive, beneficial event, in which case a partner may, indeed, withdraw his investment without asking permission.

This proves that our young daughter’s petirah is not a punishment, chas

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vesholom, nor a bad happening; rather it is our returning something to Our

Partner in order to receive something greater in return.

A Comforting Classic Parable: The Orchos Tzadikim (9) (15th century

Germany) discusses in depth the attribute of emunah—trust in Hashem—

and how a person can reach a high level of this positive trait. One way is for

a person not to be shaken by a bad occurrence; rather he (or she) should

accept all that befalls him calmly and with joy. This is comparable to a

servant who knows that his master is generous, compassionate, and will

greatly reward those who obey his every command. Since this master makes

heavy demands on his servants, he gives them great rewards. He raises

them to high positions, appoints them as his advisors, has them eat at his

table, ride in his carriage, and assigns them to be in charge of his territories.

There is no doubt that a servant who knows this about his master will make

every effort to do his master’s orders. And he will do it with joy even it is very

difficult, because he will constantly remind himself of the great reward he is earning. However, if a servant sees that his master does not generously

compensate his workers, and he realizes that the work is more difficult than any reward he might gain, then the servant will still fulfill his duties out of fear, but he will be overcome by depression and sadness.

We would do well to apply this understanding in our everyday lives. We

must do all in our power to develop complete trust in our Creator; to believe

that He is kind, compassionate, and an Honest Judge. We must believe that

everything that He does to us is for our benefit and that we will be richly rewarded for every challenge and every painful experience we must suffer

in Hashem’s Name; and that all duties that we fulfill for the sake of Heaven will be repaid with an undreamed-of reward in the Next World.

For thousands of years, we have been taught that G-d repays every good

deed, even when it’s done by an evil person! We see this by Esav, who,

because he so carefully honored his father, Yitzchok Avinu, merited that he

and his descendants rose to greatness in This Word (Medrash Devarim 1:15).

We see this by Nevuchtnetzar, who in addition to all the evil he committed

took three steps for the honor of Hashem and was therefore rewarded with

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greatness (Sanhedrin 96a). There are so many other examples that can be

cited to prove this truth, that there is no doubt that someone who believes

this fundamental Torah concept will live a life filled with calmness and joy no matter what Hashem decrees should happen to him.”

The Age-Old Question of Human Effort vs Fate: The famous Maggid Rav

Yankele Galinsky, zt”l, (1921-2014) tells of a shivah call he paid to Rav Michel

Feinstein, who was mourning his daughter, who had suffered from asthma,

which causes a severe shortness of breath. The family had purchased five devices that could relieve the lack of oxygen caused by this illness, so that

if one did not work, others would be readily available. One day, the daughter

had a sudden asthma attack and could not breathe. The family immediately

ran to get the devices, but not one could be found and the girl passed away

before emergency help could arrive. Afterwards, they searched the house

again and found all five devices under the girl’s bed. During the entire shivah, whenever the fact that the devices that could have saved her life were under

her bed the entire time was mentioned, their grief intensified tenfold.

Rav Yankele, who had come to comfort his long-time friend Rav Michel

Feinstein, was asked, “We believe that Hashem is the Cause of every

event in our lives, so what is the point of any effort on our part? The Torah commands to do all in our power to preserve life, so I bought not one but

five devices in case of emergency, yet when I needed them none could be found!” Rav Yankele replied that certainly we must make every effort to stay

healthy and safe. At the same time, we must also wholehearted believe that

it is never our efforts that result in success, but rather it is only Hashem Who

is in charge of what actually happens in our lives.”

Rav Yankele continued, “A tradition going back generations in my family

teaches that hishtadlus, expending human effort that could result in a

positive outcome, is only necessary and praiseworthy for future events.

However, after something has happened, it is forbidden to burden oneself by

questioning what might have happened had I taken other, better precautions.

Such thinking reveals a weakness in emunah,” Rav Yankele said, “and is as

if we are proclaiming that I had the power to change an outcome that had

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been decreed by Hashem. That is completely forbidden. Even worse, such

thoughts are actually a hidden form of kefira (disbelief in Hashem). One may not ever seriously consider that he or she could have changed the past.

“By constantly focusing on the past and what you could have or should

have done, by regretting that you didn’t know the devices were under your

daughter’s bed and by thinking that had you realized, you could have saved

her, you are falling into a trap of the Yetzer Hara. It is totally untrue! Hashem

‘hid’ those devices because it was your daughter’s exact time to return

her soul to heaven. You must constantly remind yourself that everything

Hashem does is for the best, and that although we don’t understand this

now, one day it will become very clear.”

What Happens to The Missing Years of Life: The Rebbe Rav Yissochor

Dov Rokeach of Belz, zy”a, (1851-1926) wrote a letter to be sent to a family

who had suffered the tragedy of a family member passing away at a very

young age. He writes, “You should know that if you control yourselves from

mourning excessively, then the years which were taken from this child will

be added on to those of your descendants. With Hashem’s help, you will

merit to see much nachas from them.”

So during this time of deep mourning, I beseech you to strengthen your

emunah, in whose merit your family will ultimate benefit. When we accept yisurim (tribulations) with love, we merit long, happy and healthy years.

The Departed Neshamah—A Protective Shield: The Gemara (Sota

49) states that the death of children overturns a bad judgment that has

been decreed against their father. Rashi explains this to mean that even

when children of resha’im leave this world at an early age, since it can be

considered that their parent has already suffered due to this catastrophe,

Hashem listens to this justified claim, and removes any harsh decrees written against the parents. And because we have been taught that anything

beneficial to evil ones is 100 times more applicable to the righteous, this should bring a measure of comfort to parents who suffer the loss of an

infant or young child.

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One Answer to “Why Was This Child Born If It Was Destined to Die

Young?”: In closing, I want to mention an incredible insight written by the

Shach (Rav Shabasi HaKohen, 1621-1662), on the verse in Devarim (31:12)

that commands the mitzvah of hakhel, in which men, women and children

are instructed to ascend to the Bais Hamikdash every seven years to listen

to the public reading of the Torah. Rashi cites the Gemara (Chagiga 3a)

that explains the purpose of the appearance of each of these groups—men,

women, children: The men come to learn, the women come to listen, and

the children are brought “to give merit to the ones who brought them.” The

Tanna Rabi Yehoshua’s comment on this verse begs for an explanation. He

says, “You had a precious jewel in your hands and you wanted to take it

away from me.”

The Shach clarifies Rabi Yehoshua’s meaning in a way that is particularly meaningful to parents who have suffered the loss of a child, parents who,

in their profound grief ask: “If Hashem was going to call this precious soul

back to Heaven so soon, why was it brought down to This World at all?” And the answer is: “To give merit to the ones who brought him,” referring to the

parents. This is true to an even greater extent when a baby boy dies after its

parents have already rejoiced with the mitzvah of milah, and in all cases it

is a merit to the mother who, no matter the child’s gender, has suffered the

pains of childbirth.

In every instance when parents mourn the death of a youngster, or even

the loss of a fetus, the very fact that they fulfilled the commandment to expend effort to bring children into the world is an enormous merit. When

Rabi Yehoshua refers to “a precious jewel,” he is referring to the immense

reward that will be bestowed upon the parents simply for having brought

this soul down from the Upper Spheres so that the Will of Hashem could be

fulfilled.

In Closing: May Hashem comfort you, and may you never have to bear

such difficult challenges again.

Strengthening your emunah is the greatest gift you can do for your

child’s neshamah, which is now looking down on you for On High with a

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clear, perfect vision and no regrets or pain. In the merit of your fortifying

your loyalty to Hashem, may He bless you with healthy children, and with

descendants dedicated to learning and fulfilling Torah and mitzvos with joy.

And there is no doubt that the merit of your accepting Hashem’s decree

with love will hasten the coming of Mashiach, may it be swiftly, in our days,

when we will merit to witness Hashem’s return to Zion and the rejoicing of

His Chosen People (Tehillim 14:7), amein.

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Reb Avrohom Mordche Malach Shlit”a


Parashas Mishpatim to the Rescue We read: “V’aileh hamishpatim asher

tasim lifneihem, And these are the statutes that you (Moshe) should place

before them (the Jews).” On this verse (Shemos 21:1) the Zohar comments,

“And these are the ways in which gilgulim (recycled neshamos) are dealt with

so that they can be adequately purified.” What connection exists between two seemingly totally different topics?

To help us better understand, let me share a well-known story. The

Mezeritcher Maggid posed this exact question to his Rebbe the Baal Shem

Tov, known by the acronym as “The Besht,” (circa 1698-1760). Instead of

replying, the Besht told the Maggid to walk into a nearby forest until he

reaches a well. “When you get there, hide behind a tree, wait there for two

hours, and then return to me, at which time my answer to your question will

be easily understood.”

The Maggid faithfully followed his Rebbe’s commands. Not long

afterward, he saw a traveler approaching. The man, who appeared to be an

important dignitary, dismounted, drank some water, rested for a short while,

remounted, and rode off. Unbeknown to him, as he climbed back onto his

horse, the pouch containing his money fell to the ground.

A short time later, another man passed by the well and noticed the bag.

After looking around and not seeing anyone, he grabbed the pouch and rode

off.

Finally, a poorly dressed man stopped by the well, and after drinking his

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fill, sat down against a nearby tree and fell asleep.

Meanwhile, the dignitary who had lost his money realized that it must

have dropped near the well, so he returned there to search for it. Of course,

it was nowhere to be seen. What he did notice, however, was the man who

was fast asleep. “Thief! Give me back my money!” he shouted, as he shook

him awake.

The poor man, awakened by the rider’s anger and shouts, tried to defend

himself, but to no avail. The wealthy man roared, “When I was here a short

while ago I dropped my moneybag. Since it’s nowhere to be seen, obviously

you took it. Return it immediately!” Knowing he was innocent, the poor man

stood up and began running, but the dignitary caught up with him and beat

him mercilessly

Just then, the Maggid realized that two hours had passed by, so he made

his way back to the Besht and related all that he had witnessed. The Besht

asked him, “Did anything you saw make sense to you?”

“Absolutely not,” was his reply. “One person stole money and someone

else got beaten! I have rarely seen something so unjust.”

“Let me clarify by telling you a story,” said the Besht. “After man borrowed

some money from a friend, and he didn’t have the means to repay him. He kept

putting off the lender with all kinds of excuses, until the lender summoned

him to beis din. When the borrower claimed he didn’t owe anything, the

dayan instructed him that the rabbinical court would only accept his claim if

he swore to it. When the borrower complied, the dayan decided in his favor,

and that “case” seemed to have been settled.

“But in actuality, my dear talmid, that was not the end of the story, because

the dayan had erred in his judgement. Many years later, the borrower, the

lender and the judge passed on, and due to the unfinished business between them, their neshamos became gilgulim that were returned to This World. The

man you saw riding the horse was the reincarnated borrower, and man who

found and kept the money was the lender. Finally, the outstanding loan has

been repaid.”

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“What about the poor man who was beaten?” asked the Maggid.

“In the previous gilgul, he was the dayan,” answered the Besht. “He needed

to receive a beating in order to atone for his mistaken psak halachahh.

Now we understand how the Zohar connected the first verse in Mishpatim and the concept of gilgulim. Often, we see the laws and occurrences that

Hashem has orchestrated that seem to make no sense at all The Zohar alerted

us that most things that occur in This World are actually continuations of

stories that began generations ago. We must train ourselves to believe this

truth and to accept that everything is exactly as it should be, and in keeping

with divine justice. Only an understanding of the reality of gilgulim allows

this to make perfect sense.”

When No Answer Is the Best Answer When bad things happen to

us, our first question is usually, “Why? Why did Hashem do this to me?” Unfortunately, people sometimes cite the existence of gilgulim in an attempt

explain to brokenhearted people who have just begun mourning a tragic

death in the family, telling them that the entire story is related to wrongs

committed generations back that must now be righted. No such comments

should ever be offered at a time when mourners are too pained to deal with

this information.

halachahh states that when someone is in deep pain, it is forbidden

to attempt to console him. Here “console” means telling the mourner that

since what happened is clearly from Heaven; everything will work out for

the best. Instead, halachahh mandates that when speaking to a person

who is grieving deeply, all one should do is empathize with his pain. And of

course, we recite the required passuk beginning with “Hamakom yenachem

eschem….” During shivah, even if one hears the question “Why?” the best answer is, “We mere humans certainly don’t know.”

When It Hurts, One Cries Out The Gaon Rebbe Meir Yechiel Eckstein of

Ovstovtza (1854-1928), zy”a, author of Meir Ainei Chachamim, said on one

Erev Sukkos that the entire world is not worth even one groan. That night,

as he left his sukkah, a heavy wooden beam fell on his leg, causing him to

groan and cry, ‘Oy!’ His chassidim asked, “Didn’t the Rebbe just teach us

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that the entire world is not worth even one groan?” He replied, “What I said earlier is certainly true. But when one feels pain, one groans.” If this was so

for a tzaddik of the Ovstrovtza’s caliber (whose service of Hashem was so

elevated that he fasted during the day for 40 consecutive years!), when a

mourner among us is in deep pain, it behooves us to allow him or her to cry

out, to groan, until a time when the grief has lessened enough so that Torah

philosophy will actually bring comfort.

Recently, a dayan told me that he had gone to a shivah house where a

mother was sitting for the tragic death of her young son, lo aleinu. The pain

was indescribable. She said, “You are a dayan, so please tell me the reason

for this!” The dayan told her the truth: “I wish I could explain it to you, but

I simply don’t know.” The dayan told me that he left that house upset. How

could he not have been able to give her some sort of an answer?

The next week, when the dayan was speaking with one of that woman’s

relatives he told him what the mother had confided. “Many rabbanim and dayanim came and I asked all of them that question. Only one dayan gave

me a helpful answer. He said that he didn’t know, and that we cannot know.

That was exactly what I needed to hear; ‘I don’t know.’”

Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People? Many have asked this question; even Moshe Rabbeinu asked it of Hashem. Some restate it as

‘Tzaddik v’ra lo, rasha v’tov lo.’ To understand this universal difficulty, let’s begin with a story. There was once an Arab who wanted to take an afternoon

nap but he was disturbed by the many young children playing noisily in the

courtyard. So he opened the window and told the children, “On the next

corner, someone is giving out free ice cream!” When the children ran off to

get their treat, the Arab prepared to lie down for his nap. But then he thought,

Am I crazy? While someone is giving free ice cream, I’m going to miss out by

going to sleep? So he quickly got up and started running after the children.

We laugh at his foolishness, but sometimes even we take action based

on nothing more than an illusion. When reality clashes with our illusions,

we complain about the reality. So when we asked the previous question, we

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need to define the terms. What is a tzaddik, what is a rasha, what is good, and what is bad? Probably, when we know what the words actually mean, we will no longer ask that questions.

We might think that it’s obvious who is a tzaddik and who is a rasha. This

is actually not true, because only Hashem can know this. So let’s accept that

we are dealing with people whom we think are tzaddikim and rasha’im, and

let’s just deal with the definitions of good and bad.

There can be no precise definition of many adjectives, including “good” and “bad” because it depends on the circumstances. For instance, when

someone misses a bus they think it’s bad, because they’ll be late to their

appointment. But if that bus is blown up by a terrorist and all passengers

are killed or severely injured, then for the person who missed getting on to

it, that even was definitely good.

Similarly, the definitions of ‘a lot’ or ‘a little’ also depend on the situation. Are four hairs a lot or a little? If we are discussing the number of hairs on the head of a balding man, they are certainly very few. But if we are talking

about the number of hairs you found in your soup, then it’s a huge amount.

This story—heard from the famous badchan Rabbi Yaakov Miller, known

professionally as “the Yarmova Rav”—will shed light on the terms “good”

and “bad.” He claims that when he was once sitting on an airplane waiting

to depart, he experienced an unusually long delay. When he asked a steward

what was holding things up, he was told that a man had sat down in first class, claiming that it was his seat. When crew members tried to remove

him, he accused them of discriminating against him because he was Black.

“You appear to be a wise man,” continued the steward. “Would you be willing

to try to get him to take his actual seat in coach?”

Reb Yankel agreed on condition that he be allowed to remain in the first-class cabin if he succeeded. When the head steward accepted the offer,

Reb Yankel took a seat near the problematic passenger. After he settled in,

he addressed the man. “I hear that they are trying to throw you out of your

seat.” The man said “Yes, they are discriminating against me because I am

Black, but I will not budge. I know my rights!” “Quite right,” Reb Yankel said,

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as he continued to silently a friendly conversation with the man.

A short time later Reb Yankel asked him, “Once they take off, how long

will it take them to fly to China?”. The passenger looked at him blankly. “What do you mean?” Reb Yankel repeated himself, “How long is the flight to China?” “China? This flight is headed to London!” Reb Yankel replied, “Those in coach class are headed to London, but first-class passengers are bound for China.” The man immediately got up, gathered his belongings, took his

seat in the coach cabin, and the flight departed.

Since Reb Yankel is a badchan, I can’t vouch that this story has even one

spark of truth in it, but we can certainly understand its message, which is

that a person can accept any inconvenience as long as he knows that he is

heading in the right direction. As soon as he realizes that he is going the

wrong way, he will accept anything he might have considered “bad,” as long

as he’ll reach his longged-for destination.

With these understandings, I think that “Why do bad things happen to

good people?” is surely much less of a valid question.

Additional Examples of “Good” and “Bad” A famous Israeli baal

teshuvah once told a story about a totally secular Jew named Moshe who,

every Shabbos afternoon during his entire life, would drive out to the beach

and watch the magnificent crashing of the waves, as he chain smoked cigarettes. Although throughout his life Moshe was in good health, and took

no medications, one day when he was 80 he simply dropped dead.

Most people would have said that Moshe had led a good life, and that the

passuk that predicts death for those who desecrate Shabbos did not apply

to him.

After his death, as Moshe floated in space, he heard a voice call out, “Are you Moshe?”

“Yes, I am, and who are you?” he asked.

“I am Hashem,” was the startling answer. “How was your life? You were down on Earth for more than eighty years; was it good?”

Moshe was pleasantly surprised. Was that all that Hashem wanted to

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know? “Yes,” he said, “my life was very good. I really need to thank You for creating the magnificent ocean, with its powerful waves. Each Shabbos when I drove out to view them, it was a special treat.”

Hashem then asked him, “Moshe, did it ever occur to you that I created

the world for a reason?”

“Sure,” answered Moshe. “I thought about that on the day of my bar

mitzvah and also on a few Yom Kippurs.”

“Well,” continued Hashem, “one major purpose of my creation was in

order that Jews should keep Shabbos. Did you?”

Moshe told Him the truth. “Not really. I used to drive to the beach on

Shabbos, and of course I smoked.”

Hashem replied with a parable. “A factory usually has grounds where

employees can stroll and relax during their breaks. But if someone who

is not employed there merely uses that area as a place to relax, since he

didn’t fulfill the purpose for which the factory was built, he will not earn a paycheck. I created the world so that Jews should keep Shabbos. The

sea and its powerful waves were created for their enjoyment and relaxation

during the other six days. Since you did not do what should have been done

on Shabbos, you did not accomplish your task in This World, so instead of

receiving your “paycheck”—which in The Next World means basking in the

pleasures of Gan Eden—you are headed in another direction.”

With this understanding we realize that although Moshe lived more than

80 pleasant years, things were not “good” for him. Although he took pleasure

from This World, “pleasure” does not always mean something good. Good

means that you have accomplished your mission.

What if Moshe would have heard Hashem say to him in his younger years,

“Moshe, I am Hashem and I am warning you that you must keep Shabbos!”? The next Shabbos Moshe would have gone crazy. No trips to the beach

and no cigarettes, and by early afternoon he would be searching the sky

for three stars so that day full of limitations would be over! It would clearly

have been an uncomfortable day for him. But would it have been good for

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him? Absolutely!! Since his keeping Shabbos would have brought him closer to fulfilling his mission on this world, it would obviously be good for him, despite his being sure that it had been “bad.”.

Gilgulim, and Reward & Punishment When a soul goes to heaven

after 120 years and discovers that it did not accomplish that which it was

supposed to do, the best thing that can happen would be to be given another

chance. That means becoming a gilgul, a recycled soul with the opportunity

to rectify his disobedience of Hashem. It is possible that this second life on

Earth will not be as comfortable as the first one, but that wouldn’t matter. Hashem will construct an entirely new situation for that soul, that will more

easily enable it to succeed and earn eternal reward.

But when we hear bad news, Rachmana litzlan, we must not cavalierly

dismiss it by thinking that the person—or people—involved must surely

deserved it and that this will ultimately benefit their soul. We must also never shrug off their pain by thinking that what happened must be their

punishment for transgressing commandments. Our response should be

sympathy, empathy, and then an offer to help. And if when thinking more

deeply into what happened, we should realize that Hashem made sure we

heard about the tragedy because OUR neshamah needed to suffer this

sadness in order to be purified.

Hashem’s ways are totally just, and every bit of suffering is meted out

in precise measure, for all concerned. The Torah proves this is Parashas

Mishpatim where we are taught that If a Jew steals a cow or a sheep and

slaughters—or sells it— in addition to paying the actual cost of the animal,

he must add an extra fine. How much? For a cow he pays five times its value, and for a sheep he pays four times. Why the difference? Because when he’s escaping a cow instinctively trots after anyone leading it, while the thief

must carry the sheep on his shoulders. And since to shlepp a sheep in public

is very embarrassing to the thief, his additional penalty is less.

Does that make sense? Could a present-day defense lawyer claim that a thief should be granted leniency because his pants ripped during the

robbery, which caused him embarrassment? Of course not! The judge would

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say, “Let that be an additional lesson for him, so he won’t steal again!”

But Hashem’s reasoning is on a much higher level. Any pain a person

experiences is considered to be a form of payment for the sin, and the

thief’s embarrassment is counted as partial payment.

That is but one example of the precise measure by which Hashem exacts

payment for sin. Pain and embarrassment are all included in that reckoning.

And if this is true in This World, it is certainly true in The Next World.

Remembering this when we experience tragedy, will help us accept

what Hashem causes to happen, knowing that although it might be painful,

it is certainly for our ultimate benefit, and meted out with the greatest compassion.

The Importance of Judging the Whole Picture The famous maggid, Reb

Yankele Galinsky, zt’l, told of a Jew who came walked out of shul one day

and declared to those outside, “Did you hear? The chazzan said that ‘Shomer Hashem es kol ohavav v’es kol ha’resha’im’—Hashem watches over all His

loved ones and all the wicked.” What justice exists in the world if Hashem

treats these two groups equally?”

Shortly afterwards, another Jew came outside, and also complained

about the chazzan. “I can’t believe it! He said, ‘Kol ohavuv v’es kol ha’resha’im

yashmid’–all His loved ones and all the wicked ones will be destroyed.’ Why

would Hashem destroy good and bad people as if they are equal?”

At that point, a wise man explained: “The first Jew left shul too early and the second one arrived too late, so neither heard the entire verse in Ashrei!

Had they both paid attention, they would have heard, “Shomer Haahem es

kol ohavav v’es kol ha’resha’im yashmid, Hashem watches over all His loved

ones and He destroys all the wicked ones.’ There was never a question to

begin with, it’s just that neither man ‘got the whole picture’!”

Most times, when we see things that do not make sense, such as a

tzaddik experiencing misfortune and a rasha thriving, our “judgement” is

based on a huge lack of information, and it behooves us to remember that

we are not privy to the entire picture, but are only seeing a small portion of

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what is occurring.

Lessons from Iyov (Job) Iyov is known to have suffered more than any

other man since creation. Clear pesukim testifying to his greatness. Here’s

one of them: ‘…he is a completely pure, straight man who fears Hashem

(Iyov 1:8).’ Then he began to suffer one tragedy worse than the next. His

children died, he lost his livestock and business, he lost everything. When

we talk about someone who is suffering greatly, we say he has the ‘suffering

of Iyov.’

Iyov’s friends came to visit him and asked: “How have you sinned? Why did this happen? What does Hashem want from you? Aren’t you a tzaddik?”

Despite his hearing their words, that could have made him doubt Hashem,

Iyov accepted everything with love and remained steadfast.

His wife, overcome by pain, suggested that they curse Hashem, chas

v’shalom. Why should they believe in Him anymore? Iyov replied “So you think we should accept the good He gave us and not the bad?”

On a lighter note (I am, after all, a badchan and sometimes life lessons

couched in a bit of humor make it easier for us to understand): Iyov’s reply to

his wife reminds us of the worker who came to complain to his boss, “There

is a mistake on my monthly check. It should be for six thousand dollars

and it’s only five thousand three hundred.” The boss replied, “I see. But I have a question for you. Last month your check was for seven thousand

three hundred. Why didn’t you complain to me then?” The foolish worker answered, “Well, anyone can make a mistake. But a mistake every month??!”

Although the worker’s statement is the height of foolishness, Iyov’s reply

to his wife is similar to questions we ask about bad things happening to

a tzaddik and good things happening to a rasha. We do not “complain” to

Hashem or demand to know why He gave us all the good things that happen

to us. We never cry out to Him saying, “Why is it that we have so much good

while better people than we are have so little? Maybe You should take some things with which we are blessed and give them to people better than us?” I do not believe anyone has ever asked that of Hashem. Why not? Because

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we quickly get used to good things in our lives, and expect them to continue.

So when Iyov told his wife that we must accept the bad with the same

level of faith in Hashem’s justice as we accept the good, he meant “Hashem

gives and Hashem takes; blessed is the Name of Hashem!” Why did he

mention the giving while still experiencing unfathomable pain? Because in order to properly deal with instances when Hashem takes things from us,

we must at the same time remind ourselves that Hashem is the One Who

gives as well.

Iyov’s Troubles No Longer a Mystery Iyov’s travails continued and the

situation grew extremely brutal. By then, even the great tzaddik Iyov started

to be plagued by questions, and that is when Hashem appeared to him. “I

see that you have questions. So I want to ask you: Where were you when the

world was formed? Do you understand for what purpose I created the world? In fact, what do you understand so that you feel free to question Me?”

Two Masters of the Kabbalah, Rav Chaim Vital (1542-1620) and the Rama

MiPano (1548-1620), revealed to us that Hashem’s point to Iyov was this:” If

you were not around at the time of Creation, you cannot possibly understand

My reckonings, or why your suffering came upon you. But let Me give you a

glimpse into your tragedies.

“Have you ever heard of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov?”

Iyov replied: “Certainly.”

“Which of them was the first Jew in the world?”

“Avraham”

“Who was his father, and how did he support his family?”

“Terach, a seller of idols.”

“Know,” said Hashem, “that in a previous gilgul you, Iyov, were Terach, and

that you returned to This World in order to rectify his sins. While Avraham

Avinu was busy drawing people close to Me and causing belief in Me to

spread throughout the world, you were busy selling idols. You even gave

up your son Avraham to King Nimrod to be thrown into the fiery furnace,

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whom his mother, Amaslai bas Karnevo, had hidden for many years. You

only did teshuvah during your last days on Earth, so when your soul came up

to Heaven and was asked if it wanted to be reincarnated in order to rectify

your mistakes, it eagerly agreed. Now that soul is in a man called Iyov.

“And I have some more information for you,” Hashem continued. “Your

wife is the gilgul of Amaslai bas Karnevo, Avraham’s mother.”

When Iyov heard this, he accepted his fate with love, and lived a

long, happy life. His wife, however, due to her suggestion that they curse

Hashem, chas veshalom, suffered because she had not properly purified her reincarnated soul.

Another Gilgul Story: Very many years passed, and a Greek king

commanded the seven sons of a woman named Chana to bow down to an

idol. Six of them refused, and the king killed them one by one. When it was

the turn of the youngest child, the king suggested a stratagem to save the

boy’s life. “I will throw my ring onto the floor, little fellow. When you bend down to pick it up, it will appear as if you are bowing to the idol, and your life

will be saved.” The child courageously refused.

The grieving mother, Chana, asked permission to speak to her only

surviving son. When it was granted, she told him, “When you arrive in Heaven,

tell Avraham Avinu that he was only willing to slaughter one of his children,

Yitzchak, for Hashem’s honor. I, on the other hand, gave up seven children to

Hashem.” A moment later, the king had the child murdered.

What connection can there be between Chana and Avraham Avinu? The Arizal explains that Chana was a gilgul of Amaslai bas Karnevo, Avraham’s

mother, and her message to her illustrious son, Avraham, was that by

bringing up sons loyal enough to give up their lives for the glory of Hashem,

she had finally rectified any shortcoming of her soul, as well as Avraham’s not having actually sacrificed Yitzchok.

When people first hear the story of Chana and her seven sons, they tremble with shock and anger. The same occurs when they first learn about Iyov. But once they understand that these are gilgulim of Terach and Amaslai,

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they realize that all that occurs in this world is justified.

Rabbi Akiva and Gilgulim We all know that the famous Tanna Rabi Akiva

(50-135) was a complete ignoramus for the first forty years of his life, after which he repented and rose to unimaginable heights of greatness. He once

told his students about his early years. “I used to hate talmidei chachamim

to such a degree that I said that if I could, I would have one brought to

me so I could bite him like a donkey.” They asked, “Why like a donkey and

not like a dog?” He replied, “Because a dog leaves over the bones, while a donkey consumes every part of his prey. That’s how much I hated talmidei

chachamim.”

Eventually, Rabbi Akiva became a shepherd and secretly married Rochel,

the daughter of the extremely wealthy Kalba Savua. When Kalba Savua

started to discuss shidduchim with Rochel, she admitted that she was

already married. Kalba Savua was so enraged that he warned her that if she

did not demand a divorce, he would not give her any money to live on and he

would also cut her out of his will. Bravely, Rochel decided to stay married

to Akiva.

One day Akiva noticed that water dripping down onto a rock had bored

a hole in it. He concluded that if water, which is soft, could create a hole

in the hardest stone, then surely Torah, which is compared to water, could

penetrate his stone-like heart. So he asked his wife Rochel to allow him to

go learn Torah for twelve years. Rochel gladly agreed.

Twelve years later, Rabi Akiva, by then a recognized Torah leader,

returned, followed by his 12,000 students. As he neared his home, he heard

a neighbor berating his wife. “How long are you going to bear this bitter

life of separation?” Rochel replied, “If my husband could hear what I am saying, he’d hear that I hereby give him permission to stay away learning

and growing great in Torah for another twelve years.” As soon as Rabi Akiva

heard his wife’s reply, he turned around and headed back to yeshivah with

his students.

Twenty-four years after he first left, Rabi Akiva returned home with 24,000 talmidim. A reception was organized for the famous Tanna, and Rochel tried

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to push forward to greet her husband, who she had not seen in 24 years. One

of his students ordered her to step aside—as the laws of tznius (modesty)

required—but Rabi Akiva stopped them. “Let her be. What is mine and what

is yours, are all hers.”

That part of the story is well known, as is the fact that the 24,000 students

of Rabi Akiva all died between Pesach and Lag B’omer (which amounts to

approximately 800 funerals each day)!

What was going on here? Again, this was a case of gilgulim. Rabi Akiva ended up being one of the Asara Harugei Malchus, the ten great rabbis

brutally murdered by the Romans. He was tortured beyond belief as he was

being put to death, and as the Romans scraped his skin with hot iron rakes,

Rabi Akiva recited, “Shema Yisrael!” His students, totally perplexed, called

out to him asking for an explanation of his bitterly cruel end. That is when

Rabi Akiva declared that he had been waiting his entire life to be mekadesh

Shem Shamayim in this manner.

The questions abound. Why did Rabi Akiva have to die al Kiddush HaShem? And why did he yearn to die in precisely in this way? After all, we are talking about Rabi Akiva, the person who reached an even higher spiritual level than

Moshe Rabbeinu! The Talmud states that Moshe could not understand the

Torah that he prophetically saw that Rabi Akiva was destined to teach. Also,

Moshe asked Hashem to allow Rabi Akiva to be the leader who would take

the Jews out of Mitzrayim! So what was going on?

To understand, we have to go back in history 3800 years. The Torah tells

us the story of Shechem and Chamor, who wanted to marry into the family of

Yaakov Avinu. To achieve this goal, they kidnapped Yakov’s daughter Dina,

and then offered to marry her. Her brothers, the holy Shevatim, replied that

they would agree on one condition—that the entire male population undergo

the rite of bris milah. They complied, and on the third day, Shimon and Levi

slaughtered 24,000 men, including Shechem and Chamor.

Now, since this took place before Mattan Torah, those 24,000 men

who had undergone milah were in some way considered to be Jews. So

Hashem accepted their complaint that as Jews they had not been given

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the opportunity to perform any other mitzvah than the one that doomed

them, milah. To rectify that injustice, they were given the opportunity to

return to This World, and since Shimon was the main cause of their deaths,

they became gilgulim born into the tribe of Shimon. Shechem returned as a

gilgul in Zimri ben Salu, whao after the Exodus from Egypt was the Prince

of the tribe of Shimon. In order to rectify what had happened after Dina was

kidnapped, their mission in This World was to face the same challenge of

immorality and overcome the temptation.

But what happened? Kozbi bas Tzur, the Midyanite princess, managed to entice Zimri to commit immorality, and nothing was rectified, so 24,000 men died in the plague that fpllowed.

Those 24,000 souls were then given yet a third chance to come down to

This World as gilgulim, and finally purify their souls. Chamor and Shechem became gilgulim in Rabbi Akiva. They were given a special gift, his worthy

wife Rochel, who would be able to help them complete their task properly.

That is why Hashem made sure that she would be willing to marry Rabi Akiva,

despite his being a poor, ignorant, low-born man. The reason why Rochel

said what she did after being separated from her husband for 12 years was

because Rabi Akiva did not yet have the 24,000 students necessary for the

complete tikkun of that number of souls! When Rabi Akiva returned with the

precise necessary number, he could truthfully proclaim, “What is mine and

what is yours, are all hers.” Once Rochel had accomplished her mission in

life, two years later she died. And since the students, too, had accomplished

their spiritual tasks, they too died within a short time.

But Rabbi Akiva still had soul-redeeming work to do. He still had to

overcome a kedushah test, similar to the ones that were failed with both

Dina and Kozbi. The gemara in Nedarim tells us that after Turnus Rufus,

the rasha (a Roman ruler of Eretz Yisrael after the destruction of the Beis

Ha’mikdosh), mentioned to his wife that Rabi Akiva was his greatest enemy,

she told her husband that she would eliminate him by causing him to sin

with her, which would result in Hashem’s causing him to die.

When she came to entice Rabi Akiva, he spat at her, he cried, he laughed.

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As he returned to his learning, she asked him the reason for each of those

actions, and Rabbi Akiva explained. “I spat at you because you were trying

to cause me to sin. I cried because one day your immense beauty will be

nibbled on by the worms in the ground. But at this time I cannot tell you why

I laughed.”

Eventually, the wife of Turnus Rufus converted and married Rabi Akiva.

It was then that he told her, “Now I can reveal that this is why I laughed. I

foresaw that we would marry and that this would be my tikkun, the tikkun of

Dina, and the tikkun of Kozbi.”

Rabbi Akiva was aware that the first time he had lived, his death was by the sword, and in his second gilgul as Zimri it was by a spear. So he

understood that he was not destined to die peacefully in his bed. That is why

he told his grieving, puzzled students that his entire life he had been waiting

for the death he was now experiencing; at that moment he was sure that his

neshamah would finally have its tikkun.

When we first read about Rabi Akiva’s life, we would call it very difficult and bitter. But now, having been shown the entire picture, we realize that

everything he experienced was justified.

Order or Disorder? Rabbi Fishel Schachter, the well-respected rebbi and

lecturer, relates that before he became taught his first class, he studied the craft by Reb Eli Teitelbaum, z’l, who contributed greatly to the growth

of Yiddishkeit in America, both in the classroom and by innovative use of

telephone lines. Reb Fishel tells how he studied every detail of how Reb Eli

taught his beloved talmidim.

“Once, when I taught a Rashi that stated ‘ain mukdam um’uchar baTorah –

there is no order in the Torah,’ I asked my students, ‘How can we understand

this Rashi? If you go into a bookstore and open any book or sefer, will you find even one that is not written in a precise order? Of course not! So how is it possible that the Torah Ha’kedoshah, written by Hashem Himself, is

written helter skelter?’ They had no answer.

To make sure his class would remember the answer he was about to give

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long after they left cheder, Reb Fishel taught it the way he had seen Reb Eli

do so. “He instructed his students to line up in last-name alphabetical order,

according to the aleph-beiz. As soon as they complied, he then told them

to line up in order of their first names. Next they did the same according to their ages, and finally according to their heights.

“When they scrambled back into their seats, he asked, ‘Which line up was

in proper order?’ Of course, they answered, “All of them!!!” So he ‘argued’: ‘But the order changed each time!’ And it was then that they fully understood

that Rashi: There is no ‘one set order’ in the Torah, but there IS order, although

it is not what some imagine it should be.”

It is true that we do not see one, particular, chronological order in the

Torah. But without a doubt, the Torah’s order is precisely what it should be

to teach the lessons Hashem intends to impart.

“Order” Beyond Our Limited Understanding This fundamental Torah

concept is clarified by the Chafetz Chaim, through a parable. A man who had arrived in town the day before suggested to the shul’s gabbai (beadle) that it

was time he retires, since the order in which he had allocated those called up

to make a blessing on the Torah was totally without any discernable order.

The gabbai smiled and replied, “To you it seemed random, because you are

a guest who hasn’t even spent 24 hours in our midst. That is why you are

not aware who has been given aliyos the past few weeks, who is celebrating

a bar mitzvah, and which of the men I summoned were obligated—for one

reason or another—to be called on precisely this week!” The Chofetz Chaim

concluded: “When we question what has befallen us or our loved ones, we

should realize that the world’s “Gabbai” doesn’t make mistakes, it is we, who

have “joined this world relatively recently” who simply don’t understand how

totally justified every one of Hashem’s decrees is “

The Greater the Mystery, the Greater the Comfort We find in the sefarim written by students of the Besht that because Hashem is the Creator while

we are His creations, it is impossible for us to understand His ways. To them

it was obvious that if we could, it would mean that we are on par with Him.

The Kotzker Rebbe (Harav Menachem Mendel Morgenstern, 1787–1859)

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would say, “I don’t want to serve a G-d whom I fully understand.”

***

Tehillim teaches us: “Ma rav tuvcha asher tzafanta l’yirecha—How great

is the good which You have hidden away for the ones who fear You. (31:20)”

The Rebbe Reb Bunim (Simchah Bunim of Peshischa, 1765–1827) would

translate that verse in a way that would heal broken hearts: “Ma rav tuvcha

asher tzafanta, How great are You that Your deeds remain hidden beyond

our understanding. That is a definition of Your greatness.” Although we cannot and do not understand the reason for everything that happens, we

do understand that there is a reason.

***

In the introduction to his sefer Mekadshei Hashem, the Veitzener Rav

Harav Tzvi Hersch Meisels (1902-1974), zt”l, a renowned Hungarian

Holocaust survivor, tells how he saved himself from death when he was in

Auschwitz.

The Rav possessed a tallis with an atara (decorative silver headpiece)

owned by his grandfather, Harav Yekusiel Yehudah Teitelbaum, the Yetev

Lev of Satmar (1808–1883), zy”a, that he had inherited from his father-in-

law, the Av Beis Din of Liminov, zt”l. Of course, upon his arrival in Auschwitz,

the Nazis took everything away from him, including that precious tallis.

Determined to keep his heirloom, the Rav found out where the guards had

dumped all the possessions they had confiscated from their prisoners, and then risked his life to sneak into that huge storehouse where he searched

until he found the tallis. Afraid to actually wear that sacred tallis, instead,

he cut it into small sections, one of which he fashioned into a tallis kattan.

Understandably, he still had to be careful so that no one would notice,

because if he were to be caught the least painful death he could expect

would be a bullet to his head.

Unfortunately, the kappo in charge of his block eventually realized that the

Rebbe was hiding something under his clothing. He grabbed the tallis katan

and demanded: “What is this?” The Rebbe replied, “This is G-d’s clothing.”

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The kappo, a Jewish atheist who was also a Communist, began beating the

Rebbe savagely. His rage still not spent, he then ordered the Rebbe to get

off the floor and follow him to his room, all the while shouting, “There I will show you who your Creator is!”

The Rav barely had enough strength to obey, and once in the tiny room

the kappo rained down more blows and curses on him. “Do you still believe

in these religious things? Can’t you see that your Creator has completely abandoned you?”

The Rav could hardly move from the pain of the beating, but he gathered

his remaining strength and answered his attacker with something his father

had quoted to him in the name of Rav Shimon of Yaroslav (1758-1849), zy”a.

“When Rav Shimon reached the unheard-of-in-those-days old age of 91, he

was asked to explain how he had merited to celebrate that milestone. He

replied, ‘When people constantly question the way Hashem runs the world,

being merciful He summons them to heaven, where they receive convincing

proof of Hashem’s just and compassionate ways. Of course, once they are

up there, that’s where they remain. All my life I have accepted upon myself

never to question Hashem’s ways, so He hasn’t yet found a reason to

summon me heavenward, and I remain in This World where I do my best to

serve Him with complete faith in His wisdom.’”

The kappo burst out laughing. Miraculously, when he recovered, he

ordered the Rebbe to get out of his sight. And that is how the Veitzener Rav

was able to save himself.

***

We understand very little, and we surely have few answers to why Hashem

runs the world as He does. But it is clear that everything that happens in

This World, whether we understand it or not, has a reason and is ultimately

for our soul’s benefit. We believe b’emunah shelaimah, with complete faith, that shortly—may it be in our days—we will merit to understand every painful

episode in our lives and in the lives of every Jew, when we will be redeemed

by the coming of Mashiach, amein

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Rebbitzen F. Twerski

Letter From a mother who’s daughter

gave birth to a stillborn

My precious daughter carried a perfect little 'angel' for exactly nine months. Two days after due date, she suddenly did not feel life, and upon rushing to the hospital, was told that the baby had died.

Why oh why, does my child have to suffer this immeasurable pain? I understand the 'mystical' side here and that they were chosen to carry this soul, but my pain, as a mother, watching my precious daughter give birth, knowing that this 'angel' was no longer alive, is so indescribably painful, that for months I thought I could never wake up again.

My daughter did everything so perfectly throughout her pregnancy. Never for one moment did we imagine that anything like this would happen. During her entire pregnancy, I prayed for this baby to be born healthy and well. What good were all my fervent prayers?

Since there is no funeral, no shiva and no Kaddish, how does one actually 'mourn' for this loss? I felt that there was no conclusion to the grief – it just went on and on with nothing to console me. To any woman who has carried a child for nine months with all the trials and discomfort, to suddenly be 'empty' with nothing – how much more painful can anything be in this world?

Reply from Rebbitzen F. Twerski

Your pain is palpable, real, and totally understandable, especially to

those of us who have shared the agonizing experience of losing a baby at

or prior to birth.

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Intellectual, religious, and Kabbalistic insight don't assuage the pain or

speak directly to the bleeding heart. The Mishnah so wisely advises: "Do

not try to comfort the mourner, as long as the deceased is still before him."

There are no arguments, rationales, or theories that can address suffering

and pain which are emotional expressions of the heart. The heart and mind

deal in totally different currencies.

Nonetheless, borrowing from the verse in the Shema: "these words shall

be placed upon your heart" – a commentary suggests that it would have

been better articulated if we were charged to "place the words within your

heart." There are times, such as a grievous loss, that our hearts are not open

or ready to absorb words of reason. The wound is too fresh and too raw.

This thought is captured by the wise Yiddish adage: "What mind and reason

cannot do, time will eventually accomplish." And when time has exercised

its healing effect, the words that we were unable to relate to – that we had

placed "upon" our hearts – will then penetrate, be heard, and support the

healing process.

Realms of Eternity

For the duration of the nine months of pregnancy, a woman has the

unparalleled privilege of carrying and nurturing new life within her. She feels

alive and creative. The death of the newborn, whether prior to or at the time

of birth, is a heartbreaking and grotesque betrayal of the primal maternal

instinct. Death and sadness are the very antithesis of the life and joy she

legitimately anticipated bringing into the world.

The Jewish mystical tradition informs that every soul enters this world

with a mission. The context and challenges of a person's life provide

the necessary tools to discharge the raison d'etre of this individual. Our

definition of what is "good" or "bad" in life conforms to our finite vision and limited experience in the here and now. The Kabbalistic view, in contrast,

encompasses past, present, and future – both our temporal world and the

supernal realms of eternity. The "full picture" is not within our human grasp.

In the framework of ultimate reality, this little soul might have completed its

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journey, its mission in its brief nine months sojourn in-utero.

Your daughter, perhaps paradoxically, precisely because she was not

blessed with the joys of raising this child, provided a totally loving and

selfless environment for this soul to finish its work and achieve its eternal peace. In this vein, the definition of "life" is expanded. Providing the eternal peace and serenity to a soul whose life's objective has thus been completed

can certainly, from a spiritual prospective, be seen as a conferral of "life" of

the highest order.

God's ways are inscrutable, beyond our comprehension. But it is a

fundamental principle of our faith that He knows what He is doing. There is

consolation in the certainty that this was not a meaningless fate – nor that

it was an arbitrary occurrence. There is purpose and meaning to everything

that happens.

This brings to mind the classic exchange between Sir Bertrand Russell

and a cleric. Russell commented, "I cannot believe in a God in whose world

a child cries out in pain." To which the cleric responded, "As for me, I cannot

believe in a world in which a child cries out in pain and there is no God to

justify it."

You describe so beautifully your children's excited anticipation and

attendant religious ceremonies, juxtaposed by the subsequent poignant

pain of loss and deprivation. Your description resounds with that age-old

and ever-prevalent question of "why them?" Why do the righteous have to suffer?

The Talmud tells us that this very question was presented to God by

Moses, whose prophetic powers are unrivaled in history. The text relates

that the Almighty answered Moses with the words, "No man can look upon

my face and live," meaning that no mortal can comprehend God's just but

unfathomable governance of the world. Ultimately, only God, who has the

master plan for the destiny of humankind, can answer that question.

As for us, we have to do our thing – choose to celebrate the good in life,

attempting day by day to get a longer glimpse of the sun shining, and closer

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bonding with spouse, parents, family, and friends.

Mourning Rituals

There are many questions about the provisions in Jewish law – halachah

– and Jewish practice attending the loss of a baby prior, during, or following

birth.

The rituals of shiva – the 7-day mourning period, eulogy, public burial,

Kaddish, Yizkor, and gravestone unveiling are not observed for a baby who

did not reach the age of 30 days. Two explanatory points are in order:

(1) The soul that has not survived the 30 days in this world is certainly

of no less significance. However, their soul is not seen as having had a presence in the social and communal parameters of conventional existence.

The above rituals are seen as public manifestations directly related to the

impact on the community and society, and since this child did not have an

existence, presence, or role within these parameters, rituals such as these

would be superfluous and inappropriate.

(2) One must not see this as a reflection on the preciousness of this soul. This soul, as mentioned before, completed its mission, and while its

existence is not acknowledged in a public modality, it is celebrated in the

place it will forever occupy – in the hearts and minds of the parents of

whom it was an integral part, and by the Almighty from whose essence it

was hewn.

We must remember that our culture gives undue attention and importance

to what is public, but for Jews the private and the personal has always been

the domain venerated and respected as being the more authentic. I have

known parents who in lieu of public ceremonies and in a desire to benefit this little soul, have dedicated learning, acts of charity, and the assumption

of self-improvement modalities.

One rabbi and teacher, upon the loss of his own baby, painstakingly

developed a comprehensive, Torah-based curriculum for grieving parents.

He has presented this to hundreds of families who have received this

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desperately-needed guidance and comfort based on wisdom and expertise.

Perhaps, he suggested, this was the contribution, the gift that his child's

loss had brought to the world. Without the loss, he said, none of this would

have happened.

It must be noted that the absence of a public ritual may leave friends

and family at a loss as how to respond. It does not however, relieve them

from extending expression of sympathy and caring – a card, a call, an offer

of assistance, etc. We dare not allow the bereaved to feel shunned and

abandoned in their time of grief.

Dealing with Death

There is the cultural and generational gap between grieving practices of

today and yesteryear. In both Europe and America, death was always very

much an everyday, hands-on part of life. Infant mortality was very high and

in an effort to encourage moving on with their lives, members of the burial

society would unceremoniously remove the miscarried and stillborn from

the home and bring them to proper burial. Since they had a healthy way of

dealing with death, rituals and ceremonies did not seem to be necessary.

In our culture, there is an illusion perpetrated that if we are lucky, death

does not have to be a part of life. Hence we have a tangible discomfort with

the concept of death. We seek to keep it at a distance. It is kept sterile and

anesthetized, and perhaps it is this discomfort that necessitates rituals for

psychological closure.

Common practice recommended by grief counselors in hospitals

everywhere suggests seeing and holding the deceased baby. Though

picture taking provides a sterile image of the soul that was, some may

find it therapeutic. For some, these practices lend realty and confirm at an emotional level that the nine months of gestation did indeed produce a real

baby. Other rituals, seen as acts of possible closure, if deemed helpful, are

not objectionable. It would however, be advisable to seek the guidance of a

qualified rabbi.

There are many customs regarding naming the baby before burial. A

סרטנוק ךמוס inspiration on coping with םילפונ€¦ · olam haba? one amoira says...

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