Reflecting on Kindness and Passover

The last time I was on the bemah was for my bat mitzvah April 3,1982.

I rarely go to services. Nutella is my kosher. I’m what my Chabad rabbi likes to call “potentially observant.” 21 years of studying with him and I still have lots of potential.

What I’ve realized is that you can’t hear a life lesson just once. It needs to be repeated. You are in a different space, physically, mentally, chronologically, so the teachings speak to you differently each time. Like an onion, you discover a new layer of meaning.

I just started attending Friday night services at Beit T’Shuvah (BTS) with my dad. While I call it Yiddish-light, it is replete with spiritual teaching. I learn from residents’ stories.

Since I’m hosting a small group on the first night of Passover, I was hoping I’d get some “spiritual yummies” at Friday’s service that I could share at my Seder.

It was Shabbat HaGadol, the great Shabbat before Passover, where we learn about HaShem commanding the Jews for the first time.

The mitzvah put their lives at risk on Shabbos. They couldn’t lie to the Egyptians as to why they tied the lambs to their doorposts, in preparation of the first-born being killed. Yet, the first miracle was performed when nothing bad happened to them after fulfilling the commandment and putting their trust in HaShem.

BTS had a guest rabbinical student co-leading who asked new residents or first-time visitors to come up to light the Shabbos candles. No one moved. It was awkward.

You can’t welcome Shabbos without this mitzvah so, I jumped up and made my way towards the bemah to light.

Traditionally, the cantor sings the barucha. I interrupted him before he began, to ask if I could speak.

I am painfully shy so standing up before the congregation scared me. Yet, I felt compelled to share how I fulfill this mitzvah. It’s not enough to go through the motions. It doesn’t count to do things under obligation. You must find joy in the action of connection.

I shared how I light at home. I explained to the congregation that when you do a mitzvah, commandment by HaShem to do a religious duty, you are giving and also creating space to receive.

So, after I light I like to ask for something that I need, like long life for my dad. But before I ask, I take a moment to reflect on the kindness I did that week.

I invited the congregation to silently share the moment to reflect and ask for blessings with me.

After the barucha and my moment of silence, I wished the congregation “Good Shabbos” and they replied the same as I returned to my seat.

The service continued with the teaching of Parsha Tsav. Tsav also means command. When we follow a command, we are connecting to HaShem. The Torah portion teaches of animal offerings.

Pulling off the layers of the onion, we learn that these sacrifices were made so that we can offer thanks or ask for forgiveness.

The word for offering, or gift to G-d, is terumah, which is my Hebrew name. Clearly, I was destined for a life in service.

Yesterday a customer came to my shop with an enormous package for me to wrap. I no longer do outside wraps, but I said yes this time.

The box, filled with pots and pans, was approximately 36” x 24” x 24”. I had to cut two sheets of 60” wrapping paper and cover those with cellophane to begin the project.

I have an issue with my left shoulder so simply preparing the paper hurt my arm. I struggled with aligning the paper and lifting the heavy box to wrap it.

As I spent over 30 minutes on this project, I spoke to the customer about my experiences with BTS.

I told the story about the man who spoke at the BTS gala about his experience with foster care that led him to murder and prison.

I shared my Shabbos story where I witnessed a painfully shy resident walk across the room to put his arm around an elderly woman who was standing alone to say Kaddish.

When I finished his gift I told him that I would normally charge $60 for it. However, it wasn’t my best work and even though I used my materials and lots of time, I didn’t feel comfortable charging for it.

I asked him if he would be ok with him if he could just give me some money to donate to Beit T’Shuvah.

As he handed me a hundred dollar bill, he said that he was adopted and has a story to tell. Not wanting to make me cry, he offered to share it at another time.

As we loaded the gift into his car he said to me that he believed G-d sent him to me to hear the stories. He hugged and thanked me.

Later that night I received a text from my dad’s childhood friend. She said she was at services for Shabbat HaGadol and it reminded her of my dvar Torah.

I was blown away that she remembered my Bat Mitzvah speech and that I didn’t connect the dots on the dates or the Torah portions.

No wonder I felt compelled to go up to light the candles on Shabbos! Putting my fear aside, I needed to connect with HaShem and with the congregation.

I got up this morning and dug out the Bat Mitzvah album my mother assembled. She saved my speech from Sinai Temple.

“Passover reminds us that a person is not truly free unless he uses his skills honestly and creatively and constructively.

May the G-d of Israel always be my G-d and may his light fill the hearts of people everywhere!”

Amen.