Learn about A Day in the Life of Klal Yisroel!!
I recall a book entitled “A day in the life of America”. It documented what America looks like on an average day. I often wonder what a book entitled “A day in the life of Klal Yisroel” would contain. There would be pictures of people running to Shacharis, men learning in thousands of Botei Medrashim, men attending Daf Yomi Shiurim in office buildings, women taking care of young children, kindergarten children learning the Alef Bais in their first year of school, boys & girls of all ages learning in Yeshivas & Bais Yaakovs, mothers preparing a beautiful Shabbos for their families, and people coming home from work late at night who then once again head out to a Shiur, and then to Maariv.
Yet some pages would be left blank. Eerily empty pages. These pages contain things that no one is supposed to know about. Things that happen under the cover of darkness.
I would like for a brief moment to offer a glimpse of what is represented by those empty pages. I have been privileged to view them before they are whited out, and these are some of the most impressive scenes in the book. Permit me for example to describe this past Thursday night from 8:00 to 11:00PM.
At 8:00 I received a phone call from a woman who asked me what food she and her husband could donate to Tomche Shabbos. The one stipulation was, that she and her husband purchase the food themselves. They wanted this to be personal. We discussed different items that were needed by the Anyim. I asked her how she would like to receive a tax deductible receipt. She responded that they would never accept a tax deductible receipt for giving Tzedokah. After all they are only returning Hashem’s money. I told her that it would be meaningful if she and her husband would join us on Thursday night to distribute the food. She told me that she couldn’t do that because they go to bed early due to the fact that her husband drives a cab early in the morning. When I asked for her name she told me that she didn’t want to give it. She told me that they would purchase $1,000 worth of food and have it delivered directly. With that she wished me a good night and hung up.
A few minutes later my doorbell rang. I opened the door to a man who handed me $500 cash for Tomche Shabbos. I was surprised at the size of the donation as I know him to be a simple working man. When I asked him if that wasn’t too large a sum for him to donate, he explained that he recently made a Chassunah, and if he was able to put together money for a Chassunah, then he could put together $500 for the Anyim. He asked that no receipt be sent to him.
With that I slip on my coat and head out to the Tomche Shabbos warehouse. I walk into a sea of Chessed. Volunteers from all walks of life, all ages and backgrounds are preparing Shabbos packages, none of them seeking recognition. I walk past two pallets filled with cases of food that were donated this week by a local corporation. I greet a young man celebrating his Bar Mitzvah by packing Shabbos Seudos. His father and friends have joined him. Each person is here for personal reasons. None seek recognition.
There is a Sefardik custom, when bread falls on the floor it is picked up and kissed. This is due to the Kedusha of bread. Though I am not Sefardik, I have long adopted that custom for all food that inadvertently falls while we are packing Shabbos packages at the Tomche Shabbos warehouse. I do this due to the Kedusha of that food. I reflect upon the many Chasodim that surround that food. I reflect on the many acts of Chessed that brought the food to that time and place, and I am moved to kiss it. For it is Kodosh.
At about 10:30PM, we take a break to Daven Maariv, after which we enjoy trays of potato kugel and cholent donated weekly by a local restaurant for the volunteers.
As the night wears on, volunteers slip back into the cold dark night, just as silently and just as anonymously as they first arrived. And no one will have known that they were there. But they themselves and Hakodosh Boruch Hu. And that’s the way they want it. And that’s the way we’ll keep it.
It is late, dark, and cold and it’s time for me to head home. I step into the cool wintry night. A slight wind whistles through the empty streets. I turn up the collar on my coat. And the night is very warm.
Alan Rosenstock
Tomche Shabbos of Rockland County
