Just a sliver of sunshine

The Chidah provides a magnificent answer. There seems to be no real way to give something to Hashem. What can one contribute to the almighty who needs nothing from us? It is an impossible question to answer.

The Chidah explains the way that Hashem understood that Bnei Yisrael wanted a way to give back to Hashem for all that he had done, but felt that they had no way of doing so. Therefore, Hashem gave them materials to do so. These materials now provided a pathway for them to show their appreciation.

There is an analogy that further explains this. Imagine a father whose birthday comes around, and his son wants to make him something special. The son finds paper and crayons and gets to work; he draws two stick figures, depicting a father and son, titled “Happy Birthday Daddy!” Of course the father doesn’t need this birthday card, but he still appreciates it. His son was able to utilize the materials that the father had bought and worked hard to make him a birthday card. The father appreciates the card as a token of gratitude from his son.

With this analogy, we can understand Hashem’s love toward Bnei Yisrael. Although it may be indirect and hidden, we must always know that Hashem is looking out and caring for us. This is often referred to as hashgacha pratit, the belief that Hashem allows for everything to happen for the best. There

By Elie Esses

Contributing

Writer

Editor’s Note: Elie Esses graduated from YOFJBHS in 2022. He is currently studying at Orayata in Jerusalem. What follows is his account of his yeshivah’s recent trip to Poland.

Today was the final of seven days traveling Poland. After a week of death camps, ghettos, and cemeteries, although extremely educational and meaningful, I was relieved that it was over, and something perfectly poignant happened today just to top it off.

Before we landed, I imagined Poland as the dreary, gloomy, monochrome, black-and-gray hellscape depicted in the movies—and I was exactly right. After seven full days, I don’t think we saw the sun, or even a blue sky, once. That is, until today.

As we all marched into Auschwitz today, the climax of our emotionally exhausting trip, I felt for the first time in over a week a ray of sunshine roll over me. I looked up and within the miserable gray clouds I had become so accustomed to, I saw an ever so slight hole, and through it, caught a glimpse of blue skies and sunshine. It instantly made me smile, and got me thinking.

There we stood, in the famous Auschwitz death camp, probably the worst place on the entire face of the planet, surrounded by clouds and misery; however, that one ray of sunshine managed to slip through. Even in the darkest of places, light can be found. And all of a sudden my surroundings transformed—my whole weeklong experience transformed.

The sprawling death camp that lay in front of me, and all similar horror sites we is a story which further emphasizes the concept of hashgacha pratit and its power. had visited that had been a symbol of utter misery for us and so many of our ancestors, suddenly became something very different. The Holocaust was no longer just a symbol of death and despair; it became representative of hope, of the future.

There was once a king who ruled over a large region of land. He was close friends with a local Rabbi, and they would converse about various topics; the Rabbi’s intellectual thought processes amazed the king every time. The Rabbi loved the topic of hashgacha pratit and would mention it regularly.

One day, the king had an urge to go hunting and invited the Rabbi to join him. The Rabbi was inexperienced and accidentally shot the king, removing one of the king’s fingers off his hand. Outraged, the king ordered his guards to imprison the Rabbi for his action.

The king traveled to many exotic lands. When arriving at a certain city, the king was warned that the people were dangerous; however, there wasn’t much available information about them. The king’s curiosity got the best of him, and he went anyway. It turns out the people were a cannibalistic tribe who captured the king. For their ritual, they inspected the king but found a missing finger. They announced him impure and canceled the ritual. The king realized that this was a case of hashgacha pratit and he was reminded of the Rabbi. When the king returned to the palace, he immediately set the Rabbi free and apologized.

He told the Rabbi what happened and how his missing finger saved his life, and the Rabbi was overjoyed. The king asked the Rabbi how hashgacha pratit coincided with his imprisonment. The Rabbi explained that if he wasn’t imprisoned, he would’ve gone to the exotic lands with the king and would’ve been eaten by the tribe.

This story along with Hashem’s actions in this week’s parasha allow for each of us to take a second glance at the actions in our lives that we often view negatively. It’s hard to acknowledge hashgacha pratit and hindsight is often 20/20, but a reminder of G-d’s intentions can help us recognize that reality is not always how it seems.

Exactly where so many were brutally murdered not even a hundred years ago, there now stood more than 50 yeshivah students who are currently studying Torah for a year in Israel, in Jerusalem, a stone’s throw away from the Kotel. Before my eyes, the despair of so many became a hope for the future, of the strength and perennial nature of the Jewish people, and through my eyes it seemed as if the entire camp was basking in the glorious sunlight of a brighter future.