Why, I wondered, as I heard the following true story, is it
that these miracles seem so commonplace and everyday when
they happen in Jerusalem, or in Eretz Yisroel, for that
matter? Possibly, because being our living so much in the
focus of heavenly attention, they ARE commonplace, and we are
used to them. Life is lived on a different plane, here, so
that we almost take them for granted... And if we made a big
fuss over those miracles, they wouldn't happen so often. Like
the miracle of the oil and the vinegar.
But we can't help making a small fuss, just to impress our
own selves and keep us on our best behavior. What a privilege
it is to be part of such an everyday happening. And what an
obligation to live up to.
"I was making my weekly purchase for challos and cakes at our
local bakery in Givat Shaul," notes a Jerusalemite figure.
"My children await the treats I bring home lekovod
Shabbos and I generally do not spend too much, just
enough to make the day special and beloved. This time, I
piled my shopping basket with all sorts of products and when
I reached the checkout counter, could not understand what had
made me splurge beyond my usual budget. The clerk rang up an
even two hundred shekel bill.
"I was about to return some of the more expensive items in
the basket when the man at the cash register, not a religious
Jew by any means, held up his hand in an arresting motion.
`Don't you know that Hashem pays you back for your Shabbos
outlay?' I was taken aback, not expecting to hear such words
from this bareheaded, if genial, person. Not wishing to look
as if I were lacking in faith, I took out a two hundred
shekel bill and handed it over. I gathered up my purchases
and took them to my car.
"I decided to visit the gravesite of my father, who had
passed away that year, since Har Hamenuchos, where he was
buried, was only a short ride away. He had been a holy
person, a true Torah sage and leader, and I felt that a few
moments of prayer would uplift me for the coming week.
"Just as I was about to walk away, a man approached me and
begged me to come with him to recite Kaddish for a deceased
parent. He had a large group waiting. I protested that it was
already late, and that he could say it himself, but he said
he was not familiar with the words, and so, I agreed.
"It didn't take very long, and as I turned to rush home, he
pressed a bill into my hand. I demurred but he thrust it into
my pocket. In my haste, I forgot all about it until I
returned home and took out a
TWO HUNDRED SHEKEL BILL!"