Pfft . . . pfft . . . pfft . . . the iron glided
rhythmically on the white shirt, straightening the soft
fabric and transforming the wrinkled garment into one worthy
of being worn.
Esti looked with satisfaction at the pile of shirts on the
sofa that had slowly shrunk, to be replaced by the pile of
smoothly ironed and folded shirts on the table.
Ah! A good feeling spread through her, filling her with
happiness. What a pleasure to see your own handiwork . . .
and to think that only half a year ago she barely knew how to
hold an iron; in her house, ironing had been the domain of
Anna the housekeeper.
Since then, new times had come to their home, because of
economic sanctions, as everyone called them. Her parents had
had to make all kinds of changes and cutbacks, one of the
first being to fire Anna the housekeeper. They had begun
managing on their own.
It was true that the Mann family numbered five daughters, the
eldest of which, Esti, was fifteen, but inasmuch as they had
never been used to helping seriously, the transition was not
easy. They had to learn everything from scratch — how
to wash the dishes and floors, how to iron and how to sort
dirty laundry. Also, the changeover from the relative
pampering to which they had been accustomed to the present
situation where each one had a daily regular chore was not
particularly easy. However, with time, everyone adapted to
the situation and now, almost half a year later, Esti found
herself actually enjoying ironing her father's and her
brothers' shirts and deriving much satisfaction from it.
"Ima," her seven-year-old sister's voice squeaked from the
kitchen, cutting off her musings. "Can you please give me
thirty shekel? The teacher said we have to buy a new Hebrew
book!" Esti's muscles tensed. She pressed her lips together
tightly while her right hand absent-mindedly pressed on the
steam button, scorching her left hand.
Esti quickly rushed to the nearest faucet to cool her aching
hand, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
Enough, it's too much! Would there never be an end to the
demands of the school? It was getting impossible! Every other
day, they tell the girls to buy new books and workbooks, and
that was without even counting the tremendous expenses that
were extracted from the family budget at the beginning of the
year, amounting to hundreds of shekels for each child!
Couldn't the administration be more considerate?
From where was Ima meant to cut down in order to pay for
Chani's book? From where? Life was already standing at the
bare minimum and she, Esti, did everything, but everything,
to help relieve her parent's financial burden so that her
father wouldn't have to take out loans.
For example, during summer vacation, she had been a camp
counselor, even though she hadn't really felt like doing it;
how she had yearned to rest a bit from the year's work. But
she dutifully did so, and the money she earned went to her
parents for tuition, while most of the school books that she
needed, she was able to loan from gemachim for
free.
"No problem," Esti heard her mother's voice answer calmly,
the sound of water gaily splashing from the faucet in the
background. "When Abba comes, I'll ask him for the money and
I'll give it to you."
"But from where?" Esti wanted to scream. It was her feet that
protested, silently, but achingly, having been crammed
already too long into last year's winter shoes which were too
small for her. She hadn't told this to her parents, so as not
to cause them unnecessary pain or a strain on their
budget.
"And Ima," this time Chani's tone was pleading, "may I also
go to the play the school is putting on? I heard it's
something really special, and it only costs fifteen
shekel."
"That's it!" Esti felt the blood rushing to her head. She did
everything, made all the sacrifices just so that her parents
wouldn't feel too pressured from their situation. She felt
she was considerate above and beyond the call of duty so as
to make it easier for them and now this pampered princess,
named Chani, was making all these unreasonable requests.
"We'll think about it, honey," answered Ima, as she left the
kitchen, removing the rubber gloves from her hands, having
finished washing the dishes.
"Poor Ima!" thought Esti pityingly. Who knew as well as she
that Ima suffered from eczema on her hands, and that's why
she had to protect them with gloves whenever she touched
water. But now she had to wash dishes every day because they
didn't have a housekeeper, because there was no money,
because of the econo . . .
"Esti'le, why do you look so upset? Has something happened?"
Ima asked her, noticing the angry, frustrated look on her
daughter's face.
"Of course!" Esti didn't wait to be asked again. "Of course
something happened! I want to know why the school can't be
more considerate! Don't they know that the situation is
difficult, that many families are groaning under the weight
of financial burden, that people don't have money to buy
bread and milk, that . . . "
Mrs. Mann looked at her daughter, a bit taken aback at the
unexpected and surprising flow of words that escaped her
mouth like steam. Esti looked more upset than she had in a
long time and without even knowing the exact reason, her
mother understood that she had a sore spot that was hurting
her very much.
She had no idea how much.
Four Years Earlier . . .
Rav Dovid Mann opened the morning paper and perused the
headlines, quickly updating himself on what the residents of
the world in general, and Eretz Yisroel in particular were
experiencing, while sipping his steamy cup of coffee.
In another half an hour, he would have to leave the house to
go to kollel, but the quiet morning hour was for him and his
wife Soroh a gift of relaxation when they could talk to one
another of important matters without interruption. Now, Soroh
had gotten up to feed the baby who had just woken up and
Dovid Mann decided to have a quick look at the paper that lay
carelessly on the kitchen table. "Serious Cutbacks in Child
Allowances!" screamed the thick headline from the newspaper's
front page. Rav Mann's eyes thought of moving forward to the
next item, but something in his brain signaled to him that
this wasn't only about making headlines but something
connected to him, to his family, and very much so. Exactly at
that moment, Soroh came back from the kitchen holding the
baby.
"Nu, is there anything new?" she asked casually while
removing the baby's bottle from the pot with the hot water in
which it was warming. "Um.. uh" murmured Rav Mann, his eyes
continuing to scan the article. "Yes, well . . . no . . . "
Soroh sat down on the adjacent chair and began feeding little
Menachem while speaking to him softly.
"So it's finally happened," thought Rav Mann in frustration.
For a long time, rumors had abounded according to which the
government wanted to cut family allowances significantly, but
he hadn't taken these rumors seriously. And now . . .
"Listen, it isn't a simple thing," Rav Mann finally broke the
silence. "It says here that beginning next month, the
government will begin drastically cutting child allowances
with the end goal of reducing them to a minimum."
"Wh . . . what?" Complete astonishment registered on his
wife's face.
"Exactly what you heard," her husband answered, a sad smile
on his lips.
"The Minister of the Treasury has decided that all the money
the government is contributing to large families is a big
waste of national resources; it's money that could be used in
more "productive" ways, such as building a sports stadium,
for example . . . " he said cynically.
"Oy vey!" Soroh felt something contract in her heart.
Instinctively, she turned, burying her face in her baby's
warm soft body.
Enough! If they were cutting child allowances, they'd be
cutting into the flesh of thousands of families who based
their budgets on the monthly National Insurance payment;
people to whom the 20th of the secular month was a very
important, very significant date. How would they manage now?
How would they survive? These were the piercing and painful
questions to surface.
Rav Dovid looked at his wife understandingly but suddenly
caught himself. The defeatist reaction that reflected his own
internal feelings when he read the article made it clear to
him that something here was not right.
"Soroh, I think we're a bit confused," he said softly.
"What do you mean?" Soroh raised her eyes, looking at her
husband questioningly.
"I mean our reaction just now, when we heard about the
cutbacks," explained Rav Mann. "According to the pressure
we're showing, me and you," he said putting himself first so
as not to hurt her, "it looks as if it's the National
Insurance that supporting us, but is that so? Of course not!
The One who allots His share to each creature, in life and in
sustenance and in everything else, is the Master of the
Universe and we mustn't forget that."
"Yes . . . you're right," Soroh said patting the back of the
small baby who had begun to wriggle. "But in any case, you
can't deny that when the decree of the cutbacks is enacted,
many of us will have several hundred if not thousands of
shekels less in the monthly budget!"
Dovid Mann absently brushed breadcrumbs on the tabletop from
side to side while considering. The hands of his watch showed
that he only had another 25 minutes before he had to leave
for Kollel.
Calculating quickly, he concluded that after saying Bircas
Hamazon (with double intensity!), he'd be left with only
another 20 minutes. Would that be enough time to clarify the
sugiyah called "Faith in one's source of
livelihood"?
In retrospect, no. But on the other hand, Rav Mann knew that
it wasn't a good idea to leave such important things without
discussion. Let them say what they will, accomplish what they
would; it was important to him that his wife (and he) have
complete faith in the Creator of the World.
*
Days had passed, and then months and even years. And now with
the perspective of time, Soroh Mann could prove how the
compassionate hand of the Creator had accompanied them and
supported them, sending them a livelihood through new
conduits ever since the government cutbacks.
First, there had been the student that her husband, Dovid,
began teaching every evening to help prepare him for his
entrance exams to yeshiva ketana. The monthly income
of a few hundred dollars this provided almost completely
covered the government cut. Later, a new supersavings
supermarket opened up in their neighborhood that provided
them with great savings in their expenses. And most of all,
life itself had shown them, each day, every hour, that their
family continued to survive, honorably, even without the
allotment that they had come to rely upon.
Now, when she looked at her worried daughter, Soroh
remembered how on that morning, four years ago, she had never
suspected nor dreamed that her Esti would be taking things so
hard. She was only 16 after all.
"So what to do?" Mrs. Mann asked herself. To explain to Esti
all the conclusions her father and I had come to that
morning? Would Esti have the tools to internalize the
message? Perhaps she was too young? But, on the other hand,
to leave her under the duress she was experiencing wasn't a
healthy situation, either.
In the end, she decided to follow her heart.
"Esti, take a break from ironing now, and come sit beside me
on the sofa," she invited her daughter amiably. "I see that
you've accomplished a lot and that's wonderful. Come, rest a
bit, sit by my side me and let's have a nice talk, like we
used to, in the old days."
Esti gladly accepted the invitation. She was a bit tired from
standing a long time near the ironing board. Also her hands
would benefit from a break. Esti turned off the iron, rested
it on its stand and after unplugging it, plopped herself down
on the velvety couch beside her mother.
"When you sit next to me like this, it really reminds me of
the old days," said the girl, her voice full of nostalgia.
"The good old days." The expression held much meaning in the
Mann household.
"The old days" referred to the good times when the family had
lived in economic comfort from her father's kollel stipend
and the mother's salary working as the head secretary of the
yeshiva. But today, things looked a bit different.
She couldn't deny it; even today, their situation was
relatively good. Her father's kollel had not closed,
something that couldn't be totally taken for granted in light
of the extensive government scheming against Torah
institutions; her father still received his grant every Rosh
Chodesh. Ima also continued working at the yeshiva but still
. . . the cost of living only went up and the National
Insurance payments were constantly being cruelly trimmed.
"I've noticed that you're a bit troubled lately, Esti, am I
right?" Mrs. Mann said looking directly at her daughter.
"Um . . . no, I mean, well, yes, I'm a little under pressure
but that's understandable, isn't it?" Esti answered,
embarrassed. She hadn't imagined she was being so
transparent.
"Understandable? Depends why. Perhaps you want to talk to me
about it?" her mother asked gently.
"Well, it's not a secret, Ima; we're all feeling the strain
because of the difficult financial situation!"
"All of us?" her mother threw her an astonished look. "Does
Abba seem pressured? Do I?"
"No, you actually don't show it outwardly, but in your heart,
I'm sure you are pressured, how could you not be, with all
the cutbacks and everything."
Her mother was silent for a few minutes. She was deep in
thought, trying to formulate the words to explain to her
daughter. Finally, she began, "It seems to me, Esti, that
without meaning to, you've made a small error and I want to
explain it to you.
"When the cutbacks began a number of years ago, I tended to
worry about the situation. 'What will be?' I thought to
myself. How would we support our large family without the
breadbasket filled by the Bituach Leumi child allowances? I
shared my worry with Abba and he simply said to me, 'Why
should we worry? Is it the National Insurance that is
supporting us? Of course not! That's only the channel through
which the Creator of the Universe chose to send us the money.
Now, when the Minister of the Treasury decided, for all sorts
of reasons to slowly reduce the allowances to the minimum,
Hashem will send us the money another way! Does Hashem lack
ways and means?'
"That's what Abba said to me and I felt the truth of his
words and relaxed completely. The money is in Hashem's hands
and He is the only One to decide each and every one's share.
All that we're asked to do is to trust in Hashem." Ima was
silent, allowing Esti to digest her words.
"But . . . " she said after thinking, "but everyone is saying
that the situation is bad, very bad. And the proof is in all
the appeals for help we get every day in our mailbox!"
"True," Mrs. Mann nodded her head. "There's no doubt that on
the face of things, the situation is very bad. But there is a
Master of the Universe and He's the one who supports us. It's
true that we've had to become more careful about money and
every expense is weighed and if you ask me, that's a good
thing that's come out of these laws. Perhaps, until not long
ago, we were a bit too extravagant with our money. Perhaps we
spent too much on extras without thinking. Today, we no
longer spend money uncritically. We're instructed to make the
effort to be thoughtful with our spending but I personally
have noticed that Hashem gives us enough money for all the
things we need!"
"What we need?" Esti wondered aloud. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, that's something that's individual to each person. But
in general, it means the basic things that allow a person to
continue living normally according to that generation. For
example, to buy bread and milk and cheese, meat and
vegetables; to buy warm clothes for the winter and new shoes;
to have dental treatment and tutoring, these are things we
need."
"And what about the other things?" Esti asked herself,
"Things that don't fit into the definition of 'need', like
extracurricular activities, sweets and trips? Are those
things we need or things we want?"
Ima, as if reading her mind continued, "In the things that we
need, Abba and I see special siyata d'Shmaya. For
example, when Racheli needed tutoring last year to catch up
in math, we didn't hesitate and we paid a great deal for the
teacher to help her catch up. Also with the dental work that
Michal needed, Hashem gave us the opportunity to pay for it
all. Regarding the rest, that's another story and that's why
we, the parents carefully consider any expense that seems to
us to be unnecessary."
Unconsciously, Esti nodded her head. "There's so much truth
in what Ima is saying," she thought to herself. "It's too bad
we didn't have the chance to talk about this disturbing
subject before!"
So perhaps the anguish that her pinching shoes were causing
her was completely unnecessary. Hashem is the Provider for
everyone, so why should she be pressured (and put pressure on
her feet!) and why should she cause herself grief? Shoes in
her size aren't a luxury; they're a basic need!
"And that's not even mentioning that we, as Bnei Torah, have
special siyata d'Shmaya in matters of
parnossoh. It's a promise Hashem made, from the days
of the Mishkan. Then Hashem asked Moshe Rabbenu to preserve a
jar of the manna that fell from the sky for the generation of
the desert, to remind coming generations that He provides for
and sustains everyone, in a miraculous way," Ima said.
"Siyata d'Shmaya for Bnei Torah? What does that mean?"
Esti asked aloud.
"It means that Bnei Torah can plainly see how Hashem provides
for and sustains them and they always have enough. Bnei Torah
also have a special blessing in money matters, so that even
when they earn little in comparison to other people, they
almost never have monetary losses like expensive dental
treatments or unnecessary expenses. That's not even
mentioning the miracles they have in matters of livelihood.
You remember the incredible story of the avrech who
went to the Kosel to plead for the expenses to marry off his
daughter?" Mrs. Mann asked with a smile.
Yes, Esti knew how a certain Ben Torah had gone to the
godol hador and explained his problem to him. He had
committed a sum of money to marrying off his daughter and he
was penniless.
"Go to the Kosel and ask Hashem for what you need," the
godol said. The father didn't hesitate and went to the
vestige of the Beis Mikdash. He poured out his heart amidst
fervent cries and tearful prayers to the Creator of the
Universe. An American tourist standing next to him was
disturbed by his cries and asked why he was so distraught.
"I'm praying to Hashem," the avrech said and explained
his situation with the few words he knew in English and much
international gesturing. `I'm begging Hashem to help me marry
off my daughter."
"`How much do you need?" asked the American casually, and the
avrech, surprised at himself for spilling his heart
out to a complete stranger, answered simply, 'Fifty thousand
dollars.'
"`Ah, is that all?' he said indifferently. He whipped out a
checkbook and without blinking, wrote out a check for
$50,000, handed it to the speechless Jew and said, `Now,
please be quiet.' "
"But . . . " said Esti who felt her mother's words
penetrating her heart and filling her with calm and peace.
"What about all the Torah families who can only afford bread?
You can't deny that there are poor people; why our mailbox is
full of appeals for tzedokoh!" and her eyes rested on
the third drawer in the bookcase where the chesed
envelopes, as they were called, lay full of requests for help
and assistance for hundreds of families.
"What you say is true, Esti, but unfortunately, for some
families among the Bnei Torah, they are decreed to have a
difficult trial of poverty and we have to help them as much
as we can. But for the most part, when the situation is
difficult in a Torah scholar's family, people right away
blame it on the fact that the husband learns in a kollel and
his stipend is small, etc., etc. Only they forget that even
among the regular population, there are many people who live
in poverty even though they aren't Bnei Torah."
Esti sighed softly and got up to continue ironing. She felt a
great sense of relief! "So maybe it's time to tell Ima that
your shoes pinch you so she'll give you money to finally buy
new shoes?" her left big toe cried hopefully from inside her
tight shoe.
Maybe.
However, even before she finished, she heard her mother
saying matter of factly, "I put some money aside especially
for new shoes for you, Esti."
