- פרטים
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קטגוריה: Shabbos Stories
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פורסם בחמישי, 19 נובמבר 2020 18:44
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נכתב על ידי Super User
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כניסות: 443
The Power of Shabbat
Rabbi Yossi Kivman, jewishmansfield
David Solomon was what you would call a self-made man. He lived in Manhattan and had built himself up from almost nothing with his own 'two hands'. Today was a multi-millionaire with several factories, had substantial holdings on Wall Street and knew exactly how loud money 'talks'.
Of course there was no place in his life for Judaism and no time for anything except business ... and family.
The most precious of all his possessions was his eighteen year old daughter. She was the apple of his eye. Her picture was on his desk and every wall of his office. He dreamed of the day that she would marry and he would see grandchildren. He even had a special fund saved up to buy her a new house and whatever she needed. And that day would soon be here.
He was sitting in his office when the phone rang. 'Mr. Solomon?" asked an official sounding voice on the other end of the line.
"Yes."
'Have you got a daughter by the name of Sarah Solomon?
Again he answered yes.
"This is a police officer speaking from County hospital. You'd better get down here fast, Mr. Solomon. Your daughter has been in a pretty severe automobile accident."
Mr. Solomon asked a few questions to make sure it wasn't a prank, slammed the phone down grabbed his keys and raced out of the office.
It was a nightmare. She was in critical condition. In a coma. Wires and instruments were attached to every part of her body. The doctors said that it was impossible to operate until her condition stabilized.
He stood there weeping. What could he do? His wife arrived and she too burst out in tears.
The next few days were almost without sleep. They waited in the hall for some news from the doctors. Perhaps she opened her eyes? Perhaps there would be some improvement?
But the only message of hope he received was his father's suggestion that he consult with the Lubavitcher Rebbe.
"He's the only one that can help" his father said. "I have friends that he did big miracles for. If anyone can help you he can. Just go, get an appointment and get to see him.
David's emotions began flipping. At first he was excited; there was hope! But then he became disappointed .. in himself. What? I, Dovid Solomon, a normal, successful American businessman going to soothsayers and healers?
But maybe this was something different? After all, this was a respected Jewish Rabbi. He even heard that he was a great leader, a serious person. He was uncertain.
Then suddenly he was afraid. "I don't do any commandments. How can I go to this Rabbi? I'll be so ashamed."
But then his confidence returned. He remembered his money. "I'll give a big donation and the Rabbi will certainly hear what I have to say."
Dovid drove down to the Rebbe's headquarters in Brooklyn to arrange a 'Yechidut'; a private meeting. Usually people had to wait for even months but because of the urgency that evening he was standing before the Rebbe.
"Rebbe!" He began to cry. "My daughter had a terrible accident. She is in critical condition. Rebbe, can you save her? Here, here is a check for fifty thousand dollars! For your institutions."
The Rebbe just looked at him without seeming to notice the check and said. "If you want to save your daughter you must begin to observe Shabbat."
"Rebbe," he replied "I can't promise such a thing. I'm a very busy man and I'm not a religious Jew. Here!" he took out his checkbook put it on the Rebbe's desk and began writing, "Here. One hundred thousand dollars! Please, Rebbe, please take it, just save my daughter."
The Rebbe looked at him even more intently and said. "Mr. Solomon I am here to help you, I'm not thinking of myself. If you want her to be healthy keep the Sabbath."
"Rebbe, here!" Said Solomon as he signed his name to another check and placed it before the Rebbe. "It's an open check. Write what you want. Take what you need, just save her!!" He was really crying now. Looking deeply into the Rebbe's eyes for some hope.
"G-d is responsible for her healing." the Rebbe replied. "You must appeal to Him. I can only help with prayer but you must also do your part" . "At least keep the Sabbath. Then your daughter will be healthy and you will even see grandchildren from her."
Mr. Solomon gathered up his checks. Said he would think about it, shook the Rebbe's hand and left closing the door after him. He waited around for a while outside the door hoping that the Rebbe would call him back. But he didn't and Solomon returned to the hospital empty handed.
That night he couldn't sleep. The meeting with the Rebbe made a deep impression on him. The Rebbe's face danced before his eyes saying "I am here to help you, not to help myself. keep Shabbat". It was the first time in his life he met a man that was not interested in his own personal profit.
Meanwhile Sarah's condition deteriorated.
"Nu" He said to his wife. This Shabbat we won't drive or turn on any lights. I mean we'll be staying in the hospital anyway so we have nowhere to go. And I think I remember how to make Kiddush; we can at least begin to do what Rabbi Schneerson said."
That Sunday there was some improvement and the next Sunday she opened her eyes for the first time in a month.
Mr. Solomon became a 'Shomer Shabbos' Jew and his daughter Sarah not only became completely healed, she eventually got married and had several children. Just as the Rebbe said.
- פרטים
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קטגוריה: Shabbos Stories
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פורסם בחמישי, 19 נובמבר 2020 18:43
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נכתב על ידי Super User
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כניסות: 293
The Miracle of the Shabbat Candles
Based on Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Ta'anit 25a
One small candlelamp stood in the house of Rabbi Channinah ben Dosa, a Shabbat lamp. Every Friday afternoon it would be filled with pure oil, thin wicks would be placed in the oil, and they would be lit with the blessing, ". . . Who has commanded us to kindle the Sabbath light."
The Shabbat candlelights would burn with a clear pure light and would illuminate the house of Rabbi Channinah. One Friday evening, just before Shabbat, R. Channinah's daughter lit the Sabbath candles, made the blessing, and accepted the Shabbat upon herself with joy, as prescribed by the Torah.
Shortly afterwards, the time to go to synagogue arrived, and R. Channinah made ready to go. He took leave of his family with a shining countenance and was about to leave, when he saw his daughter sitting with a sad face. Rabbi Channinah asked her, What's wrong, my daughter? Why are you sad? Hasn't Shabbat already arrived and we should be happy?" His daughter replied sadly, "Oi, Abba, something upsetting has happened. I wanted to fill the lamp with oil, but I was in a hurry because Shabbat was nearly in, and instead of oil, I took the bottle of vinegar! Instead of adding oil, I added vinegar to the lamp and lit the Shabbat candles. Surely in a little while, the lights will go out, when there won't be any more oil in the lamp, and we won't have light for Shabbat any longer! So how can I not be sad?" Her father comforted her and said, "My daughter, what difference does it make to you? The One who told the oil to kindle - let Him tell the vinegar to kindle!
Both of them the Holy-One-Blessed-Be-He created, and both of them do His will." And indeed, the lamp burned beautifully all evening and all through the night, and even during the following day, the Sabbath candles did not go out, because God did the will of the righteious man, the Tzaddik. Saturday night, after Shabbat had gone out, the candles were still burning, and they continued to burn until flame for the Havdalah candle had been taken from them, and then they went out.
One has to know that there is no power but Hashem
There is no such a thing as mother nature there is only mother Hashem Father Hashem
ONLY Hashem runs the world!!!
- פרטים
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קטגוריה: Shabbos Stories
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פורסם בחמישי, 19 נובמבר 2020 18:43
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נכתב על ידי Super User
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כניסות: 329
The Cow That Kept Shabbat
There was once a Jew who owned a cow with which he plowed his field. Then it came to pass that this Jew became impoverished and was forced to sell his cow to a non-Jew.
The new owner plowed with the cow throughout the week, but when her took her out to the field on Shabbat, she kneeled under the yoke and refused to do any work. He hit her with his whip, but she would not budge from her place.
So he came back to the Jew and said to him, "Take back your cow! All week I worked with her, but today I took her out to the field and she refuses to do anything... "
The Jew said to the cow's purchaser: "Come with me, and I will get her to plow." When they arrived to the field the cow lay, the Jew spoke into her ear. "Oh Cow, Cow! When you were in my domain, you rested on Shabbat. But now that my sins have caused me to sell you to this gentile, please, stand up and do the will of your master!"
Immediately the cow stood, prepared to work. Said the gentile to the Jew: "I'm not letting you go until you tell me what you did and what you said to her. Have you bewitched her?" The Jew told him what he said to the cow.
When this man heard this, he was shaken and amazed. He said to himself: "If this creature, which has neither language or intelligence, recognizes her Creator, should not I, whom G‑d created in His image and likeness and imbued me with intelligence and understanding?"
So he went and converted to Judaism and merited to study Torah. He became known as Yochanan ben Torta ("Yochanan son of the Cow")
- פרטים
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קטגוריה: Shabbos Stories
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פורסם בחמישי, 19 נובמבר 2020 18:43
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נכתב על ידי Super User
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כניסות: 376
A Tzaddik's Tear
About 30 years ago, an American rabbi visiting Miami, Florida gave a lecture on the life and accomplishments of the famed "Chafetz Chaim" (Rabbi Israel Meir HaCohen Kagan, 1838-1933). He described the life of the great sage who lived a humble life as a shopkeeper in in the village of Radin, in Poland, yet was recognized throughout the Jewish world as a great scholar, tzaddik (righteous person) and leader.
There was another story the rabbi wanted to tell, but he hesitated, for he only knew part of it. As he stood at the lectern, he thought for a moment and then decided that he would tell it anyway. He rationalized that even an unfinished story about the Chafetz Chaim would have a meaningful message.
He began to relate an incident about a teenage boy in the Chafetz Chaim's yeshiva who was found smoking a cigarette on Shabbat -- the sacred day of rest. The faculty and student body were shocked, and some of the faculty felt that the boy should be expelled. However, when the Chafetz Chaim heard the story, he asked that the boy be brought to his home.
At this point, the rabbi interrupted the narrative and said, "I don't know what the Chafetz Chaim said to the boy. I only know that they were together for a few minutes. I would give anything to know what he said to this student, for I am told that the boy never desecrated the Shabbat again. How wonderful it would be if we could relay that message -- whatever it was -- to others, in order to encourage them in their observance of Shabbat." The rabbi then continued with his lecture.
After his talk, the hall emptied of everyone except for one elderly man, who remained in his seat, alone with his thoughts. From the distance, it seemed he was trembling, as if he was either crying or suffering from chills. The rabbi walked over to the elderly man and asked him, "Is anything wrong?"
The man responded, "Where did you hear that story of the cigarette on Shabbat?" He did not look up and was still shaken. "I really don't know," answered the rabbi. "I heard it a while ago and I don't even remember who told it to me." The man looked up at the rabbi and said softly, "I was that boy." He then asked the rabbi to go outside, and as the two walked together, he told the rabbi the following story:
"This incident occurred in the 1920's when the Chafetz Chaim was in his eighties. I was terrified to have to go into his house and face him. But when I did go into his home, I looked around with disbelief at the poverty in which he lived. It was unimaginable to me that a man of his stature would be satisfied to live in such surroundings.
"Suddenly he was in the room where I was waiting. He was remarkably short. At that time I was a teenager and he only came up to my shoulders. He took my hand and clasped it tenderly in both of his. He brought my hand in his own clasped hands up to his face, and when I looked into his soft face, his eyes were closed for a moment.
"When he opened them, they were filled with tears. He then said to me in a hushed voice full of pain and astonishment, 'Shabbat!' And he started to cry. He was still holding both my hands in his, and while he was crying he repeated with astonishment, 'Shabbat, the holy Shabbat!'
"My heart started pounding and I became more frightened than I had been before. Tears streamed down his face and one of them rolled onto my hand. I thought it would bore a hole right through my skin. When I think of that tear today, I can still feel its heat. I can't describe how awful it felt to know that I had made the great tzaddik weep. But in his rebuke -- which consisted only of those few words -- I felt that he was not angry, but rather sad and fearful. He seemed frightened at the consequences of my actions."
The elderly man then caressed the hand that bore the invisible scar of a precious tear. It had become his permanent reminder to observe the "holy Shabbat" for the rest of his life.
