When the fifth Chabad Rebbe, Sholom Dovber (the Rebbe Rashab), was four or five years old, he was taken to his grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, for a birthday blessing during the week of Parashas Vayeira. When he entered his grandfather’s room, he began to cry.
After calming him, his grandfather inquired about the reason for his tears. The child responded, “In cheder we learned that G-d revealed Himself to Avraham our forefather. Why does He not reveal Himself to me?”
The Tzemach Tzedek answered him: “When a tzaddik decides at the age of 99 that he should be circumcised, he deserves that G-d appear to him.”
This Shabbos, as we read about the revelation that Avraham Avinu merited after his bris, it’s a good time for us to ponder the revelation of G-dliness in our lives and how to utilize it to invigorate ourselves in the service of Hashem. Perhaps we don’t get the royal Avraham Avinu revelation, for G-d to come and visit us personally and openly when we are ailing; perhaps when we’re struggling, G-d doesn’t send angels to our “tent” to bring clear good news. But let’s not be in denial either, as G-d does come to us in so many other ways, at so many times in our lives, and it’s only when we take the time, when we’re paying attention, that we get to see what’s actually occurring before our very own eyes.
I once read a quote: “I’m shutting my doors and putting my walls back up. I’m closing my curtains and removing the welcome mat, and I’m blocking everyone out again, because it’s so much easier than feeling something.” It’s true with those we love and it’s true with Hashem. We are scared to be open, even vulnerable, to Hashem’s love and care, because it may debunk all our myths about Him and our demands of Him. He may turn out to be a present G-d, Who isn’t “out to get us” and make our lives harder, just a loving Heavenly Father who wants the best for us. Yet, we can’t know that, and we can’t enjoy that, if we don’t let Him in.
Last week, in three different ways, Hashem let me in, and I’d like to share these moments with you in chronological order.
On Wednesday of last week, Chavie and I were meeting a local friend in our shul (which is part of our home), and we heard a small tree branch hit the shul window. It seemed odd, and I wondered if perhaps the wind had kicked up and blew the branch over, or if perhaps our son Menny, who loves playing behind the shul, including chopping plants down with a pruner, had messed with a tree a few days earlier and now the tree had come crashing down. I walked over to the window and saw a cute black bear chewing on the branch just five feet away from me, below the window. I screamed for Chavie, our friend, and Chaya, who was doing her online Jewish school studies, to come see, and we watched in amazement as this incredible creature just bounced around our yard. Naturally, I took out my phone and videoed these magnificent 90 seconds, watching as the bear went behind the mikvah and then walked over to the neighbors’ yard.
Living in nature, as the Rambam writes, is one of the many ways to get more in touch with the Creator and see Him constantly. I know it isn’t as easy in New York as in Montana, but there is so much New York does have in the realm of hikes, hills, rivers, lakes, ocean access, and animal life; don’t miss out.
The next day, Thursday, I was brought close to Hashem again, but this time for something sad.
Just 36 hours after my bear experience, I received a call from Livingston Healthcare, which is the hospital in Livingston, Montana, just 25 miles east of Bozeman. The hospital coordinator said there was a family seeking to chat with a rabbi, as the husband and father of this family was about to pass away from COVID-19. Though it was a long day and Chavie and I were close to crashing for the night, I went down to the shul and took out my sefarim that have all the final prayers we are to say with someone who is experiencing yetzias ha’neshamah, as the soul departs the world.
I spoke to the patient’s wife, and she shared with me that they are from Williston, North Dakota, 430 miles east of Livingston, and due to the ICUs being overwhelmed in North Dakota, the hospital flew them to Livingston where there was an open ICU bed for her husband. We said Tehillim in Hebrew and English, we spoke about the journey of the neshamah and how on the one hand it’s delighted to head to Gan Eden but also deeply saddened to leave its loved ones behind, while fighting to hold on, and we cried. I heard her crying and I cried with her. A woman from a different state, sitting alone in a Montana hospital, chatting with a rabbi she doesn’t know … but we were brought together in a life-altering moment of sorrow, so how could I not cry? Life is so fragile, the virus so scary, the emotions so raw, the pain I could hear so real, and the love for her husband so palpable. It’s in moments like these that I also feel close to Hashem, because everything about life and death is so G-dly. He’s in total control. I prefer the black bears, the whitewater expeditions, and horseback riding in the mountains, but sometimes we get closer in tragedy.
Then came Friday, and I visited my friends whose home burned down about two months ago, and we placed a beautiful kosher mezuzah on their new rental home. It was a moment of Divinity as this determined couple chose to see light, positivity, and the value of a mitzvah in their life. It may sound simple to have a mezuzah, but nothing is simple, and the joy of that mitzvah gave me a glimpse into another G-dly moment, one filled with hope, holiness, and brightness.
Like young Sholom Dovber yearning for a moment with G-d, we often cry as we seek a revelation of Hashem, except crying isn’t needed — He’s right outside your window. Don’t wait for Him to force you to come close; force yourself to see Him every day, in every moment.
Rabbi Chaim Bruk is co-CEO of Chabad Lubavitch of Montana and spiritual leader of The Shul of Bozeman. For comments or to partner in our holy work, email rabbi@jewishmontana.com or visit JewishMontana.com/Donate.
