It’s Never too Late – An Incredible Chanukah Story!

Take a look at a hundred-dollar bill. Who wouldn’t want a fresh, crisp one-hundred-dollar bill? I am pretty sure that if I offered you one hundred dollars you would gladly take it. How about if I crumple it? You will still take it. If I threw the crumpled bill on the floor, and stepped on it you would still want it. Why? Why do you want a filthy, dirty, and crumpled one-hundred-dollar bill? The obvious answer is: Even when crumpled or stepped on, a One-hundred-dollar bill is still worth one hundred dollars. You can straighten it out. You can wipe off the dust.

Says Rav Meilech Biderman, the same is true with a Yiddishe neshama. Even if it is crumpled, covered in mud, and trampled on. Even if it did or saw the worst things that no Torah Jew should ever see or do, you can wash it off and straighten it out – it remains a special holy neshama. All it needs is some purification. We must work on teshuvah! 

I would like to share a story about Teshuvah and Chanukah that I saw in the Torah Tavlin: There was a charity collector who was traveling through Europe collecting money. While in Italy, he made arrangements to sleep at the home of a rich patron who always contributed generously to his causes. He had never seen the man’s home before and as he entered the palatial estate, he was struck by the opulence that surrounded him. He walked through the house, gazing at the regal furnishings and the sheer size of the rooms.

As he was looking at the silver display closet, he suddenly stopped. There, on an ornate shelf, perched next to a number of elaborate silver menorahs, were a few shards of broken glass. Before he could even ask, the wealthy patron smiled and said, “You must be wondering why I have pieces of glass in my vetrina (Italian for showcase). Well, to tell you the truth, I owe my entire existence to that glass!”

The Italian magnate gazed wistfully at the showcase and began his story. “I grew up in Holland and my family sent me to a local yeshivah there until I was eighteen years old. I never knew anything else, and I thought that my life would never extend past the boundaries of the Netherlands. But then, a letter arrived from my grandfather who lived in Italy and owned a store. As he was getting older, he was asking if I could come and help him out. I jumped at the chance and went to live with my grandparents. Right from the start, I found my passion in selling products. I didn’t just help my grandpa; I increased his revenue and profits immeasurably. Soon I was looking to open another branch of the store, and after that, even more branches. Business wasn’t good, it was great. And that’s when the problems began…

The Yetzer Hara (evil inclination) is very smart and also very patient. He knew how to get me to decline in my religious observance. In the beginning, I always made an effort to daven with a minyan three times a day and learn some Torah daily. But then, I missed a Ma’ariv once because I couldn’t leave the store. Soon after that I stopped going out to Ma’ariv altogether as I felt that I was too busy at that time Shacharis and Minchah soon followed, Shabbos came next, and my learning also became a thing of the past. It wasn’t long before I wasn’t keeping any mitzvos at all anymore. I got married and started a family, but we were not at all religious. At the same time, I grew richer and richer. Life was good, and things might have stayed that way if not for the event that changed my life. “One afternoon in December, I was walking down the street when I heard a commotion up ahead. As I got closer, I saw a group of children – they looked like Jewish kids – standing over one boy who was crying uncontrollably. the boy kept moaning, ‘Oy, I am in such trouble! What will I tell my father?’

I asked the little boy what had happened, but he was too distraught to talk to me. He just kept repeating, ‘What will I tell my father?’ I turned to another boy who explained that this child was from a poor family and his father had given him just enough money to buy special olive oil for the Chanukah menorah. His father had warned him to be careful as this was all the money they had for oil and that he should come straight home with the jar.  But as he was carrying the glass jug, he stopped for a minute to play with his friends. He ended up dropping the jug by accident and it smashed into pieces all over the street! I looked down and saw a golden stream of oil cascading down the pavement, next to where the little boy sat heaving, hunched over the broken shards of glass.

I bent down to the boy and said, ‘Come, I will buy you a new jug of oil. Don’t worry, your father will not be upset at you.’ I took him by the hand, and we walked into the nearest store where I purchased the largest jug of pure olive oil that they sold and handed it to the gratified boy. He couldn’t believe his good fortune, thanking me again and again. Then he ran home, taking extra precautions not to make the same mistake again. As I watched the boy run off, a shudder passed through me. That night was Chanukah, and I hadn’t even known it! How had I become so removed from religion that I didn’t even know when the Jewish holidays were?!

I broke out in a cold sweat as I repeated the little boy’s words over and over in my mind: ‘What will I tell my father?’ Indeed, what would I tell my Father in Heaven? What had happened to me that I had so completely lost my way and had no idea that it was Chanukah? How low had I fallen? What type of Jew was I? What would I say to Father when He would ask me what had become of me? With a heavy heart, I walked back to the street corner where I had seen the little boy and found the shards of glass where he had left them. Gingerly, I picked them up and brought them back to my palatial mansion, but all I could think was one thing: Tonight is Chanukah! I must light the Chanukah menorah!

With my speechless wife and children looking on, I found a menorah and lit a candle. I even remembered the proper blessings to make. I continued to add a candle night for seven nights afterward and I lit the entire Chanukah menorah with a mixture of joy tinged with regret, as well as pride in my reclaimed Jewishness. A little flame ignited the fire in my heart and in the hearts of my family, and I am happy to say that today my entire family is fully observant in mitzvos.” All thanks to a few broken shards of glass. This man changed his life around and built a fine Torah family! This Chanukah does something that can make an everlasting difference! Reach out to friends or family who may not know so much about this holiday! It’s not too late!

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Happy Chanukah!

By Aryeh Fingerer