Rabbi Mashiach Kelaty
It’s All About the Effort
ויקם משה את המשכן
And Moshe erected the Mishkan… (Shemot 40:18)
As the Mishkan was finally ready to be assembled, there was one problem: it was too heavy. Requiring tremendous physical prowess to erect the massive planks, Moshe Rabbeinu was disconcerted. “How can a human being put together such an edifice?” Voicing such a concern to Hashem, Moshe was told that he would not need to do more than he was physically capable. “Just exert the effort to put up the Mishkan,” Hashem said, “and it will then miraculously stand up by itself. Do not worry about its inordinate weight.” Moshe Rabbeinu’s job was merely to do his best, and Hashem would do the rest.
Along these lines, Rabbi Zecharia Wallerstein tells the story of a man who once had a stone laying in his backyard. Being told every night in a dream, “Go and push the stone,” every subsequent day he went about pushing the stone. Day after day, week after week and year after year he earnestly put in his utmost effort to push the stone. But one day that all changed.
Appearing to the man in a dream was the Satan. “Why are you wasting all your energy on this futility? Haven’t you noticed that you haven’t moved the stone even one inch in so many years?” Waking up the next morning, the man was shaken to an unsettling reality. Had he indeed been wasting all his time? Sorely convinced by the Satan’s beguiling words, he decided that from thereon in life would be different. He would no longer go about his daily attempt to push the stone. After all, wasn’t it all for naught?
The next night the man had another dream. But this time it was not the Satan who appeared to him, but Hashem Himself. “Why have you stopped pushing the stone?” “Look,” replied the man, “I have been doing so for many years and I haven’t moved it even a millimeter. I am wasting my time!” But Hashem had a little surprise for him. “Did I ever tell you to move the stone? All I told you is to push it. All you are required to do is your best; I will take care of the moving.”
A few years ago, my family spent some quality time together. While some children enjoy playing soccer or going to the park together with their fathers, my son Binyamin enjoys a particularly unique hobby. Using his well-deserved Bar Mitzvah money, he purchased a quadcopter. A helicopter with four propellers, a quadcopter looks like a large model aircraft and is flown with a remote control. Attached to the quadcopter is a camera allowing for aerial photography. Valuable and sentimental to my son, his quadcopter is his most prized possession.
As Binyamin and his brother, Yoni, wished to fly the quadcopter, we decided to go on a little outing together. Making our way to Staples Corner, one of the biggest street junctions in London where a number of roads converge, we looked forward to a wonderful day. Binyamin figured he would fly the quadcopter over streets and bridges and capture some nice photographs.
Agreeing that we would situate ourselves in one of the large car parks there, we eventually arrived and prepared the quadcopter. And then Binyamin let it sail up into the air. Controlling it from down below, everything was going alright until it began to become windy. Considering that the quadcopter is wind resistant and has a built-in GPS, usually everything turns out fine despite windy currents. Besides, there is an added failsafe measure on the remote control which immediately recalls the quadcopter to home base and stops it from continuing on. And so, as the winds began to pick up, Binyamin hit the failsafe button. But it did not work.
Pushing the failsafe button again and again, it was to no avail. The winds were too strong and the quadcopter was drifting further and further away. Desperate and now having lost sight of it, we glanced at the camera monitor we had set up with us hoping that we would be able to recognize its location.
Carefully looking at the image portrayed on the camera monitor, we struggled to make out where it was. We noticed that it was descending and landing in what looked like a car park, but we could not make out the details until the image flickered and faded.
Without hesitating, we set out driving around the area. Meanwhile, Binyamin took to studying Mishnayot and Yoni turned to heartfelt davening in hope that our lost quadcopter would turn out. However, an hour later, we remained in the same predicament as we began. No quadcopter.
As it was getting darker and darker and the last moments to daven Mincha were upon us, we pulled over to the side of one of the retail parks and decided we would daven near the street. As we concluded Mincha, we decided to give it one more look. But seeing that it was nearing dark, after a short while, we were forced to give up the chase. Heading home disappointed, we figured we would take another look tomorrow.
I then received a text message from my friend, Effie Raymond. Explaining how he saw us stop what we were doing and take out time to pray, he was touched. “You really brought me joy,” he wrote. As I read this message, I realized that even if we would never find the quadcopter, perhaps all of this was happening in order to bring inspirational joy and light into the life of a fellow Jew.
Later that evening, I was scheduled to learn with my chavruta (study partner). Studying together the last chapter of Tractate Sanhedrin (97a), the last passage we learned together that night was the following:
“There are three matters which occur immediately and when least expected: the coming of Mashiach, finding a lost item and a scorpion bite.”
It was not coincidental that this was the last piece of Gemara I learnt that night. It was portending something to come.
After finishing learning with my chavruta, my wife and I decided we would head out together to the police station and report the lost quadcopter. However, the officer was not too optimistic that we would ever find it. But nevertheless, we told ourselves that we would put in all our effort and hope for the best.
Retracing our steps, we returned to the same spot that my children and I had searched out twice earlier that day and come up with nothing. Looking all around this final time amid the dark, we didn’t find anything either. As I continually told myself over and over, “Whatever I am doing is just my effort; it is ultimately up to Hashem what will result,” we headed back home empty-handed and with empty hearts.
But then the unexpected happened. From the corner of my eye, I noticed something white laying around twenty feet away in a car park. Telling my wife to drive over there, as we inched closer, we looked at each other and burst out laughing. There was the quadcopter. Having looked everywhere, when we least expected we would ever find it, we did. I then understood why that Gemara in Sanhedrin was the last statement I was to learn that night. I was being taught a very important lesson: sometimes when you are least expecting something to happen, it will happen.
Much like Moshe Rabbeinu doing his part to erect the Mishkan, so is the case with every one of us. We must do our best and expend as much effort as we can, but after we have done so, we need no longer worry. We can remain confident that Hashem will take care of the rest. And more often than not, the rest of the story will occur when we are least expecting.
A Short Message from
Rebbetzin Aviva Feiner
My husband and I once visited a friend of ours whose home had been devastated by Hurricane Sandy. Living next to the bay in Back Lawrence, the Hurricane caused water to fill up until the second floor of his house. But there was something particularly interesting which he pointed out. While all the trees adjacent to his house were smashed and broken, the reeds remained standing tall and strong. “Let this be a lesson,” he said, “that it is good to be malleable in life. If you are able to bend when the tide comes your way, you will survive. However, if you believe everything has to be your way and you remain firmly stubborn as a tree, then when something hits you, you are going to crack. ”
