What My Grandfather Told a New Teacher
by YY Hodakov
There are a few anecdotes that come to mind as I read Rashi’s words in the beginning of Parshas Eikev, about the importance of paying attention to “minor” Mitzvos that people often “trample with their feet”…
* * *
Late one night, a Chossid had an urgent matter that needed the Rebbe’s blessing. He slipped his letter under the door to the Rebbe’s room, hoping that the secretary who was there at the time would notice it, and hand it to the Rebbe immediately. Alas, when the secretary came out of the room, he discovered that the letter had yet to be noticed.
The Chossid understood that the Rebbe himself would have to bend down and pick it up, and felt terribly about causing the Rebbe this bother. He wrote a note to the Rebbe to apologize. The Rebbe responded: this is what I do. I lift – especially that which others overlook.* * *
One Erev Shabbos, a friend of mine was riding the subway to his Mivtzoim route in Manhattan.
At one point, a panhandler entered the car.
Most subway riders mind their own business in any case, and are particularly trained to avoid eye contact with certain individuals, so this unfortunate fellow hoping for some compassion was basically ignored.
After a few moments, the silence was shattered by the beggar’s painful cry, “Will someone please acknowledge my existence?!“
* * *A newly hired teacher approached my paternal grandfather, Rabbi C.M.A. Hodakov, and asked what advice he could give him, a first time teacher.
My grandfather told him, “Hub lieb di kinder“, show the children love.
He asked, “what if a particular child makes it difficult for me to love him?”
“Show him even more love“, my grandfather said, “because, apparently, someone didn’t show him enough love last year“.
* * *
Of course, there’s also the famous story of the “small” Jew from Curacao, and many more.
As we learn and live with Parshas Eikev, in the times of Ikvesa Dimeshicha, may we be inspired to be what we can to those who can benefit from our attention.
Written on the 15th of Menachem Av, the Yohrtzeit of my maternal grandfather, Rabbi Yaakov Yehuda (“JJ”) Hecht, of blessed memory, who noticed and looked out for those who were otherwise neglected and overlooked.
