Vena Al Tatzricheinu

Venah al tatzricheinu, Hashem elokeinu, lo lidei matnas basar vadom, velo lidei halva'asam, ki im liyadecha, hameleia, hapesucha, hakedosha veharechava, shelo neivosh velo nikaleim le'olam va'ed.

I lay in bed, it's the middle of the night, and I need to be up soon, but I just can't sleep. This has been weighing on my mind all day. All day, I managed to push it away, to do what I needed to do with a big smile, but now, in the privacy of my bed, hidden by the veil of darkness, I indulge in the thoughts that refuse to escape my conscience.

I turn on the music, quietly, so as not to wake anyone, and I chose a song from shwekey 2: Vana al tatzricheinu....ki im liyadecha.... And the tears spring to my eyes. The last few months have been rough financially. Now, in the past few weeks the expenses have piled up more than ever before, culminating in the last few days of more expenses than I dreamed about, even in my worst nightmares.

And so the tzedaka issue is taking center stage with my thoughts. I wonder what's harder, me giving the money to my mother, or her taking it.

I knew she had a ton of expenses that needed to be covered. So I took my paycheck, I went to the bank, and I cashed it. Two weeks of work, over eighty hours of difficult tasks, reports and meetings, and here is the product: an envelope from the bank, stating simply....loose change.

If only it were merely loose change. If only this was as insignificant to us as a few dollars... My selfish nature began protesting. The voice of my yetzer harah came through loud and clear. "Think about everything you could by with this quantity of cash." "Think about your future, about your dreams of a Torah home!" He's tricky that yetzer harah, he knows how to sound like a tzaddik...he almost got to me.

I took the envelope, counted the money, and realized I had a dilemma. I knew it would be too painful for both of us if I would simply hand my mother the cash. I sat there holding the envelope, fighting tears from coming out, and I came up with a plan. I put the envelope back in my drawer.

I went over to my mother and asked told her that I know there are so many more expenses than usual, and I would like to help out. "Would that be ok with you mommy?" My mothers facial expression at that point was the saddest mixture of relief and embarrassment. "To tell you the truth, I already asked your older siblings for help, because there is no way that I can make it. I appreciate you offering....that you didn't make me come to you."

I don't think I ever felt such pity for my mother as I did at that moment. Imagine having to swallow every vestige of pride and actually approach your kids, asking for money?

I knew she was receptive, so I went and got the envelope. I was literally shaking. It's not easy for a person with a selfish nature like mine to hand over two weeks pay like that. Sadly, that was the easy part. I walked into my parent's room, and saw my mother sitting down. I placed the envelope across the room, on a shelf. I tried to make my voice sound like I'd just left her a couple of quarters for the parking meter, a I said "Here Ma, I'm leaving the envelope here. You'll take it when you have a chance." I turned and left the room, acting with total nonchalance.

I was sitting on the couch, trying to ignore the steady sound of rain dripping onto the floor a mere few feet away. I knew I was kidding myself. The noise was coming from my pounding heart. I knew there would be an encounter soon. I wasn't wrong. A minute or two later, my mother popped her head into the room. "DF, I didn't mean for you to give me this much! I can't take so much from you." Here it is, the confrontation I was afraid of. How does a person convince one's parent that the biggest favor their parent can do is take their money?

In all honesty, I don't remember what happened in the ensuing conversation. What I do remember, is that my mother walked away with a smile on her face, and I walked away emotionally drained. Hashem must have put the right words into my mouth.

But as I sit here, in the dead of the night, listening the the sounds of Shwekey singing Vena Al Tatzricheinu, I think about the importance of this tefillah. I think about the incredible timeliness of it. I think about the "behind the scenes" of giving tzedaka, the pain, the raw emotions, the terrible impact of both giving and receiving tzedaka, and I realize that I'll start to daven for this even harder.

Halevai one day in the near future my family will be supported directly from Yad Hashem, not via the painful method of His gomlei chassadim. Halevai someday soon we will recite this tefillah and look hack at the days when it used to be so real for us. In short, Halevai soon we will be zoche to see the yad of Hashem...the yad hameleia hapesucha hakedosha veharechava of Hakodosh Baruch Hu.