A Bais Yaakov high school principal shared this story: After Pesach, her daughter flew back to Eretz Yisroel during the chaotic post-COVID travel season. Asked to check her carry-on at the gate, she agreed. But when the plane landed, the small black suitcase—holding, among other things, a priceless hashkafa notebook from her seminary year—never appeared. Mother and daughter called the airline for weeks. Agents kept saying the bag was “somewhere,” but nothing turned up. They finally gave up.
Then, one erev Shabbos morning, the mother received an unexpected call. “Shalom, are you Adina? I have a black suitcase with your number on it,” said a man named Adi from Tel Aviv. Adi explained that when he landed, he saw mountains of unclaimed luggage. “I can’t help everyone,” he thought, “but I can help one.” He picked a single bag—hers—and spent hours navigating customs to return it legally. His wife thought he was crazy, but he persisted.
“That’s how this suitcase came home,” the principal concluded. “Adi couldn’t help everyone, but he helped one—and for us, it made all the difference.”
There are many times when we feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of a problem—and the resulting chillul Hashem—and we wonder if our efforts matter at all. So we don’t bother. Why waste our time?
The chillul Hashem caused by the driving situation, for example, is a systemic problem—an infrastructure issue. I can’t fix it. Only the leaders can. Why should I bother driving like a mentch when I can’t change the entire system? If I can’t let everyone in, why should I let even one car through? If I can’t make everyone happy, why should I try at all?
The growth of the Jewish neighborhood and the tension it creates is, similarly, a systemic issue. Zoning, real estate, and influential leaders determine how the infrastructure functions. As a simple neighbor, what difference can I make? Why should I follow the rules and norms when the larger system is flawed?
The messy block, the overcrowded courtyard, the untended apartment building—all of it feels endless. What good is picking up one piece of garbage each time I enter or leave? Surely, the apartment managers should do their job. I will just get frustrated trying to tackle a problem that seems impossible.
Businesses present a similar challenge. In a competitive, cutthroat environment, where shortcuts, aggressive tactics, and bending or even breaking rules seem to dominate, it’s easy to think: If you can’t beat them, join them. If you don’t, you’ll lose out. My ethical treatment of employees, clients, and customers won’t make a difference in the long run. The overall reputation of Jewish businesses may seem fixed, beyond my control, and the tide impossible to change.
We often fall into the trap of thinking it’s all or nothing, so we give up and tune out. It’s not our responsibility.
But we must remember: every act of chesed, every gesture of menschlichkeit matters. Do what is in your hands. Be a tzelem Elokim no matter what. We can’t be focused on the results. The results of kiddush Hashem are up to Hashem.
