The Forgotten Subject
Now what are our kabbalos?
Number one is Olam Haba. We’re going to accept upon ourselves, bli neder, that every day this year we will spend thirty seconds thinking about Olam Haba. A half minute on the clock, every day, I’ll think about Olam Haba.
Now, a person hears such a thing and right away he’s in a panic. Thirty seconds? What am I going to think about for thirty seconds?
Because today the Am Yisroel has forgotten about this greatest of all subjects. It’s relegated to a levayah, a shiva home. But on a regular day, in a regular Jewish home, it’s not discussed.
Listen in to a woman on the telephone. A half-hour she’s talking, how she had to go all over Manhattan to find a winter coat, how she’s having trouble with her maid, and this and that. All Olam Hazehdige things. But Olam Haba? Silence. Not a word.
Now, I don’t mean to say anything especially about women because it’s the same thing by the men. Here’s a Shabbos table, a frum table; what’s the conversation at the Shabbos table in a frum home? Divrei Torah, yes. Vertlach, very good. But ha’ikar chaser min hasefer! Olam Haba! The main course is missing.
Sobering Up
After all, what is it all about? Why are we in this world? We're here just to live? And even to do mitzvos?! Everybody who learns knows that there's no payment for a mitzvah in this world (Kiddushin 39b). You're not working for anything in this world—it's Olam Haba, that’s the great joy we're all aiming for. Only that nobody thinks about it! It’s not even mentioned; days and days pass by as if it doesn't exist.
The Chovos Halevavos says, “Oy l’shikrus hazos – alas for this intoxication.” Alas that people lose sight of that great fact; that this world is only a preparation for the World to Come. And it’s so important that we have to understand it as one of the number one requirements for being a Jew. And don't say you knew it already when you were a little boy. You never knew it. Even now you don't know it. The intoxicated nation must sober up!
Living in Eternity
And so this year, starting today, we’re going to spend thirty seconds every day reminding ourselves that we're in this world only as a preparation for the World to Come. This world is just a vestibule, before the World to Come, and therefore prepare yourself in the vestibule, in the lobby, in order that you should enter the banquet hall (Avos 4:16).
Ooh, that’s a big statement: This entire world that we’re living in—your home, your street, your family, your work, your shul—it’s only a hallway that you’re passing through! And you have to continue to remind yourself of that as you walk in Olam Hazeh. It’s only a little lobby, a prozdor before the traklin.
We have to get the idea in our heads. When somebody passes away and the relatives are all broken, his friends are all sad, but they should know that now he is in the world for which he was created. Up until now he was just preparing. Whatever happens here is only a preface to the great career that follows. Because there's a huge banquet hall that everyone enters from this lobby.
Olam Haba in the Subway
And so immediately, the first thing in our program, we’re going to think about the World to Come—what it’s like there, how we get there. That's where Avraham Avinu is. That's where all the tzaddikim are. Adam Harishon is there too and Chava. Moshe Rabbeinu is there. It’s the place of greatest happiness. Wouldn’t we want to be there?
And so, starting today every day for thirty seconds—on the clock—we're going to think about Olam Haba. We’ll spend a half minute thinking about the World to Come—about its importance in our lives. One time every day.
So as you're hanging on a strap in the subway, you’ll remind yourself, “Oh, I still have to fulfill today that kabbalah I made erev Rosh Hashana.” You look at your watch and start thinking about Olam Haba until thirty seconds pass. Keep your hand on your pocket, on your wallet meanwhile, because the one standing next to you, he’s not thinking about Olam Haba.
Or as you're driving towards work, or you’re waiting at the corner for the light to turn green, or you're waiting to see a customer—whatever it is—look at your watch and let it tick off thirty seconds while you are now in the World to Come; thinking about the purpose of life.
Welcome to Olam Haba!
That's number one. Isn't that easy? And results are guaranteed because you’re already superior to everybody else. You are a head taller than everybody else because you live every day for thirty seconds in the World to Come.
And not only are you fulfilling the first kabbalah—the first tribute to the King that you’re coming into Rosh Hashanah with—but you know what's going to happen when you begin thinking like that? It will illuminate your life. It will give a simchah in your life. Because no matter what happens, you know you're headed towards success.
And one day, when we come into the Next World and they'll say “What do you want here?”, so you’ll say, “Well, I worked on Olam Haba. I reminded myself every day about this place, about preparing to be here.”
“Oh then,” they say, “Shalom aleichem. We’re happy to have you.”
Now whether they'll give you a front seat or a middle seat or a back seat, it depends how much you put into it. But they are going to welcome you—it's guaranteed.
Secret Kindness
Now we go on to number two, a second thing we will do every day as part of our program of coming before Hashem. Our second kabbalah for this coming year is every day to do one act of kindliness that nobody knows about. Once a day, find a way to do a chessed in secret.
If you can, buy a cake of soap and drop it in the lavatory of your beis haknesses. Nobody should know about it. Just unwrap it, sneak in and put it down, and run out. A big chessed. I’m not telling you what you have to do. It’s just an idea.
There was a man in our neighborhood like that. In secret he undertook to supply in his yeshiva every day, face-tissues. Nobody thinks where they come from; the yeshiva doesn’t supply them. This man comes in secretly and puts them down. He buys them from his own money. For years and years he has been doing that—nobody knows about it.
When the Wife is Away
Or let's say you walk in the house and your wife is not home. There are some dishes that have to be washed. Wash a few dishes—one or two dishes—dry them and put them in their place. She shouldn't know. She comes home and she remembers there was a sink full of dishes but she doesn't notice that it’s less. Don't tell her you washed them. Don't tell her. And that counts as your secret chessed for the day.
I once told this to a man and he said, this idea he doesn't like. All right. So there are other things you can do. Let's say you're walking in the house and you see something, a piece of dirt on the floor. You know your wife will get busy; she’s going to bring a broom and try to shovel it up. Kick it under the sofa, she shouldn't see it. She won't see it. It's saving her all that work.
You think it’s a small thing? No, it’s a good idea. Have in mind you’re trying to save someone unnecessary work.
Chessed on Purpose
Now, don't do a good thing and later say, “Well, today I have to fulfill my kabbalah and so I'll use that retroactively.” That's no good. To rely on bedieved, that good thing I did before, I’ll count that? No. You have to say beforehand, “I'm going to do this in order to fulfill my promise I made erev Rosh Hashana—an act of kindness that nobody knows about.”
Otherwise, everybody does kindliness anyhow. But it’s usually done out of habit or because we must. We usually do kindliness to people because we're ashamed not to do it. If you're getting off the bus, you hold open the door for the man who is coming after you to get off, the door shouldn't slam in his face, because you'd be ashamed not to hold the door open for him. He’ll look at you like an uncivilized person.
No; gemilus chassadim that you do to satisfy the requirements of civilization, that’s not our program. It’s good but it’s not our kabbalah. We’re doing it for Hakadosh Baruch Hu. You have to do one thing, not because you must do it, not because it's expected of you. You do because it’s the middah of Hakadosh Baruch Hu, Hashem desires chesed. You want to be like Hashem (Devarim 28:9). Just purely for the mitzvah of doing a chessed.
The Secret Gabbai
If you come the first one in the beis hamedrash—nobody is looking—try to put together the sefarim where they belong. Nobody should see that you did it. In the shul, if you can stay a minute after everyone else—make believe you’re busy with something—and after everyone leaves put some siddurim back on the shelf. You can pick up something from the floor, a tissue, or wipe down a table.
Maybe you’re walking outside and you see there’s a banana peel on the sidewalk. Before anyone looks, with your shoe shove it off the sidewalk into the gutter, the sewer, so somebody shouldn't slip on it and go for a ride to the hospital. Or if there's a piece of plastic on the sidewalk—plastics are dangerous; people can slip on them. So you kick it to the side. Sometimes there’s something greasy on the sidewalk; when nobody’s looking you sprinkle some dust, some dirt there, to protect the passersby. Secretly you’re doing a chesed so that people shouldn’t get hurt.
Now, let’s say it’s the end of the day and you forgot. There’s always something. Wait till your mother is asleep, or maybe when she’s not looking, and you’ll tiptoe into the living room and put something away. There’s always something you can do in the house; for your wife, your children.
Encouraging Letters
If you can’t think of anything to do, so write a nice letter to someone and encourage him. Don’t sign your name. Or sign a false name. I do that sometimes; I write letters to encourage people. Sometimes people are discouraged so I write, “You have a very good name in this neighborhood. People think well of you.” I don’t sign my name; I want them to think it’s someone important.
