Rivky Ehrenfeld had a packed house on Shabbos, the kind of happy chaos created by a busy family with children and einiklach running underfoot. She had planned to attend a friend’s Kiddush in shul that morning, but as often happens, Hashem had other plans. She was too busy to leave the house, so she decided to walk over and say mazel tov in the afternoon, around shalosh seudos time.
Rivky walked from her home in central Monsey to lower Monsey, visited her friend, and then set out on the return trip. As dusk settled over the streets, she passed an old Revolutionary War cemetery located at West Maple Avenue and Saddle River Road, and something strange caught her eye. The front of the cemetery was strewn with hundreds of white tissues, unmistakable in the fading light.
Rivky paused, unsettled. Maybe some neighborhood kids had been there, horsed around and scattered the tissues there. It struck her how unseemly it looked, but she lingered only briefly before hurrying on, any thoughts swept away by the usual Motzaei Shabbos bustle.
After Havdalah, Rivky sat down to check her messages. Scrolling through her groups, she came across one featuring inspiring stories of kiddush Hashem. The title of one video jumped out at her: “Kiddush Hashem in the Cemetery.”
The story was about two boys, now grown men, who had been learning in Monsey in 1971. Late one night, they walked past that very cemetery on West Maple Avenue and saw something white in the dark. For a moment, they thought it might be a ghost. One boy gathered his courage and walked over to look. It wasn’t a ghost it was Rav Mordechai Schwab! The next day in yeshivah, the boys asked him why he had been in the cemetery at one in the morning. Rav Schwab explained that because the cemetery was in the middle of a Jewish neighborhood and non-Jews would be coming to pay their respects, he didn’t want it to look unkempt, which could cause a chillul Hashem. So, he had gone there quietly at night to tidy it up.
Hearing this story, Rivky paused. She had just walked by that cemetery, and she, too, had been troubled by the litter she’d seen. She gathered her kids together and bundled them into the car. “There’s something we need to do,” she said, and drove them to the cemetery.
When they got there, she and her kids picked up all the tissues, ensuring that no one who passed by would think ill of the Jewish community.
Later, she would reflect on the way Hashem orchestrated every detail - her delayed plans, her walk down that street, seeing the video immediately after Shabbos. It was a reminder that a kiddush Hashem can sometimes be made with a simple decision to do something rather than walk away.
Any of us can choose to bring honor to Hashem’s name in our everyday lives. All we have to do is try.
Reprinted from the Parshas Pinchas 5785 email of Rabbi Shraga Freedman.
