Yaakov blessed his children; a heart overflowing with ruach hakodesh. And so, this parsha is full of blessings, enough to last till Moshiach comes.
Perhaps that’s why in the Torah, there's no traditional space between last week's reading and Parshas Vayechi – to preserve these blessings.
It was many years ago, when the cost of a ride between Bnei Brak and Yerushalayim was very little. The driver of the sherut, the shared cab, before setting out, purchased a bag of candies. With the choshuve passengers aboard he started to eat, but no bracha passed his lips.
Rabbi Zehnwirth noticed that the driver had made it halfway through the snack.
"Could you do me a favor?" he asked the driver. "Sure," he answered.
Venturing into uncharted territory, Rabbi Zehnwirth, a mechanech, opened his heart – a heart that sparkled with love for every Jew.
"Could you make a bracha?"
The cab driver was not pleased at this request.
"You chareidim don’t know how to leave us alone. Everybody is different. We all have our ways. Respect my way of life and leave me alone!"
But the Rabbi was not to be deterred. A little while later he asked again. The driver got annoyed and raised his voice: "Enough already. Don’t stick yourself where you’re not welcome" he snarled.
Then Rabbi Zehnwirth committed a cardinal sin in kiruv.
"What if I give you half a shekel? Would you make a tiny little bracha?"
He handed the coin over to the driver with all the innocence of a newborn baby. The driver of course at that point had had enough cajoling and threw the money back at the Rabbi.
"Leave me alone!"
A little later, Rabbi Zehnwirth, noticing that the bag was nearly empty, spoke quietly. "I am truly sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I apologize, I only wanted to hear your bracha and say Amein."
Suddenly the driver blurted out "Ok if you give me the price of your collective fares, 3½ shekels – a lot of money in those days – I will say the bracha."
A collection was started. A Vizhnitzer chosid gave a shekel, and a Gerrer chosid, one. The money made its way to the driver – who on the last piece of candy said the bracha "Shehakol neehye bi’dvaro."
After the much-awaited blessing, the driver addressed his passengers and said "I don’t want your money, I made the bracha because I wanted to. I was just kidding when I asked you to pay for it. Here, take back your payment. But one request: please don’t talk to me anymore on this trip, not about brachot, not about anything."
Years later Rabbi Zehnwirth was speaking at a local yeshiva and told this story.
A bochur approached the Rav after the shiur and told him "That story is about my father. To this day he asks us to say our brachos in front of him out loud, so he can say Amein. And each time, his eyes well up as he tells us. "I still remember the day I decided to become religious. When I saw that those chareidim wanted to pay money to hear my bracha. My bracha!"
Every Jew’s heart is brimming with Mitzvos and overflowing with blessing, we only need to know how and when to open it.
Have a wonderful Shabbos!
Written by R’ Avrohom Hillel Reich based on a lesson and story by Harav Ben Tziyon Sneh Shlita
