The preschool had been operating successfully for a few months. We’d already enrolled 25 children, and everything was going smoothly.
Opening the school was a huge undertaking. If we thought it would get easier as time went on, events soon showed us that our challenges only grew as our school did! The financial pressure to pay our teachers, buy supplies, and keep the building lit, heated, and cleaned was immense. As Pesach approached, with its additional expenses of wine, matzah, meat, and fish, the situation became unbearable. I could hardly concentrate on anything besides the tremendous amount of debt about to cripple us.
We wrote a detailed and heartfelt letter to the Rebbe, describing the issue. We concluded with a request for a bracha “l’maalah miderech hateva,” one that confounded the laws of nature.
A few weeks before Pesach, I was inspired to speak to my congregation about the mitzvah of maaser.
“We aren’t usually allowed to test G-d,” I explained. “But with this mitzvah, the Torah gives us a promise. Asor, give tithes, so that taasor, you will become rich. G-d literally guarantees that you will be repaid - tenfold!”
I shared stories from the Sages, describing how Hashem showered His brachos upon those who gave maaser.
Preparations for Pesach continued, and so did the financial worries. It was on my mind as I shopped, cleaned, shlepped, and peeled. As I sat on the couch after completing bedikas chometz with a furrowed brow, my wife took a break from the kitchen and sat beside me.
“I hate seeing you go into Yom Tov like this,” she said. “Since I was a little girl, I learned that one must give in order to receive. You spoke so passionately about giving maaser a few weeks ago - why not lead by example?”
The next morning, I sent a sum of money to a relative in Israel, and told him to use it for the chag. I felt a huge burden lift from my shoulders, and I was able to begin Yom Tov with a clear, worry-free mind, assured of Hashem’s brachos.
That night, we hosted over 200 people for the seder. I circulated around the tables, greeting friends and familiar faces and telling short stories or insights into the Haggada.
“Chag sameach!” I greeted the Lasker family*. Their son was one of the first enrolled in our school. The festive atmosphere, and, no doubt, the wine, made Mr. Lasker in an expansive mood.
“This is all very impressive!” he told me, gesturing broadly around the room. “For some of us, the Pesach seder is the only time we sit down and ‘talk religion.’ You guys do it the real way! Your school fulfills the mitzvah of ‘tell it to your children’ every day, not just on Pesach night! I want to be part of something so important!”
“Sure, sure,” I answered, patting him on the back good humoredly. We were good friends, so I didn’t take his offer too seriously.
A few weeks later, we flew the entire family to New York, in honor of the Hakhel year. We were settling into our seats, when I received a message from Mr. Lasker. What’s the best way to send a donation?
A short while later, my phone chirped, informing me a deposit had been made. My jaw fell open in amazement. Mr. Lasker’s donation was exactly ten times the amount I’d sent my relative on erev Pesach.
Once again, Hashem’s promise to repay His debts generously was fulfilled!
*Names changed to protect privacy
