I once heard a remarkable story from someone named Shragi.
Shragi had been listening to a lecture from Rabbi Ephraim Wachsman, who told the story of a man who used to drive into Manhattan every day. Each day, he was confronted with challenges to guarding of the eyes; maintaining moral and spiritual discipline in a world filled with temptation.
Determined to overcome his struggle, the man made a small but powerful resolution. He placed a tzedakah box in his car, and every time he resisted temptation and looked away, he would put one dollar into it. Day after day, dollar after dollar, he built a quiet treasury of self-control.
When Chanukah arrived, he opened the tzedakah box, and found two thousand dollars inside. Two thousand moments of victory. Two thousand times he had chosen holiness over impulse, mastery over desire, eternity over the fleeting.
With that money, he bought himself a beautiful silver menorah. And that Chanukah, as its candles shone in the window, their light told his story; the story of two thousand triumphs of the neshama.
Shragi was deeply moved. Inspired by the idea, he decided to do something similar. He placed a glass jar in his car. Each time he was tested and chose to look away, he dropped a quarter into the jar.
By the time Sukkot came, he had collected $40 worth of quarters — one hundred sixty moments of victory. With that money, he bought himself the finest myrtle branches (hadassim) he could find.
The Sages teach that the myrtle represents the eyes, as its leaves are shaped like the human eye. Each of those branches symbolized one of those 160 times that Shragi had looked away, 160 moments of spiritual strength, 160 times he had turned his eyes from desire toward Heaven.
Throughout Sukkot, Shragi was filled with joy. Each time he lifted his lulav and looked at those hadassim, he felt the holiness of every small battle he had won.
As the festival drew to a close, he felt a touch of sadness. The mitzvah of the hadassim was ending. Then he remembered a teaching from our Sages: “Objects used for one mitzvah should be used for another.”
So after the holiday, he gathered his hadassim and used them as spices for the Havdalah ceremony that marks the end of Shabbat. There was only one problem: his spice holder was an old plastic container. So he decided that soon he would buy a beautiful crystal and silver spice box, something worthy of the mitzvah.
Shortly after Sukkot, his in-laws returned from Israel. They invited him over, saying they had brought back gifts for the grandchildren.
The children were delighted with their presents of shirts, toys, and souvenirs. Then his in-laws turned to him and said, “Shragi, we have something for you, too.” They handed him a neatly wrapped box. Inside was a black velvet case. He opened it, and there it was: the most stunning crystal and silver spice box he had ever seen.
He stood there speechless.
Sometimes G-d doesn’t show us how precious our mitzvot — our acts of holiness — are to Him. But once in a while, He lets us see a glimpse, a Divine smile, a quiet sign of affection.
Every Saturday night, when Shragi holds that spice box during Havdalah, he feels a surge of joy. It reminds him of those 160 moments of inner strength and self-mastery. It reminds him that G-d saw, G-d cared, and G-d responded.
And that crystal spice box now shines as a testimony that when we overcome our lower urges, when we choose restraint over desire, Hashem sends us a light of His own. A whisper from Heaven that says, “I saw. I’m proud. And I smile.”
