No act of kindness, however small, is wasted

Rav Nosson Tzvi Finkel z”tzl, the famed rosh yeshiva of the Mir, once asked a small group of businessmen what they thought was the most important lesson of the Holocaust.

“Never forget,” suggested one; “always fight,” posited another.

With a sigh, the rabbi explained: “I learned the essence of the human spirit, of what really matters.”

During the Holocaust, human beings were treated like animals, transported in cattle cars with no food, no water, no bathrooms, not even a few feet in which to lie down. Thinking they were headed for work camps, when they finally arrived, and the doors slid open to blinding light, rifle butts, Nazi guards and dogs, men were separated from women, families broken apart, and children dragged away screaming. Finally, after the endless roll calls, they were allowed to enter the barracks for what was meant to approximate sleep. 

As they entered the barracks, they were assigned one bunk for six men, and every sixth man was given a blanket. As they went to sleep, that sixth man had a moment to decide whether he would be well covered and stay warm, or would spread the blanket to all six men. 

“And that was when we learned who we really were,” said Rav Nosson Tzvi, when every one of us with a blanket made sure, without thinking, to spread it to all six in the bunk.

This week we begin the second book of the Torah, Shemot, which describes the birth of the Jewish nation. And in the midst of the tale of Egyptian servitude and the enslavement of the Jewish people, there is a fascinating story that we almost miss. 

The focus of this week’s portion is clearly on the birth, coming of age and eventual leadership of Moshe. But Moshe might never have survived but for an incredible act from an unexpected source.