As is done at many synagogues in the US, at the end of the Friday night service we say Kiddush, the blessing over the wine as we sanctify Shabbat. Technically, the prayer starts by thanking God for “the fruit of the vine,” and because there are minors present, as well as others who may not want to drink alcohol for one reason or another, we usually use grape juice instead.
We have a number of rabbis, but often, when Rabbi Lezak is present, while the Kiddush prayer is being chanted, he will take a couple of the little plastic cups holding the grape juice, and hand them to congregants.
A person new to the congregation, or perhaps one who doesn’t come often and may not be aware of all that is going on, may think, “Why is he choosing those particular people to give the grape juice to? Are they large donors? Are they people he likes better than other congregants? I wish he would hand me some grape juice one day.”
He doesn’t announce what he’s doing. Indeed, he usually does it silently, without uttering a word. He just quietly picks up a grape juice or two, walks into the congregation, looks a person in the eye, and hands it over.
Now, I like Rabbi Lezak, and I have reason to believe he doesn’t dislike me. But, in weeks past, I have often thought, “I hope it’s a long time before he hands me any grape juice.”
Why would I think such a thing? Because I see who he hands the grape juice to. One week, it’s a mourner. Another week, it’s someone whose loved one is in the hospital. Yet another week, it’s a person who is going through a divorce.
Yes, he is singling people out with these special deliveries, but it’s not big donors or his best friends. It’s always someone who is hurting. It’s always someone who needs just a little extra love. I imagine it’s his way of saying, “I see you. I know you’re having a rough time. I care.”
It may seem like a small thing, but even seemingly small things can make a tremendous difference. I was reminded of this when, just a week and a half ago, I was in my first week of mourning someone I care about. During Kiddush, to my surprise, I looked up to see Rabbi Lezak walking up to me to hand me one of those little cups of grape juice. The gesture was so powerful, the world became blurry as my eyes filled with tears.
It is a potent demonstration of how much one small gesture can mean to someone. When I look back on how many cups of grape juice he has handed out over the years, it makes me think of how many people he has thereby taught the lesson of how even the smallest gesture can make a big impact.
I hope all of us who have received this gesture, when we have an opportunity to do something nice for someone who is hurting and think, “But it’s such a small thing, I doubt it will make a difference” will remember the power of any act which says, “I see you. I know you’re having a rough time. I care.”
—————-
“Like” the “> follow me on Twitter.
More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.