Up this week on TheJewishWoman.Org

“Elana, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Repeat after me: ‘I can.’”

“I can’t.” Our eyes met. There was so much to her story, so many times along the way when she could have given up, but she didn’t. I reminded her of a few of those times. “Laura!”

“I mean, I can. I can.”

“That’s right. With G‑d’s help, you can!”Laura gave birth to her miracle baby

Three hours later, Laura gave birth to her miracle baby. She lifted her healthy son in her arms and smiled at the irony of giving birth in the same hospital where she had been told roughly a year earlier that due to her age, it would be nearly impossible to have her own biological child. “You can’t,” the doctors told her. But her faith in G‑d told her otherwise—“I can!”

The Midrash explains that before giving the Torah to the nation of Israel, G‑d asked all the nations of the world if they wanted the Torah. “What’s inside?” they asked. Upon hearing some of the laws, they flat-out refused. “We can’t do that!” One by one, each nation refused to receive the Torah. G‑d then asked the Jews. In a unified voice, without batting an eye, Israel answered, “Na’aseh v’nishma!” (“We will do and we will listen/understand.”) In other words, “We can!” Suddenly, the Midrash continues, the angels came down and placed two crowns upon every Jew’s head, one for na’aseh and one for nishma. In that instant of answering “yes,” we became royalty. We understood that we are the children of G‑d, the King. And when you are the child of the King, then as long as the King wills it, there is nothing beyond your reach. This is the privilege of answering “I can do it”—the privilege of being a Jew.

On Shavuot, there is a custom to read the Book of Ruth. Ruth was born a Moabite princess. She married a son of Elimelech (a prominent man from Bethlehem). Her husband died ten years after they wed, and she was left a destitute widow. Her mother-in-law, Naomi, told her and her sister, who had been married to Naomi’s other son, to go back to their parents’ home. Naomi had nothing to give to them, and she herself, now penniless and old, wanted to go back to her homeland, Israel. Ruth’s sister went back, but Ruth clung to Naomi. Naomi urged her to leave her, and Ruth answered, “Do not urge me to leave you, to turn back and not follow you. For wherever you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people are my people, and your G‑d is my G‑d.”1

In that moment, Ruth was like the nation of Israel standing before G‑d when He offered the Torah. And therefore she merited kingship: she married Boaz and became the great-grandmother of King David, the king of Israel. Ruth made a decision. She made a choice. She chose to leave her life behind and become the daughter of the King.Every day, we have a choice

Every day, we each have a choice. The choice to say “I can.” With G‑d’s help, anything is possible, because we are the children of the King.

Shavuot is about receiving the Torah and receiving the crown of royalty. It’s about faith and belief. Shavuot is the holiday where each one of us has the ability to acknowledge our potential and, with G‑d’s help, actualize it. It’s the day when we affirm, “I can. With G‑d’s help, I can!”




FOOTNOTES1.Ruth 1:16.

I wrote this on TheJewishWoman.Org...

I’m tired, really tired—emotionally, physically. I just want to curl up into a ball and go to sleep, and sleep and sleep. In the mornings, when I want to stay in bed, somebody forces me up. “Mommy, Mommy . . .” It’s a new day. I have no choice. I have to get up.

My body is filled with a torrent of hormones, a tornado of emotions. The words go around and around in my head: “The pregnancy isn’t right. The fetus didn’t develop.” Three ultrasounds in two weeks confirm what I don’t want to know, but have no choice but to accept.I just want to curl up into a ball and go to sleep

“First trimester miscarriage is very common.” “It doesn’t have any implication about future pregnancies.” “Thank G‑d you have three healthy children at home, right? You’ll have more, don’t worry.” The doctor’s kind words replay themselves over and over in my ears, but they don’t stop the tears.

I think about my clients. I saw three women just today who had all suffered through a miscarriage at one time. Is this happening to me so that I can better understand them? My husband says not to work today, to stay in bed. But I make myself get up and go. I pray for strength and force myself, because I know that my massaging fingers and hands, my comforting words and empathetic ear help strengthen me and my faith as much, or more than, it does for them.

One tells me that she is afraid to become pregnant again for fear of miscarrying. “It’s safer, less painful not to try than to try and lose it again,” she tells me.

I look into her big, beautiful eyes, and as my body bleeds and cramps, I do understand. Suddenly, a name pops into my mind: Rabbi Akiva.

Who was Rabbi Akiva? Akiva, the son of Yosef, was a simple man, an unlearned illiterate shepherd. He met a woman, Rachel, who believed in him. Rachel was the beautiful, smart daughter of the wealthiest man in the land. She saw great potential in simple Akiva and married him. Her father disowned her, leaving her and Akiva poverty-stricken. She didn’t give up or lose her faith. She encouraged forty-year-old Akiva to study, and sent him off to learn for a total of twenty-four years.

Akiva came back to his wife twenty-four years later, accompanied by 24,000 students. He had become the greatest scholar of all times, the greatest teacher and transmitter of Torah. He had become the famous Rabbi Akiva. And then, what happened to him? In a plague that lasted over a month, all 24,000 students died. In a month’s time, he lost it all.

What did Rabbi Akiva do then? Did he think, “It’s over. There’s nothing left. This is too painful. I will give up, because the thought of losing any more students is more painful than the thought of not having any all.” Maybe he had those thoughts. I don’t know. But if he did, I wouldn’t blame him. However, what do we know about what Rabbi Akiva did?Rabbi Akiva left a legacy for every Jew

He took five men and he started all over again. From those five students, we have all the Oral Torah that exists—all the Mishnah, Talmud and Kabbalistic works. They all stem from Rabbi Akiva and his five students.

Why does Rabbi Akiva pop into my head as I look into my client’s pained eyes? Because Rabbi Akiva left a legacy for every Jew: There is no such thing as staying under the covers. When you are confronted with a test, when you feel like you’ve been knocked down, you must believe. You have no choice but to pick yourself up and start again. Everyone has the potential for greatness. Everyone, with G‑d’s help, has the ability to start over again. I know that I can’t be afraid to become pregnant again for fear of being disappointed or of losing the pregnancy; instead, I have to focus on the joy and the greatness of the child that will be born, G‑d willing.

I wrote this for TheJewishWoman.Org....

One More
The message of Seudat Moshiach
By Elana Mizrahi

My husband and I had been married for three and a half years, and we desperately wanted children. We were living in Jerusalem at the time.Passover was coming to an end, and although we had had a wonderful holiday, there was a sadness that clouded our joy. It had been anotherSeder without a baby, another week ofChol HaMoed without a child to take around to parks and festive events, another year of asking, “When will our personal redemption come?”

On the Passover was coming to an endseventh day of Passover, we ate what I thought was going to be the last holiday meal in the mid-morning, and I settled down to read and enjoy the last hours of Passover. (In Israel, Passover is celebrated for seven days; outside of Israel, an eighth day is observed as well.) All of a sudden, I heard a knock on my door. Two friends had come to visit. One of them was single, and the other newly married.

“Elana, come. We’re taking you to my mother in-law’s cousin. She’s married to a great tzaddik (righteous man).” Here was an opportunity for me to receive a blessing for children.

We wound our way through the twisted alleyways of a very religious neighborhood in Jerusalem, until we arrived at the tzaddik’s home. His wife, therebbetzin, opened the door. She greeted us as though we were old friends, although she didn’t even know who I was or why I was coming to meet her and her husband. She rushed us to the dining room table, which was laid out with salads and delicacies. Before I knew it, I was sitting at the table, surrounded by this incredible family and being served tons of food.

Now, just as a side note, by this point in the week I had had my full of meat and chicken and potatoes. I definitely was not hungry, and had no idea that I was going to be eating yet another (mind you, delicious) Passover meal. I thought that I was done already. But no, the rebbetzin informed me that we were taking part in the Seudat Moshiach (Meal of Moshiach). I had no idea what she was talking about. She then turned to me and said, “I’m not trying to be nosy, but do you want a blessing from my husband for children?”

I nodded yes. I had already received various blessings; undergone many, many treatments; and tried dozens of things to become pregnant. How could one more blessing hurt?

And, a Should they go back to Egypt? Should they fight? What now?year later to the day, I gave birth to my son. A few months after his birth, my single friend got married, and five years later she gave birth to her second son, also on the last day of Passover.

So, what is the Seudat Moshiach? What is its power?

G‑d took the Jewish people out of Egypt, and seven days later they stood before the Red Sea. The Egyptians were almost upon them, and there was nowhere to go. They felt desperation. Should they go back to Egypt? Should they fight? What now? Moses stretched out his arm and raised his staff to the sea. Nothing happened. Then one man, Nachshon the son of Aminadav, jumped into the sea. Nothing happened. He kept walking until the water was up to his chest, then up to his neck, then his nose. And then it happened. The sea split, and the nation of Israel passed through. Once they reached the other side, their enemy came chasing after them, and the wall of water crashed down, drowning the Egyptian soldiers in the stormy sea.

What would have happened if Nachshon hadn’t jumped in? What would have happened if he hadn’t kept walking into the waters? Would G‑d have split the sea open? I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not.

What would have happened if you decided you couldn’t meet “one more” person? What if you had turned down that opportunity to go on “one more date,” the one where you met your husband? Would you be married now? I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not.

What would have happened if you decided that you had had enough, and you were done trying to conceive? What if you decided this when you had only one more chance to ovulate? Would you have a baby now? I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not.

And what It’s about “one more”if you were tired of dealing with rejection and sending out resumes? If you hadn’t sent out that last one, would you be working now? Maybe, maybe not.

The last day of Passover, when we have the Seudat Moshiach, is about the “one more.” The one more meal, one more blessing, one more date, one more try. It’s about the one more good deed that will tip the scales and bring the redemption.

And for me, it will always be about the blessing I received on the last day of Passover, and the precious baby I was given on that day—my Avraham Nissim, for nissim means “miracles.”