Donating a kidney — and beyond
It was recently revealed that the Guinness World Records is boycotting Israel. The nonprofit Matnat Chaim (Gift of Life) contacted Guinness headquarters requesting to register a record of 2,000 kidney donors, and received a rejection due to the company’s policy toward Israel and the war.
One could certainly argue that this itself breaks a Guinness record . . . for hypocrisy! One could also marvel at the very achievement Israel sought to register, not the world’s heaviest man, not the person with the longest mustache, but a record of kindness and solidarity.
The rejection, which Israel’s Foreign Ministry is working to overturn, was received by Matnat Chaim just as it concluded a celebratory Shabbat.
It turns out that since the war began, two things happened: the organization stopped holding its traditional Shabbatons honoring kidney donors, and, unexpectedly, the number of donors continued to rise.
Now, the Shabbatons are being renewed. Because there has been a record number of more than 100 donors in the past two years, two additional Shabbatons will be held in order to accommodate everyone.
The stories are especially moving: evacuees from Israel’s north and south who decided to donate; soldiers who came straight from the front lines to donate a kidney; and a range of individuals who felt moved by current events to give.
The religious and haredi sectors have always been the overwhelming majority of donors — in some years 99% — but recently we have seen a rise in donors from the secular and traditional public as well.
But what does this mean for the rest of us?
The magnet that participants received at the end of the Shabbat gathering included an important quote from the organization’s founder, Rabbi Yeshayahu Haber, of blessed memory:
“Not everyone can donate a kidney, but everyone can donate something: a generous eye, attention, a listening ear, encouragement, a kind word.”
The secret of our survival
Throughout history, our enemies wanted to annihilate us, from Pharaoh to Haman to Hitler, and sadly today as well: Sinwar and Nasrallah. But the Greeks from the Chanukah story were willing for us to live; only, not as Jews. They wanted us to become Hellenized, to exchange our identity, values and faith.
This year, in honor of Chanukah, IDF reservist Rabbi Aharon Tzohar sent me the following:
“After a packed day in the army, at 8 p.m. I decided spontaneously, to stop in and visit Saba Shmuel, my wife’s grandfather, who is 105 years old. Yes, 105!
“He came to Israel after the Holocaust, all alone, and fought heroically in the battles of the War of Independence. He is from that strong, old-world generation.
“He would wake up before dawn, hitch a horse to a wagon, and go out to support his family, eventually building a successful tile-manufacturing factory with his own two hands.
“He married an Auschwitz survivor and built a beautiful family.
“And me? I simply had the privilege of marrying one of his granddaughters.
“But the truly astonishing thing, the reason I’m writing this, is not because of what I just described but what I saw when I came to visit him.
“In the nursing home lobby I met his Indian caregiver, Archana. She immediately recognized me and smiled. I asked where Saba was, and she said: ‘In a class. He’ll finish in about 40 minutes.’ She offered to bring him out, but I said: ‘Absolutely not. I’ll go to him.’
“When I saw Saba Shmuel in the beis medrash, sitting near the rabbi giving the class, my eyes were filled with tears. Holding a magnifying glass over a large-format Talmud, he was listening intently to the question posed by Reish Lakish and the answer of Rabbi Yochanan.
“At 105 years old, day after day, year after year, he keeps up his fixed learning of Talmud with awe-inspiring perseverance. But it’s not just about him; it’s about all of us.
“If you ask me how it is that every empire, without exception, ended up in the trash bin of history while the Jewish people continue to flourish despite continued persecution, I think this picture explains everything.
“‘. . . Who gave us the Torah of truth and planted eternal life within us.’ Even at age 105. Forever. Am Yisrael chai. Happy Chanukah.”
A year ago, I gave a lecture in Kiryat Motzkin about Chanukah. I spoke about the battle of the Jews against Greek culture, the ideological struggle that the Jewish people still face today against foreign influences, and the profound message of bringing light specifically at the height of darkness when the days are so short, dark and cold. I added several modern stories of courage and light from our times.
I thought it was excellent . . . was I wrong!
At the end of the lecture, a young woman with a slight Russian accent approached me and asked: “OK, but practically, how do you light the candles? When? How many?”
I stayed with her for a private mini-lecture, and a few other people in the audience lingered to listen. I realized then that in our current Jewish era, we need to begin with the basics. People want action. Mitzvot. Practical guidance. Only afterward can we add beautiful interpretations and deeper meanings.
The meeting with that woman has continued to influence me. Often in my lectures, I want to start on the “third floor,” but then I realize that I need to return to the “first floor,” to the foundation.
The feeling of inspiration needs to be translated into practical tools. Not everyone learned everything in school, and not everyone remembers.
Knowledge is power. Share it.
