Horav Shimshon Pincus, zl, derives an important principle concerning tefillah and its efficacy. When a person is confronted with adversity of any kind, he runs from person to person, doctor to doctor, brachah to brachah. In addition, “he also” prays to Hashem. Regardless of the circumstances – financial, health, family – the observant Jew makes a point to cover all the bases – even praying to Hashem. After all, one must make hishtadlus, endeavor. When a poor person goes from house to house begging for alms and, included among the many houses that he visits is the wealthiest man in town who could easily solve all his financial problems, the wealthy man is not required to give commensurate with his ability, since the poor man is not focusing solely on him.
Likewise, concerning tefillah. One who is mishtadel through every venue of hishtadlus including – but not exclusively – tefillah, might receive a paltry response from Heaven. After all, he has turned to other avenues. Veritably, this makes sense. If a would-be benefactor would know that the poor man is not going elsewhere, it is here or nothing, he will likely (or at least he should) respond favorably, because it is all upon his shoulders. When we pray to Hashem, He should not be our last avenue – but our only avenue. We may and should be mishtadel, endeavor, but with the understanding that salvation comes from Hashem alone. Our hishtadlus provides a keli, vessel, for the blessing to fill. If we would only turn to Hashem first – and not after we have exhausted all other avenues of (what we think are) salvation…
This is why the yasom, orphan, and almanah, widow, are different, why Hashem declares Shamoa Eshma tzakaso, “I shall surely hear his outcry.” These individuals have no one else to whom to turn. Thus, they put all of their hishtadlus into Hashem. They cry out twice to Him because they have no one else. When Hashem does not listen the first time, they return and intensify their supplication – and He listens. This is how we should daven if we want our tefillos to achieve efficacy.
Our gedolei Yisrael went out of their way with regard to their sensitivity to – and care for – widows and orphans. The Tepliker Rav, Horav Shimshon Aharon Polonsky, zl, was a giant in Torah in Europe post World War I. A scion of the Tchenobler dynasty, he immigrated to Yerushalayim in 1922 and became one of the distinguished poskim, halachic decisors, of his time. He was a saintly person who, prior to his petirah, passing, told his son-in-law, “I know that I am gravely ill, and, within two months, I will pass from this world. I purchased a plot on Har Hazeisim which will not be available because war will soon break out, and that area will be off limits. Please bury me in the cemetery in Sanhedriah. If, in two years’ time, Har Hazeisim becomes accessible, disinter me and bury me there. If, after two years, it is still inapproachable, leave me in Sanhedriah.” He left this world Sivan 28, 1948, in middle of the War of Independence.
Having prefaced the story with a brief appreciation of the saintliness of the Tepliker Rav, we can better understand the following incident. When it came close to the festival of Succos, the Tepliker Rav began to search for a beautiful esrog. One year, he was unable to find what he was looking for until erev Succos. Being that it was shortly before yom tov, he was able to obtain the esrog at a reduced price. While he was there, he noticed another Jew, one of Yerushalayim’s distinguished lay leaders, also purchasing an esrog.
On the first day of Succos, the Tepliker Rav came to shul without an esrog. He requested to borrow the esrog from one of the congregants. [It was, of course, through the dispensation of matanah al menas l’hachazir, a gift given on the condition of return, since the esrog must belong to the user.] When it came to the Naanuim, waving the lulav and esrog during davening (Hallel), the Rav did not have an Arba Minnim, Four Species, set. The Jew who had been in the store the other day when the Tepliker Rav had purchased a fine set was incredulous concerning his lack of Arba Minnim. He asked the Rav, and he received the following reply, “As I walked this morning prior to neitz, sunrise, I heard a young child crying and his mother chiming in with her tears, which seemed more out of fear than remorse. I knocked on their door to inquire if I could be of assistance. A young mother, recently married following a period of widowhood, answered the door. She explained that her young son, who is not the son of her present husband, was playing with his stepfather’s esrog – an esrog which was very mehudar, beautiful, and he dropped it. The pitum, tip, of the esrog, broke, rendering the esrog invalid. Both mother and child feared the stepfather’s reaction. I immediately removed my esrog from its pouch and placed it in the box reserved for the woman’s husband’s esrog. The man would not notice the exchange, since this was a beautiful esrog, and I left for shul without my coveted esrog.” How does it appear for the Rav of a congregation to be without an esrog? The Tepliker Rav did not care. He knew that in Heaven they would have another take on the story.
