Sometimes in life we major on the big mitzvots (good works) and think nothing of what we consider the little meaningless things in life. In some cases however, it’s the little things in life that count the most! Let’s look at one example of this: Once in a small little town in Poland, there lived a very wealthy Orthodox Rabbi by the name of Samuel Golden. Every day he would take his walk decked out in his black hat, black suit, and black shoes. He was very friendly to everyone and always greeted everyone with a “good morning” whether they were old or young, rich or poor. He ultimately became known by everyone in the town, and always used their proper titles when speaking to them, simply out of respect. Near the edge of the town lived an ethnic German. As with everyone else the Rabbi would always make a point to stop and greet the man with a “good morning Herr Schultz.”

The German was simply a field worker who obviously held no important position in the community. Still the Rabbi treated him with as much respect as the top official was allotted. The German always gave the Rabbi a quick “good morning Herr Rabbiner” back with a broad smile. Everyone was very peaceful and quiet in the small little city until the war broke out. People who had been lifelong friends became bitter enemies. The Rabbi’s morning walks became a thing of the past. He lost all of his family in the concentration camps. After a while, even his time came to go to the dreaded Auschwitz. It no longer mattered how much wealth he had or how many people he was friends with over the years in the tiny village. All that mattered now was a life and death struggle to stay alive in this dreaded place.

Sometimes in life we major on the big mitzvots (good works) and think nothing of what we consider the little meaningless things in life. In some cases however, it’s the little things in life that count the most! Let’s look at one example of this: Once in a small little town in Poland, there lived a very wealthy Orthodox Rabbi by the name of Samuel Golden. Every day he would take his walk decked out in his black hat, black suit, and black shoes. He was very friendly to everyone and always greeted everyone with a “good morning” whether they were old or young, rich or poor. He ultimately became known by everyone in the town, and always used their proper titles when speaking to them, simply out of respect. Near the edge of the town lived an ethnic German. As with everyone else the Rabbi would always make a point to stop and greet the man with a “good morning Herr Schultz.”

The German was simply a field worker who obviously held no important position in the community. Still the Rabbi treated him with as much respect as the top official was allotted. The German always gave the Rabbi a quick “good morning Herr Rabbiner” back with a broad smile. Everyone was very peaceful and quiet in the small little city until the war broke out. People who had been lifelong friends became bitter enemies. The Rabbi’s morning walks became a thing of the past. He lost all of his family in the concentration camps. After a while, even his time came to go to the dreaded Auschwitz. It no longer mattered how much wealth he had or how many people he was friends with over the years in the tiny village. All that mattered now was a life and death struggle to stay alive in this dreaded place.

There in Auschwitz, where a simple nod of one man’s head could mean your life was over or spared. No longer was the Rabbi now dressed in his fine array, but rather in a simple stripped uniform, just like thousands of other inmates. His head was now shaven clean as was his beard. He looked like he felt, starved, downtrodden, and just looking for a thread of hope to stay alive. He was feverish, sick, and half starved as they called out all the inmates for a selection of some kind. They were never told what the selection was for, but they all knew it was to determine who would live and who would die. As the line of men were formed out in the yard, he could hear the shouts of right, left, right, left. One was a line of life, the other a line of death. The voice grew nearer to him. Suddenly he had an overwhelming urge to look up at the man who would determine that day if he lived or died.

He gathered up all the strength within him and looked straight into the eyes of the man wearing white gloves and carrying a baton. As he raised his eyes he heard his voice say, “good morning Herr Schultz.” “Good morning” Herr Rabbiner, responded a human voice from under the dreaded S.S. cap. “What are you doing here, Herr Rabbiner?” The frail little Rabbi never answered, but instead smiled at the man as in times past. Quickly, the man with the baton pointed and shouted, “go right.” Go right, thought the Rabbi, that means I can live! The very next day he found himself transferred out of the camp to a much more livable place. The Rabbi survived the war and he always knew why he had.

Sometimes in life we major on the big mitzvots (good works) and think nothing of what we consider the little meaningless things in life. In some cases however, it’s the little things in life that count the most! Let’s look at one example of this: Once in a small little town in Poland, there lived a very wealthy Orthodox Rabbi by the name of Samuel Golden. Every day he would take his walk decked out in his black hat, black suit, and black shoes. He was very friendly to everyone and always greeted everyone with a “good morning” whether they were old or young, rich or poor. He ultimately became known by everyone in the town, and always used their proper titles when speaking to them, simply out of respect. Near the edge of the town lived an ethnic German. As with everyone else the Rabbi would always make a point to stop and greet the man with a “good morning Herr Schultz.”

The German was simply a field worker who obviously held no important position in the community. Still the Rabbi treated him with as much respect as the top official was allotted. The German always gave the Rabbi a quick “good morning Herr Rabbiner” back with a broad smile. Everyone was very peaceful and quiet in the small little city until the war broke out. People who had been lifelong friends became bitter enemies. The Rabbi’s morning walks became a thing of the past. He lost all of his family in the concentration camps. After a while, even his time came to go to the dreaded Auschwitz. It no longer mattered how much wealth he had or how many people he was friends with over the years in the tiny village. All that mattered now was a life and death struggle to stay alive in this dreaded place.

There in Auschwitz, where a simple nod of one man’s head could mean your life was over or spared. No longer was the Rabbi now dressed in his fine array, but rather in a simple stripped uniform, just like thousands of other inmates. His head was now shaven clean as was his beard. He looked like he felt, starved, downtrodden, and just looking for a thread of hope to stay alive. He was feverish, sick, and half starved as they called out all the inmates for a selection of some kind. They were never told what the selection was for, but they all knew it was to determine who would live and who would die. As the line of men were formed out in the yard, he could hear the shouts of right, left, right, left. One was a line of life, the other a line of death. The voice grew nearer to him. Suddenly he had an overwhelming urge to look up at the man who would determine that day if he lived or died.

He gathered up all the strength within him and looked straight into the eyes of the man wearing white gloves and carrying a baton. As he raised his eyes he heard his voice say, “good morning Herr Schultz.” “Good morning” Herr Rabbiner, responded a human voice from under the dreaded S.S. cap. “What are you doing here, Herr Rabbiner?” The frail little Rabbi never answered, but instead smiled at the man as in times past. Quickly, the man with the baton pointed and shouted, “go right.” Go right, thought the Rabbi, that means I can live! The very next day he found himself transferred out of the camp to a much more livable place. The Rabbi survived the war and he always knew why he had.

It was all linked back to the times when he took his leasurely walks and took time to smile at a man most people would have passed over. He treated every man with a certain God ordained respect “and a smile.” How we so underestimate the power of a smile! Some people have little joy in their personal lives and a smile and a kind word means so much to them. Yet we see it as such a “minor thing.” It is said that it takes more effort to frown than to smile, and it causes more wrinkles in your face when you frown. So not only do you help someone else when you smile, but you’re helping yourself too. So you can see now just look what a smile can do! Shalom-Shalom

It was all linked back to the times when he took his leasurely walks and took time to smile at a man most people would have passed over. He treated every man with a certain God ordained respect “and a smile.” How we so underestimate the power of a smile! Some people have little joy in their personal lives and a smile and a kind word means so much to them. Yet we see it as such a “minor thing.” It is said that it takes more effort to frown than to smile, and it causes more wrinkles in your face when you frown. So not only do you help someone else when you smile, but you’re helping yourself too. So you can see now just look what a smile can do! Shalom-Shalom

There in Auschwitz, where a simple nod of one man’s head could mean your life was over or spared. No longer was the Rabbi now dressed in his fine array, but rather in a simple stripped uniform, just like thousands of other inmates. His head was now shaven clean as was his beard. He looked like he felt, starved, downtrodden, and just looking for a thread of hope to stay alive. He was feverish, sick, and half starved as they called out all the inmates for a selection of some kind. They were never told what the selection was for, but they all knew it was to determine who would live and who would die. As the line of men were formed out in the yard, he could hear the shouts of right, left, right, left. One was a line of life, the other a line of death. The voice grew nearer to him. Suddenly he had an overwhelming urge to look up at the man who would determine that day if he lived or died.

He gathered up all the strength within him and looked straight into the eyes of the man wearing white gloves and carrying a baton. As he raised his eyes he heard his voice say, “good morning Herr Schultz.” “Good morning” Herr Rabbiner, responded a human voice from under the dreaded S.S. cap. “What are you doing here, Herr Rabbiner?” The frail little Rabbi never answered, but instead smiled at the man as in times past. Quickly, the man with the baton pointed and shouted, “go right.” Go right, thought the Rabbi, that means I can live! The very next day he found himself transferred out of the camp to a much more livable place. The Rabbi survived the war and he always knew why he had.

It was all linked back to the times when he took his leasurely walks and took time to smile at a man most people would have passed over. He treated every man with a certain God ordained respect “and a smile.” How we so underestimate the power of a smile! Some people have little joy in their personal lives and a smile and a kind word means so much to them. Yet we see it as such a “minor thing.” It is said that it takes more effort to frown than to smile, and it causes more wrinkles in your face when you frown. So not only do you help someone else when you smile, but you’re helping yourself too. So you can see now just look what a smile can do! Shalom-Shalom