“No One Threw Candies—But One Blessing Changed Everything”

In 2020, Rabbi Elimelech Biderman shared a moving story during a lecture at the Yeshuas Moshe yeshiva in Brachfeld. After the talk, a young man named Aaron (name changed) approached him and asked if he could share a personal story. Rabbi Biderman agreed—and what Aaron told him left the room in awe.

“My brother got married exactly a year ago, in the month of Shevat 5779,” Aaron began. “The Shabbat before his wedding was the 18th of Shevat, and we were in the main Vizhnitz synagogue. But that Shabbat, there were ten grooms in shul. All of them were scheduled to be called up to the Torah during the morning prayers.

"In our community, when a groom is called up to the Torah, he’s notified ahead of time so the women in the gallery can get ready. It’s a tradition—they throw candies and sweets from above to honor the groom as he walks to the platform. It’s a moment of celebration and joy.

“The Torah call-ups began. The first groom was called, and the women showered him with candies. The whole shul was filled with happiness. The second groom received the same welcome—cheers, singing, and candies raining down. And then my brother’s name was announced.

“But something went wrong. The women in our family weren’t prepared. They hadn’t realized it was his turn. By the time they understood, they were scrambling to find their bags of candies—but it was too late. My brother walked toward the platform… and nothing happened. Not a single candy fell. No cheers. Just silence.

“He looked up toward the gallery, trying to signal that he was the groom. But the silence just deepened. The joy and noise that had greeted the others… it wasn’t there for him. It felt as though the women had forgotten him—or worse, rejected him. The whole synagogue could feel the awkwardness. My brother lowered his head in shame and walked the rest of the way to the Torah with his face covered.

“When the prayers ended, my sister ran over to him. Tears streamed down her face. ‘Please, my dear brother,’ she pleaded, ‘forgive all of us—the women who didn’t throw candies, who didn’t honor your moment. It wasn’t intentional. Please forgive us… and bless me.’

“She was weeping as she said it. ‘You know the doctors said I’ll never have children. But if you forgive us—if you bless me with a whole heart—maybe… maybe there will still be hope.’

“My brother was moved. He forgave everyone wholeheartedly and gave her a sincere blessing.

“And then,” Aaron said, his voice breaking, “two weeks ago—on the 18th of Shevat 5780, exactly one year later—our sister gave birth to a healthy baby boy. A miracle. Against everything the doctors had said. On the very same date that my brother had endured such embarrassment.”