The Journalist Asked Skeptically: Why Are the Charedim So Happy?

"There's one thing I don't understand," a journalist not wearing a kippah told me this week. "I saw the Central Bureau of Statistics data on the high poverty rate in Bnei Brak, so I decided to come and film a story here. I was sure I would see neglected people like in the southern peripheries or the classic distressed neighborhoods, and suddenly, I see happy mothers, smiling children, everyone calm and peaceful. How can this be? Doesn't poverty drive you crazy? How can you be poor and dress well? Not turn to crime? How? Explain it to me"...

I decided to take him on a short tour of my neighborhood. We knocked on a door, and a yeshiva student’s wife opened for us. "Explain to him," I asked her. And she explained. He left amazed. "I am a woman whose definition is poor. My husband is a yeshiva student who receives a few hundred shekels, I am a housewife. We live in a rented apartment and have seven children"... "Can I peek into your fridge?" he asked. "With pleasure," she replied. And he opened the fridge.

There was a fridge full of vegetables, fruits, and dairy products. Everything was there. "I don't understand, where do you get the money to buy all this?" He felt as if someone was fooling him.

Let me explain to you. We received the vegetables from the Chasdei Naomi organization, have you heard of it? Good. The milk in the fridge we got from the Beit Lechem Yehuda organization, which also brought us the bread on the table. At the end of the street, there is a yeshiva student who collects all the surplus lettuce leaves from the stores; they're not the freshest, but you can make a delicious salad with them. We take the greens from him. Sometimes we get cooked food from the ‘Beit Hashulchan’ organization or ‘Ezra Le'Metzion’. The canned goods here are from 'Yad Eliezer'. Shall I continue?...

He, of course, was satisfied and left amazed.

Now you understand why we are happy, why we are content. We are happy because we know we have someone to rely on, someone who takes care of us from above. We have a Father in Heaven. He commanded us to do kindness to each other, and all the Charedim are unified and cohesive. Everyone helps one another; no one is left hungry.

"Even my children," she continued, "I dress them from the clothing gmach (charity) in the neighborhood. The clothes were used by others, but they look great, and the kids are happy. So yes, we are poor, we have no money, but we are happy. Happy because we are all there for each other, all living in wonderful harmony, all caring for each other. Each man shall help his neighbor.

"Maybe if I were poor and secular, I wouldn't be happy, as you told me that people in the periphery seem poorer because apparently, people would help me less. There wouldn't be the camaraderie between neighbors and acquaintances, no hundreds of gmachs that exist here in Bnei Brak. But now, keeping Torah and mitzvahs, with Hashem commanding us to do kindness to each other, I'm happy. For who is rich? He who is happy with his portion...

* * *

And exactly at that very moment, this is happening in Jerusalem, in one of the city's secular neighborhoods, as testified by a local resident:

A typical neighborhood in Jerusalem. A woman, in her early 40s or late 30s, enters the local supermarket. She moves hesitantly between the shelves. Occasionally, she reaches out and places in her cart: a few cucumbers, potatoes, onions, basic bread, milk. When she reaches the cheese shelf, she stops. After a few seconds, she takes a sweet cheese spread with hesitation and then puts it back. Again she mumbles to herself "for the children". In the end, she puts the item in the basket.

The branch manager is standing not far from her, watching as if supervising. With heavy steps, she approaches the checkout. When the cashier finishes the calculation, she pulls out tattered fabric coins from a worn wallet and begins counting.

The two people behind her respond with typical impatience. "I don't have enough," she looks down. She places aside the cheese. Still not enough. She also removes one cucumber and two potatoes. The two behind her whisper to each other. "It's a short day, come on," says one to the other. "Can you let me off 30 agorot?" the anonymous woman asks the cashier. "This isn't the first time, ma'am"...

"This isn't the first time my children need to eat," she insists, "please, after all, you're still profiting from my purchase." Before the cashier responds, the man behind the anonymous woman pulls out three ten Agorot coins and tosses them onto the conveyor belt saying over her head: "Just don't delay us anymore." The anonymous woman bows her head.

"Thank you," she whispers quietly, swallowing her saliva, and disappears.

Shocking.

* * *

So what is the secret of our charm? What is the secret of our happiness?

The Torah. The mitzvahs. That's it.

The moment we know everything is from Heaven, from Rosh Hashanah until Rosh Hashanah a person's sustenance is decreed. The moment we cast our trust on Hashem, "Cast your burden upon the Hashem and He will sustain you."

Only He, and no one else.

Not Yair Lapid, not the state, not anyone. Only Him, our Father in Heaven.

Many yeshiva students panic, "What will we do now," they worry, "Who will make up for the lost income support? Who will return the scholarship funds cut from us? How will we begin the month?"...

And the Father in Heaven sits there above and smiles. "Does the state sustain you? Does Yair Lapid send you sustenance? Rely on me, trust in me, cast your burden on me. I will take care of you. I shall sustain you."

With kindness.

Not through the benevolence of any body, nor through the goodwill of any malevolent government minister, with or without a yarmulke, only through my benevolence.

We are His children, relying solely on His table.

We should not worry. He will sustain us.

* * *

Finally, here's a quote from a letter received this week by "Beit Lechem Yehuda" from a mother of 13. Read and be appalled:

"Because when sometimes there are no distributions of bread and milk (like during holidays and such) I simply look for what to do, and many times I've found pitas with green mold, scraped off the mold, fried it with egg and water so there would be plenty, and fed it to the children as lunch, and I didn’t tell anyone about it, not even my husband"...

And her husband sits in the kollel, engaged in his studies, relying on the virtuous woman at home to take care of the children. Her husband trusts her and lacks no gain. She watches over her household, and does not eat the bread of laziness. Her works praise her in the streets.