On this day from sunrise until way after Maariv I constantly feel “behind the eight ball.” 

I am besieged by men and women (and children) literally “begging” me to take their hard-earned money.

At the same time I am besieged by men and women (and children!) beseeching and sometimes demanding of me to give them some of that hard-earned money.

The contributors know they must give — today.

And the collectors know that — today — “Whoever stretches out their hand on Purim should be given tzedakah” (Talmud Yerushalmi Megillah 1:4).

These two factors place extreme pressure on me to collect and distribute all monies before the sun sets while simultaneously trying to eat the seudas Purim with my family as well.

In short no other day of the year can rival the frenetic nature of Purim. 

This year was no different than any other and the sea of people placing envelopes checks cash and change on my shtender in shul and on my dining room table at home swelled as the day proceeded.

My front door never closes as collectors from Israel to India Poland to Passaic arrive confident they’ll exit my home with a large check only to leave disappointed as I explain to them they’re not the only ones in need.

They’ll then attempt to convince me that their organization — yeshivah kiruv center food pantry hachnassas kallah — is the most reliable and needy cause and tell me how this gadol or that rosh yeshivah personally attests to their need.

Children (who I always look forward to) will come to show me their costumes and I always interrupt my “negotiations” with the collectors to smile and tell them how wonderful and cute they look (and they do!).

Friends and congregants will arrive; some to tell me divrei Torah some to share a l’chayim and some to display their ‘theme mishloach manos.”

This past Sunday evening at about ten p.m. the day was finally winding down.

The collectors had gone home.

The contributors were eating.

Many were in the pristine world of “ad d’lo yada.”

All was quiet as I closed my door and opened a sefer.

$$$Separator$$$

At first I pretended I didn’t hear it; however it just grew louder.

Someone was knocking on my door.

There was no more money to collect and no more money to distribute.

There were no more costumes to kvell over and no more hamantaschen to eat.

What could they want of me now?

Maybe I should ignore it?

How can I do that?

With great trepidation I approached the door.

Standing in front of me is 79-year-old Menachem Friedman.

“Mr. Friedman what are you doing out so late?”

“Rabbi I don’t want to bother you; I know your time is precious. I realized how busy you are and I know that you probably had no time to eat. I brought you a thermos of hot chicken soup and a fresh challah roll. Please rabbi eat it; you need it.”

I stared at Menachem Friedman.

I thought about his living alone for nine years.

I thought about his arthritis which makes walking so painful.

And I thought about how Menachem Friedman has just made me realize just how blessed I am.

I grabbed Menachem Friedman and hugged him.

“Rabbi it’s just soup and a challah roll!”

“Mr. Friedman to you it’s ‘just soup and a challah roll’; to me it’s the greatest gift in the world. Today I learned that as much as I think you need me it’s I who need you.”

And to think I almost didn’t open the door.