Better to channel a need for honor toward the shul

"And Yaakov loved Yosef more than all his sons… and he made him a fine woolen coat.” (Bereishis 37:3)

Chazal say Yaakov knew the shevatim might be jealous of Yosef’s coat, but he thought they would feel kinas sofrim, which would spur them to follow Yosef’s achievements in Torah. Therefore, he felt such jealousy appropriate.

A similar situation occurred in the city of Lodz, Poland, which had the following system for aliyos on Shabbos: The rav of the city, Rav Eliyahu Chaim Meisel, would get shlishi, and the important people, shishi. Maftir was given for a yahrtzeit or simchah. The rest of the aliyos were considered less significant and given to anyone. (Rav Shalom Wallach, Maayan Hashavua)

Short winter Fridays are intense. But the rewards are after I bentsh licht, when I sink into the couch with a long Friday night ahead of me. Curling up among the cushions, I like to snuggle up with a blanket, ensconced in a warm and fuzzy blanket of peace.

Binyamin has a blanket that fits my requirements perfectly. It’s soft corduroy on one side and deep fuzzy fleece on the other. As soon as I make my dive into the cozy couch cushions, he knows his cue, and runs to wrap his blanket around my shoulders.

All is peaceful. At least for a few minutes.

There was one man, a coarse am haaretz, who became very rich and, with his newfound wealth, very arrogant. One day he told the gabbai, “My birthday is this Shabbos, and I want an aliyah.”

“Mazel tov!” answered the gabbai. “Weiss has yahrtzeit so he’s getting maftir. I’ll give you chamishi.”

“No!” roared the man. “You want to embarrass me in public? I’ll take shishi, what the important people get, and nothing else.”

The gabbai had been a gabbai for a long time. So when chamishi came, he called the rich man for an aliyah. The rich man approached the bimah, but instead of accepting his aliyah, he smacked the gabbai across the face. Bedlam ensued.

“Mooommy. How come you always use Binyamin’s blanket? Why can’t you use mine?” Yitzi ran to his room, trying to cover me with his blanket before Binyamin could do his good deed.

I tried to stifle a sigh. Yitzi’s blanket does not fit my description of snuggly. He has the last quilt remaining from my boys’ Ralph Lauren set with the teddy bear motif. The stuffing is coming out of the sides, plus it’s big and bulky. But he came running eagerly and draped the bulky quilt over my shoulders. I prepared to sacrifice my cozy comfort to give him the satisfaction of serving me.

“Mine! Mine!” Shloime suddenly realized what was at stake on the couch. He picked up his security blanket, which he carries all around the house, and threw it onto my quilt-clad body. It landed mostly on my head.

“No, Shloime!” Yitzi shrieked. “Mommy wants mine!”

“Really she wants mine.” Binyamin’s always perceptive.

“Mine! Mine!” Shloime climbed onto my lap to wind his rag/blanket more securely around my head.

So much for a peaceful hour wrapped in serenity.

That Motzaei Shabbos all the gabbaim came to the rav to ask him what they should do.

“Why don’t we stop giving different aliyos different importance? This way no one gets insulted and we can stop negotiating,” suggested one gabbai.

“This does sound like the simplest and most effective solution,” said the rav. “But I can’t accept it. It’s important that people get their short moment in the spotlight when they are honored with an aliyah, so that they come to shul. Can you imagine what would be if people were to stop coming to the beis knesses because all the aliyos have lost their importance?

“Generally, seeking honor isn’t a good thing. But most people have this need to be recognized. Better that they channel this need toward their honor in the beis knesses and not on some board of museums.”

Now on Friday nights, I no sooner settle into my corner of the couch than I’m bombarded by an attack of blankets, quilts, and security rags, each accompanied by the requisite ranting, “Mommy likes mine best!”

At the risk of being smothered with love, I’m honored by how much they want to give to me. Think there’s a chance they’ll give up their senseless spats for this type of sibling rivalry? I wonder if they could give me a blanket guarantee.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 672)