So many of us have the gift with which our parents enriched us, the gift that tells us of our roots, of the stories that are part of what we have become.  And so too did my mother, Jennie, who shared with me the wonderful stories and lessons that impacted her life, and subsequently my life, my children and grandchildren's lives as well; for as long as the stories are told, the memory is kept alive.

This story took place in a small town in Poland, Kielce, to be exact, my mother's birthplace and home for the first 12 years of her life.  And it was a difficult life.  Her family was exceptionally poor; it was difficult to earn a living.  There were many limitations placed on Jewish families.  But for my mother Jennie, one of the hardest challenges she remembered was being the youngest of 8 children. 

As the baby, she was the last in the pecking order and she had no one to "peck" on.  She had lots of restrictions and very few (in her eyes) benefits.  In one area, she felt particularly ill treated.  Just before the Shabbat (beginning Friday at sundown), her 6 older sisters were very busy helping their mother prepare for the beautiful Sabbath meal.  Her one older brother, like her father, was exempt from "household tasks" and would be studying with his father.

Each daughter had a task - polishing the candlesticks, ironing the white Sabbath tablecloth, making the challah bread and so on, and each week, one task completed earned a special reward, a coin - a kopek - with which one girl would go to the bakery shop and buy a delicious sweet roll to be eaten late Friday afternoon.

Jennie loved eating and would love a sweet roll, but, as the youngest, never got assigned the task that would earn her the one kopek.  This was her dream and she would go to sleep each Thursday hoping that the following day would be her turn to earn the kopek.

And finally it happened.  She was asked by her mother (my grandmother) to polish the Sabbath candlesticks and Jennie worked her little 8 year old fingers to the bone, doing the best she could.  And the best was the outcome.  She could see her face reflected in the candlesticks that sparkled so brightly.

And Jennie earned her first kopeck.  As her mother gently placed it in Jennie's palm, she reminded Jennie how very valuable a kopek is and that it was hard in such a poor family to have extra money to give away and that Jennie should be careful not to lose the money.

So Jennie closed her fist tightly around the kopek and started the short walk to the bakery, already tasting the deliciously sweet roll that she had only dreamt about.

But she wanted to make sure the money wouldn't slip from her palm, so every few steps, she'd stop and open her hand to check on the kopek.

As she neared the bakery, she saw Rivka, the "village beggar's" daughter.  This was true poverty.  Rivka was dirty; her clothes weren't clean and Jennie really didn't understand how Rivka could be so ill kempt.  Often, unfortunately, Rivka was taunted by the other children even though the village did make sure there was always food on her father's table.  But children can be thoughtless.

As Jennie stared at Rivka, Jennie lost focus, and as she was about to enter the bakery, she once again opened her palm, only this time, the kopek was gone.  Jennie was overwhelmed; she was about to retrace her steps when she saw 'poor, dirty' Rivka in the bakery shop eating a sweet roll.

Now Jennie knew what had happened.  She'd dropped the coin; Rivka had picked it up and now Rivka was eating Jennie's roll.  "How dare she?"  Who does she think she is?  These words and many others echoed in Jennie's head as she was about to challenge Rivka and demand back what was left of the sweet roll.

But then, for the first time, Jennie looked at Rivka's face and into her eyes, and Jennie saw a little girl, just like her, but far more in need.  Rivka had beautiful eyes and was beaming as she ate her first sweet roll.  And Jennie saw that Rivka's clothes weren't dirty, they were just so old it was hard to make them look clean.  Jennie couldn't ask for the sweet roll back.  She knew it was and should be Rivka's.  So Jennie, in tears, walked slowly home.

Wailing, she explained to her mother that the coin had been lost and that Rivka had bought the sweet roll and that Jennie had decided to let Rivka keep it.  Jennie was ashamed that she'd lost the coin and was very sad that she'd not had the sweet roll and was really confused about Rivka.

Jennie's mother, my grandmother, then taught Jennie the lesson I want to continue teaching.  The Sabbath, its beauty, its rituals are most enriched when we perform acts of Charity-Tzedakkah.  What Jennie had allowed to happen was truly what the Sabbath is about.  The sweetness of giving was greater than the sweetness of the sweet roll, and Jennie learned a most valuable lesson that day, and a Shabbat never passed from that time forth without Jennie finding her way to Rivka's and wishing her a sweet Sabbath.