By: Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

Ever think it’s too late…. I can’t start over again… how do I even begin?

Rabbi Akiva teaches us otherwise.

Rabbi Akiva was an uneducated shepherd, who at age forty turned his life around, and became a Torah scholar, a leader of his generation.

He worked for Kalba Savua, a wealthy land owner, who had a beautiful daughter, Rachel. She was able to see beyond the shepherd. She saw the real Akiva, and believed in him. She saw a man with kindness and understanding. A man with great optimism, who, if he willed it, could become a great Torah scholar. Rachel was ready to marry him, but with one condition – that Akiva study Torah.

To Akiva, it was the impossible dream. How can an illiterate shepherd transform himself into a student of Torah, let alone a scholar.

One day, while tending the sheep, Akiva passed a small waterfall. He watched the water running down, drop-by-drop, hitting the stones. Akiva was able to look at HaShem’s beautiful world and discern life lessons. “Is my heart harder than stone? If water can pierce a stone, surely Torah can penetrate my heart.” Thus began his transformation from a simple shepherd to a great Torah scholar.

Rabbi Akiva realized realized it wasn’t one or two drops, nor the first or hundredth drop that made a difference, but the gradual, constant impact of the water on the stone over a prolonged period. That it takes time for change to happen.

At times we may feel overwhelmed. How will I learn it all… how will I ever finish… I have so much to accomplish… it’s an impossible feat. Take a cue from Rabbi Akiva. Drop by drop, one task at a time, with consistency, and it will get done.

Akiva and Rachel married, and with Rachel’s encouragement, Akiva begin his Torah journey. But then, Rabbi Akiva faced another challenge. How does a forty-year-old sit down among young children to learn the Aleph-Beis? The stares, the laughs. Rachel answered his fears with action. She took a donkey, decorating it with ribbons and a funny hat. She told Akiva to join in walking the donkey through the streets of Yerushalayim. Heads turned, fingers pointed, and people laughed. The next day, they did the same, the following day as well. But with each successive day, less and less people laughed. After a few more days, no one even noticed.

Words were not necessary. Rabbi Akiva understood. At the beginning, people may talk, but then it becomes old news. No one even cared. Thus, he humbled himself to study alongside young children, determined to absorb more and more.

With time, Rabbi Akiva completed learning the entire Torah. His comprehension was so deep, that when he posed complicated questions to Rabbi Elazar and Rabbi Yehoshua, two of the most learned sages of the generation, they didn’t readily have answers.

Students from across Eretz Yisroel flocked to study with Rabbi Akiva. But then, tragedy struck. A devastating plague came upon them during the days of Sefira. Twelve thousand chavrusas, twenty-four thousand students succumbed to the epidemic.

Rabbi Akiva loved his students. To him, each one was precious. He was their spiritual father, and they were like children to him.

We can’t even begin to imagine the pain that Rabbi Akiva must have endured. But how did he react? Did he become depressed? Complain to HaShem? Did he second- guess his being a Torah leader? That he failed as a teacher? Did he question starting over at his advanced age?

Rabbi Akiva didn’t give up. Instead, upon the end of the epidemic on Lag B’Omer, he mustered up his energy, stood strong, and forged ahead. The Gemara relates that Rabbi Akiva gathered a new group of five students who carried on with the study of Torah at that critical time.

I am reminded of my maternal grandparents. Like so many others who experienced the horrors of the Holocaust, often losing their entire families, they came to a new world, committed to rebuild and start over. Though their hometown in Hungary, and the shul they built, were destroyed by the Germans, they were determined to continue on. They settled in Brooklyn, where they started a new shul. Step-by-step, slowly but consistently, the shul grew and flourished. Just when they thought that they were on a path of restoring what was lost, tragedy struck once again. A local gang of teenagers set fire to the shul.

Imagine the agony to see one’s shul destroyed not once, but twice. But Zeide and Mama didn’t despair. Like Rabbi Akiva, generations before, they set out once again to rebuild. This was not a time to quit or become absorbed with self-pity. It was a time to show leadership and fortitude.

Zeide got to work, attempting to salvage what he could from amongst the ashes. Mama started baking cookies to give to those who came to help. They found light in midst of darkness, hope in midst of despair.

How did they and so many others pick up the pieces and start over? Once again, we turn to a page in the storybook of Rabbi Akiva. The Gemara (Makkos 24b) relates that after the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash, , Rabbi Akiva was walking through the ruins of Yerushalayim with Rabban Gamliel, R’ Elazar ben Azaryah and R’ Yeshoshua. When the group arrived at Har HaTzofim, Mount Scopus, from where they could see the place the Bais HaMikdash once stood, they tore kriyah, rending their clothes in mourning.

As the four rabbis approached the Har HaBayis, the Temple Mount, they observed a fox emerging from the spot of the Kodesh HaKodoshim, the Holy of Holies. The three rabbis accompanying Rabbi Akiva couldn’t help but cry at the sight of the destruction and devastation. But Rabbi Akiva laughed.

“Rabbi Akiva, why are you laughing?” Rabbi Akiva replied with his own question, “And why are you crying?”

“We are crying for Yerushalayim. We are crying at the sight of foxes roaming where the Holiest of Holies once stood. We are crying at the realization of Uriah’s prophecy that ‘Tzion sadeh techaresh, Zion will be a plowed over like a field.’ ” (Michah 3:12)

Rabbi Akiva retorted, “I am smiling for the very same reason. Now that I see the fulfillment of Uriah’s prophecy, I know that Zechariah’s prophecy will come true as well. ‘Od yeishvu z’kedinim u’z’keinos birchovos Yerushalayim, Elderly men and women will once again sit in the streets of Yerushalayim… ha’ir yimalu v’yeladim v’yelados mesachakim birchovoseha, the city will be crowded with boys and girls playing in the squares…’ ” (Zechariah 8:4-5)

The three rabbis declared, “Akiva, nichamtanu, Akiva nichamtanu. Akiva, you comforted us, Akiva you comforted us.”

We are living in challenging times. But Rabbi Akiva taught us to believe in the future, filled with the hope of a better tomorrow. May we too not submit to despair or become disillusioned. May we be able to say and feel Akiva nichamtanu, Akiva nichamtanu, Akiva, you comforted us, Akiva, you comforted us.

Shabbat Shalom!

Chaya Sora

Chaya Sora can be reached at [email protected]

This article was written L’zecher Nishmas/In Memory Of HaRav Meshulem ben HaRav Osher Anshil HaLevi, zt”l and Rebbetzin Esther bas HaRav Avraham HaLevi