13 May THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM

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 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.