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“I just bought two lottery tickets, Rabbi. One for myself and one for you,” my dear friend John called to tell me. “I didn’t even look at the numbers on yours. I just mailed it straight to your house. All I ask is that if you win and build a magnificent Chabad center on the Upper East Side, as I am sure you would, please put up a nice plaque with my name on it.”

Everyone’s been dreaming about their winnings as the pot grows larger and larger. My sisters in South Africa all asked me to buy them tickets. I did, and told them that I want a generous portion of their earnings if they win!

Ah…to dream is so blissful.

Five years ago, I bought a lottery ticket at my local store and videoed the encounter, which went viral. At the time, I said there was a higher chance of my wife giving birth to quadruplets (and she was already in her ninth month at the time) than of me winning the lottery.

Well, guess what?

My wife gave birth to our fifth child shortly thereafter, and two years later – to the day – our triplets were born. Since we celebrate their birthdays on the same day, we call them our quads.  

Ever since, I’ve decided not to mess with the odds! The likelihood of giving birth to triplets is 1 in 10,000, quadruplets is 1 in 70,000, and winning the lottery is 1 in 13,983,816. With the prize money being close to a billion dollars, we are all buying tickets. But why, when the odds are literally stacked against us? Wouldn’t we better off just holding onto the ticket money?

There is something to be said for hope. Even a sliver, a 1 in 13 million chance, we cling to it like a beacon at sea. And it’s not without purpose. This tendency is the secret to our nation’s survival.

Since the dawn of civilization, the odds have been stacked against us. All our enemies bet against us. The Hitlers, Sadams, Arafats, Stalins, Pharoahs, Romans, Greeks, etc. All felt confident our chance of survival was nil, but we clung to our faith, our prayers, and our almighty G-d, and proved them wrong.

And still, we cling to that hope. Every day – in fact, multiple times per day – we hope and pray for the arrival of Moshiach and the era of peace and tranquility that the Redemption will usher in. What are the odds? Definitely higher than winning the lottery!

Three years ago G-d gave us the greatest blessing any parent could ever wish for: triplets! Our lives changed immeasurably, and we remain eternally grateful and bless Him every day for entrusting us with this gift.

Time has flown; it’s hard to believe they are already turning three. What a journey it has been!

Raising children is never easy, and raising triplets (in addition to five other children) comes with its own unique set of hurdles. Try to imagine ever sleeping again (don’t worry, I can’t either!), bedtime routines, meals, getting everyone out the door in the mornings, family vacations, tuition bills… all are exponentially magnified.

Truth be told, some things were easier when they were infants. Bedtime, for example. At least then when we put them in their cribs they couldn’t get out. Now, they are expert escape artists of the highest order, and we are outnumbered! We put them to bed, say Shema with them, help them relax, stay for a few minutes, but as soon as we leave the room, all three will have jumped out of their beds and are running and dancing excitedly around the house. We tried crib covers and those worked for a few weeks until they figured out how to maneuver their way out of those too. So now I’ve bowed out and handed bedtime over to my wife; somehow she prevails.

But the nachas and joy they give us makes it all worthwhile. In fact, if G-d would bless us with another set of multiples I would again consider it better than winning the billion-dollar powerball!

This week they’ll be reaching an important milestone: turning three. At three, a child’s formal Jewish education begins. Our daughter will begin lighting Shabbat candles every Friday evening and will continue doing so for the rest of her life. And our sons will begin wearing their kippahs and tzitzit at all times.

A child is likened to a tree. Just as a tree needs roots to grow, children need a solid foundation to flourish. And the same way we are instructed to leave fruit trees untouched for the first three years, we leave our sons’ hair uncut for the first three years of their lives. This week, we will be cutting their hair for the first time.

You see, from birth till three a child is a “receiver,” receiving their parents’ love and dedication with little ability to give anything in return. But from the age of three a child transforms into a “giver,” so we begin to educate them and introduce them to the mitzvot they will continue for the rest of their lives. So Avigayil will shepherd light into the world every Friday when she lights Shabbat candles, and Dovid and Yehuda will proudly wear their kippahs and tzitzit from now on. They will all recite blessings and the Shema going forward.

As for all of us who are long past the three-year milestone, it’s a good reminder that life is about giving, not receiving, and we should make it a priority to focus on what we can give to others: How can I improve the world? How can I positively influence those around me? What can I do for G-d? How can I help those in need? There is always something we can do; someone we can benefit.

Please join us on Zoom this Monday evening, January 18, as we celebrate this important occasion.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Uriel Vigler

As a teenager, I used to play tennis regularly. We had courts at the school I attended, South Africa Torah Academy, and I was quite a good player. So I was pumped to have the opportunity to get back on the court and play against a good friend, Itche*, last week. Exercising one’s body is a Torah requirement, and what could be more kosher than a solid game of tennis with a buddy?

 Unfortunately, I haven’t even touched a tennis racket or ball in at least 25 years, so it took some time to warm up. Soon enough, however, I found myself back in the groove, tapping into the skills I acquired so many years ago. But as I was down 4-0, Itche hit a drop shot and I had to sprint all the way from the back of the court to reach it. As I ran, I must have torn a ligament in my calf, because I instantly fell down in excruciating pain. I literally couldn’t move.

Of course, the game ended then and there, and I figured I would sleep it off and be back up and running the next morning. No dice. I spent the next week hopping to shul, hopping to my office, and certainly doing no running.

Now, thank G-d, I am fine, and can probably even schedule a rematch!

You see, this was bound to happen. I haven’t played in 25 years, haven’t exercised those muscles in the same way, and a short warm up just wasn’t enough. Without regular training, it’s that much harder to play.

The same is true of our souls. We need to keep exercising our spiritual muscles to keep in shape spiritually.

What does that mean?

It means keeping in mind that G-d runs the world. It means taking time each day to contemplate deeply about this concept and realize that every single thing that happens in this world is directly orchestrated by Him. It means making the effort to pray daily, put on tefillin, light Shabbat candles, give tzeddakah, study Torah, and turn off the phone for the 25 hours of Shabbat.

The good news, however, is that even if you haven’t flexed your spiritual muscles in 25 years (or more!), you can still get back into the game. It’s not too late for a win!

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Uriel Vigler

*Name changed for privacy.