Holy Ashes | Rabbi Yitzchok Fingerer

Several weeks ago, we had an in-reach Shabbaton at BJX, for Yidden who grew up frum, but, sadly, are no longer on the Derech. It was two and a half minutes before the Zman, I was already in the middle of davening, when suddenly, a young man approached me, he looked very anxious, and he said to me: Rebbe, do you have a cigarette? I said: No, I'm sorry. I don't. I’m the least-likely person to have a cigarette in the world. He said: Well, is there anybody here that has a cigarette? I need a cigarette. I said: I don't think so. Somehow, he was able to procure a cigarette in the nick of time, and I saw that he was puffing away outside on Avenue K, right before Shabbos. Very strange to me. Later that evening, in the middle of the Seudah, this fellow comes over to me. He says: Rebbe, you probably think, What was the guy thinking? What was this about? Why did he need a cigarette a minute before Shabbos? He says: You know, I struggle with Shabbos observance. I haven't been Shomer Shabbos in a long time. Recently, I made the decision to start keeping Shabbos, but it's really hard. I needed that last puff so I could separate from the cigarette for 25 hours, and then I keep Shabbos. For me, the world stopped. I felt like I was looking at a Tzaddik. And if it wasn't Shabbos, I would have gone outside to Avenue K, looked for the ashes from the cigarette, took those ashes, put it in a bottle, and sent it off to Shomayim with a letter, Dear Ribono shel Olam, these ashes are pure and holy. It comes from somebody who is עומד בניסיון. It comes from somebody who is able to resist, who is able to withhold, somebody who is able to refrain. You know what? Each and every one of us it may be that one minute, half a minute, ten seconds, of not looking at something inappropriate could be just as hard as holding back from that cigarette for 25 hours. But the first Avodah in the Beis HaMikdash every single day, the very first Avodah, was menial and degrading. It was disposing of the ashes from the Korban that was burnt the day before. And yet the Kohanim, they competed, they fought over this Avodah. Why? Isn't it belittling? Isn't it disparaging? Says the Sifsei Tzaddik, Because those ashes that were burnt, they were holy. They came from somebody who faced sin, who faced temptation, that said: עד כאן, that's enough. It's a new day, a new dawn, a new beginning, a new reality. Those ashes are pure. And that's why the Kohanim fought over disposing of these holy ashes. When you want to do something and you stop, you take those ashes and you give it to the Ribono shel Olam, you give it to the Aibishter in a bottle, and say: Aibishter, let this be a כפרה, let this be an atonement for me, for Klal Yisroel, for my family, because I could have, I would have, I should have, Vayimaen, I stopped. I was עומד בניסיון. This is my gift. These ashes are Yours. Just like the ashes from the last puff. You could do it!