"Israeli Cab" Moments

Well, it’s been a while. School is in full gear now, and between class, tests, and other stuff, I haven’t been able to blog much. Sorry!

In truth, I’ve come to realize that it takes a certain frame of mind to write something half-decent to then give the world access to. I don’t want to embarrass myself just as much as you don’t want to read something unworthy of your time. And it’s not like I haven’t had ideas - believe me, I have! But there are two reasons for not exploring these ideas further:

a) These ideas typically evolve when triggered by a discussion in a class, and I don’t have my computer with me to write it

b) Because these topics stem from class discussions, I’m hesitant to write because I am in these classes with friends who (if they happen upon this blog) would know exactly who I am. I sort of like this realm of anonymity, and wish to keep it that way for now.

But this is a topic that wasn’t born in a class discussion, and one that I truly believe is worthy of our time. So here goes.

Almost without a exception, anyone who has been in an Israeli cab has a story. I believe there is even a small book, a collection of such stories (spotted at the YU Seforim Sale), as well as Rav Hanoch Teller’s “Hey Taxi!” (although I don’t think those are exclusively Israel stories). The main lesson I have learned from these experiences is that there really is something to be learned from every person one comes into contact with. Be it a good friend whom you see on a regular basis, a distant relative you met at the annual Chanukah party, or a cab driver you spoke to for a grand total of ten minutes, there is a reason that person has entered your daled amos.

Long story short, I was in a store the other day. The owner was a secular Israeli, named Adi, and he was extremely helpful and entertaining. We were schmoozing, and I must have said something to the extent of “You’re so great, Adi, for making me smile. It’s been a rough week” (which it had been). He stopped what he was doing and gave me a long, serious look.

“It is my opinion that any day gone by without a smile is a day wasted.”

That statement has been echoing in my head ever since. It is so profoundly simple, yet simply profound. It is a truth that sat so well with me, because I completely believe in it. Judaism believes in it (the Torah tells us to serve Hashem every day with simcha). It is a bit of wisdom that I never expected to find on a bitterly cold Friday morning while running an errand.

Allow me a FOTB (Fresh Off The Boat) moment here. We all know, intellectually, that Hashem runs the world, there is no such thing as coincidence, and it’s all hashgacha. But let’s be honest; how many of us think that on a daily basis? I have no scruples admitting that I’m either too thick or don’t yet have my head in the right place to see it regularly. Sure, I throw around “Im Yirtzeh Hashem” and “Baruch Hashem” as much as the next frum Jew, but how often to I really mean it? How often to I have the proper kavanos when I say it? It’s not like I’m davka not having the right intentions, but more often then not, it slips my mind. It’s habit.

In the same manner, I go through my day not noticing all those little moments of hashgacha. And then every once in a while, Hashem (k’veyachol) gives me a little knock on the head, a reminder that He’s the One in charge. That reminder is, in and of itself, a chesed

My little reminder last week was in the form of Adi, a man who I would never have expected to hear basic Jewish philosophical wisdom from. It taught me, once again, that there is no such thing as happenstance for any human being on this earth, much less a person who has the ability to recognize that.

I’ve always expected these “Israeli cab” moments to come in the classroom. But isn’t the world is a classroom?

Thanks, Adi! Thank you Hashem, for sending him my way.