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Home
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Urei Betuv Yerusholayim
Taxi Service
by Rabbi N. Aronson, Manchester
The sherut was traveling along the highway towards
Jerusalem. From inside the car, I was looking out of the
window in order to get my first glimpses of Eretz Yisroel,
where I intended to study in a yeshiva and to get to know my
fellow Jews. An explanation of the Gaon upon a verse sprang
to mind: "Who is like unto Your people, Israel, one nation in
the land." The Gaon commented that a stress was to be laid on
the word `land'; apparently, Jews in the Holy Land are even
more unique.
Suddenly, one of the other passengers, a rabbi from a South
American country, looked at his watch and exclaimed, "Oh, I
haven't davened mincha yet. By the time we get to
Yerusholayim, it'll be too late." He turned to the driver and
politely asked if he could pull over to the side to stop for
just a few moments. The driver was less than inclined to
comply with his passenger's request. Time is money. If the
fact that he didn't wear a kipa was enough indication
that he was not religious, his reaction to the rabbi's
request left no doubt whatsoever. We were subjected to a five
minute lecture why, in his not-so-humble opinion, there was
no need to pray at all. The rabbi wisely chose not to discuss
this theological matter. We were driving at some 85 m.p.h.
and he decided to leave well-enough alone. He davened
in his seated position, as Halocha allows when there is no
choice.
Despite their difference of opinion, the rabbi and the driver
struck up a conversation afterwards in a friendly, and even
warm manner. What a united people we are. Here were two total
strangers of completely different backgrounds and of
different outlooks on life, who had never met before and who
just had an argument - and yet, there were now talking like
the best of friends. But there was more to come! For my part,
I was still seething a bit to have been subjected to such a
display of anti-Yiddishkeit so soon after my arrival, and
hoped that something would happen to improve my first
negative impression. It came quicker than I thought possible
and from an unexpected source.
In the course of their conversation, it was discovered that
the rabbi's brother-in-law lived next door to the driver.
"What a small world!" exclaimed the rabbi. Today, more than
twenty years later, I can still heard the words of the
driver, the very same driver who moments later had denied any
interest in Yiddishkeit. "A small world? Not at all. It is a
very big world, and there is a very big Hakodosh Boruch Hu!"
I once, again, found myself thinking, "Mi k'amcho
Yisroel." What a unique people we are. "Even the most
estranged ones amongst the Jewish people are full of deeds as
pomegranates are full of seeds." The rabbi, who had been
talking a lot until now, suddenly seemed at a loss for words.
After a short silence, he turned to the driver again. "You
know," he said reflectively, "you just davened mincha
yourself!"
At the time, it seemed just a clever insight to me, but now,
many years later, I realize that it contained a world of
depth.
The words, "Mi k'amcho Yisroel, goy echod bo'oretz"
originate with Dovid Hamelech and appear twice in Tanach, in
Shmuel II and in Divrei Hayomim I. In both
places, they are preceded by the words, "Hashem, there is
none like unto You, and there is no G-d except for You." The
commentaries here explain that both the uniqueness and the
unity of the Jewish Naion depend completely on the awareness
and the acknowledgement of the fact that Hashem is One and
there is no other power besides Him. The more we serve Him
with this notion, the better the unity will be between all of
our brethren.
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