It used to be, in our somewhat complacent lives in Eretz
Yisroel, that news of a stabbing or bombing attempt was
something that happened to `other' people. We knew which
places were `safer' than others, and clung to the belief that
"lightning doesn't strike twice." Even if we were
occasionally delayed by police examining a chefetz
chashud (suspicious object), it usually turned out to be
only a mislaid package of diapers or a child's forgotten
lunch tote.
Today, however, everyone is caught in terrorism's grip. Those
who have found themselves at the scene of a suicide bombing
or bus attack, r'l, are our friends, our neighbors,
even ourselves. We are no longer complacent. Instead, we have
the distinct feeling that "wherever we run, it will be into G-
d's inescapable embrace."
In her new book, A Gift Passed Along, Sarah Shapiro
expresses the thoughts of many who have made Eretz Yisroel
their home. This collection of 50 essays - - some
provocative, others poetic, a few whimsical -- cover the
gamut of experiences and emotions that we all encounter in
Eretz Hakodesh. The underlying message is one we tell
ourselves and our overseas relatives who ask about our
welfare: This is our home, and we wouldn't want to live
anywhere else.
The inquisitive journalist in Mrs. Shapiro records many
occurrences that could only happen in this Land of contrasts:
Shabbos demonstrations on Rechov Bar Ilan; face-to-face
encounters with Arab women and Arab taxi drivers; Israeli
soldiers clashing with Jewish civilians. Insights from
shiurim and sefarim help the observer make
sense of these extraordinary events.
When the Middle Eastern experience seems too discordant, too
"un-American" in its apparent lack of civility or fairness,
the Western olah may be tempted to cry: "Let's go back
to Connecticut" (or whatever state or country you came from).
Yet both she and we know that it's not really an option. "I
will not be packing my bags to go back where I came
from," Mrs. Shapiro concludes one essay. "I would never have
the zechus of witnessing a passionate struggle over
Shabbos in the suburbs of Connecticut."
Indeed, despite the incongruities and volatility of life in
Eretz Yisroel, who among us would ever think of
leaving? The inherent beauty of the Land and its people rivet
us more firmly than the political turmoil. Where else would
we meet remarkable personalities, great and small, and absorb
their priceless wisdom? Like Hagaon R' Chaim Pinchos
Sheinberg shlita, who in one of these essays responds
to a shaila about feeding stray cats, with seriousness
and laughter. Like Rebbetzin Esther Siegel, who shares her
secret for raising happy, self confident children. Or an
ordinary neighbor like Bracha, who, while dying of cancer,
teaches Mrs. Shapiro what's truly important:
"One time [Bracha] called up a little after 1 o'clock and
asked what I was doing. Feeling bored and depressed, I said I
was just making lunch and waiting for the children to come
home from school.
"`How nice!' she sighed, affectionately. `You're making
lunch. And waiting for the children to come home from school.
Isn't that nice.'
"How much pleasure Bracha took in having energy and mobility -
- the ability to do. As I go about my various life
chores, I try to bear in mind how one woman treasured the
privilege of standing before a stove, sweeping a floor,
taking out the garbage, putting in a load of laundry, folding
towels, serving a meal, cleaning up afterwards.
"As she used to say, `Enjoy it, mammele, it doesn't
last forever.' "
Several essays in A Gift Passed Along explore the
growth process of the ba'alas tshuva who would also
never think of "going back." Mrs. Shapiro vividly contrasts
the emptiness of her former lifestyle with the wholesomeness
of raising children and grandchildren in the pure Torah
environment of Jerusalem. Many of her everyday activities
seamlessly strengthen her connection to the Ribbono Shel
Olam and the awareness of purpose and meaning in life.
The author also paints the rainbow of emotions that vie for
expression in a woman's heart. One delightful "flight of
fancy" finds her riding with her friend over a beautiful blue
sea, all the time worrying about a pot of beans she left
cooking on her stovetop. Buying a new watch arouses
conflicting thoughts of humility, self- gratification, and
grappling with the lure of olam hazeh. As in her
previous books, Mrs. Shapiro is not afraid to express her
feelings of insecurity or uncertainty as she struggles to be
a good wife, mother and daughter. Her honesty lets readers
feel good about themselves, too.
Probing, candid, and wide-ranging, A Gift Passed Along
pulsates with a woman's love for Eretz Yisrael, bounded by
the Torah and Hashem's everlasting embrace.
