In last week's parsha, Moshe Rabbenu kills an Egyptian
man who is beating a Jew. The next day, Moshe attempts to
break up a fight between two Jews, whom Rashi tells us were
Doson and Avirom, and Moshe is asked, "Do you intend to kill
me as you killed the Egyptian?"
Moshe then laments, "So the matter is known." Rashi here
quotes a midrash. Moshe has been wondering why the
Jewish people deserved to be subjected to oppressive labor.
From this incident, Moshe understood that it was because
there were Jews who were guilty of the sin of loshon
hora that the hardships of the Egyptian slavery had come
upon them.
For years, I have been troubled by a different question. Here
we are in the final stages of exile, when the Chofetz Chaim
said we can hear the footsteps of Moshiach. People in the
Torah observant world are busy studying the laws of Shabbos
and Shmiros HaLoshon, learning everything from alef
bais to Talmud Yerushalmi, and working on improving in
every way.
Some of the best and brightest of our people are devoting
their lives to outreach to the non-observant. However,
statistics tell us that the overwhelming majority of Jews
today are not part of the Torah world. The question that
keeps nagging at me is, "Why?"
Let me tell you about an incident that happened last week. I
shudder to think that the dynamics of this scenario may shed
light on the answer to my question.
It was Thursday afternoon and I was standing in line in a
busy bakery in a bustling frum shopping district. As I
stood in the line, one person after another (who were not in
line) rushed up to the counter, thrust bags of cake or
cookies onto the scale in front of the clerk, found out how
much they owed, paid and left.
Now for anyone who doesn't live in Israel, I have to explain
that there is a cultural difference between the Eastern and
Western mentality. In Western countries such as America, the
clerk is expected to keep track of who is next and wait on
that person. If the shopkeeper or clerk allows people to
repeatedly take cuts in line, the other customers would not
continue to trade at that store.
In Eastern countries, the shopkeeper or clerk keeps track
only of the number of rolls, shirts or roses that a customer
wishes to purchase and the weight and measure of those items
that are sold in that manner. He does so for whatever
customer presents him or herself directly before the counter
then. The clerk takes no notice of lines. It is up to the
customers to sort out who is going to be the lucky individual
who is standing in front of the clerk and therefore eligible
to be served at any given moment in time.
If you go into the bank, there may be three bank employees
dealing with a particular type of transaction. Five people
are sitting in a line of chairs opposite the cubicles where
the clerks sit. All are waiting to be served. A lady walks in
off the street and sees that a man is just getting up from
the seat in front of one of the clerks. Without looking to
see if there are others waiting, she rushes into the cubicle
and sits down. From the line, you will hear a very loud,
"Madam!!!" This is the woman's wake-up call, and her first
clue that other people are ahead of her.
As a Westerner, you would expect that of course the clerk
would refuse to take the newcomer's papers and would send her
out to wait in the line. If you live here, you will know that
the clerk will not only continue to take the papers, she will
start to deal with them. It is only if the man who yelled,
"Madam!!!" is assertive enough that he can even hope to stop
the process and be seen next.
With that background in mind, let's return to the bakery. The
woman who was in line in front of me was an American. She was
holding a fancy cake in a clear plastic box.
From her age and her manner of dress (bare head, short-
sleeved orange t-shirt, etc.), I don't think she was buying
this top-level-of-kashruth cake for herself. I would guess
that she has a married child, niece or nephew here in Israel
and has come for a visit. It is probable that her relative is
observant and that she was buying a cake at this particular
bakery to bring as a hostess gift.
The woman kept trying to get the clerk's attention. She was
too timid/polite to thrust the cake forward and plop it down
on the counter as everyone else was doing, and therefore she
was not being waited on. From my position behind her, I could
see how many attempts she was making to pay for the cake and
how many failures she was enduring.
I called out to anyone who wanted to listen, "There is a
line." No response. Not from the people rushing in front of
the woman and certainly not from the clerk. I was not
standing directly in front of him and therefore, I did not
have any more of an element of existence than the lady with
the cake.
To my "There is a line" announcement, the woman answered
plaintively, "No there isn't a line. I have been waiting here
and no one has let me near the counter." I gently told her
that there is a cultural difference at work here. She is used
to lines and these people aren't. I suggested that she do
what everyone else was doing, but she was not assertive
enough to try.
Finally, I took the cake out of her hands, walked in front of
her, put it down on the scale and thereby got the attention
of the man of the hour who immediately told her the price,
took her money, and gestured to the clump of plastic bags
hanging in front of us. She thanked me profusely and left the
store.
Now tell me something. Was this a pleasant experience for the
American tourist? All of the people who walked in front of
her were dressed as frum Yidden. Surely she expected
someone to be conscious of her plight. Do you think she
admires frum people? In her wildest dreams, do you
think she would want to become one of us?
There can be all of the cultural differences in the world,
but frum people should be sensitive to the fact that
another Jew is in need of help. It is that lack of
sensitivity that bothers me the most about the incident in
the bakery. That alone was a chillul Hashem.
In addition, we should be more conscious of our actions in
general. I think that when we are boarding a bus, shopping or
even just walking along the sidewalk, we should think of
ourselves as ambassadors of Yiddishkeit. We should ask
ourselves, "If a non-observant person is watching me now, is
(s)he going to be inspired to emulate me." Will that person
want to be frum?
It isn't enough to avoid chillul Hashem. We should go
out of our way to create opportunities for kiddush
Hashem. We can smile at strangers. We can help them in
any way that presents itself. We can try to relate to them as
fellow Jews.
It has been said that it is probably easier to die al
kiddush Hashem than to live al kiddush Hashem. But
we don't have to accept that sad observation. We can work
very hard and reverse that.
Next year, when we reach Parshas Shemos, I would like
to be able to read that particular Rashi and not have to
think of my own question — or about my idea of why . . .
