Lessons from Afar

The deepest lessons are sometimes the furthest from home. And sometimes, it means

taking a step back out of our community and spending time in the “outside world” to put

things in perspective. It serves as a reminder of how lucky we are not to have lives that

are controlled by the influences of the secular society we live in.

Last week, I chaperoned a school trip to NY and Washington. On the plane on the way

there, I found myself in a seat that was likely the last one I would have chosen on the

entire plane. From the moment I sat down, it was impossible not to notice the sharp

contrast between myself and the couple seated next to me — in how we looked, spoke,

and lived.

Their appearance stood out: bold hairstyles, visible tattoos, and clothing that left little to

the imagination. Their music, conversations, and the content they openly shared on

their phones all reflected a lifestyle far removed from the values I hold as a Torah Jew.

They spoke freely about their plans for the night ahead, ordered food I’d never consider

eating, and spoke in ways that left a lot to be desired.

Everything about their behavior and conversation served as a reminder of just how

different our worlds are — not just culturally, but spiritually. Although it was

uncomfortable, I couldn’t help but reflect that perhaps there was a reason I was placed

in that exact seat. It was in those moments I felt tremendous gratitude for the life I lead,

the values I strive to uphold, and the Torah that shapes my every decision. It was a

reminder that when we find ourselves surrounded by a world that doesn’t reflect our

beliefs, our challenge and our mission is to remain anchored in who we are.

In a strange turn of events, throughout our trip, many hours were spent with our bus

driver as we drove the long distance from NJ to Washington, DC. As we learned more

about our driver, we discovered he was raised in Williamsburg and has now adopted a

more modern look of a shaved beard, trimmed payis and a different style of dress. Many

would consider him an “ex chassid”, or go as far as labeling him “off the derech”. Yet,

even though this man left his insulated community, he was still insistent on maintaining

the highest of standards: only eating cholov Yisroel, speaking to family members over

the phone in Yiddish, davening three times a day with our group out of his own choice

and more. Perhaps most significantly, he carried himself with the utmost dignity and

respect while transporting a bus full of young girls, where he maintained proper

boundaries, showed constant patience, and treated everyone with quiet sincerity.Although many would dismiss him as a previous chassid who no longer adheres to the

customs of his upbringing, here he was, still a proud and devoted Torah Jew, clearly

reflected in the things he values and his behavior.

During our time in Washington, D.C., unknowingly, we found ourselves in close vicinity

to the tragedy that took the lives of Sarah Milgrim and Yaron Lischinsky. We found out

about the attack after our dinner at a kosher restaurant that night, which was not far

from the Jewish Embassy. Based on the information provided, we knew we didn’t need

to be worried for our safety. However, being a visibly Jewish group and staying not far

from that area in the wake of this tragedy did put us on alert. Our driver called local law

enforcement, who agreed to stand guard in front of the hotel throughout the night. Our

driver insisted that he’d do what it takes to guarantee our safety, placing the

responsibility on himself to ensure our protection throughout the night. He was just our

bus driver, so why did he go through such lengths when this was not part of the

arrangement we had with him? Then we realized he was demonstrating a pure and

unwavering Ahavat Yisrael. Even though our group came from across the country, far

from the Chassidish community in which our driver was raised, and one that he no

longer claims to be a part of, his actions told a far deeper story. He devoted hours of

that night to ensuring our safety. In a world quick to judge by appearances or

background, he reminded us that true connection to Torah can sometimes be found not

just in how one dresses, but in one's actions, caring selflessly about others.

Then I thought about how that same week, my son was flown to Boca Raton to run an

NCSY program for less affiliated Jewish teens. Little direction was provided; he didn’t

even know where he was staying. All he knew was “I’ll figure out the plan when I get

there. I know they’re going to find me a place to stay.” After shabbos my husband and I

received a voice note where he raved about the incredible hospitality of the Rabbi and

Rebbetzin who had hosted him, the unbelievable food they served him, and the

teenage boys he had formed connections with, who he now called close friends.

Take a step back for a second. You tell anyone in the “outside” world about this

experience and it’s shocking. They’d wonder how I can let my teenage son fly to

another state and just assume he’d be given a place to sleep, have home-cooked meals

provided and be graciously welcomed by a family none of us have ever met. But what

they don’t realize is we do know what will happen: a Jewish family will welcome my son

and his friends as if they are their own, treat the boys to delicious food, and provide

them with a comfortable place to sleep and numerous shuls to daven from. The same is

true of our bus driver on this trip- he put care and concern into our group as if we were

his own family.

Reflecting back on the contrast of these strangers on the plane, to the thoughtfulness of

our group’s bus driver to the graciousness of this host family reminded me that there areno limits when it comes to caring for a fellow Jew. Don’t take for granted what is second

nature in the communities we live in. When you step out of it, anywhere in the world you

go and come across another Jew- whether it’s NJ, Florida, or Washington, DC, they will

understand you and know exactly what you need, even when you may not know it

yourself.

We take those things for granted but when we step away from them, one can’t help but

realize how blessed we are. We are fortunate to have a Torah that serves as a guide

directing us in how to live life, even on the other side of the country or world. We have a

community that will give up their own time, money and safety for us, even if they do not

know us personally. Rav Soloveichik explained that the words “Shiviti Hashem Lenegdi

Tamid”- “I have always set Hashem before me”, teach us that we need to be the same

person on the street, at work, upon travel, as when we stand before Hashem in Tefillah.

Let’s all remember that next time we leave our secure communities- a Jew is a Jew, with

the Torah as our consistent guide, whether in your hometown or thousands of miles away.