Alone in a Crowd of People
I was struck by the indecency surrounding me, from the advertisements and the shop-window displays to the immodest clothing. And as it all hit me it...
Mazel Tov……. Mazel Tov…….and Mazel Tov once again – my baby has had a baby!!! And before you start saying “Wait a minute that’s impossible, how can a baby have a baby?” let me tell you that “my baby” is all of 22 years old – but she always has been and always will be – my baby – i.e. my youngest child. I don’t know why it is but that youngest child always occupies an especially tender spot in her parents’ hearts, one that no other child can ever hold. Somehow this daughter has always remained a little girl in my eyes, to be petted and cosseted, fussed and worried over as befits her position in the family. (She was a very wanted and cherished child who was born nearly seven years after the one before her, when I had already given up hope of having any more children; perhaps that is why there is such a strong bond between us). And the love and attention this daughter has had is returned a hundredfold because she is a very caring, loving, and warm child. The only fly in the ointment at present is that she has remained in London with her husband, whilst I now live in Ashdod.
Be that as it may, as I sat in my kitchen after my son-in-law had informed me of the new addition to his family, I was hit by the realization that this “baby” daughter has just had her second child; it means that I do have to face some kind of reality that maybe she really has grown up a little bit. Why she herself was also only born “yesterday” and no matter how much time has passed she is still a little girl in my eyes (although most certainly not in hers). Maybe you can tell me, where have the years vanished to…… flown away …… like dandelion spores blown away in the wind…… (And if my baby has perhaps ‘matured’ a little, how old does that make me, when I don’t feel much older than thirty five myself)?
But no matter which way you look at it, from my point of view or hers, she is now the proud mother of two adorable babies, because the oldest, although a big girl in her mother’s eyes (because she walks and says mummy and tatty), is still only fifteen months old.
And of course, at the wonderful news of the safe arrival of the new baby my maternal instincts revved up into high gear, and no matter what my daughter’s actual age is my automatic thought was. ‘I can’t just leave her to manage on her own; she’s still only a little girl and needs her mother’. (Will I still be thinking like that when she herself is a grandmother b’ezras Hashem in twenty years time)?
And baruch Hashem, being an organized person the thought was translated into action. I booked my ticket and prepared clothes to wear and food to eat for the Rov whilst I am away; I also had my suitcase taken down from the top of the cupboard. As I was due to travel on Sunday morning the plan for Motzei Shabbat was to pack my suitcase and clean up after Shabbat in order to leave the flat neat and tidy for the Rov to stay in.
What was not planned for however, was a severe attack of a gastric virus that kept me shuttling between the bedroom and the bathroom for the best part of three hours on Shabbat evening and which, when it had passed, left me feeling like a limp rag sprawled out on my bed, and nauseous even at the thought of facing the remains of the Shabbat food.
Sometime late at night I staggered off my bed and threw my clothes into the suitcase. As for cleaning up from Shabbat, I knew that that wouldn’t run away, but would wait patiently for the cleaning woman’s tender, loving care. Unfortunately it wouldn’t clear itself up (we’d really be redundant then!) but at least it wouldn’t get worse. I comforted myself by saying that till the cleaning woman arrives I won’t be there to see what’s going on so why take it to heart when there isn’t much I can do about it. I had had very good intentions but in this matter it was clearly a case of “Der mentch tracht, and der Eibishter lacht”, (man plans and Hashem disbands), a good old saying of my mother’s a”h, and certainly never more true than in this case.
But at least I got up Sunday morning feeling better and whilst my eyes studiously avoided the littered counters in the kitchen I hurriedly finished packing. I was booked on an early morning flight so I left my house at 6.30 am.
When I got out of my taxi at the airport, I was suddenly thrown from anonymity amongst my own kind in an island of frumkeit in Ashdod, into the cold waters of the outside world, where I stood out like a sore thumb. I was almost the only frum person in a sea of what?…….non-frum Yidden?….. non-Jews? I really couldn’t make out the difference because they all looked the same to me.
You would think that having lived most of my life in London together with the non-Jews (even in the same block of flats with them) I would be immune to the realities of the gentile world, but it seems that living and interacting almost totally only with frum people does refine you so that you are hit anew by the decadence of the world outside the frum area..
As I walked into the airport I was struck by the indecency surrounding me, from the advertisements and the shop-window displays to the immodest clothing. And as it all hit me it made me stop – and think – of who we really are.
And, ladies, do you know the answer I came up with? Do you know who and what we really are?
* We are an עם נבחר – a chosen people – chosen by Hashem and precious in His eyes. Hashem has chosen US to be close to HIM and He cares for us more than He cares for any other people in the world.
* We are a ממלכת כהנים וגוי קדוש– a kingdom of priests and a holy people – we are a refined and elevated nation.
* We are a nation of princes and princesses who belong to the royal family of the King of the world.
* We are Hashem’s beloved children and our beloved Father takes a personal and continuous interest in us; we are enveloped totally in His loving care.
And if we are such a glorious and majestic people is it not sad that those Yidden who have chosen to go the way of the other nations have let go of this splendor; instead they cleave to the dross that glitters but is not gold. They have chosen to sell their birthright as the King’s beloved children for a pot of lentils – to look and behave like the non-Jews – and in doing so have let drop their elevated status.
But we, who do realize who we are, let us lift our heads up high and proclaim proudly that we are Hashem’s chosen and beloved people. And I am not saying anything new or original; all this (and more) is written in various places in the Torah. And in as much as we keep the other parts of the Torah, let us take pride in this too; let us glory in our uniqueness and specialness.
But with the pride of being Hashem’s chosen people comes a tremendous responsibility; we are Hashem’s children, His ambassadors and emissaries, and as such the eyes of the world are upon us. With this awareness we must behave in such a way that we are an example to the people around us.
By our behavior we can raise Hashem’s name high, or chalilah the opposite. When we behave as Hashem’s wants us to then we are respected and His name is glorified.
And make no mistake about it, when a non-Jew does something, however bad, it is accepted and condoned by the world, but if a Yid does the slightest thing wrong, he, and by extension, the entire Jewish nation, are condemned as being a bad and rotten people, and a shame to their heritage.
As an ambassador of Hashem I am careful to dress cleanly, neatly and smartly when I walk the streets, and to behave politely and considerately to those around me. I am careful to be scrupulously honest and meticulous in my dealings with other people as befits someone who should be setting an example to those around her, and I will not demean myself by descending to the level of those who should, but do not want to know better.
I am always aware that I stand out clearly and starkly as a frum Yid and that my behavior and actions are watched and taken note of. Anything I do will be filed away in the mind of the non-Jew (and the non-frum Yid) for future reference, whether for the good or the bad, to be used by them at the appropriate time.
So let’s make a Kiddush Hashem in our dealings with other people as befits our status, and so that Hashem may be proud of us.
And let’s walk the streets with our heads held up high that we are indeed – THE CHOSEN PEOPLE.
This essay has the full endorsement of the Melitzer Rebbe shlit’a.
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