By Larry Gordon
Being in close proximity to where the Beit HaMikdash stood all those years ago makes Chanukah in Eretz Yisrael something very special. We arrived a few days after President Trump announced that the United States was finally officially recognizing Jerusalem as Israel’s capital city.
The weather so far this week has been splendid and spring-like. With my father’s yahrzeit coming up on Monday—the 28th observance of that event—that adds up to quite a few Chanukah holidays spent here. And as a result of usually being here at about this time of year, we have experienced and endured all kinds of weather conditions.
We have seen rain and snow, and for a few days about four years ago the temperature was in the 90s. So while Chanukah might be a compilation of all of Jewish history in some ways, it is meteorologically quite versatile as well, though I don’t know if it has always been this way.
The streets here are teeming with people, those who reside here, of course, and many more from around the world. I have often referred to Israel in this space as a kind of spiritual Disneyland. I mean that as a compliment and I find myself repeatedly thinking that—for us as Jews—there is nothing like it in the world.
We arrived in Israel on the morning of that pathetic attempt at terror in New York near the Port Authority Bus Terminal. What a fascinating reversal that was as we tried to reconcile watching an Israeli TV report on a terror attack in New York. On Tuesday, a man sitting next to me in shul who had arrived from New York that morning asked me if I thought it was safe to walk into the Old City. I had done exactly that the day before and it looked to me that it was business as usual, people coming and going and no special police or military presence in evidence.
Here in Israel, in the aftermath of the courageous Trump proclamation, there has been a constant smattering of attacks as well but, Baruch Hashem, fewer than were anticipated. There are shootings and stone-throwings in Judea and Samaria, rockets so far doing little or no damage shot from Gaza into southern Israel, and that awful stabbing the other day of a security guard at the Central Bus Station here in Jerusalem who is currently recovering from his wounds.
But Israelis remain undaunted, and the streets here are alive with the sounds of the yom tov of Chanukah. Torch-like, larger-than-life menorahs adorn the Kotel Plaza and other key areas and locations in and around Jerusalem. At Chanukah, Israel is like the gift that keeps on giving—a very appropriate gesture at this time of year. For a photo essay, Seen In Jerusalem, see page 112.
Rav Shteinman, zt’l
He was a beautifully humble man. On Tuesday, we woke to the news that early that morning Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman, a man small in stature but a booming giant in his contribution to the Jewish people, had passed away. The rav had been in and out of the hospital and battling a general lethargy and weakness over the last several months. Rav Shteinman was 104.
A friend I called in Bnei Brak told me that Rav Shteinman davened at sunrise that morning with a minyan, with a group of men that gathered in his room. Following Shacharis, the rav was studying Torah with a grandchild when he passed out and then faded away.
In his will, Rav Shteinman requested that several things take place or not take place following his passing. First, he requested that there be no eulogies at his funeral. Additionally, he asked in writing that not too much money be spent on securing a burial plot for him. He requested that he be buried amongst regular everyday people and not in any place considered unusually special. The rav also asked that there be no elaborate inscription on his headstone.
Sometimes greatness breaks new ground and is redefined. This is apparently one of those situations. May his memory and the imprint he left on this world be a berachah for his neshamah and all of Klal Yisrael.
What A Ride
On Monday, we were walking along Agron Street looking for a taxi to take us out to the cemetery in Bet Shemesh. A few cabs passed us by as they were occupied, but then a nice Mercedes taxi stopped for us and we hopped in so as not to excessively delay the cars behind us.
The driver, Adi, is well-versed in English and even more talkative. He looks at us in his rearview mirror and the first thing he says is, “Are you from Lawrence?”
He begins to name the people he knows from the Five Towns and, frankly, we are bowled over by the extent of his familiarity with many of our neighbors. He says that he’s been here in the community a few times over the last year and leaves us to begin guessing the nature of his relationship or at least connection to so many people that we know.
He begins naming people whose children got married recently and even those who lost a parent and were sitting shivah in New York. Then as long as we are discussing weddings that recently took place, he veers off in the direction of people he knows who are looking for a shidduch for their kids.
The guy seem to us like an information magician, but as long as we are talking about matchmaking and shidduchim, he passes his iPhone back to me with résumés of a few girls and boys he is trying to assist in finding a shidduch.
So here’s the scene. Adi is a knit-kippah-wearing guy and seems like a typical Israeli taxi driver. He is anything but. I promised not to mention any of the names he mentioned (he did not have to say that because I would not have done it anyway). Those reading this who know him, well, they know who and what I’m talking about.
So I ask Adi, how does a cab driver know the intimate details about people’s lives? He passes me his business card that says he is also a shooting instructor. Does that really explain anything? Not really, but then he adds one more word to what he does. “Security,” he says.
He looks back at us in the rearview mirror and we make eye contact as if he would like to see me acknowledge that I now understand what he is saying. “Oh, I see,” I say, not really sure that I do. One thing is certain though; I never had such a curious, interesting, and entertaining ride in a taxi here in Israel in all these years.
He then drove us back to Jerusalem. We exchanged cards and said we would be in touch, either here or the next time he is in New York.
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