The Tale of Two Lost Wallets

Yes, I know I haven't written in a while, already starting last year with spotty internet connections, and big life changes, and getting married, and just...LIFE. It took a toll on my postings (by "toll" I think I've posted like 5 times in the past year.
Anyways, my wife has told me she wants me to start writing again, and now that post wedding life has settled down, and we have a solid internet connection, the time seemed right.
The direction of this blog will take a turn then it did previously. Originally I'd planned to document my experiences as an oleh, and not delve into politics or other things that might have any shred of controversy.
My old blog was more, how should I say it?... eclectic. And I'm going to start writing about a broader range of topics now, and will probably even have some rants in there that I'm sure will offend some people.
But to ease you back in I need to tell you the tale of two wallets.

About 2 months ago we (the Jews) had a fast day known as Tisha B'Av. It is the day in which our two Temples were destroyed as well as a slew of other tragedies that befell the Jewish people.

During my first Tisha B'Av in Israel I had spent it on Moshav Matisyahu to hear Rav Zev Leff speak. Now that I was married I saw no reason to break with this tradition. So my wife and I planned that we would spend Tisha B'Av on the Moshav.
We packed our things for our overnight stay and left on the bus to Yerushalayim in the morning. She would be going to work and I would be in Yeshiva and we would meet up later to catch a bus to the Moshav.
I was in charge of our duffel bag, it had been a long time since I had transported anything under the bus, and I was worried that I would forget our bag under the bus when we arrived in Yerushalyim. (As I typically fall asleep on buses and in my stupor would forget a detail like that.)
Luckily when the time for my wife's stop came I was awake and had not forgotten about our bag. Four stops later my stop came, and I asked the driver to open the luggage compartment for me to take the bag.
I pulled the bag off, waved the bus driver off and waited for the next bus to take me to the Old City.
Luckily I didn't have long to wait, within a minute the #2 bus came, and I reached into my pocket to take out my wallet...
...which wasn't there.

With horror I realized that the wallet had fallen out of my pocket in the bus! Trying to think what to do, the first thing I did was call Egged's lost and found. My mind was racing as it dialed, how would I get to Yeshiva? I didn't have any money or my bus pass? I was also carrying this heavy bag so walking wasn't really an option.
The woman at Egged informed me that it could take up to 24 hours for them to locate anything and that they would get back to me.
Still not knowing what to do, I tried calling my wife, not sure exactly what she would be able to do, but at least to tell her what was going on, and maybe should could come to where I was and give me some money. (This is besides the fact that all of my credit cards-including the America ones- and my American driver's license were in the wallet-I had no idea how I would replace those in Israel).
So I called and heard the phone ring. And ring. and ring.
Upon hearing her voicemail I hung up and called again, and then something hit me. An image of my wife's phone charging as we had been getting ready to leave that morning and that she didn't have her phone.
Starting to feel a little more panic, I racked my brain of what to do next.The Egged station where all of the intercity buses ended their routes was only about a 15 minute walk from where I was. I could walk down there and see if I could track down my wallet.
I started walking and I realized the my father in law works in Har Hotzvim, right next to where the bus station is. So I called him and explained what had happened. He happened to be passing by the station at that moment, so he pulled in and went to speak with someone there, explaining the situation.
He ended up meeting my bus, right as it was pulling into the station. Within 5 minutes from then and less then 10 after I'd gotten off the bus, I had my wallet back in my hand.
Marveling at this incredible stroke of luck (or maybe a divinely assisted hand), my wife called me from her work phone to inform me that she had left her cell phone at home.
I promptly informed her of the events of the last 10 minutes.

That was Lost Wallet Story #1
Here's Lost Wallet Story #2

My wife had to work on Eruv Yom Kippur, I spent the day basically cooking and mikve and...cooking.
When my wife came home she she received a call that she had left her wallet on the bus. Her brother drove her over to Beit Shemesh to try and see if she could pick it up (she wanted to get it done before Yom Kippur. The bus driver said "it's fine I left it with the security guard-just ask for Muhammed").
To anyone living in the Beit Shemesh area knows that about 9 months ago Egged ceased being the main bus provider in the area, making way for a company called SuperBus. My wife knew where the Egged bus depot was, but when she arrived there she was greeted with only Superbuses.
It turned out that the old Egged bus depot was know home to the Superbus depot. The time for the fast was quickly approaching, so we had to go into Yom Kippur hoping for the best.

The morning after Yom Kippur we called the Egged Lost and Found dept. to see if they could locate the wallet. When it was found they said it would be given to the bus driver of the 10:00 bus to Yerushalayim, all we had to do was wait for the driver at the stop and get the wallet from him.
Somehow I was very skeptical about this working out, but at 10:00 I found myself waiting for the bus.
I waited for about 8 minutes when the Egged bus came around the corner. One of the good things about this was I learned a new Hebrew word Arnak (wallet). So I confidently stepped on the bus and asked the bus driver for "the arnak," and he kinda just stared at me with this blank look on his face.
I was beginning to wonder if I'd gotten the word wrong "the arnak."
He told me he had no idea what I was talking about.
I got off the bus, wondering if the wallet was on the next bus, and I noticed that the bus that I'd been on was the 497 to Benei Brak, not the 417 to Yerushalayim.
About two minutes later the 417 bus came and driver had my wife's wallet.
As I had been waiting for the bus I ran into a friend of mine and told him the whole story and he pointed out that it was very interesting that both my wife and I had lost our wallets on eruv Tisha B'Av and on Eruv Yom Kippur (I wonder if there's some hidden message there?)

The Real Escape from Slavery

“It happened that when Pharaoh sent out the nation...Hashem didn't lead them near the Land of the Pilishtim because it was near. Hashem said that when they see a war they will want to return to Egypt.”(Exodus 13:17)

Rashi asks what was the reason that Hashem didn't want to lead the Benai Yisrael near the land of the Pilishtim? And why would going near there cause the Benei Yisrael to want to return to Egypt where they had been slaves for 210 years? And what does it mean “it was near?” What was it near? and what was the significance of mentioning that?

To understand this we need to look back at a previous parsha, and look at the kal vechomer in Parshas Vaera.
Hashem has instructed Moshe to tell Paraoh that he is planning on taking the Jews out of Egypt. Moshe responds, “I can't speak.” (Exodus 6:30)
Why is Moshe saying that he can't speak? Hashem just told him to do something! Why is making this apparent excuse?
Moshe's point was “I just got back from speaking to the Benai Yisrael, and they (who my message is beneficial for) wouldn't listen to me. Why would Pharaoh (who my message is detrimental for) listen to me?

What Moshe didn't understand was that there was a reason that Hashem wanted these events to take place. He wanted Pharaoh to be warned and he wanted the Mitzriyam to go through all of the Makkos, because it wouldn't be enough for the Jews to simply be taken physically out of Mitzriyam, they needed to have the emotional and mental burdens lifted off of them, and psychologically exit Egypt as well. They needed to see the Mitzriyam humiliated and they needed to feel that they were strong.

Hashem's goal is for the Benai Yisrael to be able to walk on their own two feet and throw off the mentality of two centuries of slavery.

But the process didn't end with the Makkos. As we see in this week's Parsha, when the Benai Yisrael are standing by the Yam Suf, and the Mitzriyam are chasing after them, they still have that fear of the Mitzriyam. Yes everything was going great when Hashem was throwing frogs, lice and hail on them, but now they're out and exposed on the water and they still feel helpless and that Hashem is not really with them.

Perhaps the reason that Hashem didn't want to expose the Benai Yisrael to the Pilishtim, was because they still felt, in however small a way, like they were still slaves to the Mitzriyam. To be presented, right out of Egypt, to another nation that wants to start a war with them, will cause them to run back to Egypt, where, as their rational goes, “It's better to be a slave in Egypt then dead out in the desert.” (Exodus 14:12)
They're still clinging to that idea of slavery, that idea of, even if it's hard work, it's steady, it's stable, and it's predictable. Fear of the unknown.
And that's what Hashem's goal is for them to get to the point where they say, “We trust 100% in Hashem, no matter how unpredictable our lives are.”
So Hashem puts them on the rock, with the Mitzriyam bearing down on them, waiting for someone to take that first move and walk forwards by themselves. And as the Midrash explains, Nachson ben Aminadav did take that first step, the step that finally freed the B”Y from the Mitzriyam.

Yes...You Can

I was coming on the bus back from Yerushalayim tonight with a few of the guys. As we got on our bus I say down somewhere in the middle in front of a Charedi man.
One of my guys walked past me and asked, "Can I sit in the back."
I answered, "Yes, you can."
At which point the Charedi guy says, "Shas, Yes We Can."
I turn around and correct him, "Um, Barak Obama, Yes We Can.

He tilts his head and says, "Ah, he stole it from Shas.

The Tax Form has Arrived!...and it's all in Hebrew

Well, I returned for Yerushalayim today to an email informing me that my tax form is in my box, waiting to be filled out and returned to the office. I open up the envelope, and discover that the entire form (all 3 pages) are "Rak BeIvrit."
So what do I do?
Utilize mostly from the Hebrew I learned in in Ulpan which helped me fill out about 70% of the form (I knew that darn thing was good for something!) and then used Google Translate for the rest of the words I didn't know.
I did discover that you have to be careful how you conjugate the words and try to strip to word down to the root, otherwise the word could be changed from "Parents" to "Saponaria," (and I have no clue what that means.)

But this is just a reminder to me (and to all of those in America who are biting their fingernails-which is not healthy by the way) that even with a war life goes on. And we do have to remember that there are people who are literally putting their lives on the line in order for me to sit here comfortably in front of the computer, filling out a tax form, in the Land of Israel.

Thoughts on Yesterday's Levaya

The yeshiva went to Kfar Chabad yesterday to take part of the Holtzberg levaya (funeral). I don't think that I am capable of expressing the pain that the entire Jewish world felt at the loss of these two incredible people. What I can tell over is something unique that I experienced to put even more perspective on the incredible Jewish unity we have in this country.
We were not able to stay for the entire levaya and we arrived back in Ramat Beit Shemesh at about the time it was ending.
One of our Rabbeim who travels from Bar Ilan to RBS everyday mentioned some of the things that had been mentioned by the final speaker.
We asked him how he knew what was being spoken about at the levaya.
The hespadim (eulogies) were being brodcast on the radio as well as television all over the country. And the bus that he was on was tuned to that station.

"Please Take My Blood"

I've learned that in this country it generally takes three tries before you can actually get anything done, and giving blood is no exception.
Attempt #1: Yeshiva had a blood drive, but we run out of time and I'm am forced to walk away without being able to do this great mitzvah.
Attempt #2: Last Sunday I go to the Blood Bank and and am told that I can't give because I had an upset stomach that morning (the price one pays for eating all of that Shabbos food)
Attempt #3: Success!
For those of you who have never had the privilege of giving blood, I'll tall you a little about my experience.
When you walk into the blood bank you are asked to fill out a form consisting of questions like "Did you live in England between the years of 1985 and 1998?" and other's that are too inappropriate for this blog.
They then take you into a room where they repeat every single question to you-all while completely ignoring the answers that you are are giving them.
Then you sit in a bed for the actual procedure. I happened to be feeling a little queasy at this point (I'm not the biggest fan of needles) and without really any warning the woman there grabbed my are strapped a rubber band around my bicep and JAM, stuck the needle straight in (I'm assuming that these people are professionals-at least the blood started coming out right away and they didn't have to "dig" for it).
Then I'm basically sitting there for about 10 minutes waiting for this machine to fill up the little bag that contains enough room for one "unit" of blood (not sure exactly how much a unit is...). Then the Jamming Lady comes back and yanks the needle out of my arm and tells me to eat cookies (who am I to argue with that...), and press the cotton on the whole that the needle made.
Then I walked out and actually felt completely fine. I had been expecting to feel a little queasy but the only symptom was that I felt a little more tired later in the day. Got a good night's sleep and was back to normal the next morning.
Now for the request: If you are in Israel, whether you live here or are only visiting, it is a tremendous mitzvah to give blood. I can personally vouch for the (relativly) painless process, in which you're in and out in under an hour. Think about it, the more blood they get in the bank the better.

A Joke and...Duh!

Well I finally reached a milestone I understood my first joke in Hebrew (more of a funny comment then a joke, but hey I'll take anything).
We were driving this past Friday from Ramat Beit Shemesh to Yerushalyim and as we enter the center of RBS on our way out one of the other madrichim (who actually KNOWS how to speak Hebrew) had the following conversation witht he bus driver (translation will be at the bottom-pardon the Hebrew words with English letters):

Madrich: Aifoh ata l'Shabbat?
Bus Driver: Ani Po
Madrich: Ahhh...BaAuotobus?

Madrich: Where are you for Shabbat?
BD: I'm here (in RBS)
M: Ahh...in the bus?

All right I know, not that funny, but this one had me rolling...(my eyes at least).

A few week's ago I was at the train station and as I approached the entrance there was a metal detector (which is not uncommon in this country).
Now being a veteran at these I immedietly reached into my pockets and started emptying it. The security guard said: "Ahh I see you have done this before."