The Short Vort
Good Morning!
Today is Sunday the 26
th
of Adar 5780 and March 22, 2020
Loneliness in Chicago
I was heading to Chicago to be a “Scholar in Residence.”
I am not sure who coined this phrase for a visiting speaker. However, I certainly feel very uncomfortable using the term “scholar” concerning myself.
Whatever the reason for the phrase, I arrived on Friday to spend Shabbos at the Ohel Shalom Torah Center, in West Rogers Park.
The Kehilla, led by the dynamic Talmid Chacham, Rav Daniel J. Raccah, with the capable assistance of his son Rav Aharon Raccah is a model of Torah and Tefillah.
It is always a delight to be a part of the inspirational Tefilla of a Sefardic Kehilla.
For this particular engagement, I am flying solo.
Anytime I fly solo, the level of anxiety rises with the rising altitude of the plane.
As soon as my wife dropped me off at Newark airport, the feeling began.
When I entered the terminal to check my bags, the feeling intensified.
Notwithstanding my appreciation of the TSA staff- who I always thank profusely for keeping us safe- nevertheless, the security check is not my favorite pastime.
The task of emptying my pockets into the small receptacle is always a daunting task for me.
It seems to me that everyone else knows exactly how to deftly remove their belts and shoes and place their few items into the small hopper, except for me.
I am always hopping on one foot while attempting to hold on to my belt-less pants.
The race is on as I watch my earthly possessions disappear into the darkened chamber, and I head for the metal detector.
After being freed from the rectangular gantry, the pressure builds as I must arrive at the other side and scoop up my phone and other stuff as many other people are simultaneously doing the same.
I am filled with trepidation as my mind races, “Am I blocking someone else as I stand here? What happens if someone takes my phone? Is it from Hashem? Should I run after the person if they took my phone?”
I check and re-check my boarding pass to make sure I remember what number boarding line to stand in.
Heaven help the offending passenger who is in the wrong line.
I board the plane.
More challenges to deal with.
Is the passenger next to me feeling crowded?
I do my best to minimize my physical self.
I silently thank Hashem as the flight lands safely.
Rabbi Raccah and his crew of helpers make me feel at home.
The hospitality is genuinely reminiscent of Avrohom Avinu.
The Shiurim on Friday night are well-received.
I truly felt the teaching of Rebbe, “Much Torah have I studied from my teachers…however, I have learned more from my talmidim than from all of them.”
The privilege to teach Torah 800 miles from my home to motivated men and women assuages any former anxiety provoked by my solo-fly.
Then comes the night.
The accommodations are spacious and comfortable in a local adult residence facility.
The bed is comfortable, and the room is quiet.
And to make things even more conducive to sleep, I am exhausted and have “lost” an hour with the time change.
I prepare myself for a sound night’s sleep.
If I am so tired, why can’t I fall asleep?
What’s that noise?
Is the door really locked?
I better go up and check to make sure it’s locked.
As I see the sun peek through the blinds, I ask myself, “Did I ever fall asleep?”
I begin to head to Shul, thankfully, I remember to put on my "mask" so no one will ever see the "real me".
The Shiurim over Shabbos are the highlight of my day.
The people are welcoming and warm and eager to learn Torah.
They give me more than I give them.
Shabbos ends, time to head home.
I arrive at the airport, hours in advance.
Once again, the angst returns and expands as I repeat the security routine.
I board the plane, and a large man wearing what I’m sure is a Coronavirus N95 Face Mask sits down right next to me.
I begin to panic.
Did he touch my armrest?
Am I starting to feel feverish?
I reach out to Hashem.
Finally, after what feels like ten hours (its really one hour and 23 minutes), the flight lands in Newark.
I escape the choking metal compartment known as the “cabin,” wondering if I am now the male equivalent of Typhoid Mary.
As I collect my luggage, the anxiety has reached unprecedented heights.
Finally, I exit the terminal, and with the feeling of unadulterated joy reserved for greeting Mashiach, my wife pulls up to the curb.
I enter the car and calmness and tranquility envelope me.
“How was your trip? How did it go?”
“No problem at all. Why do you ask?”
As I look down at my palms, I can still see the sweat dripping from them.
“If Not Now, Then When?”- Hillel
Ron Yitzchok Eisenman
Rabbi, Congregation Ahavas Israel
Passaic, NJ
