The Short Vort
Good Morning!
Today is Tuesday the 3
rd
of Teves 5780 and December 31, 2019
The A Train, My Son and Me
There are many emotions reverberating through me this week as I prepare to be among over 100,000 Jews of all persuasions who will gather at MetLife Stadium and the Barclay Center for the 13th Siyum Hashas of the Daf Yomi.
Each one of the 2,711 pages of Talmud Bavli is a labor of love that binds all of us together.
Women will be there joyously celebrating their indispensable role as being the facilitators who provide emotional and spiritual support to their fathers and husbands.
As the momentous event gets closer, my thoughts drift from MetLife Stadium to the “A” train of the NYC subway system.
I wax nostalgic as I recall the 9th Siyum HaShas which was the first to take place at Madison Square Garden on April 26, 1990.
I excitedly attended with my six-year-old son Meir- my Bechor- who was in first grade.
As we had previously lived in Washington Heights and had only recently relocated to Passaic, our strategy was to drive to Washington Heights, park, and then take the A train to Madison Square Garden.
My wife graciously prepared two sandwiches for dinner.
We contacted a former neighbor in the Heights and washed and began our meal there, with the intention to finish the sandwiches on the subway.
We washed, ate a bit, thanked our friend and boarded the A train barreling southbound.
After eating, I took out two benchers, (back then you didn’t bench with your phone) and my son and I enthusiastically thanked Hashem for our food as our excitement for the upcoming event was palpable.
Surprisingly after we finished, a man leaned over and said to us in Hebrew, “Ani Mekaneh B’chem”- “I am jealous of you.”
There was longing in his eyes.
“I noticed how you and your son ate and then prayed. You have true Emunah in G-d. I was brought up in Haifa and was never exposed to anything Jewish, I feel robbed as I see the comfort and contentment praying gives you. That is why I am jealous, I have no such comfort and no tranquility. I wish I too can feel as you do”
I looked at him and over the din of the subway I asked, “What is your name?”
“My name is Ofir. I am a professor at The Technion in Haifa and I am a visiting professor this year at Columbia University. I am returning next month to Israel.”
“What is your last name?” At this point a train heading northbound roared by and I never did catch his last name.
“Ofir”, I pleaded, “It’s not too late, you have the same birthright as me. You can still taste the beauty of Judaism. You can feel what we feel”
I asked him for his phone number. He gave me his office number at Columbia.
I quickly scribbled, “Ofir” and his number on a napkin and placed it in my pocket.
As we arrived at Penn Station, I said to Ofir, “I won’t forget about you.”
That day was Rosh Chodesh Iyar 5750.
I thought about Ofir the entire evening.
I thought about him during Maariv, and I thought about him as we danced in our seats.
My Simcha was incomplete without Ofir.
Sometime before Shavuos, I found Ofir’s number.
I called Columbia University and asked the receptionist to connect me with the professor whose first name is Ofir.
I heard his extension ringing; no answer.
The recorded message said, “The person at extension 362 is no longer associated with Columbia University, no forwarding information has been provided.”
I have never seen or heard from Ofir ever again.
This year at the 13th Siyum HaShas, no matter how packed the arena is and no matter how large the crowd, I will save a seat for Ofir in my heart.
I have my rabbinical ticket in hand, and my seat is guaranteed.
However, I would trade it in a second to relive the day almost thirty years ago when I sat in the upper seats of Madison Square Garden next to my son Meir.
I would relinquish my rabbinic perk in a heartbeat to once again eat sandwiches on the A train with my son Meir and bond with Ofir.
I would change places in an instant with that young man of thirty years ago and his son who back then never knew about iPhones and who could never have imagined a man wielding a machete attacking Jews at Chanuka.
I would gladly give up my “Rabbonim Admission Pass” to sit with my son and Ofir and return to a simpler time when one Jew reached out to another Jew on the A train and their hearts connected for a few precious moments.
I pine for those years thirty years ago when I entered Madison Square Garden as a simple Jew, without knowing of or needing a Rabbonim Pass and being able to fulfill the passuk, “B’soch Ami Anochi Yosheves” – “"I dwell in the midst of my people." (Melachim Beis 4:13)
Life was simpler.
It was a time when an Ofir felt comfortable reaching out to me on the A train and it was a time when the greatest joy of a father and his son was spending quality time together.
Rabbi Yitzchok Eisenman will enter this year the Siyum HaShas with his “Rabbonim Admission Pass”.
He will be granted undeserved rabbinic respect as he is led to his rabbi seat.
Rabbi Eisenman will be present and seen.
However, Ron Yitzchok Eisenman will be nowhere to be seen.
He will remain outside, lonely and confused, searching in vain for his long lost friend Ofir.
“If Not Now, Then When?”- Hillel
Ron Yitzchok Eisenman
Rabbi
Congregation Ahavas Israel
Passaic, NJ
