May you be inscribed in good stories: A story

One day in July, a large group of campers was walking down the street. It was a narrow sidewalk near the Jerusalem Central Bus Station.

 Illustrative photo of a pickup basketball game (photo credit: Steven Abraham)
Illustrative photo of a pickup basketball game
(photo credit: Steven Abraham)

So much is said during the High Holy Day season about our relationships with our fellow human beings.

Therefore, I was gratified to be asked, especially for the Rosh Hashanah edition, to write another installment in my Jerusalem Report series of articles on daily good deeds.

Many kids were out in summer camp recently. When you’re out and about as opposed to being confined to books and classrooms, you get more of an opportunity to do good in society, to put into action what you learn in school during the rest of the year.

One day in July, a large group of campers was walking down the street. It was a narrow sidewalk near the Jerusalem Central Bus Station. A blind woman was coming in the opposite direction. Leader of the group called out: “Split the Red Sea!” Campers indeed split to the left and right. Woman walked down the center on ‘dry land.’ “Who’s that leading the group?” she asked with a smile. “Moshe Rabbeinu?!”

In writing my stories, I am usually an observer. Sometimes, however, something pulls me in and I get involved. The venue of one such story was a basketball court on Ben Zvi Boulevard in Jerusalem.

There was just one child, shooting around: swish, hitting the rim, not hitting the rim, missing the basket altogether. I asked him if he wanted to play a quick one-on-one.

He tells me his story. He surprised me when he said that he is 15. He was short for his age. And that was his frustration; not getting picked to play in games with the other guys.

So, we played. Whoever gets seven baskets first. He won, 7-5.

I tell him that he’s good, has great agility. Then he says that his dream is to dunk. I get down on my knees, put him on my shoulders, and he dunks. First time, he says. The next morning, both my knees and shoulders were hurting, but it was worth the smile on his face.

A week earlier, I had passed by the same basketball court, but the scene was totally different. The court was full of players: a game with several participants – and two teams competing – but a scene of unity.

It was what’s known as a pickup game of basketball, in other words, a bunch of people coming spontaneously to play and sides are chosen. In this case, some of the young guys were wearing tank tops and shorts. Others were dressed in white shirts and dark pants, which would seem inappropriate garb to many people for basketball, but characteristic among many haredi (ultra-Orthodox) individuals who keep to their formal attire even during leisure activities.

Despite the seemingly disparate lifestyles, there was no competition of haredim vs secular in this game because the guys mixed up the teams to include both sectors on each side.

There was loud recorded music blaring as they played. One of the haredi kids asked who the singers were. At a timeout, one of the haredi players said a blessing out loud before drinking and one of the guys in a tank top answered amen.

Hopefully the big winner in this game was Israeli society.

Yes, I do a lot of walking, but one day I didn’t have to go far to unexpectedly have a great impact on someone’s life at a time of death.

A man was walking down the street, right near the Jerusalem Post building. He’s not showing emotion. His face looks blank as he appears to be proceeding aimlessly. He was clearly preoccupied.

I offer a simple “Good morning.” He stops. He stares.

“Could you walk with me for a moment?” he asks.

I was not prepared for that request, but, of course, I would not decline. We did, in fact, walk together for just a moment. But in that moment, he took the opportunity to explain that his wife had passed away.

He had just gotten up from shiva, the seven-day period of mourning and consolation. He has plenty of family, he wanted to assure me, and the shiva was well-attended. But once the shiva was over that morning, he wished to take the traditional walk around the block by himself.

He was re-entering the outside world after a week of seclusion and now without his wife. I was the first person, he said, to greet him in the outside world amid his new reality.

And he just wanted me to take a transitional step with him following the week of mourning.

“I’m okay,” he says to me. “You can go on with your day.”

“May you be comforted among the mourners of Zion,” I say. I hesitate. He reassures me that he’s fine.

I didn’t even get his name. May his wife’s memory be a blessing.

EVEN AS some have mourned the loss of a loved one over the past year, the young generation has continued to spread plenty of light. And sometimes the generations have come together.

An older man and a boy are sitting on a sidewalk bench in Jerusalem. They’re involved in a very animated conversation. I couldn’t resist.

“So nice! Grandson?” I ask.

To my surprise, the man replied: “No. I don’t even know his name. What is your name?” he then asks the boy.

The boy explains. “I have a school project for summer vacation: make people happy. If someone looks lonely, talk to them. I was walking down the street, saw this man. I thought he was lonely. So I sat down and said hello.”

He says that he is 11 years old. “You’re a great kid,” I tell him.

The man then says to the boy: “Tell your teacher ‘thank you’ for giving you this project. My day is so much happier because you stopped to say hello.”

While sometimes children are inspired by a teacher, other times it’s a parent. Such as in the case of a man sitting on a sidewalk, asking for money. He has a cup and some people are placing coins inside.

A boy with a knapsack passes by. He opens his knapsack, takes out an apple, and offers it to the man. “Hearty appetite,” he says. “I hope you get a job soon. My mom says it’s been a hard time for many people because of corona. I hope you’ll be okay.”

Another man is standing nearby. He hears the boy speaking. He writes down a phone number on a piece of paper and gives it to the man who has been sitting on the ground. “Call me,” he says. “I might have something for you.”

Then he turns to the boy. “How old are you?” he asks.

“Eight,” says the boy.

Man: “Wow. What you said to that man who was asking for charity was so heartwarming, as was giving him your apple. You inspired me. Because of you I started to think of how I might be able to get him a job. You are a special boy.”

So a mother’s comments can have an impact beyond what she anticipated.

Yet other times, a kid paves the way for a parent to establish a new relationship. It happened on a bus when a man opened his wallet and coins went flying in different directions. A small child went crawling on the floor to retrieve the coins, and handed them to the man. Apparently, it wasn’t such a small amount of money: perhaps some five and 10 shekel coins.

The man refuses to take them back. “That was some hard work you just did. You earned this money,” he tells the boy, who is probably no older than 10. “Consider it your first summer job. Thank you for making the effort.”

The mother of the child refused to take the money. But then she and the guy got into a conversation. It turned out that she’s a single mom. He’s not married. I think they exchanged phone numbers.

And finally, a story of such great integrity aboard a bus.  

Woman 1: “Ma’am, did you lose some money on the bus?”

Woman 2: “Oh, that was a long time ago.”

1: “How long ago?”

2: “I think in May.”

1. “How much money?”

2: “A 200 shekel bill.”

1. “At which stop did you get off that day that you lost the money?”

2: “Next to the shopping mall at the entrance to Beit Shemesh.”

Woman 1 reaches into her purse and gives a 200 shekel bill to number 2.

Number 2 shrieks. Number 1 explains: “You got off the bus that day. I didn’t realize until it was too late that there was a 200 shekel bill on the floor. I kept the bill all this time hoping to find you.”

2: “How did you recognize me now, especially with the mask then and now?”

1. “First of all, I can see part of your face. Secondly, I remember the streak of white in your hair. I love it. But just to be sure, I asked you all those questions. Sorry.”

2. “Sorry? Are you kidding me?! You and I are getting off at the mall now and having dinner to celebrate your honesty.”

And so they did. Well, I don’t know if they had dinner or at which eatery, but they both got off at the bus stop in front of the shopping area at the Beit Shemesh northern entrance. I hope they had a good time.