At the end of every Shabbat, Eliyahu the Prophet sits under the Tree of Life and inscribes the merits of Israel — Medrash
If you’ve been watching the news, listening to the radio or keeping up with your Facebook or Twitter, you’ve surely noticed that the world is not a very friendly place. In fact, it can be downright daunting.
Nonetheless, recent polls have shown that the vast majority of Israelis (84% of those polled) are not only among the world’s most frequent and vivacious complainers (we tend to complain non-stop just about everything), but are also among the happiest and most satisfied people in the world. Our “happiness quota” places us 11th in the Western world, much higher than the U.S. and other leading countries. We seem to feel (after we’ve finished complaining, of course) that despite all the dreadful things there are to complain about, this is a great country to live in.
How does one explain this strange phenomenon?
Some of our kids have a simple explanation. “Obviously,” they say, “things aren’t so bad here after all. In fact, they’re pretty good.” They prove the point with a simple new minhag they’ve adopted.
Every Saturday night, immediately after Havdalla and before anyone runs off to turn on his phone or start his weekday activities, each family member relates one good thing he saw, heard or took part in during the week. Here’s what my grandson had to say:
“I’ll often ask people to relate something nice that happened to them during the week. They’ll respond with ‘Hmm… I can’t think of anything.’ But how could that be? An entire week went by without one single good memory? Didn’t anyone smile at you on the bus? Or help you out? Or return a lost object? Didn’t anyone do you, or someone else, a favor?
“Noticing nice things is like exercising a muscle. We’re so busy running around that we don’t take time to see what’s actually happening. If only we’d pay attention, we’d see that the world is full of good people. And the more we get in the habit of developing an ayin tova – a good eye like Avraham Avinu – the better the world looks and the less cynical we become.
“Some people,” continued my grandson, “think being more observant just means you’ll see more things to aggravate you. But it’s not true. We have to concentrate on the good. And there’s so much of it! From individuals, from organized groups, and from the government.”
Here are a few stories I’ve personally heard.
A fellow arrived at an emergency aid station and had to be transferred immediately to a hospital. But he insisted he needed to go home first to get some money. The paramedic handed him fifty shekel as a gift from her own pocket and sent him to the hospital. When he was released, he came back to the station three times until he found the paramedic and returned her money.
A boy left a pair of expensive new Tefillin in a taxi in Eilat. They were a gift from his grandfather. His name was in the bag, but not his address or phone number and he didn’t know the number of the cab or the name of the driver. Three weeks later, he received a call. The cab driver found the Tefillin and waited for a passenger going to Jerusalem. The passenger brought them back and called all the same family names in the Jerusalem telephone directory until he found the boy’s family. He refused to take any payment for returning the Tefillin. He himself was not a religious man.
A young man was with friends at a restaurant when he noticed a blind man looking somewhat confused. He left his friends and helped the man cross two wide, traffic-laden streets. Then he took him to the bus station he needed. His kindness took him away from his friends for fifteen minutes.
A beggar in Tel Aviv asked a man for money. “I’m hungry,” he said. Instead of giving him money, the man took the beggar into a nearby restaurant and bought him a meal.
Students wearing blue shirts participate in a weekly project called “Students & Baskets.” They come to open air markets on Thursdays and help the elderly carry their bags home.
A Jew with a long beard was walking along the sidewalk picking up pieces of paper so that the streets of Eretz Yisrael would be clean.
A few weeks ago, in a clandestine exodus, the Israeli government brought eighteen Jews out of Yemen.
Israel offers a huge amount of social services but you need to know your way around, so volunteer groups guide new immigrants through the bureaucracy. They also provide free legal advice (the lawyers are also volunteers).
Groups of high school kids paint, repair and refurbish apartments for the elderly.
People routinely offer their apartments to out-of-town guests for smachot. (“They give their homes to people they don’t even know?” asked one woman.)
The owner of an electrical store refused to sell a consumer the iron she had chosen. He insisted on selling her a cheaper iron which he said was a better product.
And then there are the busses. In Israel, it’s permissible to talk to people on buses – as well as in stores, clinics or wherever else you find yourself. If you are unexpectedly short of cash, someone will usually offer to pay your fare. Or hold your baby while you pay the driver. It is rare to see a pregnant woman standing in an Israeli bus. Or someone who looks really old. Or someone with a cane. And women with buggies are always helped on or off of the bus.
With stories like these, is it any wonder that people feel fortunate living here, despite all the difficulties, problems and tensions (and there are many!)?
None of this means that everyone in the country is angelic. Nor do these stories mean that we don’t have our share of downright nasty people. (Some people just haven’t been blessed with happy, friendly personalities!) Nor do they mean that everything is great. (Where is everything great?) But the feeling across the country is that the people in the neighborhood, in town, in the next town are friendly, good people who are helpful and reliable. That they care about you.
We all care because despite our many differences, we are all related, all part of one family: the Family of Israel. Like families everywhere, we often disagree (or fight…), but the bond remains intact. And Yom HaAtzmaut is our annual Family Get-Together – in the shuls, the streets, the schools, the parks. The one day we forget which side of the religious or political or economic spectrum we are on. The one day our noisy, diverse, multifarious, highly individualistic, colorful family celebrates the miracle of finally being here together, in our own home, in the Jewish State, in the Land of Israel. Wish us a Happy 68th! Better yet, come join us! Chag Sameach!
