A JEWISH ANSWER

By D Chaim

When I returned home on Friday afternoon after school, my mother asked me to get her some vegetables.  I left the house and skipped down the long flight of stairs as I headed for the nearby vegetable store.  With the Druze worker, Ali, standing nearby, I filled up bags with all kinds of vegetables and then went over to the register near the door.  I asked Kobi, the cashier, to add it up.

Kobi seemed preoccupied and when he heard my request he let out a sigh, gave himself a shake, and began quickly weighing my heavy bags. 

“Did something happen?” I asked him.

“No,” he said curtly.  I did not feel comfortable asking him anything else and left the store hoping all was well with him.

When I returned home with the bags I did not have much time to hang around and my mother’s thank you pursued me as I dashed down the stairs again and headed for Shimon the barber.

“Just don’t forget to go into Nachum’s bakery” she said loudly in the direction of the empty hall.

Shimon the barber wears a small kippa but is not yet religious.  I’ve been getting haircuts from him since I’m three and there is always a long line of people waiting for a haircut.  But this time the barbershop was empty.  I went over to where you get the haircut and Shimon, who knows me well, smiled.

After I sat down, Shimon lifted the handle and raised the chair.

“Please remove your glasses,” he asked politely as he took off my yarmulke and set it aside.  I heard the familiar buzzing of the haircutting machine and then, as my hair began falling around me, I heard Shimon sigh heavily.  “What happened?” I asked in concern, but Shimon continued the haircut without answering me.

When I left Shimon’s shop I remembered my mother’s request and continued on to Nachum’s bakery.  Shopping there is my regular Friday afternoon activity.  As I stood on line with a bag of cookies for Shabbos, I saw someone familiar.  “Oh, that’s Dovid, the guard at my school,” I thought.

Dovid is not fully observant yet and I was happy to see him buying things for Shabbos.  I guess working in a religious environment affected him.  I wanted to call his name and say hello but then I heard, for the third time that day, yes, Dovid sighed.  A Jewish sigh, the kind that arouses the heart.

That was a red light for me.  There were too many sighs for one day and who knew what terrible thing happened.  I decided to hurry home and ask my mother whether something happened.

After five minutes of running, with the bags flapping in my hands, I reached our building and walked into our house, though not before knocking gently on the door.

I put the cookies on the counter and then went over to my mother and asked, “Ima, did you hear what happened?”

“What?” she asked, momentarily frightened

I said, “I don’t know.  That’s why I was asking.  Did something happen?”

My mother said, “I didn’t hear about anything.”

“How strange,” I said to myself.  “It could not be a coincidence.”  I continued thinking over what happened that day.  “When I go to shul for Kabbalas Shabbos I will tell Shmuli and together we will figure this out,” I decided.

“I bet something terrible happened and the adults prefer not to tell us.  Do you think that makes sense?” I asked Shmuli in shul after telling him what happened that day.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said.  “If that was true, I think your mother would have said that something happened but it’s not a reason for you to worry.  If she said that she didn’t hear about anything, then I’m sure that is true.”

“You know what? Maybe we should ask Berel the shamash.  He knows everything and if something happened, he is sure to know.”

Berel has the longest white beard of anyone I know and he can (almost) sweep the floor of the shul with it.  He usually is serious and does not have patience for children, especially not for their questions.  I am afraid of him so I asked Shmuli to approach him.

Shmuli agreed and I stood nervously behind him as he asked the shamash, “Did you hear about anything negative that happened this morning or recently?”

Berel answered impatiently, “If something happened, then I would certainly have heard about it.”

I realized that if I did not give details, we were unlikely to solve the mystery and so I got up my courage and overcame my shyness and said, “But this morning I was in the vegetable store, the barbershop, and the bakery and in all three places I heard people sighing.  Something must have happened!” I concluded my speech as Shmuli turned to look at me in admiration.

“What don’t you understand?” replied Berel.  “The Rebbe says that today there is not a single Jew who has not had a thought of repentance at least a few times.  I suppose the neshama of those sighers of yours were inspired at that moment and the thought of t’shuva resulted in a sigh.

“He’s right,” said Shmuli after we hurried away from Berel’s scowling face.  “I remember that there is a HaYom Yom for 3 Tammuz which says that the sigh of a Jew is also a great t’shuva.”

“Then the Geula can happen already!” I said.

“What’s the connection?” asked Shmuli.

“Very simple.  A few days ago I was in shul during the daily shiur and I heard someone say that it says in the Gemara that the coming of the Geula depends on the Jewish people doing t’shuva.”

“So since every Jew already had a thought of t’shuva, the Geula can happen,” finished Shmuli while nodding enthusiastically.

“Do you understand what Kobi and Shimon and Dovid told you?” Shmuli suddenly asked.

“What do you mean, they did not say anything, they just sighed?” Now it was my turn not to understand.

“Nu, what’s with you? Think a little,” sighed Shmuli.

And you, dear reader, do you understand what they were telling him?