Israel is a small country. That has been said many times. But in order to witness just how true that expression is, search out the people around you.
You’d be astounded to see who is right there, who you know – perhaps personally, or someone of national stature.
I bring as Exhibit A, the story of an individual who remains nameless. He remains nameless even after the story that I tell. We do not know the exact details of what he experienced, but we know of the history which surrounded him, which is sufficiently dramatic.
I could have passed him right by. If a story happens but no one is there to notice, the story did not happen.
Instead, I stopped and took a look. Ultimately, as I will explain, taking a look meant missing a bus. But what’s a bus? Better to have a bus pass you by than to let history pass you by.
On the evening of June 7, 2021, when I walked near the information counter, I noticed a somewhat older gentleman who seemed a bit in distress and the employee behind the counter who appeared a bit frustrated as he tried to help.
The choice was clear: go to my bus or watch the following episode unfold.
The customer, in his 70s, was asking about bus schedules.
It turns out that he had to go all the way back to his home in Nahariya, far up North.
Person behind the counter is trying to help. “Next time you want to make such a long trip, try to set out earlier,” he says.
“I wanted to,” says the would-be passenger, “but I was delayed at the Western Wall. I served in the Six Day War and a bunch of us got together to mark the June 7 anniversary of liberating the Temple Mount. It was just too hard to break up our gathering so I’m going home later than I had planned.”
The guy behind the counter is in awe. Comes out from his booth, puts on a mask and hugs the veteran.
Then he gets on the phone and calls his daughter.
“Sarit, don’t you have a friend driving up to Haifa tonight?” he asks.
What happens next is a bit complicated. I’ll spare you all the details. Here are the main points.
Sarit’s friend was indeed driving from Jerusalem to Haifa. Sarit’s friend was just released from the army. Sarit’s friend is so excited to hear that she’s being asked to drive a veteran of the Six Day War that she offers to drive him all the way to Nahariya if he tells her all about his IDF service.
But... Sarit’s friend can’t get over to the Central Bus Station just yet.
No problem – the guy from the information desk calls downstairs to one of the restaurants and arranges a free meal for our war hero.
The veteran is a little overwhelmed by all the attention.
I really wanted to take this story further. I asked the veteran for his phone number so I could call him later. I explained about my bus stories. But he felt uncomfortable giving out his number.
I asked the guy at the counter if somehow I could get Sarit’s friend’s number, but I could see that he thought the request was strange, even after I showed him my Facebook account, so I backed off.
But while this was all happening, I missed my bus, so I managed to be around for Sarit’s friend arriving to pick up the Six Day War veteran from the restaurant.
He took the rest of his food with him, not wanting to delay his chauffeur, and the two of them went on their way for an evening of 1967 war stories.
Yes, in the most mundane of settings, a war hero was in my midst. I’m glad that I didn’t let the encounter pass me by.
What about on the personal level? Have you ever wondered what has happened to some of your friends from your youth, let’s say from university with whom you haven’t spoken in more than a decade.
In the age of social media, it’s much easier to make reunions happen. But it doesn’t necessarily happen. Sometimes it’s the reward you receive for doing something nice for someone else.
What am I talking about? I’ll tell you.
Earlier that same June 7 – what a busy day – traffic was slow at the entrance to Jerusalem that morning. A high school student is fretting. She’s going to be late.
The driver senses the girl’s anxiety. “Let me call your teacher to say it’s not your fault.”
The driver tells the girl to make a video call to the teacher. We’re at a red light so he’s able to get up from his seat for a moment to give the teacher perspective. He shows that he is really the driver, and sticks the phone out the window to show the traffic.
This was a kind act on the part of the driver, the teacher was willing to accept that it wasn’t her student’s fault that she was a bit late. So, this would be a great story in its own right.
Except... we’re not finished. All of a sudden, as the light turns green, the driver realizes that he recognizes the teacher.
“Michal?!” he shouts.
They arrange to speak to each other later. I was not satisfied. As I’m getting off the bus, I ask him: “You know that girl’s teacher?”
Driver: “Know her?! I almost married her. We were best friends in university! I haven’t seen her in 15 years!”
FROM A former girlfriend to a potential future one. Have you ever noticed someone who seemed sad? Have you ever considered going over to that person to ask if everything is okay? Maybe you have an ulterior motive, but you are still hoping to help.
A young woman is sitting on the bus. I’m behind her, so I didn’t notice her facial expressions.
A young man in an adjacent seat to her seems to be looking over, seems apprehensive, but finally moves over to sit next to her.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“Great pick-up line,” says the cynical side of me to myself.
But, in fact, the young woman did seem to have troubles on her mind and the young guy picked that up in her facial expressions.
It was clear from the conversation that they didn’t know each other. “Which part of Beit Shemesh are you from?”
“Are you still in the army or in university?”
They walked off the bus together. They were perhaps taking each other’s phone number.
Was it a romantically strategic move by the young man? I can’t say for sure. But the non-cynical side of me said to myself: “If he really is that sensitive to another person, he could make an excellent life partner to either this young woman or someone else.”
And finally... respect. It can lead to touching encounters.
On June 24, we were in between the government’s announcement that we could unmask – even indoors – to an updated announcement a week-and-a-half later, to put the mask back on.
On a bus ride during that in-between period, most of us were not wearing masks.
But then a woman boards the bus and is wearing one. She sits pretty close to me, so out of respect if nothing else, I put on a mask.
She felt bad. “I don’t want to make you wear one,” she says apologetically. I tell her it’s fine and we joke that none of us really knows what the right thing to do is.
But she wants to explain. After many unsuccessful attempts and much frustration over the course of several years, she and her husband finally had a child. That girl is now 11-years-old. She is their only child.
It was soon to be her 12th birthday, and an event was planned for her bat mitzvah.
“I don’t know if a mask will make a difference, but I’m trying to do whatever I can to ensure that this bat mitzvah takes place without a hitch.”
A man sitting behind us on the bus is touched. He takes out a gift certificate - 150 shekels from a bookstore - and asks the woman for her daughter’s first name. He then writes her a card to go with the gift certificate.
“Don’t ask me why this is important to me,” the man says. “But it would mean a lot to me if I could help a girl celebrate her bat mitzvah in whatever way.”
The woman did not really want to take the gift certificate from the man. He was obviously giving up a gift that someone had given him. But she realized that the man really wanted to do this.
“You are a part of this celebration,” she assured the man.
Our mouths and noses were covered by our masks, but we could all see that we were all teary-eyed.
These are just some of the people you might encounter in our small country if you stop to look a little closer at what is happening around you.