A Nation Eternal
I once took a plane to Israel via Greece, as all direct flights were full. Since it was Minchah time when we landed in Greece. I stood in a corner of the terminal and prayed there. As I took three steps back to end my prayer, I suddenly became aware of a group of Greek gentiles surrounding me. Their party even included a number of priests. With a smile of apology, I explained that I had just wanted to pray, and they should forgive me for any infringement I may have unwittingly committed. But they did not look angry. All they did was nod their heads and say, “Good, good.”
Some time later, we boarded our plane to Israel. As I sat in my seat, I had pause to think. Here I, David Pinto, had arrived in Greece, the kingdom of the wicked Antiochus. He had tried his best to undermine the Torah and had issued harsh decrees toward this end. I stood and openly prayed Minchah there, with no disturbance whatsoever. Had Antiochus been living, he certainly would have had me killed on the spot, together with all those who were impressed and said, “Good, good,” to my act. But Antiochus is no longer. In his place, stands a lone Jew, sporting a beard and payot, praying in public.
During the course of the flight, on a Greek plane, a Greek steward informed me that my glatt kosher meal was waiting for me. I couldn’t believe it. He brought it to me, sealed with the kashrut symbol on the sticker. But I still expressed disbelief. The steward did not know what I wanted. All of the rest of the staff, too, could not fathom what I was referring to. I decided, finally, to explain. I attest to myself that I did not do this, chalilah, out of a desire to ridicule them, but only to reinforce my faith in Hashem.
A story about the Alter of Novardok, author of the sefer Madregat Ha’adam, came to mind. He was once traveling by train, dressed as an ordinary Jew. The first-class section was filled with officers and dignitaries, who spent the ride chain-smoking. At some point, they turned to the Alter of Novardok and called out in ridicule, “Here you are, a simple Jew. What does your G-d offer you? Nothing at all! But look at us! We have no faith, but have it all!”
The Alter was not fazed by their words at all. He boldly responded, “What does our G-d offer us?! He chose us from all the nations and elevated us from all the peoples. He sanctified us with His commands and gave us the Torah of truth!”
The Alter did not mean to demean these people, but to elevate the status of our nation in his own eyes. I felt the same way on my trip from Greece to Israel.
I turned to the Greek flight attendants and asked if they were Greek, to which they answered yes. I took my kosher meal and made a show of studying the hechsher. Then I explained: “Many centuries ago, your ancestors ascended to the Holy Land with the intention of obliterating all Jews who observed Shabbat, kashrut, circumcision, and laws of family purity. But Antiochus’ plan failed, and he died an ignoble death. Under the rule of the Chashmonaim, Bnei Yisrael returned to their heritage. Hashem performed great miracles for them and they designated the eight days of Chanukah in memory of these miracles.
“Here you stand, descendants of those Greeks who wished to uproot the Torah from Am Yisrael. You yourselves are bringing me kosher food. If Antiochus would see you, he’d kill you on the spot. Isn’t this something amazing?
“This is exactly what we say on the Seder Night, ‘This – The Torah – is what stood by us and our ancestors. Not only one stood up against us, to destroy us, but in every generation, they stand up to destroy us, and Hashem rescues us from their hands.’”
From time immemorial, the nations have attempted to wipe us off the face of the earth. We have suffered numerous exiles and immeasurable suffering at the hands of the nations. Their sole objective was to annihilate the Chosen Nation. But Hashem saved us in the past, as He saves us in the present. Above the laws of nature, He sustains us and maintains our existence.
