Opinion

OTHER VIEWS

Calm Within The Storm

Saint Louis Park, Minn.

I

am never ashamed to wear my tefil-
lin in public. Until recently, I traveled
quite often and a personal Shacharit
(morning prayers) at the airport was not
uncommon for me. I would find my regu-
lar nook at the gate, wrap myself in tallit
and tefillin and continue deep into prayer.
Following my davening (prayers), occa-
sionally a curious onlooker would inquire
as to what I was doing, and I always wel-
comed this opportunity to share Torah.
On Sunday, Aug. 3, I was not feeling up
to that challenge. That Sunday was Tisha
b'Av — one of the saddest days in the
history of the Jewish people. So cheerless,
in fact, that it is tradition not to don one's
tallit and tefillin until Minchah (afternoon
prayers).
I found myself flying from Minneapolis
to Fort Lauderdale on Sunday in order to
be in Boynton Beach for my grandfather's
funeral. Direct flights were not an option.
Late afternoon, there I was, waiting for a
connecting flight in Detroit. I was fast-
ing. I was blue. I was tired. I felt empty. I
needed my space and my time, and I was
not about to explain what tefillin were,
let alone why I was wearing them at 3 in
the afternoon. I could not bring myself to
daven at the gate, so I began to look for a
place that I could.
Detroit Metro Airport (DTW) is a world
unto itself. Anyone who has ever had the
opportunity to fly into or through DTW

knows what I mean when I
was painted a Cardinal Direction:
say: It wants to be a Motown
North, South, East and West. This
diner; it wants to be a Disney
was the perfect ecumenical state-
ride; it wants to be a Ford or
ment: All directions and all desti-
GM souvenir shop. But most of
nations are equal. I stood up, faced
all, as a meeting place for the
eastward — a fallen and rebuilt
world, DTW wants to be a cen-
Jerusalem in my heart — and
ter for, and of, tolerance. I was
donned my tallit and tefillin. I
not surprised in my quest for
began to pray.
a private m'kom tefilah (prayer
Barely several verses into the
space) when I saw a sign
Rabbi Avi S.
Ashrei, a man approached the
for the Religious Reflections
Olitzky
room. The man removed his
Room.
Special
shoes and left them beside the
I followed the arrows to a
Commentary
doorway. He, too, was in the
restricted area — restricted to
right place. The man looked at
everyone except those going to
me, grabbed a prayer rug from
pray. I passed several TSA officials along
the corner, placed it on a northeast diago-
the way, who, upon seeing my tallit and
nal and began to pray. I smiled and softly
tefillin bags, granted
whispered the words of
access to the private
my Amidah as he fell
elevator. I walked down
to his knees and softly
a long, empty white
whispered the Asr (after-
corridor and I knew I
noon service). In walked
was in the right place: a
another man.
quiet, unoccupied room.
This man slowly
A Religious Reflections
approached the southern
Room devoid of any
wall. Standing upright,
sense of religiosity, save
the man reached his arms
the lackluster box of
to the sky, arched his
Muslim prayer rugs in
back and kicked off his
the corner. I sat down in
shoes. He then relaxed his
one of the empty chairs
shoulders, closed his eyes,
lining the room, and I
and squatted awkwardly
did as the room's name
— saying nothing and
instructed: I began to reflect.
breathing shallowly in meditation.
At the top border of each wall of the room
There I was in Detroit Metro Airport,

There is always
room for prayer
and always room
for quiet, even
among the multi-
tudes.

the words of Shammai's great teaching
playing out before me. As Shammai taught
in Mishnah Avot 2:15: Aseh Toratcha keva,
emor m'at, v'aseh harbeh, vhevei m'kabel et
kol ha'adam b'sever panim yafot — "Make
your Torah [study] a habit; say little, but
do much; and greet every person cheerful-
ly" The very affect of my day changed with
each word of prayer — mine and theirs.
Three mortals engaged in prayer. Each
of us heading to a different place in the
world and in life, and yet our prayers
found their intersection in the hidden
room of an airport. In someone else's
utopia, we would have stayed and chatted
until our flights arrived, learning about
each other's religion, offering pearls of
wisdom about the many faces of the
world. But silence was our ideal. We each
finished our prayers and went about our
day.
I caught my flight and I will probably
never see those men again. But I did learn
something from them: There is always
room for prayer and always room for
quiet, even among the multitudes. Perhaps
if we talked to God more often — together
— then maybe the day will come when
we can all sit down, all the world over, and
talk to one another.
May we all come to find moments of
calm within the storm. ❑

Rabbi Avi S. Olitzky is rabbi of Beth El

Synagogue in Saint Louis Park, Minn.

(aolitzky@bethelsynagogue.org)

Teens' Obligation To Darfur

A

s JCC Maccabi Games athletes,
we all participated in a Day of
Caring and Sharing. I was part
of a group of 1,300 athletes who partici-
pated in the Maccabi Darfur Rally.
I think the rally was a great way to raise
awareness about the situation in Darfur.
We learned that 450,000 people have been
killed and 2 million people have been
displaced.
We heard from Jacob Atem who shared
his personal story with us. When Jacob
was just 6 years old, his village in Sudan
was burned down and his parents were
murdered.
These horrendous acts were supported
by the Sudanese government. Jacob had to
walk a thousand miles through lion and

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September 4 2008

JN

crocodile country and eat mud
to ward off thirst and starva-
tion. His journey took more
than seven months, but he
eventually made it to a refugee
camp in Kenya. I think Jacob's
story was very powerful and
had a strong impact on the
athletes. He even received two
standing ovations!
Jacob's story resonates with
me because my own grand-
father was a child survivor of
the Holocaust. My grandfa-
ther's parents were also mur-
dered and he was forced into a
German concentration camp — all at the
hands of the Nazi government.

I was glad that we were able
to take action at the rally by
signing postcards to Congress
urging an end to the genocide
in Darfur.
We also learned how we can
take action by participating in
groups like Will Work For Food,
which encourages young people
to find a "sponsor" to support
"work" they do in the commu-
nity like tutoring elementary
school students and visiting the
elderly.
The money earned for their
work goes to direct relief

efforts.
The rally ended with all of us walking

from Temple Israel to the JCC, both in
West Bloomfield, with signs and banners.
It is funny because many athletes and
coaches were complaining about doing
the one-mile walk until they heard Jacob's
story of walking a 1,000 miles.
The walk was a great way to conclude
the day and show our commitment to
ending the genocide in Darfur.
The connection between the Jewish peo-
ple and victims of genocide is profound.
As Jewish teens we have an obligation to
do our part to combat the genocide in
Sudan and around the world.

❑

Koby Berman, 14, is the son of Sharon

Milberger and Robert Berman of Farmington

Hills.