The Kindness of Strangers

"No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted."
-Aesop (620 BC - 560 BC), The Lion and the Mouse.

I had a terrible day Wednesday, April 22nd. One of the absolute worst days in a very long time. I was yelled at by a coworker, out in the open, in front of everyone. It was humiliating, and infuriating. And what she yelled at me was not even true and had no basis. As much as I tried to continue working after that, I could not. I had to get up and leave my office.

I went outside into the alley and tried to control myself and prayed that my red, teary eyes would go away quickly enough that I could go back to work. (For those who don't know, the alleys downtown are not really alleys, they are more like small streets, they just happen to be behind the buildings.) I was out there for an hour. In that hour, I got so many glances and stares, but only a few stopped to ask if I was okay.

At one point, I noticed a woman walking toward me, one of the many who had in the forty-five minutes I had been there. As she came towards me, I buried my head in my coat, hoping that like the others she would just glance at me and keep moving.

But she did not. She did glance at me, yes, but she stopped, asked if I was okay, and kneeled down beside me. I had said I was fine, but clearly I was not. She leaned in and and wrapped one of her arms around me in a hug. That was my undoing. I just broke down. I started crying in her arms.

I quickly pulled myself together, and thanked her. She proceeded to ask me if I wanted to pray, to which I kindly responded no after thinking that not only would we be praying to different G-d's, but that she probably expected me to cross myself. I had a quick flash of what would happen if I had accepted her offer to pray with me, and I didn't want to have to explain why I do not cross myself on top of everything else that had happened. She asked if I was sure; I said yes. She reached into her purse, pulled out a wad of tissues, and handed it to me telling me that I should at least have them. I thanked her, and as she got up, she said to me, "I'll be praying for you," and continued on.

I was shocked. A complete stranger, who had no idea who I was, was willing to, and did, offer me comfort and help. And you know what? It was a comfort, and it did help. It showed me that while I may have worked with some real jerks (and that's putting it nicely), that there are still people out there who are not, who are willing to help a person in need, a person they do not know at all. She gave me a glimmer of hope, that maybe, just maybe, people were not all that bad. I'm just sorry it took a complete stranger to help me realize this.

"Good Shabbos, Good Yontif"

As most Jews know, when passing one another on a holiday or Shabbos, it is customary, and courteous to say "Good Shabbos" or "Good Yontif" depending on what it is. Occasionally, you may even say both. So why is it that no one says it anymore?

I'll be honest: This is a huge pet peeve of mine. About as big as pet peeve as people pushing an already lit elevator call button. (Seriously, it's already pushed, hence the light. Pushing it again will not make it come any faster.) Common courtesy, right? You pass someone on the street you recognize as a fellow Jew, you say "Good Shabbos" or "Good Yontif." Easy. Simple. Nice.

Apparently, not so easy, not so simple, and not so nice. This has been happening for years--the decline of the courteous greeting from fellow Jews. I've noticed it as the years have passed. Each year, each holiday, each Shabbos, less and less people say it. In fact, even less and less acknowledge you with a smile, or half smile. They just walk past you, as if you do not exist. (Except I'm taking up half of their sidewalk. So much for not existing as they have to move over for me, as I do for them.)

So what, you ask, was my breaking point? Well, I'm glad you asked. It was this past Rosh Hashanah. I was walking home in the afternoon from my aunt's house for a much needed break (seven kids, one house; that's all I need to say). As I'm walking down a fairly popular side street on my way home, luck would have it I pass three teenage girls in deep meaning conversation. (You remember those, when it was all about boys, school, and "Omg, your shoes are so cute!") Not only did they barely move over so I would not have to walk in the grass in order to get around them (I know, three of them, one of me, but there was still room to move over some), but they sent me a snobby, "We're better than you are" look, and ignored me. I, however, was giving them a half smile, and about to say "Good Yontif." Once I saw their looks and caught their attitude, I promptly shut it. I turned my chin up and kept walking. I just hope they caught the chin thing.

Needless to say, I seethed about this all the way home. Granted, it was three minutes more, but then I seethed for about another five minutes once I got home. After that, I was just mad. I kept turning over in my mind what could have led to this decline, this...rudeness. And that's exactly what it is: RUDE. No excuses, no defenses, nothing. Just plain rude.

As I was thinking about this in my seven minutes, I kept remembering all the men, women, and kids who have done the same in the past. Why? Is it because I'm not religious enough (though how they could tell I would not know)? Is it rudeness? Bad upbringing? (Yes, I am throwing that one out there.) Is it Jewish law or tradition? I could not figure it out. OK, so some men won't say anything to a woman at all. Fine. I can deal with that; I can respect it. But you can usually tell which men are those type and which are not (hint: they way they dress most of the time). Granted, not always can you tell, but sometimes you can. So, ok, some will say nothing for shomer reasons. But what about the others? The women, other men, and kids? Let's be honest: The women are just snobs, and they pass it on to their kids. These are the people who think they are better than you for whatever reason. Maybe it's as simple as they have no idea who you are, or they do not even recognize your face (names are secondary), so you are not worthy enough of a greeting. That attitude, intentional or not, is passed on to their children, especially if they do in front of their children. They also encourage this behavior by not encouraging or making their kids say such niceties to others. My mother did it in front of me, therefore, I do. Same with my friends. Is this a sign of what parenting has become? The decline it has taken with each generation? I am not sure. What I am sure of though, is that my mother, and her mother would never have tolerated such behavior from their children.

Be that as it may, my beef is not with the parents who are not encouraging to be courteous, it is with the people and Judaism. One of the most important things that I took away with me after twelve plus years of Jewish Day School is that Judaism is about respect. Respect your elders, respect your parents, respect other faiths. Respect. So, and please correct me if I am wrong, but isn't saying "Good Shabbos" or "Good Yontif" a sign of respect? And isn't not saying it, not only disrespect, but going against one of the fundamentals of Torah teaching? To me, what it boils down to is hypocrisy. People who claim, and do, follow the Torah, it's laws and teachings, and then turn around, and show complete and utter disrespect for fellow (wo)man.

Maybe next time I am walking down the street and see a group of Jewish girls approaching, I'll stick my chin up, not move over so they can get by, give them a look with attitude, and keep walking. Or maybe I'll comment on their cute shoes.