Humiliation at Ben Gurion

Posted by JewishMom on Aug 25, 2022 in Inspiration, Israel, My life | 10 comments

I’m at the Ben Gurion Airport right now on my way to visit my father in Baltimore for a few days.
My travel agent recommended I arrive 4 hours early for my flight because of the huge lines and long waits at the airport. The line that met me at 5 AM was super long. But it went pretty quickly, and I busied myself downloading a bunch of Rabbi Fischel Schachter classes on Elul.
By 5:45, Rabbi Shachter in my ear, I was at the entrance to security. There was a long wrap-around line full of people. I knew the routine. I walked around the wrap-around line with everyone else until one man clipped open the elastic barrier, so he could walk straight to the security check without waiting in the line.
I was a good girl. I didn’t walk through the breach in the barrier. But before long the people in the line moved to the breach, thinking that was where they should go. Which meant suddenly I was behind all those people who had been behind me. I didn’t say anything. My flight was still over 3 hours away. And it’s not easy to get upset about anything with Rabbi Fischel Schachter saying “Hashem, you put me here, what do you want from me now?” in your ear.
And then an exasperated airport employee came to fix the breach. She pulled back the elastic barrier to close the breach. But she pulled it in front of me, which meant I would be put behind another 20 people or so.
I put my carry-on on the other side of the barrier,and said, “I was here.” She tried to close the elastic in front of me again. Again, I put my carry-on on the other side.
And then she yelled at me, in front of the whole line, “You put your suitcase on my foot! Do you NOT HAVE A BRAIN? And you are telling me ‘I was here!’ You DO NOT HAVE A BRAIN!”
I kept my mouth shut. I’ve heard many times that if you are humiliated in public and remain silent, it’s a tremendous opportunity to ask for a miracle and to give blessings. So, as I felt the sting, I prayed for my 2 older daughters to find their partners in life. I prayed for them to have shalom bayit.
It lightened the pain, but not enough. Tears came to my eyes. It hurt. It did. To be embarrassed in front of all those people. Almost none of whom weren’t religious.
But I continued to pray through my tears: May each of my daughters merit to establish a bayit neeman b’yisrael, to raise dorot yesharim umevorachim!
And I thought that maybe a year from now, on this date, I would stand at my daughter’s chuppah.
The taste of humiliation drowned out by the sweetness of salvation, just around the bend IY”H.

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