RABBI YAAKOV ASHER SINCLAIR (Ohr.edu)
“In the desert” (1:1)
It is the late 1800’s.
A simple farmer is tilling his field and then he hits the motherlode. Gold! And a lot of it.
A wealthy financier in the big city offers him a fortune for his field. The financier sends him a nice advance and asks to meet him at his office where they will close the deal. The big city is a two-week trip by horse from his village. But he’s heard of this newfangled invention called the train.
He goes to the central train station to buy a ticket. The lady behind the ticket counter asks him what type of ticket he wants: first, second or third class. She sees he’s not too sure, so she says, “Third class tickets get you a place on the train but nothing more. You may also have to stand for the entire trip. Second class guarantees a seat, but it costs more.” Giving him a quick once over, she figures that there’s no point in describing first class.
“And first class?” he inquires indignantly. Rolling her eyes, she explains the luxuries of first class travel. She concludes, “It’s only for the very, very wealthy.”
Sensing her condescension, he juts out his chin and tells her, “First class for me!” and pays the exorbitant price.
The farmer heads for the platform as the train pulls into the station. It’s still early and most people haven’t arrived yet, but he notices some passengers boarding the very last car on the train. Not wanting to stick out, he follows them in. He sees them looking around furtively and then squeezing beneath the benches, so he does the same. He gets into a cozy position and in no time falls asleep.
The next thing he knows, he is being woken by a furious man who is kicking him and pulling him out from under the bench. Startled and disoriented, he stumbles to his feet and confronts his attacker. “Who are you?” The man smirks, grabs his shirt, and speaks right into his face. “I am the conductor. That’s who. And you, lowlife, are trying to hitch a free ride.” “No, I’m not! I paid top dollar for this first class seat!” he responds, which elicits peals of laughter from the other passengers, who are relishing the free entertainment.
He starts fishing around in his pockets, and, to their utter surprise, pulls out, just as he said, a first class ticket. The conductor studies the ticket, realizes it is authentic, and then, speaking in the hushed tones reserved for the very wealthy, asks the farmer, “Sir. You have a first class ticket. Why were you under the bench?” The farmer’s face flushes in embarrassment, “But that’s what everybody else was doing?” To which the conductor tells him, “Sir, you are not everybody else.”
In the Book of Devarim, the Torah is described as “a great sound that does not cease” (5:19). The Torah was given in a desert, and does not cease to be given in the desert. There are many kinds of desert. There are physical deserts and there are moral and spiritual deserts. We are living in a type of desert where the self-evident axioms of morality and decency are under constant and overwhelming onslaught. Our only salvation is to remember that “we are not everyone else.”
We are members of the greatest family in the world – the Jewish People.
We have a first class ticket that takes us where nobody else can go.
