Shortly after he arrived in Eretz Yisrael, Yitzchak’s excitement started brewing. He was eager to attend the kever of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai (Rashbi) on Lag Ba’Omer. In no way was it going to be an easy trip, though. Unlike today, where the trip is hard because of the mobs of people, back then, that wasn’t the challenge. The standard challenge was getting there, as the paved roads up the mountain didn’t yet exist, and making the climb was quite a hassle.
A few others joined along with Yitzchak for the trip, which helped him cover the cost of the taxi from Yerushalayim. After the long journey, the taxi parked itself at the foot of the mountain, and the driver apologized that he wouldn’t be able to climb it. “The incline is too steep, and I cannot make it up.” Pointing to the kever, he told them to meet him back at the bottom of the mountain in two hours. They took their Tehillim and some collected tefillos that they’d gathered to say after they finished davening. Everyone had their own personal needs to daven for, and based on that, they took the appropriate tefillos and made their way up the dirt path.
When they began to daven, they started to feel their hearts softening, as expected. In a short time, they found themselves drenched in tears — tears of joy and tears of tefillos. They continued their fervent tefillos until it was time for departure. As they were hiking down, they all commented how well-connected they felt while davening by the kever, and how it touched them so.
They were all in for a shock when the driver questioned them why they hadn’t gone up to the kever. “That isn’t the kever,” he told them. “It’s further up the mountain. Why did you stop there?”
“What?” they asked surprisingly. “That wasn’t even the kever?”
The driver shook his head. “You davened at a corn shed. To reach the kever, you must continue hiking up even higher, and then you’ll see it already.” By now, their hearts were completely melted. All those heartfelt tefillos were poured out alongside a shack?! They hadn’t come to Meron to daven at some corncobs. The boys looked at each other, unsure if they should laugh or cry. The kindhearted driver told them that he would wait an additional 30 minutes for them to daven — hopefully — at the grave.
They left the car once again, but this time their feet didn’t carry them as before. They left with a heavy heart and dried up emotions. They pulled out their Tehillim, which was already soaked with tears, but this time there were no tears to add. They said the words, but with very little, or no, emotion. They repeated their personal requests, only because they hadn’t yet made it to the kever, but it was nothing like before.
When reflecting on the story, his Rosh Yeshivah said that Hashem left them with a profound lesson. While not diminishing the chasivus of davening at mekomos ha’kedoshim, the experience nonetheless taught them something even more important: Don’t think that davening is limited to auspicious places, only. One can release a fervent and sincere tefillah at a “corn shed.” Davening is not limited to a particular place; any place you submit a tefillah, it has the capability — and the probability — of resolving the issue. Hashem is there listening to you “anywhere” you are. Just call out to Him — try it. It works. So, while you are reading this paper, think about a bakashah that you want to ask from Hashem — and say it, even in English — and watch what happens...
