The sanctity of the ears is a supreme virtue, and if we add it to the sanctity of the tongue, we have the service of God that is worthy of pride. There is no doubt that if a Jew is careful not to put idle things in his ears, the words of the unbelievers, and matters that the beautiful soul abhors, he has a better chance of succeeding in the task of refinement and purity of his tongue. He is on the way to the king.
Rochela Kadmon took upon herself a project that deserves to be honored. It's called "clean ears." When she was a Bat Mitzvah girl, she heard a sermon that plucked the strings of her heart, and inspired her to treat her ears as the first organ. The Rabbi said at the time, and she remembered his words well: "The ears are the source of balance of the body, yes, the physical balance is balanced from the ears, but much more important than that is the spiritual balance. If a Jew wants to elevate the virtues of fear, he must make sure to listen cleanly, not nonsense, not gossip, and certainly not slander, and of course not spoiled music that injures the soul."
Rochelle returned home and told her younger and older sisters about Operation Clean Ears. They laughed a lot, but she was mature. Only forbidden speech from one language or another sparkles and she sticks two fingers and leaves the room with gentle steps. Indeed, the combination of a clean ear and a clean tongue is unequivocal, and together the ear and the tongue march arm in arm, to the highest of the worlds.
The years pass and Ruchela gently walks towards the longed-for chapter in the life of every daughter of Israel - "The woman is sanctified". Rabbi Yekutiel Goldskind had to travel from his hometown of Jerusalem to Tiberias to console mourners. He wore as usual since the release of the MP3 devices. He put on his small headphones, pressed the button, and listened attentively to the Daf Yomi lesson. Under his armpit he held Tractate Kiddushin and waited for a taxi to head north. In his bag were a few more books, for the eulogy he was supposed to deliver in Tiberias.
As soon as the service taxi stopped, he went inside, sat down next to the driver, and completely disconnected himself from what was going on around him. His eyes followed the words in the Talmud and his ears gathered the fluid explanations. The taxi flew towards Sha'ar Hagai, from there to the Geha road, passengers went up and down, but Rabbi Yekutiel did not pay attention to what was happening.
At the Beit Lid junction, a modest ultra-Orthodox girl got into a taxi, paid for a ride to Tiberias, curled up in the right back and opened a book. She, too, tried to disconnect from what was happening in the taxi, but in vain. Three other passengers who boarded the next station knew the driver, and a lively and noisy conversation developed between the four about the nonsense of the world.
A few minutes later, one of the passengers asked to turn on the radio, and bad music with terrible words sounded in the cab and managed to occupy it. Rochela tried to seal her ears with cotton flakes, but to no avail. The noise was deafening. On the one hand, the cheap gossip of the driver and his friends, and on the other hand, the shallow choruses. In short, one of the worst ear hazards Rochelle has ever known. What do you do?
She didn't imagine what kind of vocal mess she would get into. "I feel burns in my ears," she thought, mustering up her courage. "Mr. Driver," she turned softly, "I very much ask – if it's possible without a radio, it bothers me." Her appeal only added fuel to the fire. The impolite passengers continued their loud conversation and ordered the driver to turn up the volume, to get angry. "Driver," Rochelle said with gentle firmness, "if the radio doesn't shut down, I ask to get off at the next station. No one will force me to listen to what I'm not allowed to hear." The brazen driver not only did not intend to turn off the device, but added sin to the crime, saying, "If you get off here, you won't get your money back." The passengers giggled mockingly.
Rabbi Yekutiel Goldskind moved restlessly in his chair. He noticed what was happening around him and the dialogue that was taking place between the taxi passengers, took off his headphones and listened. "I didn't ask for my money back," Rochelle replied, "Stop here and I'll go on my way with another taxi. You can't force me to listen to the radio." The huge sign read "Wadi Ara", an area with many Arab settlements. Rabbi Yekutiel asked the driver to accede to the passenger's request and turn off the radio, but was refused. "Excuse me, Rabbi, you are not the only passengers here, there are passengers who actually enjoy the radio. I have to serve everyone. Put a plug in your ears! If she wants to go, let her go down." "You are not allowed to go down here," Rabbi Yekutiel told her, "in Wadi Ara there were violent incidents, it's a hostile area. At the Megiddo junction you can get off. I am sorry that this is the way things are... But your behaver is highly appreciated!"
At the Megiddo junction, Racheli got off, entered the bus station and waited. Rabbi Yekutiel Goldskind tried several times to persuade the driver to retract his refusal, but the driver insisted and left the young passenger behind. "May God protect you," the rabbi thought to himself, "really doing Kiddush Hashem." Minutes later, Rabbi Yekutiel was already on his way to the mourning tent in the East 50 neighborhood of Tiberias. He crossed the two-lane road carefully, and in front of him, on the crosswalk, was the young passenger from the service taxi, and next to her was an elderly woman walking slowly. The two walk hand in hand. Rabbi Yekutiel stopped. "Honorable Rabbi, thank God, three minutes after I got off, a service taxi with a kind driver stopped next to me. The ride was quiet. With your permission, I would like to tell you exactly what happened in the second taxi. Anything that begins with the sanctification of God probably also ends with the sanctification of God."
Rabbi Yekutiel wrote down his cell phone number on a piece of paper that he had torn from his notebook, and hurriedly turned to the afternoon prayer in the mourning tent. Three hours later." My name is Rachel Kadmon and I live in the center of the country. I went to Tiberias today to tell my aunt there about my upcoming wedding to a yeshiva student. "Ever since I made up my mind at the age of Bat Mitzvah, I have been careful to keep my ears clean, to stay away from gossip and nonsense, and all the more so from inappropriate music. What you saw today in a service taxi was not an easy experience for me, but with God's help, I went down in order to get up." "What does it mean?" asked Rabbi Yekutiel, "I got into the next taxi and sat down next to an elderly lady, the lady who accompanied me through the crosswalk. Very quickly a good friendly conversation developed between us. Mrs. Toiva Erlich is a woman over 80 years old, graceful, full of kindness, and most of all, full of wisdom of life.
"Before we arrived in Tiberias, she turned to me with a request: "Rochelle, I'm sure you're in a hurry. But will you be able to do me a little kindness? Please take me to Zion Rabbi Meir Baal HaNes, today is the 14th of Iyar, the second Pesach, the day of the celebration, I owe this holy Tanna a debt of honor since my childhood." "I was curious and asked her what the debt was? She answered: "My father Moshe, peace be upon him, lived in Jerusalem in terrible poverty. There were days of terrible hunger, Father literally gave his life for a piece of bread, and his face turned black with sorrow... "One of the tzaddikim of Jerusalem suggested that he go to Zion of Rabbi Meir in Tiberias and pray before the Holy One, blessed be He, that thanks to the holy Tanna, the gates of livelihood will be opened for him. Father traveled for a week on the roads and in danger. He wept over Zion, returned to Jerusalem, and the wheel of fortune turned on him. He studied goldsmithing and within a few years became one of Jerusalem's richest and one of its pillars of charity. He left us a large inheritance of money and assets. My father had great gratitude to Rabbi Meir, and every year during the celebration we visited the Zion and prayed.
"On his deathbed, my father said to us: "I ask my children, as long as you live on earth, observe the Zion on the 14th of Iyar and thank God for His great kindness that He showered upon us thanks to the holy Tanna, Rabbi Meir." "Interesting," said Rabbi Yekutiel. "That's not all, Mrs. Toiva Erlich ended her father's will with these words: "And I ask you, Father said, to look for a poor bride every year and take care of her needs from the ground up, including rent for an entire year. Well, well, Rochelle, when are you getting married?" asked Toiva Erlich. "With great shyness, I told her that the day before yesterday I got engaged, and yesterday I wandered around Yad Hedva for a long time to find some suitable dresses, and maybe a wedding dress as well.
"Toiva hugged me tightly with tears in her eyes and said: 'Rochelle, I'm happy for you, you don't need Gemachim, we're the Arlichis, we'll give you everything, literally everything. You came to me as a gift from Rabbi Meir, you will accompany me and you will also be the bride that we will bring into the chuppah." Rabbi Yekutiel listened attentively and noted: "There is no doubt Rachel, your clean ears are paving the way for you and will continue to pave a blessed and fine path for you later in life."
