Rav Amnon, Part II, by Rafi Sackville

Israel Today Rav Amnon

Part II

By Rafi Sackville

Last May, I wrote a story about Rav Amnon Bo-Aron and a few of his most interesting life stories. He’s since informed me he’s writing a book and wanted my thoughts about one of his adventures. Happy to oblige, we recently met. His first question to me was if I knew where Long Island was. Noticing the wry look on my face, I explained that I had lived there for over 12 years. This particular story dates back to 1993, when Rav Amnon first began working at the religious council in Ma’alot.

Some 19 years earlier, in May 1974, terrorists infiltrated the area from Lebanon and, after killing five people, took scores of students hostage in the Netiv Meir school close to where we live today. The carnage that followed has been well documented. Twenty-two students from Tsefat were murdered.

The classroom became a shrine to the memory of the victims. For years, visitors came to pay their respects.

“Where blood is spilt, we build,” says Rav Amnon.

Two months after the bloodbath, The New York Times reported that Ma’alot’s 4,000 residents were still traumatized.

Today, almost 46 years have passed and the town is firmly established and constantly expanding with its population creeping towards 25,000.

Back in 1993, a chapter from NCSY arrived unannounced in Ma’alot wanting to visit the classroom. As it was in the middle of summer vacation, the school was closed.

They called the local council, who dispatched Rav Amnon to open the school. Rav Amnon got the group talking about how they, as Jews, felt threatened by terrorists. Then he turned his focus on ahavat chinam and the importance of the love of Torah.

His larger-than-life personality had a lasting effect on many of the group. They told him that he was welcome to visit them when he came to America. At the time, Rav Amnon found that funny, as he had never traveled outside of Israel.

Exactly two months later, the local council asked him to travel to the U.S. to collect money for Torah institutions in the city. Not long thereafter, he found himself in Manhattan totally overwhelmed by the size of the city.

On the day of his arrival, he was wandering around New York City, looking for a kosher restaurant. He found himself at the Har Tzion restaurant near the Empire State Building. The owner, an expatriate Israeli, took an immediate liking to Rav Amnon and asked him to stay with him and his parents in Brooklyn. He was emphatic in not wishing to be persuaded by Rav Amnon into becoming religious. Suffice to say, the young man eventually returned to Israel where, after years of learning, he now heads a yehiva in Beitar Eilit.

After two weeks in New York, Rav Amnon made contact with the NCSY chapter in Merrick. They invited him for Shabbat.

According to Rav Amnon, discovering the size of Manhattan couldn’t disabuse him of the notion that Long Island was as large as Ma’alot.

Parshat Tetzaveh fell out on January 11 that year. It was cold; much colder than the mild winters of Ma’alot. Rav Amnon’s first error was to leave the city on the subway, thinking it would take him to Merrick. By the time he discovered his mistake, he was forced to catch a cab.

He told the driver where he needed to get to, and they began talking. With his limited English, he felt uncomfortable trying to explain to the driver that he was not prepared to travel on Shabbat.

It didn’t take the driver long to realize where his passenger was from. He turned around to Rav Amnon and told him, “I’m from Ashdod.” He laughed aloud when Rav Amnon told him how large he thought the Island was.

There was heavy traffic leaving the city, and Shabbat was approaching as the cab slowly inched its way along Belt Parkway and onto the Southern State.

By the time the driver got to Merrick, Shabbat had begun, which was fine had they only been able to find the shul.

Rav Amnon was adamant he wouldn’t travel on Shabbat. He told the driver to stop. The driver asked him where he thought he was going to stay.

“Right here on this strip of grass,” he replied.

“This is America. It’s not safe,” pleaded the driver.

“I’ll take my chances,” replied Rav Amnon.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“I rid myself of fear by being connected to G-d,” and Rav Amnon began davening.

The driver called his station to tell them about “this madness” and to ask their advice.

Rav Amnon asked him how many homeless there were in New York. The driver didn’t know.

“Well, there’s one more homeless tonight,” remarked Rav Amnon as he continued davening.

“Get in the car!” ordered the driv-

er.

“Think positive, and it will be okay.”

It was then that they saw a man walking towards them.

“Shabbat shalom. I’m looking for Long Island,” Rav Amnon said.

“You’re in Long Island,” the gentleman replied.

“Merrick. We’re in Merrick, right?”

“You’re in Merrick.”

“I’m looking for the Ohav Shalom synagogue.”

“Why, it’s on the other side of this garden,” smiled the man and continued walking to shul.

Rabbi Yirmiahu Wohlberg, the rabbi of Ohav Shalom, was fascinated by how Rav Amnon had made his way to the shul and he asked him to address the large kehillah. Rabbi Wohlberg introduced Rav Amnon by stating that the story he was about to tell was nothing short of miraculous.

Rav Amnon not only told his arrival story but also that of Ma’alot. By chance (although nothing, of course, is by chance!), it was his bar mitzvah parsha, and the following morning they asked him to read from the Torah.

The Shabbat was exciting and fruitful for Rav Amnon. He spent his remaining two weeks there and raised over $40,000.

To this day- Rav Amnon keeps in touch with the taxi driver as well as many of the then youngsters with whom he spent Shabbat.

As I left his office on the day we recently met, Rav Amnon made one last point.

“What is important about this story is that, despite Rabbi Wohlberg’s sentiments about my ‘miraculous arrival,’ we cannot rely on them. We have to choose a derech chaim, a path in life.

“What looks like a miracle is no more than the cause and effect of doing G-d’s work.”