Somebody yanked the rug out from under my feet. Rivka Levy is gone, Esther is gone, I don’t hear a word from my childhood friends in Florida.
Okay; you could say what do I need them for? I never even met Rivka; I haven’t seen my childhood friends for 50 years. I’m on edge. At any moment, anywhere in Florida, we don’t know if Hurricanes Irma and Jose are going to be strong or weak; and will they hit my friends' homes, G-d forbid?
Even the all-knowing meteorologist, known to us fondly as the Weather Lady, is talking in circles; she has no clue. I’m worried about her mental health now.
And even me; I’m all mixed up. Rav Dror [google him] says in the name of Rabbi Nachman: [watch out for] Too Much Truth, especially the Heavenly kind. G-d loves Truth, yes; but also threw it down to the ground...
In order that Truth will sprout from the dirt.
All of a sudden I can’t say it anymore: Hey! Come to Israel; the answers are here. Now it's only questions: Is Joe gonna pick up his backpack and leave again? Is Meni gonna take off for Amsterdam? Will my nephew leave kollel and go to the soccer game?
And the local boys, as soon as exams are over: will they go back to sleep until the Army sends them notice, or will they head out for the dirt path in Goa and Nepal, and leave the gemara with its Heavenly Truth in their parents’ closet?
I know, because my closets are stuffed with these things.
Rivka Levy and Esther say the answer is somewhere in London. Lauren says it's in Naples, Florida; the hurricane won’t change her mind as I hoped it would. I can’t tell them I’m winning the Redemption Race just because I stay here in Israel, get up early, pray, read psalms; eat kosher, watch over the Shabbos laws…because…because…they won't buy it. Why?