Breakdown to Breakthrough
Devarim (1:1–3:22)
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In 1985, just a day after saying the last Kaddish for my father, I flew to Israel — not for a vacation, but for a close friend’s wedding the very next day. Newly religious and a little emotionally unsettled, I thought I was ready for the journey ahead. But life had other plans.
The first test came halfway to Heathrow Airport when our minicab broke down — stranded on the motorway. The driver called for help — the recovery van and backup cab were at least 30 minutes away.
There I was — stuck on the shoulder, inside the cab, and feeling the pressure build — both physically and spiritually.
A swirl of anxious thoughts rose in my mind:
I’m going to miss the flight. The wedding. The mitzvah. Everything.
Then I remembered a lesson from my first year as a baal teshuva (a newly religious Jew):
Gam Zu L’Tovah — “This too is for the good.”
I found myself quietly repeating the words,
“Gam Zu L’Tovah… Gam Zu L’Tovah…”
just under my breath, swaying a little without even noticing.
The cab driver gave me a sideways worried look, as if wondering whether he should call for help on my behalf.
Minutes stretched into forty. Hope dimmed. I felt ready to give up.
Then, suddenly, flashing yellow lights appeared. Salvation arrived in the form of a breakdown van.
Thirty-five minutes later, we were back on the road. But time was not on my side. I nearly told the driver,
“Forget it — just take me home.”
Something deeper held me back — maybe the spiritual merit of the mitzvah waiting in Israel. I told him to keep going.
When we reached Heathrow, I sprinted toward the EL AL check-in desk like it was a finish line, dodging luggage trolleys like hurdles. Lo and behold, the desk was empty — no one in sight.
“Hello, hello? Is anyone here?” I called out, waving like a lost tourist.
Finally, a staff member appeared, calmly greeting me,
“Shalom, how can I help you?”
A little out of breath — I said,
“Yes, I’ve come to check in.”
I handed over my ticket.
She looked at the screen and paused.
“It’s showing the flight is fully booked.”
Fully booked? That can’t be right. Not now. Where do I go from here?
Then she said,
“Wait here.”
Wait? I’d been waiting my whole life — at school, at shul, for a girl who never showed up while I stood in the rain holding flowers… and just an hour ago, in a cab that quit on me on the motorway.
And now I was being told to wait again?
Five agonizing minutes later, she returned — this time with a smile:
“You’re in. We managed to book you on.”
Beautiful words. I nearly hugged her — but with my luck, I’d wake up back in that broken-down cab, wondering if it had all been a dream.
And then — the cherry on top:
“No need to rush. The flight’s delayed by one hour. Take your time and freshen up.”
At boarding, I handed over my pass and instinctively turned right — toward economy.
The stewardess stopped me, smiled, and said,
“This way, sir.”
Left — First Class.
My very first trip to Israel as a baal teshuva… in First Class.
If you’ve never flown EL AL First Class, imagine: legroom bigger than my living room, armchair-sized seats, a personal stewardess, and meals fit for royalty.
Heaven — literal flying heaven.
Parashat Devarim — Holding the Perspective
As Moshe recounts in this week’s parasha, the Israelites often chose fear over trust — especially at the sin of the spies. Despite G-d’s clear promises about the Land, they faltered on the edge of destiny.
It’s a timeless warning: even when the path ahead is promising, the smallest setback can make us forget everything we believe in.
Whether it’s a broken-down cab, a closed check-in desk, or a delayed flight to your future — perspective is tested in the tension.
But when we hold on, even by a thread, the reward isn’t always spectacular — though sometimes it is. More often, it’s the clarity of hindsight that reveals:
the breakdown was the breakthrough in disguise.
Living in Israel today, for those of us blessed to call it home, comes with its own challenges. Yet this land is not just about lifestyle or convenience — it’s about something deeper.
A life of quality over quantity, holiness over comfort, striving to see the good even when it’s hidden.
And now, as international momentum builds like never before, calling for a two-state solution, we are reminded that history is not just written in headlines — it’s lived in choices.
Just as the Israelites stood on the edge of their first national Aliyah, poised to enter the Land, we too, no doubt, are standing at the threshold of a defining moment.
It is not merely a time to hold ground — it’s a time to come home.
To affirm our presence.
To complete the journey.
To say, this Land is not for sharing — it’s for returning.
In the end, it’s not the delay that defines the journey — it’s how we respond to it.
Gam Zu L’Tovah.
Keep saying it.
It might — and will — get you there.
In First Class.
שבת שלום
שמואל
