ב"ה

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A Thief Robbed Me on the Airplane

Thursday, August 27, 2026 - 5:31 PM

A few weeks before my trip to South Africa, my brother-in-law called to ask me a favor. He was ordering a new credit card and asked if I would trouble myself to bring it with me when I came. “Of course,” I said. He thanked me and urged me to keep it safe.

Where is the safest place I can keep it? I asked myself. And I decided to keep it with my own credit card. That way it is guaranteed safe.

And I did. As soon as the envelope arrived, I tore it open and slid his card in right beside mine. What could go wrong with something kept as close as I keep my own.

Then came the chaos of a 15-hour flight with 8 children! Oy gevalt.

We landed in Cape Town already late for the bar mitzvah. We ran to pick up our rental and the woman at the counter said, “License and credit card, please.” I reached for them … and they were gone. No card. No license. Not in my wallet, not in my pocket, not in any of our bags.

I had a photo of my license but she couldn’t accept it. So we put the van under my wife’s name and I drove. (We will not dwell on the fine print of that arrangement) Thank G-d, we made it to the bar mitzvah in one piece.

The next day, my brother-in-law called: someone was using his card in Cape Town. And that’s when it clicked. I hadn't misplaced anything; I had been robbed. Somewhere over those 15 dark hours on the airplane, someone had quietly lifted my cards and my license, and my brother-in-law's precious card right along with them, and was now enjoying a shopping spree across the city.

I'll spare you my first instinct, which was to note that the thief was spending rather more modestly than my own family does, and to briefly wonder whether we should simply let him keep it. That's a joke. (Mostly.) I cancelled everything, of course, and my brother-in-law also ordered a new card (and, I'm fairly sure, found a more reliable courier than me to carry it).

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized what a powerful lesson I’d just been shown.

I tried hard to keep the credit card safe. I gave it thought and put it in the safest place I could think of—right alongside my own card, where I would protect it as I do my own. And still, it was stolen.

Because what really protects us is not our own actions, but Hashem. He is in control and He decides if my credit card will stay in my pocket or be stolen on the other side of the world.

Sometimes Hashem allows something small to be taken from us to teach us something much bigger about what we should really be holding onto.

The credit card was replaceable. The license was replaceable. The money was replaceable. But the lesson? That is something only He could teach me.

Baboon On My Car With My Family Inside!

Thursday, August 20, 2026 - 5:44 PM

During our trip to South Africa, we took the kids to Cape Point about two hours outside of Cape Town, at the very tip of the Cape Peninsula—the most south-east corner of the country.

It’s scenic and mountainous, and unique to South Africa’s rugged beauty. The hike up the cliffs is absolutely worth the effort, and the views from the lighthouse are truly breathtaking.

When we were ready to leave, I took one of my sons to the restroom, while the rest of the kids went ahead to wait in the car with my wife.

We were gone for all of three minutes, but when we returned, an entirely new scene greeted us: a whole troop of wild baboons! They had descended on the area and were ransacking the garbage cans like they'd been waiting all day! One large male had claimed a pile of trash as his own and was baring his teeth at any of the other baboons who dared come close.

Then I noticed a woman standing nearby with her back to the scene. She had no idea what was going on! One of the baboons crept up behind her and grabbed her handbag (fortunately, he didn’t try too hard, and she was able to hold onto it!)

We walked towards our car and that’s when I saw it—a wild baboon had made itself quite comfortable atop our vehicle.

So there I am, my wife is inside, my children are inside, and I’m standing about twenty feet away, doing the only truly heroic thing a father can do in a moment like this: filming it.

The doors and windows were closed and locked, so everyone was safe. But the baboon was climbing onto the hood, peering through the windows, as if deciding which tasty snack to go for first.

Inside, some of the kids were losing it. One of my daughters in particular was terrified. She couldn’t stop shaking.

But I loved every second of it.

I grew up with these baboons. And here were my own children getting to experience the exact thing I lived as a boy.

As much as I wanted to stay and watch them, soaking in the nostalgia, as soon as the baboon climbed off the car, I jumped in and drove off to try and calm my daughter.

I wondered why she was so afraid. The baboon didn’t do anything to her. It couldn't. They were separated by glass and steel.

But the baboon looked dangerous, and so that’s how she perceived it. That perception was powerful enough to make her scream, and powerful enough to make us drive away.

And she’s not alone. Much of what scares us isn’t actually dangerous, it just looks that way. And that perception is strong enough to keep us shut away, missing the very experiences that could have been the best day of our lives.

But the baboon was never going to hurt my daughter, and the thing you're afraid of isn’t going to hurt you either.

Afraid to start keeping Shabbat? That makes sense! It looks like giving something up. But if you let go and dive in, you’ll discover that it adds so much more to your life than it takes away.

Scared to start keeping kosher? It looks complicated and restrictive. And it definitely is a big step! But once you take the first step, and then the next, it will become a lot less overwhelming.

Anxious about walking into the daily minyan for the first time? Makes sense! It’s intimidating walking into any unfamiliar space. But if you let go and take the plunge, you’ll soon wonder what you were ever afraid of.

We're standing at the doorway of a brand-new year, the perfect time to stop trusting the perception and start taking the leap.

It’s not as scary as it seems!

P.S. I still have the video. My daughter has since watched it roughly forty times — from the safety of our living room couch, where no baboon has ever once appeared. Funny how brave we all get once there's an ocean between us and the thing we were afraid of! Give her a few years and she'll be telling her own kids that this was the greatest day of her life.

Stranded in Lion Country With a Flat Tire and No Phone

Thursday, August 13, 2026 - 3:32 PM

I spent two nights in Pilanesberg Game Reserve this week, with my brother, my nephew, and all our kids. We traveled in three separate cars, but did everything together.

Monday was absolutely spectacular. Everything we dreamed of. We saw elephants, lions, buffalo, zebras, giraffes, hippos, and more.

The next day it rained and the rocky dirt roads started to turn to mud. Jokingly, I turned to my family and asked: "You know, these roads are really rough. What would happen if we got a flat tire out here?"

Twenty minutes later, we found out.

My nephew spotted it first from his car. "You have a flat tire." My brother double-checked. He was right.

We were in the middle of the African bush. We had no phone service, no internet, no WhatsApp, and no Google Maps. And because of the rain, we hadn't passed another car in ages.

The first rule they drill into you when you enter the reserve is: stay in your vehicle no matter what! You’re surrounded by wild animals, predators who move quickly and quietly. You’re in their home, on their turf, where they live and hunt, and as soon as you’re out of the vehicle, you’re easy prey.

But now, we had no choice. We now had to get out of the car.

The kids started getting nervous. "What if lions come?" I tried to reassure them but I was worried too. I just had the good sense not to say it out loud this time, having already learned my lesson about making predictions!

I got out and started hunting for the spare. I knew there had to be a jack and a tire somewhere. But I searched the entire car and came up empty-handed.

My brother and nephew set off in their cars to look for help. We moved my four younger children into their vehicles, two in each, and then we did the only thing left to do: wait and pray.

About ten minutes later, a Jeep appeared on the horizon. Inside was an Afrikaans couple who introduced themselves as Mecayla and Divan and pulled over to see if we needed help.

We explained what had happened, and without hesitation, Divan climbed underneath the vehicle, into the mud and pouring rain, to show me that the spare lives underneath the car on this particular model. For the next hour, two complete strangers worked to change the tire of a family they had never met, in the middle of a game reserve, while our children kept watch out the windows for lions, rhinos, and buffalo.

Then another couple stopped and introduced themselves. It turned out they were Jewish and my mother had taught the woman in school years earlier. Then a third couple pulled over. And then a man named Anthony.

All these strangers willing to put themselves in danger to help other strangers. I was blown away!

When I asked, Anthony told me it had been a very long time since he last put on tefillin. Before I could say another word, my son hopped out of the car, walked over, climbed into Anthony's car, and right there, in the middle of Pilanesberg Game Reserve, surrounded by lions and rain, my son helped another Jew put on tefillin for the first time in years.

You might think I was irritable or frustrated, stuck on the side of a muddy road for an hour and a half. But actually, I couldn't stop smiling.

Usually, when something goes wrong, we ask, "Why is this happening to me?" But the better question is, "What is this happening for?"

Why did we get a flat tire? Why twenty minutes after I said the words out loud? Why in the one spot with no phone service? Why did Mecayla and Divan drive by exactly ten minutes later? Why a Jewish couple who happened to know my mother? Why Anthony? Why did it even occur to me to ask him about tefillin?

We spend so much of our lives certain we've been stranded. Things don’t go to plan. A deal falls through, plans collapse, things go wrong. We feel like we've been abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

But really, we're exactly where we're supposed to be. It’s not always as obvious as my encounter, when it’s clear I got a flat tire because Anthony needed to put on tefillin, and Hashem needed a flat tire to arrange the meeting. But everything that happens in our lives is Divinely orchestrated and ordained. There’s always a purpose. We’re never stranded or abandoned. It might not be where we want to be, but it’s exactly where we’re meant to be.

We changed the tire and made it back to the gate. The next morning, I saw we actually had three(!) flat tires, not just one. The others were slowly leaking air, so they didn’t flatten completely, allowing us to drive out of the park. One was enough to get us to stop and meet Anthony. The others held up enough to get us home safely!

Everything worked out, thank G-d. I gave Mecayla and Divan my Instagram because I never want to lose touch with the two strangers who became angels in the rain.

We thought a flat tire had ruined our afternoon, but it turns out the flat tire was the afternoon! How blessed we are!

P.S. My family has now officially banned me from wondering out loud about anything on our trips. Apparently, I'm a little too good at it.

Assaulted for Praying at 35,000 Feet

Thursday, August 6, 2026 - 1:50 PM

Last week, I flew from Newark to Cape Town, South Africa, with two of my brothers and their families to celebrate two simchas: a wedding and a bar mitzvah.

Long flights always come with their challenges, and this one would be 15 hours(!), but we were well prepared and looked forward to a peaceful trip.

On a flight this long, it’s inevitable that we’ll have to do some of the daily prayers aboard. We’re always mindful that we are guests on the aircraft and try to be as unobtrusive as possible. We wait until meal service has ended, remain out of the crew's way as much as possible, and return to our seats quickly. We certainly never want to inconvenience anyone.

We’ve done this on countless flights over many years without incident. This time, it was entirely different.

As soon as we started the evening prayers, one flight attendant (I’ll call him S) began shouting at us aggressively. “Move! Get out of the aisle!” He did this repeatedly, frightening our children and shocking us all.

Later that evening, my brother fell asleep and his legs drifted slightly in the aisle—something we’ve all done! But instead of waking him with a polite request, S. slapped his legs to wake him.

A short time later, my 12-year-old niece was returning to her seat after using the restroom. As S. passed, he physically shoved her aside. Her mother witnessed the entire incident and was left stunned.

We lodged formal complaints with other members of the crew but nothing changed.

The following morning, the same pattern repeated itself. Once again, S. shouted at members of our family as we prayed quietly. He then repeatedly ordered my nephew, who was standing quietly at his own seat in the middle of the Amidah, the most important prayer, to sit down.

At that point, I had had enough and asked him to stop yelling. Instead, he became even more agitated and aggressive, so I took out my phone and began recording the interaction, which only further angered him.

Thank G-d, we arrived in Cape Town safely and celebrated our family's joyous occasions together. And I sincerely hope we do not encounter S on our flight home!

But in mulling over this story, I wondered what it is that makes us so determined to gather in prayer even in places that aren’t welcoming or conducive. After all, we are fortunate to have shuls—dedicated prayer spaces—in so many places. Couldn’t we just pray before we left and again upon arrival?

But in Judaism, prayer is not exclusively tied to a physical space. G-d is accessible and waiting to hear from us wherever we go—whether that’s a shul, an amusement park, a boat, or an airplane.

Yes, we should pray quietly, respectfully, and without seeking special treatment. But simply skipping prayers is never an option. So next time you’re traveling, or out for the day without access to a shul, don’t be intimidated or embarrassed to stop and pray wherever you are. And it is my hope that the airline will adequately convey that to S, so the next group of Jews on his flight aren’t subjected to the same treatment we were.

Oh and I really hope S. is not our flight attendant on our way back!

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