Three weeks ago, shortly after Hurricane Sandy hit, I was on my way to shul when I noticed a long line of cars waiting for gas. The line didn’t seem to be moving at all, and one of the drivers explained to me that he’d been waiting three and a half hours already and the gas had not even arrived at the station yet!
Five hours later the line was still there. I spoke to a different driver who told me the gas still hadn’t arrived. Apparently the delivery came at 3:30pm, and many of the people had been waiting since 5am!
Everyone I spoke to that week was having gas problems. The doorman of my building waited eight hours for three gallons of gas. I ran out of gas completely. The preschool teachers who work in our school usually travel by subway, but because the trains were not running we gave them our car so school could continue. On the second day they ran out of gas and I had to ask a friend of mine to bring me gas from Stamford, CT.
The whole frenzy reminded me of time I spent in Eastern Europe twelve years ago. I was travelling with a friend, looking to bring love and concern and Judaism to local Jews. We spent a day in Macedonia, and noticed we were running low on gas. We stopped at gas station after gas station but all were empty. Soon we hit empty and our car stalled on the highway. Fortunately, we were only five miles from the Jewish community that was expecting us, and someone there was able to give us enough gas to cross the border.
Watching the cars lined up on my way to and from shul got me thinking. I also sell gas. Gas for the soul. And my gas is free. Why are there long lines of people waiting outside, but not lining up for spirituality inside the shul?
A friend of mine recently committed to buying a pair of tefillin and putting them on once a week. “How much does a pair cost?” he asked me. I suggested a $500 pair of tefillin which is considered “mehudar” – higher quality. “What’s the cheapest I can go?” he asked. I explained that $200 would buy him the most basic, barebones tefillin, and he was satisfied with that. “What kind of car do you drive?” I asked him. “A Bently,” he responded. “Hmm…” I mused. “Why not a Ford or a Toyota? When it comes to cars, only the best will do. But tefillin? Spiritual gas? The cheapest only, please.”
In this week’s parsha Jacob prepares to meet with his twin brother Esau after years of estrangement. When Jacob “stole” the birthright blessings, Esau chased after him, threatening his life. Jacob spent years with his uncle Laban, married, raised a family and prospered. He had amassed large flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, and was now preparing to return to his homeland, Canaan.
On his way home, Jacob met with Esau. He sent a message ahead. “I have lived temporarily with Laban. I have oxen and asses, sheep, servants and maidservants…”
What was Jacob actually telling Esau? His true message was: I have worked hard and become rich, yes. But more importantly, I have learned that things in this world are only temporary. Our main purpose in life is not to amass monetary wealth, but to stock up on spiritual wealth. To identify how we can use every part of this world in our service of G-d, and do so.
Let’s take Jacob’s message to heart. We’re willing to wait hours for gas but we can’t take a few minutes out of our day to pray, study Torah, or help someone in need? Something is wrong with that scenario, but we can change it. It’s time to fill up on spiritual gas.