Wanna Lift?

We’re a generation that doesn’t get inspired by talk of fear and dread. Is there another language we can access to turn around our relationship with Hashem?

Every year in the beginning of Elul, I remember an encounter I had with a taxi driver who gave me a special gift.

I had to get from Bnei Brak to Tel Aviv, where I was living at the time, and flagged down the first cab I spotted. But when I opened the door to get in, I hesitated. The driver’s bizarre appearance, I admit, was a bit frightening. His hair was so long and wild that it covered half his face, his poor excuse for a shirt showed off intricate tattoos on his biceps, and frankly, I just didn’t think he’d be a safe traveling companion.

But he noticed my hesitation and actually gave me an encouraging smile. I didn’t want to insult him, so I climbed into the back seat and prayed for a safe ride. We drove off, and after a few moments he suddenly said, “I’m ashamed!”