A story about a Jerusalem grocery store on Shabbat
On Friday afternoon, Meir Shua was getting ready to close his grocery store, located on Ussishkin St. in Jerusalem. But just as he was about to lock up, he realized that the key was missing. He searched high and low, and when he couldn’t find it, he asked the family members who help run the store with him for a spare key, but the closest one was in Ashkelon.
The sun was about to set, Shabbat was moments away, and with a heavy heart, Meir headed home. Without the key, he couldn’t lower the large security gate at the entrance. So, he walked away, leaving the door unlocked and his merchandise fully exposed.
What do you think happened next? Well, 25 hours went by. On Shabbat, thousands of people of all types passed through Ussishkin Street. Inside the store sat a cash register filled with cash, and shelves lined with hundreds of thousands of shekels worth of merchandise, including cigarettes and alcohol, all left unguarded.
When Meir returned to the store on motzei Shabbat, after Shabbat ended, he was stunned.
“Everything was exactly where I left it,” he said. “Nothing was stolen.” What’s more, some concerned neighbors, thinking the store had been broken into, had placed a large trash bin in front of the entrance to block access.
People from the neighborhood and beyond have been flocking to the grocery store to hear Meir’s firsthand account. His takeaway?
“We just read on Shavuot: ‘You shall not steal.’ We’re not just people who don’t steal — we are righteous!”
A tefilin chain connecting Israel and the US
The following two stories, shared by readers, reveal a hidden thread of Jewish connection being reawakened in unexpected ways:
Brody, a young American from Boston, recently arrived in Israel. He visited Me’arat HaMachpeilah, the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron, where Mordechai Hellinger guided him and helped him put on tefilin — for the very first time in his life. Mordechai told him about Captain Ori Shani, a local resident who fell heroically in battle on Oct. 7, 2023.
Deeply moved by Ori’s story, Brody declared that he wanted to begin putting on tefilin daily in Ori’s memory. He went straight to a nearby store and purchased a pair.
Not long after, Ori’s father, Yehoshua Shani, received an emotional phone call: his son had inspired a young Jew in Boston to reconnect with his heritage. Since then, he has been receiving daily photos — images of Brody donning tefilin “in honor of your son.”
Meanwhile, at the ICU in Shaare Zedek Medical Center, Rivka Moshel sat by the bedside of her son Yoni, who was critically injured in a car-ramming attack. The Moshels, new immigrants from the US, were devastated. Rivka told an American friend how Yoni had not missed a single day of tefilin since his Bar Mitzvah — and now lay unconscious, connected to machines. (His name for prayer is Yonah ben Sheina Rivka, for a full recovery.)
The next day, Rivka received a message:
“I’m Steve, an American student. I heard about Yoni from your friend. I don’t know how to put on tefilin, and I can’t remember the last time I did — but I’m committing to start now, for Yoni. Every day I’ll send you a selfie with tefilin.”
Rivka now receives those photos each morning. “This,” she says, “is my oxygen.”
Faith under fire
I’m happy to share a small moment of Jewish civilian heroism — one of so many during these challenging times and that reminds us who we are and what we’re fighting for.
Rabbi David Moriah of the Givat Mordechai neighborhood in Jerusalem wrote to me about Moshe Zakkai and Dana Levi, a couple whose wedding day was planned for this past Sunday, June 15. Of course, the date was mere hours after Israel launched its preemptive attack against Iran, and the Home Front Command has been prohibiting public gatherings due to safety considerations. On Friday morning, when they realized the situation, Moshe and Dana decided not to postpone the wedding.
Rabbi David Moriah wrote: “Dana is the daughter of the late Meir Levi, z”l, and his widow, Miriam. Meir, our beloved neighbor, passed away about four years ago. A year later, Miriam and Dana dedicated a sefer Torah in his memory.
“On Sunday, I noticed a WhatsApp message from our apartment group about a wedding taking place in the courtyard. ‘All the neighbors are invited to join — and they’d be happy with some light refreshments.’ My wife immediately volunteered to bake and neighbors offered to help. Within no time, chairs were arranged and tables were set. The chuppah was scheduled for 5 p.m.
“At 4:08 p.m., a missile alert sounded, and everyone scattered to nearby shelters.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a wedding that moved me so deeply I could barely breathe from emotion. Our neighbor, Golan Azulai, came down with his guitar, and a relative, Ezri Tovi, stopped by to play music — on his way back to the front lines in Gaza as a reservist.
“Before the chuppah, everyone joined in singing, uplifted and undeterred: ‘Al tira Yisrael, Fear not, Israel, fear not, for you are a lion’s cub,’ and ‘Yisrael batach baHashem, Israel trusts in G-d — He is their help and protector,’ and ‘Hoshia et amecha, Deliver Your people and bless Your inheritance.’
“At her father’s funeral, Dana had said: ‘My dear Abba, you so badly wanted to see me married, but you didn’t merit to.’ The Torah scroll dedicated in his memory stood beneath the chuppah, and it truly felt as though Meir was present.
“After the chuppah, in a spontaneous initiative by the neighbors, falafel portions were ordered from a nearby shop. In the building lobby, we improvised a lively Sheva Brachot for the young couple. At 8:34 p.m., a message arrived from the Home Front Command app, warning that missile alerts were expected shortly in our area. In the short window between that alert and the sounding of the siren, we managed to complete all seven blessings, sing the final one, and rush quickly into the safe rooms.
“Dear Moshe and Dana, it’s usually the guests who come to bring joy to the bride and groom — but this time, it felt like the opposite. More than we brought you joy, you gave us a powerful and unforgettable experience: a moment of joy and pride in being part of a lion-hearted nation, a nation that continues to build and celebrate, even in wartime.”
A nation of lions
This story gave you strength at the beginning of the war, in the wake of Oct. 7 — and now, once again. Families are telling me that they’re reading it in bomb shelters. So here it is, the story Yael Binenfeld from the city of Lod sent me. It seems we are moving, with G-d’s help, toward the story’s happy ending.
“A few days ago, a siren went off in Lod while the children were at school,” writes Yael. “One of my children called me, crying. He said he was scared and asked me to come pick him up.
I tried every tool I know to help him from afar — empathy, reflection, helping him process the event, breathing exercises, and more. But nothing worked.
Then, as a last resort, I said the following words: ‘You are part of the people of Israel, and the people of Israel are full of courage. That means you are full of courage too. What exists within Am Yisrael throughout the generations also exists in you. Avraham Avinu (Abraham our forefather), King David, the Maccabees — all of them, every one of them, are inside you.’
And I finished with a verse: ‘Behold, a people rises like a lioness and lifts itself like a lion.’ We are a nation of lions — who know how to rise from crisis, overcome, and prevail.
And then, suddenly, just like that, he said to me: ‘Okay, Mom. I’m going back to class,’ and hung up.”
This story isn’t just about one little boy — it’s about all of us. Our people are thirsty for greatness. We draw strength and spiritual fortitude from our mighty roots. The great spiritual traits that lived within our ancestors—from the fathers and mothers of our nation — continue to live within each and every Jew. It’s in our DNA.
This is a people that understands: even if there are delays, even if the road is long — Am Yisrael Chai. And that gives us strength.
Fake news
In this week’s parsha, Shelach, 12 spies are sent to the Land of Israel from the wilderness in order to scout out the land. Ten return with a harsh and negative report, sowing despair in the hearts of the people by telling them that it is not a good idea to continue their journey to the Land of Israel as it is a land that “consumes its inhabitants.”
As a punishment for the historical sin of the spies, the Children of Israel were told that they would wander in the wilderness for 40 years, one year for each day that the spies were in the Land of Israel.
Why was their sin considered so devastating? After all, they simply shared their feelings with the people. But that’s just the point. They did not distinguish between the facts and their personal feelings. They presented their opinions as fact, and thus took on the role of advisors instead of simply being reporters. Their charge had been to bring back information, but they gave their personal interpretation of what they saw. The people heard the spies and reacted with bitterness and frustration, losing their motivation to continue on the journey to the Land of Israel.
What a relevant lesson for us today! When we watch a news program or read an article, we must use our critical thinking skills. Are we being given information or is the content trying to educate us? We must ask ourselves if we are interested in this educational influence.
Ultimately, the spies did not succeed in brainwashing the Children of Israel with their negative opinions — and we are proof! Thousands of years later, we are still reading the Torah portion of Shelach, in the very land that the Spies had recommended we avoid and refrain from settling in.
Translated from Hebrew by Yehoshua Siskin and Janine Muller Sherr
