Not One Of Us

October 2, 2025

NOT ONE OF US

Well now here’s the set up. I am a newcomer, a stranger in this small Israeli town and it’s Erev Yom Kippur. For those of you Goyem (non Jews) that are in the dark as to what that means, it is literally the evening that starts the holiest of holy days in the Jewish calendar, “The Day Of Atonement”. For the following 24 hours Jews, throughout the world— that is most of them anyway, and I’m talking about both religious and secular players —participate in some way shape or form in recognizing or observing this day. For the religiously devout it includes total fasting coupled with a chained-in presence in the synagogue to pray uninterrupted for the entire day. The name of the game is to confess one’s sins committed during the previous year ad nauseum, ask for forgiveness from the big guy above and pledge to him that you will do better in the year to come. Now don’t get me wrong here. I am not referring to my particular brand of belief and participation. I’m just giving you an overview of what this holiday (not really a celebration but so-called) is supposed to be about.

As for me personally the only real Yom Kippur connection I needed to make was to attend the evening service to hear the beautiful opening prayer . It is titled KOL NIDRAY“ (All vows” in English), and when sung by a voice, that can do justice to its haunting melody, is emotionally powerful, moving and inspiring. But that’s it. After it has been traditionally sung three times, at different rates of speed, I’m gone. I need no more praying. That’s my choice.

Now having given you some background as to where it all took place let me proceed. And by the way just in case you are wondering— the reason for my being in this small town in the first place is totally irrelevant at this point in my story. I am here, that’s it, and all I want is to hear is KOL NIDRAY- period. But not to worry, I will address that subject later— in spades.

So here I am checked into my hotel totally alone. Nu I ask you, what would you expect me to do? What a question. To look for someone to help me of course. So I approach the front desk and in my rudimentary Hebrew, mumble to the clerk, “Midabear Angleet"? (“Do you speak English?”) This blonde“kid”, whom I had not seen before and looking like he was 12 years old, pops his head up and says in an accent straight out of Cambridge, “Yes I do Sir and how can I help you? Wow was I glad to hear that. So I ask him point blank, “ Can you please tell me where is the nearest synagogue to this place”? The kid gives me a big smile and says, “There are a couple of them close by just to the north of us—no more than a 10 minute walk. You will find them both on our side of the street”. I thanked him and exited the building.

The sun is setting and I take a peek at my watch. It’s 6:30. My guess is that it will soon be dark enough for the evening service to start —maybe another 30 to 40 minutes. That gives me time to find the shul (that’s a synagogue for you illiterates) and get settled in. I start my march northward. In no more that five minutes I see a half dozen guys most of them dressed in white garments, from head to toe, carrying their prayer stuff approaching a building. There is a security guy at the front entrance with a pistol in his belt motioning them inside. I follow and ask the guy in English if this is the right place for services. He says nothing but simply nods his head towards the front door as a signal for me to enter. So in I go.

Inside is a very narrow hallway crowded with bearded men, almost all of them also dressed in white. They are pushing and shoving each other trying to get to the end of the passage— the entrance to the sanctuary— where services are to be conducted.

Now let me fast forward 10 minutes or so. I have successfully struggled my way through the vast array of masculine- only humanity and seated myself in the chamber on an aisle next to another empty chair. Men are continuing to squeeze in and greet their fellow practitioners with slaps on the back, pinching of cheeks and European style kisses on both sides of the face. The place is filling up fast. Probably close to 100 and still more coming in. Everybody seems to know everybody and I am obviously an outsider. I am the only one dressed in a suit, and a seer sucker suit at that, the only one with a yellow fedora hat, the only adult without a beard and the only one sitting by myself — the empty chair next to me remaining empty even though others are scrambling to find places to sit. Am I uncomfortable you might ask? You betcha. What the hell am I doing in this place? Maybe I should have continued walking a bit further to explore the merits of the other synagogue. But that’s hind sight. So I continue to sit, my hands in my lap, holding a Hebrew prayer book (with a French translation no less ) waiting for the Kol Nidray.

I try to make eye contact with the new comers with no results. I endeavour to maintain a smile on my face to show I am relaxed and enjoying myself with the expectation that this might warm someone up to me. Again with no results.. Men squeeze by me brushing my side, one even knocking my hat off, but not a single head nod or return smile to acknowledge my presence. After about 15 painful and embarrassing minutes this rejection finally takes its toll. I am done with this. I stand up and work my way out. When I get to the front door there is a middle aged man man standing there waiting and just about to close the front door .

So I hesitate look at him and again I ask “Midabear Angleet?”. He holds the door open and answers, “Yes I do”. This response opens my floodgate. My first response,

“This is Erev Yom Kippur right? What the hell is wrong with you people?” And before he could answer, I added,

I am a total stranger here looking to attend services and what do I from get you guys, Total rejection! and then (exagerating a little) “Not a single one of the 10,000 guys jammed in there gave me a smile, said hello or nice to have you join us or any other words of welcome. It’s like I’m from another planet and totally unwelcome. Hard to believe such treatment, especially here in Israel— and by the way I will introduce myself to you. My name is Harry, Harry Sherman I’m from Canada. Who are you?

He stares at me for a few seconds and answers, “I’m Rafael, I’m the Gabbai (sort of a care taker of the premises). Just wait a minute while I close the door” —which he then proceeds to do with a loud slam. “Listen Harry” he says with a heavy Israeli accent. “Indeed, you are a stranger and as such we have no idea who you are or where you came from or if you are carrying a weapon to possibly do us harm or even to blow us up, or any other Michigas (craziness) you might be up to. Bottom line is, as a stranger arriving to our front door unannounced, we do not summarily reject you but we do not welcome you with open arms. We are not sticking our necks out for anyone. That’s our collective policy. We did not throw you out but just look at you. look at how you are dressed , and that hat. You are obviously not religious and certainly not one of us. Then he waves his hand at me and says “You don’t fit here.” My jaw drops. I don’t fit here? What kind of a madman can say that? I am a Jew , I am in Israel, and I don’t fit here? Who is this shmuck? I am now beginning to feel my neck getting hot which from experience is a signal that tells me I am about to get livid and really give this guy a going over. But my better instincts prevail. So I simply back away a few steps, shake my head , wave my hand as if to dismiss him, turn around, open the door and walk away.

Fast forward 3 days. TheHigh holiday period is over and now I will tell you what had brought me to this particular locale. Simply stated, I am an archeologist specializing in Evolution. I am a “Fossil Hunter” of some renown—my fossil findings of ancient human bones can be found in a number of museums in the U.S. and Europe. I was invited by an Israeli colleague to participate with a team of experts in the exploration of a newly discovered ancient burial site in the Negev. Now after having worked the site alongside my colleague for 2 days I decided to extend the search personally and took off in my jeep to go a bit deeper into the unexplored semi-wilderness. After driving about 30 km over an unpaved road that could be best described as sort of a path in the dessert, I spotted another vehicle. The car’s hood was raised. A man was standing next to the car facing me and frantically waving his arms. As I got close I was totally shocked. I could see the mans face. It was Rafael the Shul Gabbai! The same guy who had so powerfully defended the Shul congregations dismissal of me just 3 night ago.What in the world is he doing out here by himself in this “no mans” land? I pulled up along side him and stopped. He came around to my side of the jeep and before I could even open my door he was jumping up and down pounding against my window and shouting in Hebrew, Todah Lael Todah Lael“ (Thank God, Thank God.) I opened my door and slid out of the jeep. I took off my sun glasses. Rafael took one look at me, and immediately stopped his pounding and yelling. He stood still, silent and motionless, just starring at me for about 20 seconds.

“Ma zeh" (What’s this) he finally uttered? “Is this a trick? Are you following me?” And then looking straight up to the sky whispers, “Can this be some kind of a cosmic joke Elohim (lord) that you are playing on me?” He then sat down on the ground shaking his head continuing to stare at me. I Looked at him sitting there, stared back into his face and remained silent for quite a spell pondering this crazy situation and trying to figure out what to say. Finally I spoke. “No Rafael this is not a joke I am here because I am an archeologist. That's what I do. It's my job searching for fossils to provide scientific answers to help solve the riddle of human evolution. I just decided to drive out away from the main exploration site to do some personal observations. But what the hell are you doing here.?”

Now Rafael perks up and says, “You, an archeologist? My God, that’s totally amazing, an amazing coincidence because I too am an archeologist, but only an amateur — I have been doing this for over 20 years —it’s my hobby, my passion, and when I heard of the discovery of this site I decided to come by myself to search, like you, for fossils and answers. Unfortunately as you can see, just as I got here I ran into that deep hole. My car got stuck and I sprung a fuel leak. I have no gas.

I have been waiting here nearly two days and have seen no one in all that time. You are the first to show up and I am so thankful to see you. I have just run out of water and yesterday finished eating the last of my sandwiches that I brought along for lunch. I must confess that I was neglectful. No one knows where I am. And how was I to know there would be no cell phone service. I assumed Israel was totally covered. Harry I got real frightened. I could have died out here. But now — you here— a real miracle.

It has to be a miracle. We are men of science and we both know the chance of you showing up like this is way beyond any reasonable probability. It's absolutely a sign God put you in my life for a reason —to rescue me.” Then obviously overcome by emotion he comes close to me and puts both his hands on my shoulders and moves in to kiss my cheek. I pull back and push him away. The painful memory of our previous meeting reawakens my anger towards him. It’s now my turn to respond and I let him have it.

“Rafael I am part of a team authorized to do research here and you are not. You are a stranger so how do we know that you are who you say you are, and that you are not a danger to this project? How can we be certain that you have not come out here to sabotage us or to discredit us and our findings. Look at how you are improperly dressed and so unprepared. Why should we stick our necks out for you? We are not summarily rejecting you but neither are we welcoming you here to join us. Then I hit him hard with his own punishing words— word for word. “You are not one of us. You don’t fit.” Finally adding, “Does that sound familiar to you.?”

Without waiting for a response I got back in my jeep and started the engine. I opened my drivers window dropped two canteens of water and a bag of potato chips onto the ground and as I started to pull away looked towards him and in a calm voice said, “But you no longer need to worry —I assure you that you will be be O.K. If you pray real hard, and sing the Kol Nidray, there is a high probability, a certainty really, that God will hear you and make sure that you and your car get rescued —but know this Rafael— it won’t be by me!”