Cong. Up-in-the-Air

I was regularly attending services thrice daily, saying kaddish in memory of my mother. But Flight 46 from Orlando to JFK enroute to Israel presented a challenge.

The connecting flight schedules were very tight, so I arranged with my brother, Rabbi Aaron Levi Konikov, to take me from JFK to his Roslyn, NY Chabad Center for afternoon services.

I had it all arranged, but “Man proposes and G-d disposes.” We were supposed to depart Orlando at 4:15pm, but the captain announced a 90 minute delay due to bad weather.

I hadn’t missed one kaddish since my mother passed away ten months ago. What to do?

Worried, I thought of a solution. I’ll exit the plane! I’ll miss the flight, I can always rebook, but I can’t miss kaddish. ”Excuse me,” I asked a stewardess. “I have an important meeting, and I must leave the plane now.”

”I’m sorry,” she replied. “We can’t return to the gate. We’re on the runway for take off. There are planes ahead and planes in back of us. It’s impossible.” Oh, well. I tried.

Thirty minutes passed and we were going nowhere. Every few seconds, I looked at my watch and calculated our earliest possible arrival time. Another 15 minutes passed. I realized I must do something, but what?

A crazy thought hit me. Maybe there are enough Jews on this flight to make a minyan! I didn’t notice any religious Jews, but it was my only hope.

To check my chance of success before making a scene, I got up from my seat ‘to stretch’ and walked down the aisle looking for ‘Jewish faces.’ Alas, only the guy in the last seat looked Jewish, and I wasn’t even sure. Was I dreaming or was I so desperate that I imagined that he looked Jewish? I mustered courage and asked him straight out. “Are you Jewish?” I almost hit the roof when he answered, “Yes!” I explained that I needed a minyan to say kaddish for my mother. He understood. “Count me in when you get ten,” he replied, and resumed his reclining position.

Bolstered by my first success, I identified the next ‘Jewish face.’ Before I knew it, we were up to four! Each commented, “I’m not religious,” or “I don’t know how to pray,” but they were willing to help.

The minutes ticked, but that was it for Jewish faces. Could people who looked Puerto Rican possibly be Jewish? Should I call it a day? Give up?

Seat by seat I made my plea, but differently. “Excuse me, is anyone in your party Jewish?” I asked, and unbelievably, once in a while, they answered “Yes, he is,” or “Yes, I am.”

By now, I had seven! Only three more to go. Surprisingly, one of Jet Blue’s managers was sitting in a regular seat. “Can I help you?” he asked. I thought that he was just following the customer service routine. But when I explained my predicament and he immediately sprang into action to help me, I started to sing the Jet Blue ad jingle in my head. He offered to ask for volunteers over the PA system!

”Thank you,” I answered. “But I’m trying to do this low profile.”

”Excuse me,” the man across from the aisle spoke up. “I overheard your conversation. I am Jewish.” Now we had eight! I was beginning to believe it would happen. But several “sorries” and “no” brought me back to reality. One passenger who wanted to help but wasn’t Jewish said, “My buddy is half Jewish.” Hopefully, I asked his friend, “Are you Jewish?” “Not really,” he answered. Disappointed, I turned to leave. “But my grandmother was Jewish!” he added.

I asked, “Your mother’s mother?”

”Yeah, but that doesn’t make me Jewish, does it?”

”You bet it does!” I told him.

”Neat! Just like that, I find out I’m Jewish! Maybe the delay was worth it!”

At “T Minus One Yid And Counting,” I roared down the aisle with confidence, ready to launch this near minyan. By now, no one on the plane had any doubt as to what was happening. Every so often the manager would call to me, “How many are we up to?” When I told him we’re at nine, he radioed to the cockpit to ask if any of the crew was Jewish. “No,” came the reply.

At this point, everyone wanted to help, but the situation seemed hopeless. I already went through every seat twice and the reality seemed to be that we only had nine male Jews aboard.

As I made my way back to my seat, crestfallen, someone who felt very sorry for me stopped me and said: “I have a Jewish friend in Georgia who I can call on a conference; will that work?” I explained and thanked him anyway. (As if I didn’t know a few Jews myself that I could phone!)

”If I don’t make this minyan after getting nine Yidden on this flight, what a let-down it will be,” I said to myself and to the One Above. Mentally, I was preparing myself for a let-down because I’d run out of options, and returned to my seat.

A few seconds passed before the passenger right behind me cleared his throat and confessed, “I’m really sorry but earlier, when I told you I was not Jewish, I wasn’t telling the truth. I was just intimidated. I really am Jewish.” My eyes widened. At first, I thought that he was pulling my leg. Either that, or he was just trying to be nice because I was desperate.

I was suspicious, and I knew I had to do a little questioning. “Is your mother Jewish?” I asked conversationally (as if I had all the time in the world!).

”Absolutely,” he responded. “Her maiden name is Horowitz. You can’t get more Jewish than that!” Then he added, “There’s no question, I even know Boruch Atoh Ado-noy - Borchu es Hashem.”

Everyone around me became giddy with excitement. I signaled my loyal and devoted Jet Blue manager who was sitting about ten rows behind me. “It’s a go!” I cried, “We’ve got ten!” You’d think he just won the lotto, that’s how happy he was for me.

The manager invited me to meet with the stewardesses at the back of the plane, to make sure that the minyan would go smoothly. I went back and told them that I did not want to inconvenience them whatsoever. I suggested that they finish serving the beverages before we started so we wouldn’t get in their way. I told them that the afternoon prayer would take between seven and nine minutes, and thanked them for their help and understanding.

The manager offered to let me know once they finished making their rounds through the plane. He would also help me gather my nine volunteers. As soon as I got the word from the manager, I started going down the aisles “picking up” people. (I was hoping I’d remember who they were! I did.)

It didn’t take long before a line of Jews was walking behind me towards the back. About three rows before the end of the plane, I noticed a face I had missed. “With all these unknown people, maybe it’s best to have eleven men, just in case.” So I asked him, “Are you Jewish?”

He said, “Yes, but look, you’re holding up the aisle! All these people want to get by!” I said, “These people are my minyan!” Astonished, he quickly got into the spirit: “Well then, I’m coming too!”

The atmosphere was electric. The Jewish men were giving each other “high fives.” You could think they had just won the NBA title! We packed into the tiny galley/kitchen in the back of the plane. I politely suggested that the stewardesses stand in front “to make sure no one disturbs the service.” They happily obliged.

Before starting, I briefed our members about what we were going to do. Their blank looks indicated that only three of the eleven ever participated in a minyan. My main objective was to say kaddish, but I didn’t want it to be just “lip-service,” so I took the opportunity to explain the concept of prayer.

“Prayer isn’t restricted to a particular place, but can be anywhere, from the privacy of your own room to a Jet Blue stuck on the runway,” I told them.

Then I got to the nitty-gritty. “Since Jet Blue does not, as yet, have prayer books for in-flight services, I’ll lead the service in Hebrew by heart, and you will answer “Amen” at the right time.”

”How will we know when it’s the right time if you’re praying in Hebrew?” a passenger asked logically. Good question. “I’ll give you the thumbs-up when it’s time,” I responded.
I took my yarmulke from under my hat and gave it to the man nearest me. The rest “raided the kitchen” and distributed napkin kippahs compliments of Jet Blue. The scene was awesome.

A stewardess asked if she could take a picture of us in prayer and I told her it was no problem. Without further delay, I launched our minyan. Outside, I felt like a million bucks when I gave my first thumbs-up! Inside, I was choked up in gratitude to G-d.

Amens were loud and emphatic. This bunch was definitely not shy or embarrassed of their heritage. I felt like I was back in camp leading bunk competition! The whole plane was buzzing. Napkin covered men shouting Amen at each thumbs-up of this ancient-looking Rabbi as a stewardess snapped pictures. It was definitely not the typical scene in a Jet Blue advertisement!

Despite the obvious humor, the men were quite touched, remaining focused and serious throughout. I prayed quickly and thanked everyone profusely, and we returned to our seats.

Almost immediately, the pilot announced that the delay was over! In minutes we would be departing for JFK. The feeling was incredible. It was almost as if the minyan was part of the schedule. Clearly, the minyan was part of a Divine schedule!

After the plane was in the air, one of our minyan came over to my aisle seat. With tears in his eyes, he said, “I am totally uninvolved and I want to thank you deeply for this awesome reminder of my heritage!”

Now it was my turn to be humbled. How one mitzvah leads to the next! What a way to start my trip to the Holy Land!