Dr. Avraham Holtz, a professor at JTS [who passed away very recently] told the story of how back in the 1950’s, he went for a year to study in Israel. This was in the early days of the state, when people stood on soup lines and even everyday items were hard to find.
As he tells it, among the first things he did when he moved into his apartment was order a telephone. A week went by, two weeks, a month, and no one came to install a telephone. So he went back downtown to the office of the telephone company, and asked what was going on.
“Did you lose my request?”
“No, it’s right here.”
“Nu, so what’s the problem?”
“There’s a waiting list for telephones.”
“Okay, so how long will I have to wait?”
The clerk scanned the lengthy list.
“I’d say you’ll probably get your telephone in about a year.”
“A year?” Avraham said. “Do you mean to tell me that there is no hope of getting one sooner than that?” Ain tikvah – no hope?
The clerk responded: “Asur l’yehudi lomar eyn tikvah. Tikvah yesh. Efsharut eyn! A Jew is not allowed to say: ‘there is no hope.’ Hope there is. A possibility there isn’t!”
Even when there is no hope, there is still hope. And, despite what the clerk said, perhaps even when there is no possibility, there is still a possibility. Only about the past are we permitted to say: This can’t be changed. About the present and the future, we are required to never give up hope.
