On Motzei Shabbos, I flew to Israel from Newark on an 11:35 p.m. one-way flight. After being expelled from my graduate program in Florida for speaking out against the administration’s lackadaisical response to antisemitism on campus, I made the decision to return to yeshiva.

I spent Shabbos with friends in Washington Heights and left around 8 p.m. to head to Port Authority and catch the Newark Express bus. Since I was going for an extended stay, I was traveling with two large suitcases, a carry-on, and a backpack—not an easy shlep by any measure.

At the 191st Street subway station, a yid stepped into the elevator with me. He asked where I was headed, and when I told him I was going to Israel, he immediately pulled out a dollar to give me as a shliach mitzvah. I then asked if he could help me get one of my bags onto the train. He did so gladly, thanking me for giving him the opportunity to do a mitzvah.

As we traveled, he shared that he was on his way to a Siyum HaShas on 72nd Street. He said he would arrive late because he wanted to stay with me and help me manage my bags. I was deeply moved. I had been anxious about the logistics of carrying everything on my own, and it felt as though Hashem was guiding me from the very first step of my journey back home to Eretz Yisrael. Adding to the moment, it was also my English birthday—a detail that made it feel even more meaningful.

We had a wonderful conversation on the train. It turned out he is considering a move to Jacksonville, Florida, where I’m from. I shared what I could about the community and took his number so I could help connect him further.

We got off at 42nd Street, shlepped my bags another ten minutes to the bus stop, and said goodbye as my ride pulled in.

I am incredibly warmed by this entire experience.

Signed,

Jake Gould

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