When I was a little girl in America, not everyone had a
telephone in their home. We lived in a huge old mansion by
the Atlantic Ocean and rented out sections of it during the
year and more apartments in the summer when we retreated to
a small corner of the premises in order to earn our annual
bonus for the year.
The center of the house featured a wide staircase with a
central landing on the second floor that was like a waiting
or reception room. That is where, one day, some men in brown
uniforms came to install a large rectangular black object on
the wall. It was a coin-operated telephone. We had to put
money in the slots on top to make it work and lift up a
black ice cream cone called a receiver to hear the operator
say, "Number please" and then speak into the big black
circle with dots. I was too small to handle money and too
short to reach this apparatus but I do remember that it
became in time the central attraction in the building for
all the tenants and us. It was the new toy in the house.
I used to wonder in those growing up years how, when
Moshiach comes, would the whole world know at once that he
had arrived? I supposed that it might have something to do
with everyone calling everyone else on their pay telephone
with the good news. But it was still a bit of a puzzle.
Thirty years later when we came to Eretz Yisroel, we
returned to a situation where not everyone had a phone in
his or her home. In the office of the Absorption Center
there was a pay telephone operated by little tokens with
holes in the middle: asimonim, which were not always
available. [And if I was concerned about the announcement of
Moshiach's arrival, I felt that much closer, geographically,
to his place of debut.] In the new neighborhood where we
moved , a year later there was a similar device between
every few buildings. After a bit of a wait, the day finally
arrived when the men came and installed our very own phone
in the central hall of our apartment between the kitchen and
the living room. Once again, there was a new toy in the
house.
Time went by and now, twenty-five years along the way, there
is an extension in every room and three mobile phones to
walk around with as we talk. In addition, every adult and
semi- adult has his own cellphone.
A few days ago, my husband brought home a slim gray
microphone and attached it to the back of the computer. He
punched some buttons on the keyboard and away in far off
Monsey, N.Y., a voice on an answering machine informed us
that my son-in-law and daughter were unavailable at the
moment but could we...
The computer with its new microphone is located in the
central hall between the kitchen and the living room, right
where the original telephone was installed. For the third
time in my life, the telephone in the center hall has become
the new toy in the house.
Our tradition tells us that Moshiach won't come on a
Shabbos. That solves the problem of how to call everyone and
tell them he's here. The instant communication through the
computer makes it possible for the whole world to know the
good news at once -- provided the phone is answered
personally, and not by the answering service.
Now I'm worried that he'll come on Motzaei Shabbos while
it's still Shabbos in other parts of the world. But the One
Above has all the answers, and it's OK if, for me, it's
still a bit of a puzzle. I'm prepared to continue to wait it
out patiently...
