The bright side of not having a car in Israel is meeting taxi drivers in Israel. It is an astonishing thing to realize that this profession is flooded with some of the most interesting, unique, and special neshamos and exposure to them on a regular basis is actually quite enriching.

So my husband and I treated ourselves to a night out last night--hurray for us! And, of course, we travel in a chauffeuered automobile (only the best!). When I get into the car I'm paralyzed and coughing by the enormous billows of smoke.

"Efshar l'vakesh loh le'ashen," I croak (of course I used slightly less correct grammar in real-time but I'd rather gloss over my hebrew iniquities in retelling the tale!). He, of course, extinguishes his grotesque cigarette and it takes a nice few miles of fresh country air before I can breathe again.

As we get closer to our destination, we strike up a conversation with El Driver and it inevitably turns to that most relevant topic: smoking. His story brings tears to my eyes--and this time it's not the acrid smoke.

"I just went to my doctor," he says. "He tells me that my body is in terrible shape. It's not cancer--baruch Hashem--but my lungs are fused together and I can't breathe properly. I started arguing with him about my prognosis until finally the doctor says to me, 'Listen, you're not a little child. I'm telling you this for your own good. You need to quit!'" He details the horrible, nightmarish symptoms of full-blown emphysema.

After a moment's pause, he says: "You're going to think that I'm absolutely crazy if I tell you this..." Another pause. "I quit smoking for three years. Then, a little while ago I was sitting with a bunch of friends, drinking coffee. And--I thought I'd have a little smoke. Social thing, y'know. So I ask a friend for a cigarette, which is something I hate doing. He gives me one; I smoke it down. Later that day I go to the local makolet and buy just a single cigarette. My friend behind the counter says, 'You're buying just one? Why don't you take a whole pack? You know you'll be back for more!' I tell him, 'Nah, just one.' Of course, a couple hours later I'm back for more, then again and again. By the end of the day the kiosk owner tells me that I've finished a pack. The next day I buy a whole carton--what's the difference? I'm licked."

If you had occasion to read my article this week on Prescription Drug Addiction, you will recognize the same insanity that kicks in in whatever addiction strikes. It defies logic, suspends judgment, jails the addict and throws away the key. This taxi driver says, morosely, that he's paying 1000 shekels to go to a smoking specialist in Yerushalayim whom he hopes will help him. Halevai.

I told this taxi driver something that occurred to me, on the spot. "Y'know, now is Chanukah and that's a great time for you in your smoking difficulties. Why? Because Chanukah is about 'rabbim b'yad me'atim', 'giborim b'yad chalashim'--the many in the hands of the few, the strong in the hands of the weak. Your addiction is so strong but surely this season of miracles will help deliver your 'rabbim'--your challenge--'b'yad me'atim'--into your less-than-powerful grasp and you will be able to conquer it."

I am very inspired by this thought. We all have challenges, some which seem insurmountable. Now is Chanukah. We are me'at. Our challenges are rav. Hashem can deliver the solution into our hands. Amen.