I’m in line at Rosenbaum’s our famous neighborhood butcher shop.

Someone asks me what I’m writing about for Pesach.

I shrug my shoulders.

“I have an idea” they say “I have someone for you to talk to. She’s a cleaning expert. The contents of her closets are lined up like soldiers. The front of her building is the cleanest in allJerusalem.”

They ask if I want her to come to my house and she’ll teach me. “She loves it” they say.

The idea totally intimidates me and I turn the offer down.

The following week I call the number.

First question I ask is “Do you speak English?”

“Do you speak German?” she asks back.

“Not really” I say.

We begin.

She speaks perfect English.

“What would you like to say?” I throw the question out like a Sunday fisherman not expecting a bite.

“I want in my heart for people to learn how to behave” she answers unexpectedly and with sincerity warmth and depth.

“I lived in Europeand there I always had problems with the locals. They said ‘The Jewish People you’re dirty.’ This was not true. All the Jews I knew were immaculate. But when I came to Israel I started to see a lot of dirt around outside. It’s a chillul Hashem.

“Yes we have people from the city who clean. But they don’t get a lot of money and we should help them. I speak to people in the pizza shops. They have such nice chairs but so much dirt on them.

“I explained to them ‘If you clean them every day they will stay white.’

“Everyone uses the same excuses ‘He didn’t do it’ or ‘I don’t have time.’ Now when I pass the chairs are brown ” she says sadly. She doesn’t sound judgmental just sad.

“We eat four times a day. We get hungry and we eat again. Sometimes the wind comes and blows dirt around.

“Eretz Yisrael should be the cleanest country in the world.

“It could be if every day everybody would do it. I do in front of my house until the street. I pick the dirt up every morning. I have no excuses. The truth is a lot of people don’t work children could be busy keeping the country clean and it would keep them happy. When I pass a house that’s so clean so nice it’s a kavod an honor.”

I tell her how I remember that in camp when I was young we had contests of collecting garbage. In the end there were prizes. Nothing big — a Popsicle or ice cream.

She then changes the subject.

“We honored the Shabbos with every cupboard clean. It was beautiful. I passed a store once and I said to the owner ‘There’s so much dirt!’ The owner blamed everyone but there’s been the same dirt there for months. I can’t understand how people have a shop with dirt in front. When a person sees a Jew especially one dressed in black and white they expect a lot from them and when we do disrespectful things we make a huge chillul Hashem. Why do you think inEurope it was so clean?” she asks rhetorically as it turns out. “InSwitzerland they don’t have big garbage dumpsters. Everyone gets the bags they have to use from the government. They are strong bags. And you don’t see dirt. InSwitzerland a person is not allowed to throw something on the floor. If you throw you have to pay.

“Eretz Yisrael is a holy land. It’s Hashem’s all of it. A Jew always has to have the kavod of a Jew. Cleanliness. I live to make G-d and people happy. I clean inside and outside. When something happens and people don’t clean it up I do it. Does it cost me anything to clean up?” she asks.

“Every morning while I clean I say ‘G-d I do this for You please do good for me. And have rachmanus on the people who throw garbage.’ They should know that the moment someone throws something someone else has to pick it up. It’s not a mitzvah! I do it the cleaning with such a pleasure. I see Hashem is happy with me.”

She’s almost finished but suddenly adds “I hope this changes the world a little bit.”

It changed mine.

She must be one of the cleaning angels.