Today is the thirteenth Yarzheit of Devorah bas Yitzchok Aaron, my mother-in-law.  It is hard to believe that so many years have passed since her petira (death).  While in her life I did not always appreciate her rebuke, as the years go by, I appreciate and hope to internalize the lessons she taught me.  Many of those life lessons are intrinsic in the root and the very letters of her name, Devorah, as this name encapsulates her past and future essence.

The Hebrew word Devorah shares the same root as the word dibur (speech) and the word davar (thing), both themes befitting for this Devorah.  We are endowed with koach hadibur (power of speech) and it is an awesome responsibility to use speech in a positive way.  There are many halachos  (Jewish Laws) surrounding speech and we are cautioned against even the slightest misuse of speech.  My mother-in-law was endowed with an unusual koach hadibur as she was known for her gift of gab.  She made friends easily and used this power to include others that would be forgotten.  She spent many hours each day on the telephone in friendship and kindness, bringing people together and offering help to those in need.  She was not afraid to instruct us and guide us with words, even chastising us when we erred.   

My mother in law would admonish me if the leaves were not swept in front of the house or if the chairs were not scrubbed down before any outdoor event.  She spared no words to tell me if she didn’t like the way I dressed my children or myself.  Although the criticism stung, I appreciate my mother-in-law’s direct rebuke.    It allowed me to correct the things that I did wrong and I can now thank her for telling me what I needed to hear directly and not through someone else.

Mom was the master of little things.  She would show up with all the missing things that she had noticed on the last visit.  She would bring dollar store items, giveaways from the last simcha and safety pins.

The root of the Hebrew word Devorah also forms the word davar, meaning a thing.  Mom was the master of little things.  She would show up with all the missing things that she had noticed on the last visit.  She would bring dollar store items, giveaways from the last simcha and safety pins.  In her lifetime, I did not really appreciate those little things.  Now, I realize that she was paying attention and it was a gesture of love.  

I have been repeating these two quotes that encapsulate this idea:  “Enjoy the little things, for one day you may realize that they were the big things” and “Little things make the big things happen”.   Mom really was the master of these little things, finding inexpensive ways to express her love and concern for us. 

“Enjoy the little things, for one day you may realize that they were the big things”

anonymous

Much as the root of Devorah captures my mother-in-law’s life, the letters in her name are formed in a way that appear to have been created just for her.  When parsed into the distinct letters, the Hebrew word דבורה (Devorah) contains the letters  ד-ב-ו-ר-ה .  The first four letters ד-ב-ו-ר all have vertical lines that are grounded on the right side as they reach backward toward the letter before them and they are open on the left side as they move forward toward the next letter.   The last letter ה represents Hashem (G-d) and is similar to the dalet or the raish, but with another leg.  

The idea of these letters connecting staunchly to the past while being open to the future represent Mom’s ability to take her upbringing and create a future with her own openness and character.   Mom’s kindness and caring nature was imprinted by her parents.  Sora and Yitzchok Aaron Kramer a’H were masters of chesed (kindness) who took care of refugees in Williamsburg after World War II.  My own Opa z’l was the beneficiary of their kindness and charity in those difficult years and we owe much to the chesed of the Kramers.  Mom had the unique ability to open her door, her home and her heart to others and to offer them the ability to move forward into the future, too.

The  ד (dalet)  is the first letter of her name and it represents a door.  It is formed as a vertical line, representing the doorpost with a horizontal line above, formed as a  lintel.

The  ד (dalet)  is the first letter of her name and it represents a door.  It is formed as a vertical line, representing the doorpost with a horizontal line above, formed as a  lintel. Mom’s door was always open to those who needed her.  As one of thirteen children and the youngest daughter, she was the one who opened her home to her own mother after her father died.  I vividly recall her running to the door happily when we arrived with the family for a visit.  She always greeted us warmly.  Her door was a welcome entrance to her warm home.

The  ב (bais)  is the second letter of her name and it represents a home.  Like the other letters in her name, it has a vertical line that is grounded and is open to the left.  Like the dalet before it, it has a roof over the line.  Unlike the others, it appears to be seated with a roof over it.  To me, it looks like someone being served by Mom.   No matter what time we arrived, she insisted on feeding us.  Her home was always open to her neighbors and friends, who enjoyed many Shabbos and Yom Tov (holiday) meals at her table, drawing inspiration from these visits.

The  ו (vav)  is the third letter of her name and it represents a hook.  Like the other letters in her name, it has a vertical line that is grounded and is open to the left.  It is a letter of connection; when added to the beginning of a word, it means “and”.  Mom’s gregarious nature helped her form bonds with people of all ages and from all walks of life.  While my good natured father-in-law was often credited with connecting the family, Mom was the vav that engineered the connection and initiated relationships.

The ר (raish)  is the third letter of Mom’s name and it represents a head.  Like the other letters in her name, it has a vertical line that is grounded and is open to the left.  It is a letter of leadership, representing the forward-thinking nature of my mother-in-law as she engineered and implemented ideas that brought people together.  Perhaps, the most memorable was her fiftieth wedding anniversary trip to Israel.  It was a well-planned and unforgettable trip for the children and grandchildren.

The ה (hey) is the last letter of Mom’s name and it represents G-d.  Like the other letters in her name, it has a vertical line that is grounded and is open to the left, but it has the addition of a short vertical leg that takes the word into the future. It is a letter that transforms the material aspects of Mom’s hospitality, connection and leadership into the eternal spiritual realm.

The word Devorah and the letters within create the framework for Mom and her legacy.  It is a lasting tradition of kindness created by her parents that she built upon to form her unique brand of hospitality and connection.   May her memory be blessed.

Today was one of the happiest days of my life. It was also one of the most difficult days of my life.  Today, my newest grandson was named for my father zt’l.  The experience of attending the bris and hearing my holy father’s name ascribed to a child of eight days was a bittersweet moment.  It was one of desperately trying to merge the memories of the past with the hopeful potential of the future.  This tiny child was given the big name, Refoel Yisroel Yaakov ben Yitzchok Aaron.  This appellation depicts struggle, consistency, humility and triumph, all attributes that both represent our forefather,  Yaakov and my father,  who was named at his bris,  Yisroel Yaakov. 

We are offered much insight in Tanach about the original name Yisroel and Yaakov, both names given to Yaakov Aveinu (our forefather Yaakov).  Describing the birth of the twins of Yitzchok and Esau in Bereishis 25:25-26, we read:

 וַיֵּצֵ֤א הָרִאשׁוֹן֙ אַדְמוֹנִ֔י כֻּלּ֖וֹ כְּאַדֶּ֣רֶת שֵׂעָ֑ר וַיִּקְרְא֥וּ שְׁמ֖וֹ עֵשָֽׂו׃ 

The first one emerged red, like a hairy mane all over; and they named him Esau.^c

וְאַֽחֲרֵי־כֵ֞ן יָצָ֣א אָחִ֗יו וְיָד֤וֹ אֹחֶ֙זֶת֙ בַּעֲקֵ֣ב עֵשָׂ֔ו וַיִּקְרָ֥א שְׁמ֖וֹ יַעֲקֹ֑ב וְיִצְחָ֛ק בֶּן־שִׁשִּׁ֥ים שָׁנָ֖ה בְּלֶ֥דֶת אֹתָֽם׃ 

Then his brother emerged, grasping the heel of Esau;  and He named him Jacob.  Isaac was sixty years old when they were born.

The Medrash teaches us that of the two twins, Yaakov was actually conceived first, which would entitle him to the bechora (eldest birthright).  At birth, Yaakov fought to emerge first, proving in this natural world that he was entitled to the bechora.    Describing the birth, it emphasizes that Esau emerged as a redhead and they called him Esau whereas Yaakov was born holding the heel of Esau and He called him Yaakov.  This passage  begs several questions: who was He and why would Yaakov be named for his failed struggle, grasping the heel of his twin and future adversary Esau?

My father taught me to first explore the simple peshat (understanding) of תַּרְגּוּם אֻנְקְלוֹס (an Aramaic translation by the convert Unkelos),for his terse translation can be illuminating.  Unkelos translates  וְיָד֤וֹ אֹחֶ֙זֶת֙  as וְידיה אֹחידה meaning Baby Yaakov was united or linked with the heel of Esau.  As I tried to understand this passage,  I contemplated, what is a heel?  

A heel is the body part that touches the ground, it is the first part of a footstep.  A heel is what connects a person to the material part of the world and sets one’s direction.  Perhaps, Yaakov’s struggle was to be united with Esau.  Perhaps, he fought to prove that it was possible  to incorporate the material world of Esau within the spiritual world of Torah.  That union could begin a holy trajectory.  

The word Yaakov described my father’s essence so completely.   As a young boy, my father was a gifted athlete.  As he would dig his heels into home plate to bolster his swing and as he would slide into base to score a close run, his heels would meet the ground.  Once my father settled into a life of learning Torah, he transferred that gevurah (strength) from the baseball field to the Beis Medrash (Torah study hall) .  In fact, my father’s favorite learning posture was with his hands clenched behind his head, reaching upward to the heavens with only the tips of his heels rooted in the ground.  It was the posture of someone so grounded and yet so heavenly.

In the Torah, the word עֲקֵ֣ב is used in two other ways.  It can depict something circuitous or even devious and my father employed every type of reasoning to elucidate Torah .  עֲקֵ֣ב can also be used as the answer to a question, the “because” to the “why”.  Legendary were my fathers creative and relatable metaphors to explain the conundrums in Torah.  My father would unearth and improve upon scores of answers to a single famous question.  He would use out-of-the-box methods to simplify the most complex issues and then explore every facet of the solution until it was so clear that he could teach it even to me.  

Perhaps Yaakov’s grasping of Esau’s heel was the ultimate metaphor.  The imagery of the holy twin infant desperately trying to hold back his materialistic brother so that the spiritual world would prevail is so compelling.  Or, as Unkelos translates, perhaps, Yaakov was grasping Esua’s heel so that they could be connected in the best type of partnership with the material world benefitting the spiritual one.  Or, perhaps, Yaakov was asserting the spiritual “because” to Esau’s earthly “why”?  Either way, it was certainly a struggle between holy and mundane, the ultimate attempt to unify discipline and growth with physical prowess.  We now understand why the earthly beings named Esau, yet The Divine One named Yaakov.

As the Torah continues, it describes the emerging personalities of Esau and Yaakov:

וַֽיִּגְדְּלוּ֙ הַנְּעָרִ֔ים וַיְהִ֣י עֵשָׂ֗ו אִ֛ישׁ יֹדֵ֥עַ צַ֖יִד אִ֣ישׁ שָׂדֶ֑ה וְיַעֲקֹב֙ אִ֣ישׁ תָּ֔ם יֹשֵׁ֖ב אֹהָלִֽים׃ 

When the boys grew up, Esau became one who knows hunting, a man of the fields; and Jacob, a simple man who dwells in tents.

While Esau is described as an  אִ֛ישׁ שָׂדֶ֑ה (a man of the fields), Yaakov is described as an אִ֣ישׁ תָּ֔ם יֹשֵׁ֖ב אֹהָלִֽים (a man who dwells in the tents)   That was my father, a “simple” Talmid chocham (man of Torah) who made every space in his life his tent of learning Torah, his Beis Medrash (Torah study hall).  And, simple is not simple.  There is a profundity in the ability to take something complex and make it simple.  There is holiness in the consistency of a simple single-minded focus.  Our forefather, Yaakov, isolated time and space for Torah within the rigors of daily living and so did my father.

Yet, Unkulos offers another explanation of אִ֣ישׁ תָּ֔ם.   He translates אִ֣ישׁ תָּ֔ם as   גְבר שְׁלִ֖ים , a complete man.  Completeness describes my father’s single minded dedication to the study and teaching of Torah.  Completeness explains how my father broke a difficult concept down to its most basic parts and then repacked it into a clear and cohesive Torah idea.  That was the union between  תָּ֔ם (simple) and שְׁלִ֖ם (complete).

Like our forefather Yaakov, my father was a  יֹשֵׁ֖ב  (dweller), one who never rushed his Torah.  He reviewed hundreds of times, never tiring of the review and always finding relaxation and joy in his learning.  I remember as a child hearing the beautiful hum of his learning and sometimes going downstairs in the wee hours of the morning trying to find a time that my father wasn’t learning.  

יַעֲקֹב֙

The formation of the Hebrew letters in Yaakov depict a masmid.  The letter yud is the perfected yid, the paradigm of Jew detached from the mundane floating in the heavens while all the other letters in Yaakov look like a Talmid chacham seated in beis medrash with the ayin most closely resembling my father’s posture.

In Bereishis (32::29), we read:

וַיֹּ֗אמֶר לֹ֤א יַעֲקֹב֙ יֵאָמֵ֥ר עוֹד֙ שִׁמְךָ֔ כִּ֖י אִם־יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל כִּֽי־שָׂרִ֧יתָ עִם־אֱלֹהִ֛ים וְעִם־אֲנָשִׁ֖ים וַתּוּכָֽל׃

 He said, Yaakov shall no longer be said, but rather Yisroel, for you have been a prince among G-d and among people and you  have prevailed

Yisroel became the name of Yaakov after he struggled with the Angel of Esau.   While Yaakov represents the sitting, Yisroel represents the dueling and even the dancing.  So too, this posture represents my father and his gained confidence in the Torah he learned and renewed.  A shy person, my father would spar with the gedolei hador (greatest scholars of our generation), never for his own ego but to distill the ultimate truth in Torah.  With a twinkle in his eye and a modest but confident pose, I was told that he would spar in Torah with Rav Gifter ztL and yebadel lechaim Rav Kanievsky.  

ישראל

The formation of the letters in Yisroel depict the posture of the dueling and dancing Jew,  beginning with the perfected yud reaching heavenward and ending with the dancing lamid, the joyful Talmid chachum.  

The name Yisroel comes from כִּֽי־שָׂרִ֧יתָ עִם־אֱלֹהִ֛ים וְעִם־אֲנָשִׁ֖ים וַתּוּכָֽל  with the word  וַתּוּכָֽל most commonly translated as “prevailed”. I would like to suggest another explanation.  Perhaps  וַתּוּכָֽל comes from the root י-כ-ל, of being able.    Yaakov was alone and frightened as he struggled with Esau’s angel.  And, through the struggle, he discovered new strength and ability.  So too, my father who was the quintessential יֹשֵׁ֖ב discovered a new confidence and fortitude to stand up to other luminaries. My father often challenged others to find their own chidushim (new ideas) and to find confidence in their Torah.  During shiva, we were delighted to discover that when uncovering a new chiddush, he would grab his chavrusa’s hand to dance in the Telshe Beis Medrash.  That is the posture of Yisroel.

While the name Yisroel is described by the word שָׂרִ֧יתָ,(becoming a prince), it also represents the compound word ישר אֵ-ל, meaning straight to G-d.  It is taking the circuitous path to the Divine and straightening it out.  The name Yisroel is Yaakov’s name of the future, the name given to the Nation and to the Land of Israel.  It is the designation of an entity with purpose, a paradigm of purity and purpose that can be recalled  and summoned for eternity.  

If we say that כשמו כן הוא (a person is described by his name), then there is something that troubles me  Why wouldn’t my father’s name be Yaakov Yisroel?  Chronologically, both Yaakov Aveinu and my father were Yaakov before they became Yisroel.  After all, my father was noted for his hasmada (diligence in learning) more than his sparring in learning.  

Like Yaakov Aveinu, my father’s name certainly was divinely bestowed by Hakosh Baruch Hu, perhaps in the order that shamayim (Heaven) viewed my father’s life.  We witnessed my father’s posture with heels on the ground, the masmid in the Beis Medrash spending over a hundred hours a week learning, reviewing and reveling in Hashem’s Torah.   Perhaps, Haadosh Baruch Hu saw my father first as the saar (prince) and a yashar (straight-minded) and then as the masmid with Yisroel connoting the eternity in his name, the future generation who will summon that image of the dancing masmid.

When a baby boy is born, we learn that Hakadosh Baruch Hu adjusts his posture from Din (judgement)  to Rachamim (mercy) and for that we have tremendous appreciation to Hashem.  Our Bracha to Refoel Yisroel Yaakov ben Yitzchok Aaron is that he grows up to follow the path of his namesake.  זה הקטן גדול יהיה (may this little one become great).  May he enlighten the world with the light of Torah and may he be an  אִ֣ישׁ תָּ֔ם יֹשֵׁ֖ב אֹהָלִֽים who embodies the straight  path to shamayim. 

רְפָאֵֽנוּ יְהֹוָה וְנֵרָפֵא הוֹשִׁיעֵֽנוּ וְנִוָּשֵֽׁעָה כִּי תְהִלָּתֵֽנוּ אָֽתָּה וְהַעֲלֵה רְפוּאָה שְׁלֵמָה לְכָל מַכּוֹתֵֽינוּ

Heal us, Hashem, and we will be healed, support us and we will be saved You are our Praise. And, boost a total healing to all our affliction

כִּי אֵל מֶֽלֶךְ רוֹפֵא נֶאֱמָן וְרַחֲמָן אָֽתָּה: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה רוֹפֵא חוֹלֵי עַמּוֹ יִשְׂרָאֵל:

because You are the Almighty King, faithful and compassionate Healer. Blessed are You, Hashem, Healer of the sick of His nation Israel.

Compassion comes in all shapes and sizes, from places least expected.  In my father’s journey through his illness, we found sympathy from all creations big and small, many times with the benefactor never even recognizing the magnitude of the kindness.

There were people who davened and those who learned for my father’s merit, others who tended to Aba’s medical needs, some who ran errands and others who were the messengers of the All Compassionate One without ever knowing it. 

The days after my father’s diagnosis were some of the most difficult ones.  We were frozen and in a state of disbelief.  How could my vigorous father be dying?  I traveled to Cleveland to help devise a plan and my imagination kept formulating the scene in Heaven as the diagnosis sentencing took place on earth.  Was G-d in His posture of Judgement?  Or, was He in His Compassionate Stance? 

I arrived at snowy Severn Road in Cleveland Heights, not quite knowing what to say and what to do.  I could barely hug my parents.  My father was composed and my mother was desperately trying to stay calm.  We did not even know where to begin.  My mother relayed the kindness of their Gastroenterologist as he dealt the blow of the frightening diagnosis.  She described Dr. Eric Shapiro bowing his head and feeling their pain.  It was therapeutic to her that the man who had shared the terrible news was compassionate as she rewound the reel of those moments over and over again, always stressing Dr. Shapiro’s empathy.

We scheduled the biopsy, hoping for a miracle.  We encountered kindness as our dear friend, Dr. Gabe Levi, spoke to us and the pathologists at University Hospitals.  While the biopsy confirmed our worst fears, my phone rang, beeped and buzzed with calls and messages of support.  Within a few hours, we had the assistance of top oncologists, pathologists and radiologists.  In our sadness, we felt others cushioning our pain.

The night after the biopsy, I had a difficult time sleeping.  My childhood room had been converted into my father’s study.  How does a daughter rest in her father’s personal Beis Medrash (Torah study), with his Torah binders and tapes surrounding the bed?  To counter the brutally cold Cleveland night and still remain respectfully dressed inside my father’s Aron Kodesh (Holy Ark) , I wore my daytime clothing with a warm pair of fuzzy pajamas underneath.

I couldn’t sleep.  I checked my phone for the messages coming in from Israel.  I read and responded to the texts and checked my calls from the day.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  On my list of calls, there was a call with the name “Hashem”.   I had been so sleep-deprived that I thought I was hallucinating.  I forced myself to put the phone away and fall asleep.

I fell asleep for a few hours.  I woke up after 3 AM.  I remembered the astonishing call list and rechecked.  The “Hashem” call was still there.

Now I was intrigued.  What was Hashem’s number?  I checked my contacts and Hashem was there.  His number was a single number One.  Of course!

I took a screen shot of the phone and posted it on my family’s WhatsApp, hoping someone could explain this.

A few hours later, Leah responded to my Whatsapp message.  Many years ago, she had attended a shiur (Torah lecture) and the Rav suggested that the attendees put Hashem on speed dial.  Leah had accepted the suggestion and programmed Hashem into her phone with a phone number of One.  The contacts were uploaded to the cloud and that was why Hashem had appeared on my phone. 

It made sense.  I must have dialed a single digit of One the day of the biopsy and then hung up.  The number One was paired with Hashem, so that was how it appeared on my call list. 

Plausible?  Yes.

Coincidental?  Certainly not.

I do not recall ever seeing Hashem on my phone in the many years since Leah had programmed it to the Heavenly iCloud. I took it as a compassionate hug from Above.

As we scrambled to figure out what to do with the short window of prognosis time, many had suggested that we call an expert from my parents’ community. Certain that this doctor would be gentle and kind, we were shocked by his brusque manner as he reminded us to be realistic with the weighty prognosis.  While we understood that doctors have different temperaments and styles, we hoped to find hope and empathy elsewhere.  And, we did.

As we sat down in my mother’s office to discuss a plan moving forward, G-d sent a furry creature to distract us.  The law office is a room with a circular desk and a round conference table with chairs amid an impressive jungle of plants tickling the walls and two-story ceiling.  Every time we would try to discuss a treatment plan during that trip, a chipmunk would jump out from one of the plants.  We would be distracted, and try to trap the chipmunk, but would be unsuccessful every time.  Once we would reconvene, the chipmunk would reappear. 

We called a pest specialist and he set traps to no avail.  He opened all the doors in the house and followed the chipmunk, feeling certain that the chipmunk had exited the house. 

But the chipmunk had been sent to distract us from our hopelessness and it was not ready to leave.  I couldn’t help but imagine the chaos in Heaven as we chased this chipmunk round and round the house for the next few days.  I felt like The Creator was telling us not to worry.  There was an order to His chaos. Perhaps, He was in his Merciful Posture.

We called a dear friend of the family, a top specialist at The Cleveland Clinic.  Dr. Rothner empathized with our sadness and calmly explained the options that were available. He guided us with kindness and expertise, encouraging us.  We saw Dr. Davendra Sohol at The Clinic.  Before speaking to us, this oncologist kept going back to the CT scan, hoping but unable to find even a glimmer of encouragement on the screen.  Finally, he bowed his head and spoke with the saddest voice.

He explained that Aba had “few months” but with treatment may live for “more months”. I asked him what he would do if this was his father.  Dr. Sohol answered, “either do nothing or do everything.” I asked my father what he would want and he confirmed that we should find the best treatment route.  He wanted to live to study Torah.  It was simple and that was his wish.

My sister-in-law, Rena, was privy to a new treatment, CPI-613 that was being sponsored by her boss.  It was developed in Israel by Raphael Pharmaceuticals and was showing promise for stage IV pancreatic cancer.   We marveled that a drug with this name had been developed for our 613 (number of Torah commandments) role-model    We mentioned CPI-613 to Drs. Sohol and Rothner who sympathetically agreed to do whatever they could to help us.   

We started planning.  The chipmunk kept emerging, reminding us of the order and kindness to the Heavenly chaos.  The exterminator came and was unsuccessful once again.  We discovered a suitable trial of CPI-613 in New Jersey and decided to take our journey there.  I watched my father pack for his final journey. A few personal items.  More than a few seforim.

I opened the front window where I thought I had seen the chipmunk.  I thought that I saw the chipmunk leave, but I couldn’t be sure.  I left it up to The Creator of ordered chaos. 

We were on our way.

Chaos and winter followed us from Cleveland to New Jersey.  The first few days and weeks were snowy and frigid.   We were greeted by a fox, a major sewage backup, a damaged heating system, a car accident and many other unusual events.  My brother, Moshe kept remarking “Let Hashem take it all out on Eitzim Ve’avanim(sticks and stones) as long as Aba is okay”.

Aba started a rigorous chemo regimen with the addition of the CPI-613 drug coursing through his veins.  Aba learned and taught Torah with his 11 AM Friday shiur moved to a phone connection between Teaneck, New Jersey and Cleveland, Ohio. My friends took upon themselves to say Modeh Ani with Kavana. My aunt, Tante Sari, split up Sefer Tehilim (Book of Psalms) and enlisted family members to recite the entire Sefer Tehilim every single day. We were trying to maintain order through the chaos and we were lifted by the outpouring of love and support by family, friends, talmidim (students), our communities and even perfect strangers. People I barely know would stop me and tell me that they were praying, learning or doing acts of chesed to keep my father alive.

My mother travelled to Cleveland once every few weeks to manage her court cases.  On the first trip, I dropped my mother off at Newark airport.  I ran back and forth between my car and the window to the ticket counter.  I was anxious for my mother to be properly escorted to her gate.  After a few minutes, one of the United counter agents came to the door and told me not to worry, that my mother would be safe.  As tears streamed down my face, she said, “I know.  I’ll be praying for your Dad and your family.”  What kindness from a total stranger!

And, those kindnesses continued.  My father insisted on being referred to as “Jerry” at Morristown Hospital.    The doctors and nurses marveled at the warm camaraderie between Rebbe and talmid. One of the receptionists once heard a talmid referring to him as Reb Yankel and then insisted on calling him Rabbi thereafter.

His talmidim visited and learned with him, some traveling from quite a distance.  They visited to share a few minutes of Bikur Cholim time and ended up with a lengthy chavrusa (one-on-one leraning) time, instead. They begged for Brochos (blessings) from Aba to which he replied, “I’m no Rebbe but I am a Cohen.  I’ll give you a birchas Cohen”

His chaveirim (friends) visited and learned with my father.  One of his dear chaveirim, Baruch (Burton) Morris would visit regularly from Harrisburg, PA, making the long drive with a driver.  He even brought some of the letters from the 1960’s that my father had written to him.  My father remarked, “who knew I could write English back then!” These visits brought great comfort to us and great delight to my father.

Elevators waited for me when I was in a hurry.  I remember one grueling Friday when I needed to pick up a CT scan and deliver it to New York City for review.  I had very little time to spare and a houseful of future Shabbos guests.  Just about every elevator and traffic light on that three-hour trip waited for me.  In my father’s merit, chaos was becoming orderly.

During the first few months of the COVID pandemic, we needed to find a private setting for Aba’s chemotherapy infusions, as COVID was gaining traction in Morristown Medical Center. My brother, Mordy contacted Dr. Azriel Hirschfeld, who took great pains to create a safe environment for Aba’s infusions.  Dr. Hirschfeld’s grandfather, Rabbi Naiman had been my father’s Rebbe in Chicago and had been first to suggest that my father attend Telshe Yeshiva. My father brought Dr. Hirschfeld a copy of his sefer, Shashuai Yaakov where he thanked Rabbi Naiman in the hakdama (introduction) for setting the trajectory of his life.

Another coincidence? Certainly not!

In the early days of COVID, I was terrified for my father.  He seemed to be in the most at-risk immune-compromised patient group.  I begged my father to move his learning from the Bnai Yeshurun Beis Medrash to our home.  He adamantly disagreed.  With trepidation, I drove him daily to the Beis Medrash with Purell and instructions to be careful.  A short few months later, without any COVID symptoms at all, my father test positive for antibodies to the dreaded COVID virus. Once again, The Heavenly Court was exacting judgement with compassion.

As I ventured out in those early days of COVID to pick up groceries and toiletries for my father, I was frightened.  Often, I would be called upon to divert to a side register or a secluded area to check out.  It was certainly G-d’s Compassion protecting me as I shopped for my father’s needs.  I would hear other shoppers protest “why her?”  The cashiers didn’t quite know why they chose me from the long lines of shoppers, but I knew why.

We were handed a diverse team of specialists collaborating on my father’s care.   They were confounded and delighted by the miraculous response to the chemo regimen. Dr. Allister would tell my father that he made them look good. We knew that He made them look good. Looking back, the Healer kept my father well for eighteen months after the CPI-613 regimen was terminated.  The doctors were astounded but The Healer was in His compassionate pose.

We were embraced by the tehillim, chesed and Torah that family members, friends, talmidim and people from all places and stages added to their busy schedules. Our darkest hours were illuminated by tehillim chats, new learning sedarim (set times), chesed initiatives and those who combined to recite the entire Sefer Tehillim (Book of Psalms) every day for two years. It brought light to dispel the night and it brought order to the chaos of disease.

I never saw my father’s acknowledgment and appreciation of kindness more than during the two years of his illness. My father would remark, “my talmidim really love me” and “I am so lucky to have so many people who really care about me.” The compassion of The Healer was evident and my father really felt the embrace. The Healer allowed my father to learn his beloved Torah day and night, almost to the last day of his life. And, to me that was compassion in the most important place.

I recognize that through the difficult Judgement, there was Mercy. With Mercy came real, palpable goodness. And, goodness streamed from this world and from the World Above. The empathy of friends, family and near strangers really can transform a dark era into a light-filled one. And, G-d in His infinite Wisdom and Mercy can contort Himself into a Judgement posture with Compassion. His emissaries may be people we know and messengers of all forms.   All we have to do is to look in all the right places.

We spent this past Shabbos at the beautiful home of our cousins who hosted a yahrzheit Shabbos for our dear cousin, Yisroel Simcha.   It was an uplifting Shabbos of inspiration, learning, delicious food and ambiance and beautiful Divrei Torah (words of Torah). There was an incredible siyum by family and friends who gathered to spend Shabbos together reminiscing about Yisroel Simcha.   I spoke during the Shabbos about the lessons and legacy he exemplified.

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Parshas Toldos is very much a study in opposites.

We encounter Yitzchak and Rivka who come from opposite backgrounds.

We are introduced to two male twins, Esav and Yaakov, who are opposite physically and ideologically

When thinking of something to speak about, I couldn’t think of a better topic than opposites because…

Yisroel simcha z’l was really the paradigm study in opposites:

1. Brilliant v Simple. There was a simplicity to Yisroel Simcha’s brilliance and a brilliance to his simplicity.
2. Serious v. Hilarious Yisroel Simcha’s humor was never silly or sarcastic.  It was him finding the absurdity in his illness and the difficult circumstances of his life.  Yisroel Simcha used humor to elevate himself and to make everyone around him feel good.
3. Wisdom of an elderly person v. effervescence/naivete of a toddler
4. Knew everything about the material world and yet that relationship w materialism didn’t affect his neshoma one iota
5. Respectful v irreverent

While thinking about Yisroel Simcha’s opposite attributes, the one thing that I found no opposite for was his sense of simcha.  There were times, I cried my eyes out, worrying and thinking about all that he was going through.  I remember his Bris and his Bar Mitzvah vividly.  During the celebration of his Bar Mitzvah, I locked myself in a bathroom stall and each time I tried to emerge, I just couldn’t.

But Yisroel Simcha didn’t cry.  Esther didn’t cry, even when he came to dance with her.  And, I never, ever saw Yisroel Simcha sad.

So when I look for the opposite for the attribute of simcha, I pair it with the attribute of Yisroel.

Yisroel Simcha was Yisroel, the man who rocked the endurance game and was victorious.  Why? Precisely because he was b’simcha (in a joyous state).  It seems supernatural and yet that was instilled in his very nature and his nurture.  That was what made Yisroel Simcha unique, brilliant and funny.  And, it was all effortless.

Here we are at his Yarzheit Shabbos and we are transported back to all that we encountered when we were with Yisroel Simcha.  Why?  Because that effortless sense of being b’simcha while enduring b’emunah (with faith) is rooted right here and that will endure forever.   Those symbiotic qualities that are so rare and that so affected each one of us are in Esther and Menachem.  And, they were a part of Aunt Regina a”H,  Temma a’H and of course, this was Yisroel Simcha’s greatest legacy.

Rifka was the parent entrusted with the nevuah (prophecy) during pregnancy that made her understand Yaakov’s mission.  She was willing to sacrifice everything for Yaakov to help him reach his full potential, much like Esther who spent tens of thousands of hours bandaging and selflessly helping Yisroel Simcha to be all that he was in the face of great adversity.  Esther and Menachem do not need to speak a word and yet, we can connect to all that they represent.

For us, to recreate that, would take enormous effort.  But for the Possicks, it is in their nature and it is in their home.  And, this family had the amazing ability and zechus (merit) to allow the effervescence, the hilarity, the wisdom, the emunah, the effortlessness and the brilliance of Yisroel Simcha to shine through.

I believe that when you are evaluating any type of relationship, never, never judge the other person.  Always judge who you are in their presence.

Perhaps, that explains the most perplexing set of opposites in our parsha:

וַיֶּֽאֱהַ֥ב יִצְחָ֛ק אֶת־עֵשָׂ֖ו כִּי־צַ֣יִד בְּפִ֑יו וְרִבְקָ֖ה אֹהֶ֥בֶת אֶת־יַֽעֲקֹֽב:

Yitzchok loved Esau for the hunt was in his mouth while Rivka loves Yaakov.  There are two interesting differences in describing the love of Yitzchok toward Esav v the love Rifkah feels for Yaakov:

1. Their love is described in different tenses: Rivka’s in the present while Yitzchak’s in the past
2. Yitzchok’s love was based upon the taste in his mouth while Rifka’s love is not dependent on anything

Perhaps, Rifka understood that her love for Yaakov was never dependent upon what was בְּפִ֑יו,  For Rifka her love was just that ubiquitous feeling of her being her most elevated self in Yaakov’s company.

If we were to evaluate our relationship with Yisroel Simcha based upon who we were in his presence, we would probably all say the same thing:  In Yisroel Simcha’s company, we were all:  funnier, happier, smarter, more connected, more elevated and even weightless.   Why? Because Yisroel Simcha had this effortless quality about all that he was and all that he did.  He should have been the most complicated person we knew and yet, he was the least complicated.

For us, we need to work on reconnecting, through this Shabbos and through recreating that person we were in Yisroel Simcha’s company.   So, what we can do is to be in touch with that hilarious, joyous, witty, clever and elevated self in each one of us with whom Yisroel Simcha put us in touch. And, with that extra confidence in ourselves and in our tefilos (prayers), we can transform this yahrzheit Shabbos into a celebration of true simcha for this incredible family with the coming of moshiach b’mehara ub’simcha (speedily and with great joy).