By Rabbi Nachman Seltzer
Consider the following story, which I heard from a rav in England. As the rav of a shul, part of my job means comforting those who need comforting, visiting those who need visiting, and eulogizing those who need to be eulogized. It was Rosh Chodesh Elul when I went to visit a member of my shul who was very ill, and who’d requested urgently that I come to speak with him.
“Rabbi,” Brian said as we sat together, “I have a question to ask you. This is just between us. My wife doesn’t have to know we discussed it. Such talk would only cause her pain... My doctors tell me I am going to meet my Maker in six to eight weeks. What do I need to do to prepare myself?”
Brian’s question was shockingly authentic. I was at a loss. What does one say to a person asking you how they should prepare themselves for their imminent journey to the Next World?
“That’s a hard question, Brian,” I said to him, “and I will get back to you with an answer.”
I discussed Brian’s question with a few rabbanim and others, and got back to Brian with an answer — which will remain between me and him, because the answer to his question would be different for every person. As we sat together sharing a profound conversation, Brian said, “You know, Rabbi, sometimes a person reflects on their lifetime and certain stories come to mind. Would you like to hear one of the stories I’ve been thinking about?”
Of course I did.
“My wife and I had a daughter,” Brian began, “who passed away when she was almost nineteen years old. This didn’t come as a complete surprise, since she’d been unwell since she was born and her illness accompanied her throughout her life, which ended just prior to her nineteenth birthday.
“A few months after my daughter was born, we needed to take her to the hospital for a major operation. The hospital was located in Southwest London and I called the rav of our shul, to ask where I could daven on the day of the operation. I wanted a shul with a minyan for Shacharis.
“Rabbi Ginsburg soon called me back and said, ‘Go to Hendon Adass. The name of the rabbi there is Rav Pinchus Roberts. I’ve already spoken with him about you.’
Hendon Adass was not at all close to the hospital. I took a taxi there, leaving sufficient time to deal with London traffic. On my arrival at the shul, Rabbi Roberts warmly welcomed me in and showed me where to sit. After davening, I was about to leave when the rav made an announcement about my daughter.
‘Rabbosai,’ he said, ‘we are now going to say Tehillim for a sick little girl who is about to undergo an operation.’ “There were over a hundred people in the shul at the time and every one of them stayed where they were and participated in the Tehillim. I was overcome by the fact that so many people were willing to drop everything and daven so fervently for my daughter. I’d never experienced anything like it in my life and was touched to my core.
“I made the return journey to the hospital, filled with hope and new strength from my experience at the shul. My daughter was wheeled into the operating theater, while my wife and I waited.
“Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Opening it, I found a woman I’d never seen before in my life.
‘Can I help you?’ I asked.
‘I’m Rebbetzin Roberts,’ she said. ‘You were in my husband’s shul this morning for Shacharis. It is Erev Shabbos, and I’ve just taken a bus from Hendon to come and see you here at the hospital.’
‘How long did it take you to get here?’
‘An hour and a half.’
We were very touched.
‘The reason I came is because I brought you food for now, and for Shabbos.’
Once again, we were touched beyond words. “‘We are going to sit down together,’ she said, ‘and you will eat some of the food I brought.’
She insisted on joining us at one of the tables and watching as my wife and I partook of her delicious food. The Rebbetzin knew that if she left without ‘forcing’ us to eat something, we might never get around to eating. So, she sat us down, and only returned home once she was sure we had eaten. You can imagine how extremely grateful we were to her for making such efforts for two people she didn’t even know!
“Rabbi,” Brian said to me when he finished telling his story, “it’s been many years since Rebbetzin Roberts came to visit us in the hospital, but I remember it like yesterday. I never forgot how she was willing to travel to visit a couple she had never met with a package of food all the way from Hendon on an Erev Shabbos.”
This story occurred before so many Jewish organizations were established to care for patients and their families in the hospital for Shabbos. Back then, Brian and his wife were all alone in Southwest London without hope of visitors or hot Shabbos food. No wonder they never forgot the Reb betzin’s heartfelt action, though the story had taken place decades earlier!
Rabbi and Rebbetzin Roberts had since relocated closer to our community, and now, thirty-four years later, I thought about arranging a reunion between Brian and his wife and the Rebbetzin. Brian still remembered the episode with such clarity — and out of everything that had happened to him in his life, this was the story he’d chosen to share with me. In the end, however, the meeting didn’t happen. Brian was niftar on Erev Hoshana Rabbah.
I made the arrangements and attended his levayah. Just after the funeral ended, my phone rang with the news of a second levayah that I needed to attend. Rebbetzin Roberts had just passed away and was being laid to rest right then. This meant that I went directly from Brian’s levayah to Rebbetzin Roberts’.
I later learned that both taharah processes had been performed at the same time. When I came home that afternoon, I told my wife, “It’s amazing — they shared a story thirty-four years ago and now both went through the taharah process at the same time. What’s the lesson here? What am I supposed to take from this story?”
My wife thought about it, and then shared her insight with me. “I think this story teaches us that when you do a chesed for another human being, you become connected to that person in this world and the next, for all eternity. If you help another Yid for no other reason than because you love them for being a Jew, the two of you are bound together for all time. And the more chesed you do, the more connected you become to more and more members of Klal Yisrael — until you have formed an incredibly beautiful network of people who are all connected to one another. A chesed web of individuals who share something unique. Something that came about through the wonderful mitzvah of doing kindness for others.”
Reprinted from the Pesach 5785 edition of At the ArtScroll Shabbos Table. Excerpted from the ArtScroll book “Haggadah with Stories” by Rabbi Nachman Seltzer.
