The wife explained that her husband participated in one of the worldwide programs run by the Dirshu organization, whose participants learn large amounts of Talmud and are occasionally tested on the material. Although he can neither write nor type, David never missed a test. He was able to answer the questions with special technology which enabled him to “type” on the computer by looking with his eyes at the letters he wanted to type. Each test took him fifteen hours (!!!!!).
Nevertheless, he completed each one. And he always completed the test on time. He did not ask for any special dispensation. He studied all the material just like all the other participants, and he then spent fifteen hours answering the questions and emailed the test back to Dirshu on time, each and every time, without fail.
Once, he took one of Dirshu’s exams and had two questions left when he needed to be taken to a doctor’s appointment. He decided to take his laptop with him so he could answer the remaining two questions in the waiting room. As it turned out, though, in the waiting room he had time only to answer one of the two remaining questions. The deadline was early the next morning, and David insisted on not missing it, so he worked on the final answer in the car on the way home. But during the drive, the car hit a pothole, and David’s laptop went flying, smashing on the floor of the car. His entire exam was lost.
David was not to be deterred. He arrived home at 6pm, and sat in front of the home computer to begin the exam anew. He stayed awake until 5am the next morning, answering all 22 questions, and sent the exam in on time, as always.
Ironically, David – who needed to struggle to survive more than any of us – did not just survive, but lived. He was not content just making it to the next day. He insisted on living, on spending his day meaningfully and productively. And he did so precisely because he lived with a keen sense that each day could be his last. This awareness could paralyze a person, but it could also empower a person, energizing him to make each day count, to make each day meaningful.
The Talmud tells of a Rabbi who admonished his students to repent the day before their died. They asked him the obvious question: Nobody knows when he or she is going to die. How can we repent the day before we die, if we never know when we will die?
The Rabbi answered, “This is precisely the point. Repent each and every day, because you never know which day will be your last.”
People who feel that each day could be their last live each day with special vigor and energy. They work to make each and every day count, to make each and every day meaningful. David turned his condition into a great blessing, by being motivated to achieve more than he did before he fell ill, by recognizing that each and every day is a precious opportunity to do something great.
Reprinted from the Parashat Nisabim-Vayelech 5783 email of Rabbi David Bibi’s Shabbat Shalom from Cyberspace.
