Avraham Rahamim is over 90 years old, and age, you'll be surprised, really isn't a problematic factor for anything to do with his clarity of mind, the quality of his articulation, and his physical fitness. Avraham, a religious Jew, is a quiet, modest type who hides behind the tools. He built the Orot Tannaim synagogue in his neighborhood about 50 years ago, and he is tied to it with bonds of love. He was the locksmith who built and welded the rusty and creaky entrance gate. He built the long fence, He was the one who sawed the beams in order to build a fine ark from them in the center of the synagogue. He is the man who every year (until he became weak) went up to the flat roof and sprinkled tar in the winter so that they would not suffer from leaks, and in the summer he sprinkled lime so that they would not suffer from heat. He was the one who made sure to bring the bread and salads to the third meal, he was the one who replaced leaking faucets and broken glasses. To Avraham Rahamim's credit, it should be said that he did his work with such silent, imperceptible silence. We have never heard him boast about these facts. Or elbowing to himself some status in the community. Nothing. He gave the gabbai their respect, the rabbi of the synagogue he left a wide space to define himself, and he always brightened the face of the young worshippers who visited the place from time to time. The search for honor was not his disease. And you know what, he didn't even nag anyone to get a pinch of gratitude for his 50 years of activity.
Needless to say, his peers, the founders of the place, for the most part, moved to a world that was all good, and Avraham was one of the "last generation of the Nephilim," as they say. He felt within the walls, the ark, the Holy Ark, like a revered king, like a jewel in a crown. Until one day the heart betrayed him.
This happens too. He groaned in his bed and with the rest of his strength he dialed and called an ambulance.
For four weeks, Avraham hovered between life and death, connected to resuscitation machines, and fed with a bunch. From time to time, when he regained consciousness, he would move his head to the right and left, looking with bright eyes for a visitor, a friend, a family member. And he did not find it. The armchair next to his bed was usually empty and deserted. After a month and a half, after a difficult rehabilitation, Avraham Rahamim returned home accompanied by a Thai therapist. Yes, he was weakened, but nevertheless, his forces were about to stop walking slowly to the synagogue, about 100 meters from his apartment.
On Shabbat, between morning and musaf prayers, and before the Torah reading, the rabbi of the synagogue usually gives a 20-minute sermon. This time, the rabbi acceded to the request of Rabbi Avraham Rahamim, who asked to say a few words. Write it down: The Shabbat preacher is the elder of the worshippers. A rare occasion. He climbed the pulpit with slow steps, clung to the railing, and spoke in a quiet voice. He began with simple and understandable words of Torah to every ear. His innovations were familiar to the congregation, who were quite surprised that the lovely old man had suddenly assumed the role of rabbi..... And then we came to the dramatic part.
"I ask my brother," Avraham Rahamim said to the public, "Joseph the Righteous, asked his brothers, to inquire about their well-being, to check what they lacked, despite the danger of it, despite his brother's resentment, he was determined to fulfill his father's command. To ask for his brothers, to inquire about their well-being... Gentlemen and friends, synagogue worshippers, I also say to you, "I ask for my brother." I ask, but my request is like the dust of Dara'a. There is no name on the heart.
I wanted to tell you a few words on my heart, almost all of you know, that I built this synagogue with 10 fingers, I have a part in every wall, in every corner, even the ark I stand on is a work of my own making. There were some of the founders of the synagogue who thought that the ark would not last, due to my lack of professionalism in carpentry, but here it stands sturdy and stable and they have already left the world... You may not know, but I lay in the hospital for over a month, between life and death, half dying and groaning in pain, and none of you asked about me... None of you came to visit... He wasn't interested. I had difficult hours of solitude there, I thought to myself, Avraham, at least the worshippers, will remember you well, they will visit you... They will smile at you. end Suf is the closest people to you, I thought I was like your good grandfather, or at least a close friend, even far away. I wanted so much that one of you would remember me, be interested in me, ask about me... Crow-flower. I have not seen or heard any of you. I ask for my brother, but my brothers don't ask for me. Shabbat Shalom."
The electrifying air in the synagogue could be cut with a knife. Avraham Rahamim went to his corner, opened the siddur and left the dozens of worshippers and rabbis speechless and breathless. And this is a story that has no end.
The end, as we said, hangs before our eyes, pale and trembling, screaming out its cry. There are many good people near us, old and young, who need attention, warmth, visiting the sick, and a hearty smile. It takes so little effort from our people, and so much kindness is inherent in it. And we go to the synagogue, the beit midrash, study and preach, pray and read Psalms, play the game of the righteous, oh oh, how wrong we are. Man... In himself... "I ask for my brother" Oh oh oh oh ...
