I Used to Eat Kosher – No More!
וידבר ה' אל משה ואל אהרן לאמר אלהם דברו אל בני ישראל לאמר זאת החיה אשר תאכלו מכל הבהמה אשר על הארץ
“And Hashem spoke to Moshe and to Aharon, to say to them: Speak to the Bnei Yisroel, saying: These are the creatures that you may eat among all the animals on earth.” (Vayikra 11:1-2)
The following is an incredible story that was told over by Rabbi Avraham Gross, former Rav of Shaarei Hatikva Shul in Washington Heights?
After forty-seven years being the Rav of the Shaarei Hatikva Shul, I moved to Eretz Yisroel. About twelve years before my move, I served as chaplain in Columbia Presbyterian Hospital. Every day I would receive a printout from the hospital’s computer of all the Jewish patients. But everyone knows that computers aren’t foolproof, and many Jewish patients never made it onto the list. So, on my rounds through the wards, I would look at the names posted on the doors of the rooms, looking for those that were likely to be Jewish.
One day I passed by a room and perused the names listed. My attention was immediately drawn to one name in particular. It was the family name of a most illustrious talmid chacham of pre-World War I Europe, one of the Gedolei Hador. I knocked and was beckoned inside. The patient, an elderly Jewish man, sat on his bed.
“Good morning,” I said as I introduced myself as the chaplain of the hospital. “I couldn’t help but wonder about your family name. Are you by any chance related to Rabbi So-and-so?”
“What! So, you knew my great grandfather?!”
“I know my beard is gray, but I’m not that old. However, I have studied from his works, and he was really a very great scholar.”
On his tray were the hospital utensils and the remains of his breakfast. I looked at the tray and his eyes caught my stare.
“Rabbi, I guess you’re wondering about my breakfast. Well, to tell you the truth. I used to keep kosher. But no more! I used to keep Shabbos... but no more! I used to daven and lay tefillin... NO MORE!”
I looked at him and with a pained voiced I answered, “You must have suffered a terrible tragedy.”
For a moment he was silent and looked down, seemingly lost in his thoughts. “I had a son. He was twenty years old when he got sick. My wife and I stayed by his bedside the whole week. On Friday afternoon we bid him goodbye and hurried home so my wife could light Shabbos candles before sunset. Right before she lit, we got the phone call. Since then, I have had nothing to do with Yiddishkeit.”
I looked at him and, after a moment of silence, said, “So you’re angry at G-d.”
“You bet I am!” was his reply.
