Written in memory of Rabbi Simcha Yisroel ben Yechezkel Tzvi.
It’s not easy to be menachem avel as we don’t like going to “sad places.” At the same time, however, it is often an elevating experience. I often leave a shiva house with inspiring ideas I heard related about the niftar; some that I could adopt and implement in my own life.
Shlomo Hamelech expressed this sentiment when he wrote, “It is better to go to a house of mourning than to a house of feasting … And the living will take it to heart,” (Koheles 7:2).
I recently went to be menachem avel my old friend, Rabbi Aharon Yitzchak Klein, after the passing of his father, Rabbi Sruli Klein, z”l. (I should clarify that although the friendship is old neither I nor Rabbi Klein are old …)
During that visit, Rabbi Klein related that—a few months prior—he had gone to visit his ailing father in the hospital. The senior Rabbi Klein told his son to take a pen and paper and write down certain instructions that he wanted his only son to adhere to upon his passing. One of the instructions was that in his bedroom at home, there was a pile of quarters. It had been his practice to give five quarters to tzedakah daily, and he wanted his son to continue doing so throughout the first year after his passing. The first quarter he gave was in memory of his late wife. The next three quarters he gave were in memory of three other close relatives. The last one was given in the merit that he procures a kosher lulav and esrog for the upcoming Succos.
Rabbi Aharon Yitzchak noted that his father wasn’t particular about having the most beautiful or expensive lulav and esrog. He didn’t need to because, throughout the year, he gave tzedakah daily to merit properly performing the mitzvah.
It was amazing to me that the mitzvah of shaking daled minim for the one week of Succos was on Rabbi Klein’s mind throughout the year. It was a reminder that a Jew ought not just perform mitzvos, but he should live them and internalize them. A talmid in the Telshe yeshiva in Cleveland recounted that at one point he was considering leaving yeshiva to go out to work. One day—while sitting in the bais medrash at the end of the learning session—he saw the rosh yeshiva, Rabbi Mordechai Gifter, close his Gemara and kiss it loudly. The talmid was so moved by that kiss and display of intense love for his Gemara that he decided to remain in yeshiva for longer.
When Rav Lazer Shach reached an advanced age and it was hard for him to read small letters, he was offered a computer that would significantly enlarge the letters. Rav Shach refused it stating, “Ich darf a Gemara vos m’ken kushan—I want to use a Gemara that I can kiss.” Rav Shach wasn’t saying that there was a halachic issue learning from an electric device. But he, personally, felt doing so would detract from his ability to express his love for Torah.
A friend related that when his grandfather was admitted to the hospital towards the end of his life, his grandfather wasn’t very lucid. At one point, a nurse placed the band around his left hand to take his blood pressure. When his grandfather felt something tightening around his left arm, he immediately recited the bracha of “l’haneach tefillin,” the bracha recited by a person as he tightens his tefillin around his weaker arm.
On the day that our oldest son, Shalom, put on tefillin for the first time, I went with him to visit my Bubby, a”h. She was living then in an assisted-living facility and, much of the time, she was confused. I told her that Shalom had put on tefillin that morning for the first time and requested that she give him a bracha. She placed both her hands on his head and promptly recited the bracha of, “l’haneach tefillin,” with Hashem’s name and all. Apparently, when she heard me say the words tefillin and bracha, that’s what came to mind, and she replied accordingly. I didn’t even think she knew that bracha.
As often as we were able, my wife and I would take our children to visit my Bubby. Towards the end of her life, my Bubby was increasingly less aware of what was happening around her. Before we left at night, we told her that our children wanted to say Shema with her. As soon as I began saying “Shema Yisroel,” she continued the entire paragraph and ended off with, “Hamalach Hagoel.” She may not have known what she ate for dinner or what she did that day, but she knew the tefillos of her youth perfectly.
Kabbalas HaTorah entails not only accepting to perform and observe Torah and mitzvos. It is also about infusing their timeless messages into our core essence. As we recite each night during maariv, “For it is our life and the length of our days, and in them, we will engage day and night.”
There is no law that one must kiss a Gemara. But a kiss is an expression of love and when someone truly loves something or someone, he desires to express that love.
The Jewish people love their sefarim, tefillin, saying Shema and shaking lulav and esrog on Succos. We relish the opportunities afforded to us to perform His will. That love becomes part of our very being and is eternal. Such endless love is the result of constantly preparing ourselves to grow in Torah and to live Torah.
Rabbi Dani Staum, LMSW, is a popular speaker and author. He is a rebbe in Heichal HaTorah in Teaneck, NJ, and an experienced therapist, recently returning to seeing clients in private practice, as part of the Rockland CBT group. For appointments, Rabbi Staum can be reached at 914-295-0115. Looking for an inspirational and motivating speaker or scholar-in-residence? Contact Rabbi Staum for a unique speaking experience. Rabbi Staum can be reached at [email protected]. Archives of his writings can be found at www.stamtorah.info.
