This week, I am leaving the humor out of my Oy Vey column. (Yes, some would say I do that every week.)
The unimaginable Mount Meron tragedy is just too devastating to leave unaddressed. While many died or were injured, I would like to focus on one particular person, Daniel “Donny” Morris, z”l, a Bergenfield teenager who was on his yeshiva gap year. Over 34,000 people participated remotely for Donny’s levaya on Sunday, broadcast from his beloved Yeshivat Sha’alvim, and many of those listeners likely never met Donny or his family. In just a few hours, however, we gained a tremendous insight into the 6,975 days (as his loving father sweetly calculated) of Donny’s remarkable life.
Speaker after speaker mentioned Donny’s sweet, sensitive and angelic personality and his uniquely positive disposition that was undeniable and indefatigable. Speaker after speaker spoke of Donny’s commitment to davening and learning along with his special maturity and quiet focus that were extraordinary and unflappable. Speaker after speaker talked about Donny’s sincerity and middos; a gentle soul with a kind heart that simultaneously shined softly and brightly.
What a child and, of course, what a family to have brought such a poetically powerful presence into this world.
Among the many beautiful stories told, one tale once again proves the old adage that you can’t judge a book by its cover. Apparently, during the past year someone saw Donny on a Friday afternoon toting a suitcase. The observer found it strange seeing Donny with luggage on that particular Friday because he knew Donny would be spending Shabbos locally at Sha’alvim, the yeshiva he so adored. When the baffled observer asked Donny why he was schlepping a suitcase, he received a response from Donny that literally and figuratively speaks volumes. As the story goes, Donny nonchalantly replied that his suitcase was filled with seforim that he had purchased in anticipation of returning to Sha’alvim for Shana Bet.
In this tiny tale, Donny, without a scintilla of bravado or braggadocio, became something greater than himself. He may not be the first yeshiva student to sign up for Shana Bet or to throw himself into the yeshiva experience with such exuberance. But, Donny may be the first yeshiva student to do so earnestly and happily fill his suitcase with seforim and to do so without any fanfare.
Of course, the journey Donny likely intended to take with his jam-packed suitcase was not a vacation or tiyul. It sounds like he was carrying with him a valise of visions and a portmanteau of possibilities. In those seforim, he likely saw his golden ticket to a higher madrega of knowledge, wisdom, understanding and holiness. To some, a heavy satchel of books might have felt like an enormous burden but for Donny it likely felt like a blessing. He was not schlepping seforim; they were lifting him.
Through this story, we now better understand why one of Donny’s rebbeim described him as a prize talmid.
In the bigger picture, Donny’s suitcase of seforim could be a metaphor for life. If we want to fulfill our dreams, then we need to pack wisely. That suitcase could have been filled with any number of mundane or less meaningful items. For example, if it had been my suitcase, it surely would have been stuffed with rugelach from Machane Yehuda (all of which I would have that evening). Others might have filled their suitcases with snazzy new clothes, the latest video games or a glove, bat and hardball for playing baseball (one of Donny’s favorite pastimes).
Donny was different. His load was a library. His cargo was kedusha.
Donny’s mother, showing unparalleled grace and strength, spoke about all that she had learned from her firstborn and bravely shared her feelings that she was not done learning from him. It is fair to say that all of us, the Jewish community worldwide, have a tremendous amount to learn from Donny. Can we fill our own suitcases with what matters most? Can we pack our bags with what is truly important? Can we load our luggage with what we hold dearest? Can we, like Donny, do all of this with humility, selflessness and kindness?
Donny’s suitcase of seforim is not unlike the suitcases many people pack in hopes and anticipation of the coming of the Moshiach. In both “cases,” the act of packing is an outward showing of emunah, an unwavering belief in the one and only higher power and an inexhaustible yearning for a better tomorrow.
Donny, thank you for this lesson.
To Donny’s family: HaMakom yenachem et’chem b’toch shar avay’lay Tzion v’Yerushalayim.
With my deepest condolences.
By Jonathan Kranz
