This past June, I attended a Friday night dinner at Rabbi Herschel Reichman’s home. Following epic food, pleasant conversation and soulful singing, the rebbetzin made a request: “Do any of you know someone who would like to visit my sister? We are going to Israel for two weeks and want her to have a friendly visitor while we’re gone.”
The next Shabbat, I knocked on Apartment 8. A sweet nurse named Panzi opened the door, smiled and called out: “Bracha, you have a visitor.” Upon entering the apartment, I noticed a large, supported bed stationed in the middle of the living room. Bracha was on the bed, craning her neck to see who had walked through the door. Sweaty palms tucked into my suit pants pockets, I introduced myself: “Gut Shabbos. I’m Yosef.”
Bracha responded from her bed: “Gut Shabbos. Where are you from?”
“Teaneck,” I replied. “Where are you from?”
Bracha took a long exhale and then continued: “Originally Israel, but now here.”
“When did you move from Israel?”
“When I was 7-and-a-half. They offered better services for me in America.”
At the age of 1, Bracha was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, a life-long neurological disorder that limits one’s voluntary movements, balance and body posture. Each case of cerebral palsy is unique in its severity.
During her teenage years, Bracha walked to Yom Kippur services at YU’s Lamport Auditorium. As a young adult, she studied political science at Hunter College and graduated with honors. Throughout middle adulthood, Bracha traveled to YU for Sunday shurium.
Nowadays, Bracha has trouble performing some of life’s simple tasks. To get out of bed, she requires the help of a crane-like gadget that helps her sit upright. To eat and drink, Bracha needs assistance. Currently, Bracha cannot sit in her wheelchair nor venture out of her apartment. Unwanted restrictions like these would cause an ordinary person to become downcast. But that’s not Bracha; her inner strength is extraordinary.
In spite of her life’s difficulties, Bracha makes time to speak with God and perform volunteer work for charity organizations. Every day, Bracha recites (by heart) specific chapters of Tehillim for family members and struggling individuals. She particularly connects to Psalm 20: “May the Lord answer you on a day of distress; may the name of the God of Jacob fortify you … Let us sing praises for your salvation, and let us assemble in the name of our God.” A few years ago, some of Bracha’s family members were battling various illnesses. Feeling distressed by the situation, Bracha called and organized a group of people to pray for her relatives’ recoveries.
Over the phone, Bracha frequently collects money for various charity organizations. Moriah, the JCC, and other groups have recognized her noteworthy efforts and contributions. One time, Bracha single-handedly convinced a high-net-worth individual to donate money to an organization in need.
Bracha takes joy in fulfilling Jewish customs. Each Rosh Hashanah, Bracha arranges for someone to visit her apartment and blow the shofar. Every Sukkot, Bracha asks someone to help her shake the lulav and etrog. During middle adulthood, she would beg doctors to let her fast on Yom Kippur. “I need to do teshuva,” she said. “Fasting will help me repent.” Despite her setbacks, Bracha prays, collects charity and performs mitzvot with fervor.
Inspired by Bracha, I continued to visit her twice a month. Last Shabbat, I asked her for advice on the subject always at the forefront of my mind: dating. She caught me off guard with her response: “I don’t have experience with this stuff. So I can’t give you any great advice.”
Taken aback by her honesty and humility, I asked anyway: “Two years ago I went out with a girl. I thought she was amazing, shtark, cool and full of life, but she turned me down. One year later, I reached out to her again, and she said no for the second time. I know that I should move on; she’s clearly not interested in me. But I just can’t get over the fact that someone doesn’t like me.” I was visibly upset and Bracha sensed it.
After a short pause, Bracha gave her input: “It sounds like you want something you can’t have. I myself want many things I can’t have. I want to jump out of this bed, but my body won’t let me. It’s important to accept what you cannot have. Personally, I am bad at this. Maybe my emunah, my faith, should be stronger. Other people in my circumstance would have accepted this disability by now.”
Similar to Bracha, I have struggled to accept my limitations. Eight years ago, optometrists relayed heartbreaking news: “Your current vision in both eyes makes you ineligible to ever earn a driver’s license.” This limitation makes getting anywhere a constant challenge. Furthermore, my inability to drive pushes away certain dating prospects. The struggle and battle to accept our unwanted circumstances brings Bracha and me together. Although we both prefer alternative realities, we attempt to make the most of imperfection.
After dating rejections, I always try to remember lessons from Rabbi Efrem Goldberg’s weekly emunah class: “If she won’t go out with me, it’s not her saying no, it’s God saying no. Because if it was really meant to be, she’d go out with me. But since she said no, it’s clearly not meant to be.” I strive to “accept what I cannot have,” as Bracha said, and “be satisfied with my lot” (Avot 4:1), as our Sages teach us.
It is the responsibility of each individual to reach out to a struggling soul in their community. Giving someone 30 minutes of your time can entirely change their day. Almost everyone enjoys social interaction; being alone, especially in the COVID era, can be emotionally debilitating. It is essential to welcome strangers into our homes and ensure that every single person has a sense of belonging and connection.
To paraphrase Bracha: Nobody is a superior person; we’re all equal in God’s eyes, regardless of our challenges.
By Yosef Silfen (edited by Max Gruber)
