originally published as a Facebook post on 2/8/23
The Torah content for this week has been sponsored by Sarah and Moshe Eisen, with the following message: "Dedicated in honor of Popo, who shined bright and brought joy to so many of us. And to Rabbi Matt Schneeweiss who shared her with us and continues to share thoughts, insights, and Torah."
The Torah content for this week has also been sponsored by Nava, in memory of Adira Koffsky z"l, who loved learning and philosophy and was a real seeker of truth.
Thoughts on Yesterday’s Shivah Call in Detroit
There's one more thing I debated about including in the Facebook status about my Muslim Uber driver last night. I initially chose not to share this because I didn't want to draw attention to why I went to Detroit, but since one of my talmidim told me last night that my decision inspired him to do the same, I figured that that was a good enough reason for me to share these thoughts.
One of the four people who died in the same 24-hour period last week was the mother of my talmid, Yehoshua. The shivah is taking place in Detroit. Yehoshua wasn't sure whether he was going to spend all of shivah there or whether he'd fly back to Far Rockaway to finish shivah here, so that his friends and rabbeim could offer their condolences in person. On Monday, he decided to remain in Detroit so he could be with his family.
As soon as I learned of his decision, I booked a round-trip ticket to Detroit for Tuesday. When Yehoshua first told me his mother died, I told him that I'd be there for him, and I meant it. And I'm not the only one. A good friend of his had already flown there, and several more of his friends and another one of his rabbeim from yeshiva flew there today - again, just for the afternoon - to be with him.
What does this have to do with my Uber ride? Well, at one point in the conversation, Ali pointed to my backpack and said, "Traveling light, eh?" When I explained to him the reason for my brief trip, he was visibly impressed, and exclaimed: "Wow. God will definitely remember that you did this!" We use the metaphor of God "remembering" quite a lot in our prayers, but I believe this is the first time I've ever heard someone say it in natural speech. My rebbi (Rabbi Pesach Chait) explained that when we ask God to "remember" the good actions we do, we are essentially saying, "I've done lots of actions in my life, both good and bad, but these are the actions that define who I am and reflect my true values. I ask that You judge me on the basis of those actions, and not the many times and ways in which I have fallen short and deviated from my real values."
Ali and I then discussed the implications of such deaths on how we live our lives. Ali remarked, "You can't take anything with you," which led to another realization on my part. I know that there are many others who would have wanted to pay a shivah call to Yeshoshua in person, but were unable to do so for a variety of legitimate reasons. One of those reasons is money. It was expensive to buy a round-trip ticket less than 24 hours in advance, and to pay for all the Ubers. These were expenses that I was willing to pay, but they were expenses nonetheless. When Ali said, "You can't take anything with you," it reminded me that this is what money is for. What good does money do if it isn't used for the most important things in life, like being there for a dear friend in his time of need?
I had a similar realization from another conversation that happened yesterday. Yehoshua's family needed a break during shivah, so my other talmid (who was already there) took me to his parents' workplace. My talmid was on a phone chavrusa with one of my friends, Rabbi Trachtman, when Yehoshua texted him to say we could come back to the shivah house. My talmid wasn't sure whether he should wait until his chavrusa was finished or whether he should stop learning and immediately return to the shivah house. He asked Rabbi Trachtman who said, "The nechamah (consolation) you provide to Yehoshua is a mitzvah that can only be done by you and nobody else. You have to stop learning to go and be with him now." And so we left.
While we were in the car, my talmid told me that he was reminded of the Gemara in Kiddushin 40b which raises the question: "Which is greater: Torah study or action?" The Gemara answers: "Torah study, because Torah study leads to action." He said that stopping his learning to return to the shivah house was a good reminder that this is why we learn - not merely so that we can think about the mitzvos, but so that we can do them and live by them. This was a good reminder for me as well, and made me even more convinced that I made the right decision to fly to Detroit, even though I had to cancel my teaching for the day.
Lastly, I couldn't help but think of Act III of Our Town, by Thornton Wilder (click here for my favorite performance available online). Against the advice of the community of the dead, the recently-deceased Emily travels back in time to relive her twelfth birthday, but from her new perspective - the perspective of someone who has died. At first, she enjoys seeing her mother and father and watching them live through that day. But with each minute that goes by, she realizes how fleeting life is and how few human beings "ever realize life while they live it." Finally she breaks down and cries: "I can't. I can't go on. It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another."
I have never sat shivah before. I imagine that one of the many benefits of sitting shivah is that you are forced to have time to really "look at one another" - to be there with the rest of your family who are mourning, and to be there with all those who have come to comfort you. This was the first time that I've made a shivah call in which nechamah was the only thing on my agenda for the entire day. I was only in Detroit for Yehoshua, and there was nowhere else for me to be. I think this really helped me to be present in a way that I had never been able to be during any other shivah call. And watching Yehoshua and his siblings be there for each other made me wonder whether part of the shivah process is geared towards enabling the mourners to have Emily's realization while they are still alive, and to really appreciate the people and relationships in their lives going forward.
The day before yesterday, I paid a shivah call to the family of my talmidah, Adira Koffsky z"l. One of Adira's friends had no way to get there, so I gave her a ride. On the way back I shared with her an insight, the source of which I can't remember. There are two types of virtues: résumé virtues and epitaph virtues. The résumé virtues are the professional accomplishments you've made: the titles you achieved, the salary you earned, the awards you won, and all the other material successes you enjoyed. The epitaph virtues reflect who you were as a person - what you stood for and what you really lived for. The example that comes to mind is Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik (1853-1918), the towering genius who invented the Brisker methodology of analysis which revolutionized Talmud Study and who authored the unparalleled Chiddushei Rabbeinu Chaim on the Rambam's Mishneh Torah. Yet, he wrote in his will that his epitaph should mention none of these intellectual accomplishments, but should instead say only "he was a man of kindness."
At the end of our lives, what will we have wanted to have live for? To what extent are the decisions we make today in line with that life we will wish to have lived? And, as Hillel asked, "if not now, when?"
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