The Short Vort by Rabbi Eisenman

"Hashem forgives, and in so doing, teaches us to forgive."

(Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, The Dignity of Difference, p. 154)

 

Rivka called me before Rosh Hashanah.

Rivka lived in Eretz Yisroel for almost fifteen years and kept in contact with me.

Through phone calls and emails, I followed her life.

As the years went on, she would reach out to me when personal issues arose, and she felt my input would be helpful.

So when Rivka called me before Rosh Hashanah, I knew something was causing her to lose sleep.

She explained that Leah, one of her single friends from Bais Yaakov, was struggling religiously.

Rivka was torn on how to relate to her struggling friend.

She wanted to be there for her friend, yet she did not want to validate her friend's lack of observance.

Rivka confided in me her feelings of guilt regarding how she handled Leah's admissions of her lack of observance of Torah and Mitzvahs.

Rivka felt she came down too hard in rebuking Leah's behavior.

She felt she was being too judgmental and perhaps could have been more understanding and sympathetic.

I suggested that she call her friend before Yom Kippur and ask Mechilla.

A few days before Hoshana Rabba, the distraught Rivka, called me back to tell me she texted her friend and left a voicemail; however, she still had not heard back from Leah.

I suggested she try calling again before Hoshana Raba, considered a critical day in the Teshuva process.

She promised me she would call Leah again, and so she did.

Rivka never heard back from Leah.

Simchas Torah and October 7 occurred, and the world changed.

Rivka called me again, this time frantic and extremely upset.

She explained that through mutual friends, she learned that Leah, her former classmate from Bais Yakov, had attended the music festival in the Negev on Simchas Torah.

Rivka cried on the phone as she managed through her tears to tell me that Leah was one of the victims of the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust.

Adding to her extreme grief at the loss of a friend whom she had known for years, there was an additional pain.

Through her sobbing, Rivka revealed that she now lived with the haunting doubt that perhaps her friend had never forgiven her, and the pain of never knowing if she and Leah had reconciled gave her no rest.

And now that Leah was no longer among the living, she lived in a state of continual anguish and uncertainty.

She pleaded with me for guidance.

I had no answer for her.

I had no great words of wisdom or comfort to offer.

My only suggestion was to "Give Tzedoka and cry out to Hashem for guidance. He will take over from there."

Weeks passed, and I had not heard from Rivka.

Last week the phone rang in my office.

I could tell it was from Eretz Yisroel; it was Rivka calling.

She told me that she decided to give a substantial amount of Tzedoka to an organization that specifically supports those who have left observance yet accepts them for who they are without a hidden agenda to "bring them back."

She gave her donation unconditionally without making any deals with Hashem.

Rivka then told me the words I never could have imagined hearing.

She had received a phone call from Leah's mother.

Leah's mother related to Rivka that Zaka, the organization involved in ensuring Jews receive a proper burial, had retrieved some personal items found in a tent near the music festival, which belonged to Leah.

Among the things returned to her was Leah's diary.

The last entry was from October 7- Simchas Torah in Israel.

It read:

 "October 7, Simchat Torah.

This used to be a day I "enjoyed" watching the men dance from my place in the women's section.

Today, I am planning to dance and with men!

Yesterday, my "former" friend Rivka left me a voice message asking for Mechilla.

 I have decided to be Mochel her.

 I will call her after Yom Tov to tell her I forgive her.

However, I will also tell her, in the most polite way I can muster, that she and others like her should stop looking at people such as myself as potential "Kiruv Projects."

Anytime she spoke to me, she was condescending and never made the effort to hear my pain. All that ever interested her was the Jewish version of "Saving My Soul."

I resented that.

 If she had related to me as a human being and not as a potential "return-success-story" with the hope of creating a video of me returning to observance, which would go viral on Orthodox WhatsApp groups, we could have remained friends.

Despite my resentment,  I will call her tomorrow as she won't answer or look at the phone today.

 I will forgive her.

However, I will also tell her my true feelings.

I wish I could speak to her today, as today I am in a good, forgiving space.

Who knows what space I will be in tomorrow?"

Those were the last words Leah ever wrote.

 

 

 

 

PostScript.

Dear Readers of the Short Vort,

I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have generously donated to the Shul's fundraising campaign.

Only through your generosity am I and the Shul able to provide the services we do.

If you have not yet donated and enjoy reading the Short Vort (which is provided without any solicitation or expectation of payment) please consider donating to the Shul.

Or even if you have already given, perhaps consider giving (again) in honor of the Short Vort?

Here is the link:

https://causematch.com/ahavasisrael23/d/V9dQ

I thank you in advance and wish you much Simcha, Brocha, and Nachas and the peace of mind to enjoy life.

With much gratitude for your taking the time to read my writing-

"A writer is only a writer if there are readers."

(I just made that up 😊)