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You Never Know

03/14/2024 03:11:32 PM

Mar14

Rabbi Eisenman

As the plane landed at Ben Gurion airport, before even disembarking from the El-Al flight, Mendel Diamond* was texting his wife.

Mendel had arrived from Los Angeles to bury his mother, who had passed away the day before.

As soon as he passed through customs at the airport, he met up with his cousin Baruch, who would take him straight to Har Menuchos.

Mendel's cousin Baruch attempted to offer some words of Nechama; however, surprisingly, Mendel remained singularly focused on his phone.

As they arrived at the Beis Olam, Baruch heard Mendel tell his wife, "Don't worry, there is enough money in the account to cover the flowers as well."

Baruch, who was born and raised in Bnei Brak and lived with his large double-digit family in a three-room apartment, understood there were differences in the lifestyles of Americans and Israelis; however, his cousin's obsession with his phone and financial dealings were, nevertheless, quite baffling.

After all, Mendel had just flown almost 8,000 miles on a fourteen-hour flight from Los Angeles to Tel Aviv to bury his mother, and all that interested him was his phone!

Where was his Kibud Eim?

Was this how Americans show Kavod HeMes to their mother by obsessing over their phones?

Yet, Baruch knew he was there to help his cousin and respectfully accompanied Mendel at the Kevura on Har HaMenuchos.

As the Levaya concluded and Mendel sat Shiva briefly at the cemetery, Baruch was sure his phone involvement would cease now that Mendel was officially in Aveilus.

Yet, to Baruch's shock and dismay, as soon as they got into the car to head back to the airport for the return flight to LAX, Mendel was back on his phone discussing financial matters.

Although Baruch was not fluent in English, he knew what Dollars were, and the constant repeating of the words "transfer funds" and "account balance" grated on his ears.

Baruch could no longer contain himself as the car neared Ben Gurion Airport.

His Israeli trait of being upfront and not beating around the bush took center stage as he finally blurted out to his Los Angeles cousin, "Ani Lo Meivin!"- "I don't understand you! You have just buried your mother, and all you seem to be concerned with is your phone and your money! Where is your Kibud Eim?"

Mendel calmly looked back at his cousin and, without the slightest trace of anger or even defensiveness, calmly answered, "R' Baruch, I must tell you that every minute I spent on the phone was for the honor of my dear mother A" H."

As they exited the car, Mendel asked Baruch to sit next to him on the curb as he wanted to relate one story about his mother before departing back to the States.

"My mother, as you know, was privileged to live a long life. She was 97 years old. She was born in Budapest. Her family was well-off, and they lived comfortably. When the Nazis took over Hungary in 1944, the family lost all of their wealth. Yet, many people still owed the family large amounts of money as her father was a banker and had loaned many Jews huge sums of money, 

After the family's bank was taken over by the Nazis and the family was moved to the Ghetto in December of 1944, my mother's father wanted to collect on the unpaid debts. He felt it was the only way for the family to survive.

My mother said that her mother, a very calm woman who never intruded into her husband's affairs, surprisingly this one time, spoke up and objected.

Although my mother was only seventeen years old, she recalled vividly how her mother calmly but deliberately said to her father, "No, I don't think we should collect the debts. These people who owe us the money are in worse shape than we are. They don't have the money to pay, and asking them to pay will cause them hardship. Instead, let us send them some stored food to show them we have no bad feelings towards them, although they owe us money."

My mother would repeat that story every year at Chanukah, as it was on Chanuka when her mother's plea to forgive those who owed them money was made.

My mother followed her mother's ways, and although she lent out large sums of money, she would never press anyone who could not repay.

Before my mother passed away, she left me with one request.

"Mendel, I know you have lent money to the Goldbergs* for their upcoming Chasunah. I also understand they have not paid you back. Promise me that you will not only not pressure them to pay back but promise that you will attend their Chasunah and financially assist them. I don't want them to feel uncomfortable in any way. After all, you see them in Shul every Shabbos."

"Baruch, the Goldberg's Chasunah is in Los Angeles tonight.

With my mother's petirah and making all the arrangements, I forgot to remind my wife and children to attend the Chasunah.

However, having them attend the Chasunah was not fully fulfilling my mother's request. 

I had to give them a gift as per my mother's wishes.

I was on the phone to guarantee we had enough funds in the bank so my wife could pay for all the flowers at the Chasunah tonight without the Goldbergs' knowledge.

My beloved Baruch, you must know that every minute on the phone, every text, and every WhatsApp was solely for honoring my mother."

As Baruch stared in amazement, Mendel stood up from the curb, brushed himself off, and entered the terminal.

You never know.

Fri, December 6 2024 5 Kislev 5785