The Short Vort by Rabbi Eisenman

It was Wednesday afternoon, Erev July 4.

I had a doctor's appointment in Ho-Ho-Kus.

I glanced at my ETA and was shocked that my normally thirty-minute drive was now 57 minutes!

The AAA projection of 70.9 million travelers heading on the roads for Independence Day was being fulfilled on my screen.

However, I realized that perhaps this delay could facilitate a potential Mitzvah.

As a Rav, I receive many Chasunah invitations.

Some are invitations from friends who have moved from Passaic.

I very much appreciate those who keep in touch. However, in these cases, if there is a conflict with Shul responsibilities, I will suffice with a warm and personal Brocha on the return card.

Such was my planned participation in the wedding of the daughter of Rabbi Yonah G. Lazar.

Yet, with the unexpected delay, perhaps Hashem was "re-calculating" my next potential destination?

That prospect of bringing a smile to the father of a Kallah made me smile.

After all, Rav Yonah and I went back a long time.

In 2014, a Chasuhva-looking man politely approached me and asked permission to daven for the Amud.

He was the new principal of the Clifton Cheder; his name was Yonah G. Lazar.

I pivoted to Jewish geography, "Are you related to Mrs. Malki Lazar, who taught in Brooklyn in the 1980s?"

"That's my mother!"

In my parental home, Malki Lazar was a sort of superhero.

My mother taught for over thirty years in New York City Public Schools.

I can confidently say that the three years my mother spent working with Malki Lazar were her happiest and most rewarding.

Malki Lazar, a veteran Mechaneches, had a brief stay in Brooklyn.

Yet, her time there left a lasting impression on my mother and me.

My mother adored Malki Lazar. They became best of friends.

Being in a mostly non-Jewish environment, Malki was the much-appreciated companion and colleague who, with her smile and upbeat manner, provided my mother with friendship and care.

She and my mother were inseparable. They forged a spiritually beneficial bond, which both cherished.

She would give my mother much-needed Chizuk when my father was ill.

Mrs. Lazar visited my father, Z’L, when he was hospitalized.

I can still recall how my mother was touched by her visit to my father.

During Rabbi Lazar's tenure in Passaic, we renewed the relationship our mothers planted and cultivated our own friendship.

I would love to wish him Mazel Tov in person.

Back in Ho Ho Kus, I realized I could make it to Spring Valley in under twenty minutes.

I directed the car in a north/west direction and was off to Spring Valley.

I arrived at 4:30.

There was not a soul in sight.

I was two hours early.

As I was about to leave, I met the Kallah's sister.

She contacted her father, and he happily proclaimed that I was the first guest to arrive!

After wishing Mazel Tov and apologizing for having to head back to Passaic, Rav Yonah walked me out to my car.

Rabbi Lazar said, "I'll bet you are wondering why we made the Chasunah in Spring Valley if both families live in Lakewood." I politely nodded, although honestly, the thought never crossed my mind.

He explained that since all the Lakewood halls were booked until the Three Weeks, they had no choice but to choose Ateres Chaya Surah.

"It's a Satmar hall, and since the minhag in Satmar is not to have weddings at the end of the month, the hall was available for non-Chassidim at this time."

I looked at Rav Yonah and said,

"Maybe that's your take on the venue. However, for me, the reason the chasunah was in Spring Valley was nothing short of Hashgacha Protis.

By Hashem's orchestrating the Chasunah in Spring Valley, I was privileged to pay back a little of my mother's debt of gratitude to her beloved friend and your mother, Mrs. Malki Lazar."

After all, there is no limit nor statute of limitations on Hokoras HaTov-gratitude.