A Mitzvah Is A Candle

Children Of Israel Are Never Alone

“A mitzvah is a candle, and the Torah is light.”

—Proverbs, 6:23

“Doing a mitzvah is like lighting a candle before G-d — it is preparing a place where G-d’s glorious presence can dwell.”

— Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of Ger, Sefat Emet, Parashat T’tzavveh

Hey, beloved tribe.

The start of this week was hard and sad for me.

A couple of years ago, I tried hard to convince a woman from my local shul — Rachel — that vaccines were safe. I was alarmed by her decision not to vaccinate either herself or her sons against Covid. I even set up a phone conversation between her and my mother, an infectious disease specialist, and my mother spoke with her for over an hour, but she wasn’t swayed.

Just before I flew to LA, Rachel wrote in a Facebook post that she had a very nasty flu.

Three days later, she was gone.

Her two boys are around the same age as my own kids — the youngest of adults. A lot of boys that age are shut down emotionally, but their devastation was undeniable.

The funeral was heart-mangling. Rachel was known to everyone around her as an unforgettable character. One of her sons described her as the star in a movie where no one knows the script. She was recalled by all who spoke as loud, opinionated, colorful, protective, ride-or-die, the proudest of mothers and the most loyal of friends. I can personally attest that she swore like a sailor, was stubborn as a pit bull, and every time she saw me at shul, she pulled me into an embrace that was comforting beyond description: fierce, full-bodied, all-enveloping, warm and primally maternal.

Her funeral and memorial inspired a lot of soul-searching, much of it within my own earshot.

One woman said that the speeches had made her realize what a judgmental person she herself is.

Another woman who’d been very close to her for a long time but was no longer on speaking terms with her at the time of her death was especially distressed that she hadn’t tried to mend their relationship before it was too late.

A third remarked afterward: “I’ve been thinking: there were quite a lot of people at Rachel’s service and at the house that night. I feel like when I die, there’s gonna be like 10 people there. And then maybe I haven’t done enough good things? What if I’m not a good enough friend?”

These are excellent questions. They’re just what funerals should be for. They’re a final gift to us from people whose lives inspired adoration. Because every single one of us still has time to be better.

I myself have more than a twinge of guilt associated with Rachel. Before one of my recent trips to NYC, she wrote to me and said: “I know you’ll be super busy so I’ll understand if you don’t have time, but if you can, would you put a stone by my sister’s name on the 9/11 Memorial? Her favorite color was blue, so maybe you could paint her name on a stone with blue nail polish.”

I resolved to do it, but I didn’t.

My time in NYC is often scheduled down to the half hour but I still could have managed it. I could have gotten up earlier or gone late at night.

I asked a friend who works near the Memorial if she would place a stone for me and — exactly as I had — she said she would and didn’t. I don’t blame her at all. It’s my fault. I was the one Rachel asked, and it was a holy task, and I should have done it myself. I’ll never be able to make it right.

But there is something I can and will do, a promise I made to her as I was shoveling my portion of earth onto her coffin. I promised her I would always be there for her sons and absolutely nothing short of my own death is going to stop me from doing that.

I also promised myself that never again would I squander the chance to do a mitzvah like the one she asked of me.

The world has felt very dark for our community since October 7th and Trump’s reelection. I am so often overwhelmed by how powerless I feel in the face of so much evil. And I also often wonder whether the best days of our lives are over for good. Certainly, as many have noted, the golden age for Jews in America has ended, not coincidentally as Trump’s touted “golden age of America” is supposedly dawning. And many other vulnerable communities are suffering and under siege in ways that are just as harrowing or even worse.

There’s so much we can’t control, but one thing that’s always within our power to do is to choose our own response to any situation. And the determination to create light within the darkness closing in is always available to us.

A couple of weeks ago, I put out a call for stories of mitzvot done for others.

I soon realized that members of this community were reluctant to spotlight their own acts of kindness. I did receive several, but it took multiple calls.

You were much more forthcoming about kindnesses received. Many more came in than I’m able to use in one newsletter — but if you sent one, and I wasn’t able to include it today, it will be included in a future post!

I was struck by the range of mitzvot. Some were huge, such as donations that covered life-saving medical care. And some were small, like a Hanukkah card specially chosen and sent. But all were meaningful and indelible to the recipients.

Here are a few of them, chosen for today (again, the others will be published at a later date!):

Last week, we travelled from Israel to Los Angeles to celebrate my youngest son’s Bar Mitzvah with our community of the last 18 years. Usually people fly to Israel, but since making Aliyah six months ago, his wish was to learn with his Rabbi and say the whole Parsha Vayikra in the shul he grew up in.

He started learning at eleven and a half, and intuitively understood the musicality. Since we made Aliyah, he’s been learning three times a week via Zoom with a ten hour time difference.

Besides the Shabbat celebration, my son wanted nothing else to mark the occasion. As observant Jews, we do not use any electronics or take pictures on Shabbat. I did, however, consider hiring a photographer to capture the tefillin ceremony the week before: a small intimate morning after prayers, with just the men in the minyan. In the end, I reconsidered and decided I would just film what I could — and most importantly, let him have the experience of being fully present as he read from the Torah for the very first time.

But one of my friends, Marcus Freed (who travels all over the world) happened to be in LosAngeles. Since my son did not want a big party, I let people know about our celebrations, but did my best to stay unattached to how everything would unfold. Without my knowledge, Marcus professionally filmed the ceremony, and a few days later he sent me a beautiful video to download and share.

Since he was on the men’s side of our Orthodox synagogue, I was not even aware of the filming. Since my daughter and I were putting together a small breakfast for everyone, I was able to film just the beginning in a short video and take very few pictures myself.

I see these miracles and connections throughout my life. I feel that Hashem loves me, and all we can do is ask, pray and know that everything will be good as long as we all stick together as Jewish brothers and sisters.

— Yulia Medovoy Edelshtain

Back in January, my wife ended up in the Emergency Room and then the hospital for what turned out to be two pulmonary embolisms. She was treated and released, but then she had to go back to the hospital for a few more days due to loss of blood. Now, we have pretty good health insurance through my job, but even with health insurance we were looking at about three thousand dollars in bills for treatment. So, despite my never intending to do this sort of thing, I set up a GoFundMe to ask people to help us out.

And they did. Everyone from close friends to acquaintances to complete strangers shared the GoFundMe and donated money. We were so overwhelmed with assistance that we ended up blowing through our original goal. It turned out that the extra donations became helpful when I myself ended up in the ER for a kidney stone, my first. I was humbled and awed by the support we received, even though over the years we've supported others. In some small way, it reminded me of the overall good in humanity, something I – and all of us, I think – desperately need to hold onto in these times.

— Michael A. Burstein

Just the other day, a Facebook friend, who I’ll probably never meet in real life, messaged me to tell me that she looks forward to my posts. She said she especially enjoys the opportunity to cheer on my creative endeavors, and she appreciates that I share my failures as well as my successes. That my zest for life — even when it’s difficult (due to loss, pain or disappointment) — helps her to find positive things in an otherwise gloomy day. She wrote that because I don’t give up even when things don’t go my way, it gives her hope. I received this lovely message on the day I was marking six months since my sister passed away, and I’d received rejections from two different publishers. Kind words I so gladly received.

— Julie Brandon

My boss has been on my back for months about some broken equipment even though I don’t know how to use the equipment, how to figure out what’s wrong with it, or where to send it for repairs.

I have asked over and over for help, and in particular I requested permission to approach a specific co-worker about the issue, but I was told not to consult her. Meanwhile the broken equipment continued to be a problem, and I was the one seen as responsible for it, especially by my boss, who was growing angrier with me by the day.

Finally, the co-worker I’d been told not to approach went to my boss and told him he was setting me up for failure. That she could help me in five minutes. That it was not fair for him to keep coming after me when I kept asking for help. She totally stood up for me. It took her less than five minutes to identify the right repair person for me to call. I spent over an hour with him and he was wonderful. My boss was so happy in the end, but it was all because of her intervention.

— Silas Bloom

We seem to have switched over gradually in our modern world to e-greeting cards for all manner of celebrations, from holiday greetings to birthdays and anniversaries. And we hardly even do that anymore — it's just often a quick screenshot on Facebook.

I miss the days of choosing the 'perfect card' in a card shop, taking in the mail on special days and opening the envelopes. In years gone by, most of us purchased boxes of cards, and I'm thinking about cards during the winter season. I'd usually buy a box of mixed cards for our family with winter scenes and they'd be sent to my husband's and my Christian colleagues.

For our Jewish friends and family, we usually sent organizational Hanukkah cards, rather than 'winter scenes’ which were the main boxes of cards in our home. One of my Chirstian friends always made it her business to buy a single, beautiful Hanukkah card for me. I always appreciated this so much.

Yes, she could have sent me a 'winter card' and I would have appreciated that too, but in these times we're living in now, I have come to appreciate the effort it took her to select a Hanukkah card in a store instead. So although we've both been retired from teaching for 13 years, I thanked her recently. It's never too late to express thanks.

— Sandy Wasserman

The next topic I’m soliciting stories for is TZEDAKAH. All stories and reflections around this topic are welcome.

In the meantime, I wish you all a restorative and peaceful Sabbath. May the light of the Friday night candles bring you renewal and comfort. I’ll be back with you on Monday.

Shabbat shalom.

Am Yisrael Chai.