Making the rounds at the hospital is often a challenging rabbinical duty for me.
What do you do when you arrive and the patient is sleeping?
My first instinct is always to think, “Great, the person is sleeping and I certainly would never think of waking a sick person; I will quickly scribble a note indicating I was here and make a quick exit before they wake up.”
I embarrassingly admit that my thoughts are not indicative of the highest level of piety. My sense of ‘relief’ is not something I am proud of; however, the rabbi is all too human.
On one particular cold winter day I arrived at the hospital with three patients to visit. The first was elderly Mr. Greenspan (all names have been changed) who was never much of a talker and would be touched and thrilled that I came by and sat with him for a few moments. I enjoyed him and he was the last person to be taxing on my limited time.
Then was Gloria Moskowitz, at 86 she was as sharp as whip and I thoroughly enjoyed being in her presence. She would revel me with stories of New York from the 1940s when an egg cream (authors note: if you are not from New York; suffice for me to tell you that the delicious New York drink known as the egg cream, contains neither eggs nor cream and if you thought it did… you are just not a New Yorker) was five cents. She would regale me with stories of Friday night Onegs at the Young Israel of Flatbush on Coney Island Avenue and Ave I and how back then everyone was thrilled if a nice Jewish boy met a nice Jewish girl at the Friday night Oneg as it guaranteed Jewish continuity.
I then went to my final visit, Irving Levinstein. Irving was a cantankerous nonagenarian who could be both belligerent and highly critical of anything and everything. “Rabbi, why before you came there was no such thing as “Kosher Milk?” was one of his more famous questions. He was also a quite accomplished kibitzer; Irving was never married and when asked to what he attributed his longevity he would reply without hesitation, “The secret to long life is never having a Schvigger!”
I arrived at this bedside I was prepared for some unsolicited criticism or for some of his wry humor; however, I was not expecting what he said.
“Rabbi, I see in many things you were correct. Stressing Torah learning and seeing the Shul once again filled with young people and their children is the only way we can survive.”
He was now so mellow and so calm. “You know I wish I had a family. I know I kibitz about not having a mother in law; however, it would have been nice to have grandchildren.”
He then became very serious and handed me a check. “Rabbi, I know I will not live forever; and if there is one thing I have learned over the last years is that the secret to our communal longevity is Jewish education. I have no children and no grandchildren; however, I would like to be part of the Jewish revival; here, please take this and help one child go to yeshiva.”
He handed me a sealed envelope; as I arrived in my car I opened it up. Inside was a check for $15,000. Next to the check was a small note, on it was written, “For one child’s Jewish education, from Irving Levinstein, a proud but lonely Jew.”
As I placed the check in my pocket I realized once again that Irving Levinstein had done more for me and for the Jewish people than I had ever done for him.
