The Vase
The Levaya was scheduled for Sunday at 10 AM.
I was concerned if there would even be a minyan attending.
Such is the reality of the American rabbinate.
Mrs. Sadie Freidburg (name changed) had passed away at 92.
She had only one child, a son named Norman, a psychologist who lived in Utah.
The last time I saw Norman in 2012, he told me he was ‘ethnically Jewish’, culturally American and spiritually he was a follower of Buddhism.
He had married twice; however, out of concern for the world population he never had a child.
When I called Norman to inform him of his mother’s petirah he said that he preferred that her remains be given an “ecological burial” which eventually transforms the body into is a fine powder, similar to cremation, which he claimed is better for the environment.
After I explained to him how his mother deserved a Jewish burial, he acceded to my request with the caveat that since he could not approve of an environmentally un-friendly ‘disposal’ of his mother’s remains, he would not contribute financially to her funeral, nor would he attend the service.
This left me with the unenviable task of raising funds for a proper Jewish burial.
I quietly mentioned to a few people that money was needed.
I was pleasantly surprised when a Mrs. Bernstein (name changed) contacted me via email and offered to gladly pay for the funeral arraignments.
Sadie had been living at an assisted living facility for the last twenty years.
As she was out of the neighborhood for twenty years, few recalled the feisty woman.
Therefore I was curious as to why particularly this woman would volunteer for this Mitzvah, so I called her directly.
“Did you know Sadie?” I asked.
“No, in fact I never met her, not even once.”
“Why then would you come forward to do this Mitzvah?”
She hesitated and then stated,
“My parents bought Sadie’s home in 1995.
I was ten years old.
I recall when my parents came home from the ‘closing’ how aggrieved they felt.
They told me that Sadie was crying as although she knew she had no choice but to sell, nevertheless, she was pained that the home she had built with her beloved husband would no longer be hers to live in.
They told me how as opposed to feeling the happiness of purchasing a new home; they now felt as if they were evicting an elderly woman from her abode.
Then came moving day, my parents were still stinging from the effects of yesterday’s closing and they were moving in with feelings of blame and culpability.
As opposed to being a day of joy and of new beginnings, it was a day filled with bittersweet, guilt-laden emotions.
Suddenly, as we all entered the kitchen we noticed a beautiful vase filled with twelve charming and cheerful long-stemmed roses. At the side of the vase was a small hand-written note:
“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Bernstein and Shira,
May you all be blessed with happiness and true joy in this home.
I feel comforted in knowing that my home will now be the home of such wonderful and fine people.
All the best,
Sadie Freidburg”
Rabbi, you cannot imagine the feelings of relief and happiness those flowers and that note brought to our family. Our day was transformed from sadness to joy and from guilt to elation.
I never forgot that small yet, transformative act of Chessed of Sadie Freidburg.
Therefore when I heard how she now needed assistance for her final journey, I recalled the personally difficult Chessed she did for us on our journey to our new home and I knew I had to help.”
Who could have known that yesterday’s flowers would blossom into today’s Chessed?
