The Miracles of the Rabbis

Dr. Mel Waldman

Inside
Michelle’s room by the sea,

the broken phone rings again and again in majestic Menorah, her home away from me, nestled in Manhattan Beach. My lost wife searches for the tiny thing, sometimes out of reach, or hidden from her dark brown eyes, longing for the world beyond the little room
inside.

Cut Off
by a curtain that divides, she shares half the small space with Anna, an older woman, often away, who can’t speak English. Yet sometimes, the little woman cries out at
night, revealing her presence.

The Orphic Phone
rings again and again. When Michelle and I speak, we are not alone,
for my otherworldly echo is with us, reverberating across time and space. Yet
only I hear it.
Still, we laugh uproariously,
for my laughter is contagious,
obliterating the sadness of separation.

Hashem
is with Michelle, and the rabbis bless her with prayers and mitzvot. They are spiritual healers.

Rabbi Simcha Silverman,
our rabbi at Congregation Etz Chaim, asks, “What more can you do?” With this simple question, he blesses us, pierces and illuminates our darkness, pointing us inward, across the invisible universe to explore who we are, perform mitzvot, and move closer to Hashem, our G-d.

Often,
as chaplain of Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan, our selfless rabbi has visited Michelle, my fearless wife who has faced and defied death in the vastitude of the past, a desert of Shadows and an oasis of Light.
Too many days and nights, we rushed to Lenox Hill ER, for Michelle suffered immensely, sometimes plummeting into an abyss of unbearable pain.

Our rabbi
performed bikur cholim, visiting Michelle each time she returned to the Healing Place.

Rabbi Silverman
listened to my wife with compassion and empathy, flowing from his Neshamah,
his Jewish soul, divinely nurtured by the vastness of his Emunah,
his faith in G-d, and visions of Hashem’s kingdom,
keenly aware of human suffering.

After the rabbi’s visit,
Michelle revealed, “I am not alone!”

Years rushed slowly,
sometimes galloped, between Michelle’s surgery for normal pressure hydrocephalus (NPH), a potentially life-threatening condition, and surgery for multiple myeloma, cancer of the plasma cells.

Our rabbi
sat with her again and again in the labyrinthine Healing Place.
Often, Michelle spoke of the rabbi’s “healing presence,” her face glowing with joy.
Rabbi Silverman, an instrument of our G-d, I believe, infused Michelle with Hashem.

Rabbi Zalmen Drizin
knows Michelle through my words, blessing her by reaching out to
me with mitzvot of kindness and revelation.

We
met by chance a few years ago, and last summer, in another random
encounter, the exuberant Chabad rabbi,
revealed
the metaphysical balance of the universe,
concealed, with the holy presence of Hashem.

Yet chance,
like Jungian synchronicity, “meaningful coincidences,”
or the Kabbalistic notion of divine revelation,
may unveil Hashem’s plan for us.
Hashem’s plan
for me, I believe, is helping and healing others, especially my wife.
Inspired by the rabbis, I carry their sparks of divinity to Michelle.
Recently,
I randomly chose “Physical Pleasure,” one of Rabbi Zalmen’s
YouTube videos to watch and study.

“A good day to you!” Rabbi Zalmen welcomes the viewer effusively,
mentions the “great thinkers” Sigmund Freud and Viktor Frankl, and
grants that “pleasure is the drive of life.
But what pleasure? Why do humans wake up in the morning?”

Quoting Viktor Frankl, he reveals a “long lasting, eternal pleasure.”
It is “the dream of making others happy through your actions.”
His words are a spiritual treasure, anointed with Chassidic stories of wisdom.
Overflowing with joy, I carry his sparks of divinity to Michelle,
my heroic wife,
transcending her incurable cancer,
struggling to walk again,
always sharing her soul with me,
always loving me,
forgetting her suffering,
wishing to comfort me,
making my wounded soul sing
as I “bring pleasure” to her
and taste a “long lasting, eternal pleasure.”

Rabbi Baruch Melman is the rabbi of Menorah Nursing Home and Temple Beth El. Like Rabbi Simcha Silverman and Rabbi Zalmen Drizin, he too is a healer. In his family, two older brothers are physicians. But he is the “soul doctor.”

He blesses Michelle and heals her with infectious joy and mitzvot, inviting her to Mincha, the afternoon service, transformed by the gifted rabbi,
in a celestial metamorphosis,
to an otherworldly celebration,
a revelation,
a sacred “offering” and “gift”
to the patients of Menorah,
soul-feeding all with his “love and joy of being a Jew.”

The spiritual maestro,
who calls himself a “non-traditional traditionalist,”
having performed in “300 concerts with Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach
on violin and mandolin,”
feeds the congregation
a feast of transcendence,
a smorgasbord of prayer, song, and love,
his assistant beating a hand drum,
a patient shaking and striking a tambourine,
elysian taste of Chassidic folk rock,
a sacred metamorphosis,
ineffable journey
closer,
much closer
to
Hashem.

Michelle
does not read Hebrew. But when she attends Mincha,
she sings Hebrew songs,
her eyes glitter with joy,
her face lights up with the Presence of Hashem,
and she is blessed,
and she is healed,
no longer in exile,
close to Hashem,
healing.

I
too attended Mincha with the spiritual maestro,
and all the pain of Michelle’s suffering,
and my own,
left my body,
for an
unfathomable moment,
of joy in the Presence of Hashem.

The miracles of the rabbis are everlasting,
bringing us closer to Hashem,
healing us again and again, releasing sparks of divinity everywhere.

Here,
where my body lives on earth with a soul that longs to be away,
I breathe restlessly at night,
and wait for morning,
awakening with the cosmic breath of life and Kavanah,
the intention to heal.
Still, my wife Michelle resides in Menorah by the sea,
and I, alone,
sometimes question Why,
searching for Hashem Who seems hidden and away.

After sunset,
in the deep of the night,
I close my hazel eyes, sometimes colored gold in the light,
and in the pitch-black mystery of darkness
I see sin, suffering, and evil.

Still, the miracles of the rabbis are everlasting,
bringing us closer to Hashem,
healing us again and again;
especially in the darkness of night,
filled with visions of suffering and evil,
the rabbis take us out of exile,
feeding us faith adorned with love and joy,
releasing sparks of divinity everywhere.