Rabbi Dovid’l Weinberg found connection on the wings of isolation

Photos: Elchanan Kotler

How do you define yourself?

Two years ago, Rabbi Dovid’l Weinberg might have filled in the blank like this: I’m a vigorous, bearded, young man, who lives with his wife Rina and young family in Ramot and teaches Torah in the Old City of Yerushalayim.

But suddenly and unexpectedly, those adjectives no longer fit him. A disquieting diagnosis landed Reb Dovid’l and his young family in the USA for treatment, where over the course of two years, Reb Dovid’l would continue to teach, compose music, and even write a sefer, all while fighting for his life. The Weinberg family battled a formidable enemy far from their true home in Yerushalayim, but the gifts they gained by journey’s end were real and lasting.

Reb Dovid’l was born and raised in Lower Merion, Pennsylvania. His father, Dr. Jerry Weinberg, is an ophthalmologist by trade, but Reb Dovid’l describes him first as a man “in love with learning.” His mother, Mrs. Fran Weinberg, kept the books at his father’s practice, but her primary focus was raising the couple’s three sons. Reb Dovid’l attributes his thirst for knowledge to his parents: His mother has always been a voracious reader and his father, who is never without a sefer, “finds equal pleasure in studying a daf of gemara, a teaching from the Ben Ish Chai, or an esoteric passage from the Arizal — for him, it’s all a single ocean.” That receptiveness and breadth made a deep impression on Reb Dovid’l, who sought out diverse Torah figures as mentors as he grew into adulthood.

Coffee and Sugar

The lymphoma diagnosis was not sudden — it was preceded by the typical parade of doctors, rounds of tests, and lots of waiting. Then came the decision making: Though there were treatment options in Israel, the Weinbergs ultimately relocated to Bergenfield, New Jersey, so the extended Weinberg family, living nearby, could lend their support while Reb Dovid’l would be treated at Hackensack University Medical Center.

After the decision to leave Israel had been made, Reb Dovid’l had to decide how to share the news of his illness with his community, friends, and students.. Reb Dovid’l serves as a rebbi at Yeshivat Orayta, in the Old City of Yerushalayim, just steps away from the Kosel, and is a beloved member of his close-knit Ramot community. Without the luxury of being able to communicate the news personally, he composed a heartfelt email.

Borrowing a lyric from the Israeli musician, Aharon Razel, which contrasts the bitterness of coffee beans with the sweetness of sugar, Reb Dovid’l wrote, “Three spoons full of sugar in water is not a drink most people care for.” The bitterness of the coffee beans is what allows us to enjoy the sweetness of the sugar, he explained — just as life’s difficulties can help us to appreciate the simple joys of being alive. “Well, today my wife and I got an extra spoonful of coffee grounds,” Reb Dovid’l concluded, gently informing his audience that he would be receiving treatment in America. The bitter news was glazed by a sweet invitation to the seudas hoda’ah that would surely take place soon.

As he continued to process the diagnosis for himself, Reb Dovid’l openly shared his reflections with his students and community. Some, devastated by the news, questioned Reb Dovid’l’s unexpected composure in the face of crisis. He responded with another public letter, in which he affirmed that “while this was a very real and painful setback, obstacles are invariably part of the human experience.”

It was a challenge to write that letter, Reb Dovid’l admits. But it helped him formulate his thoughts and define his choices. How would he relate to this challenge? Would he view it as a learning experience, or just something to get through? Reb Dovid’l decided to approach this time as a “forced sabbatical.” He would focus on several learning, music, and writing projects that had been waiting for his attention. He also made it a goal to continue to teach. After all, he was a teacher; his students were watching. He could choose to “retreat and deal solely with his illness,” or allow others in, so they might grow along with him.