In my parental home, Malki Lazar had been a sort of superhero

IT was Wednesday afternoon, Erev July 4, and I was on my way to a doctor’s appointment in Ho-Ho-Kus. I glanced at my ETA and was shocked that my normally 30-minute drive was now 57 minutes.

The AAA projection of 70.9 million travelers on the roads for Independence Day was fulfilled.

However, I realized that perhaps this delay could facilitate a potential mitzvah.

As a rav, I receive many chasunah invitations. Some are invitations from friends who have moved from Passaic, and I very much appreciate those who keep in touch. However, in these cases, if there is a conflict with shul responsibilities, I suffice with a warm brachah on the RSVP card.

Such was my planned participation in the wedding of the daughter of Rabbi Yonah G. Lazar. Yet with the unexpected delay, perhaps Hashem was “recalculating” my next potential destination?

That prospect brought a smile to my face.

In 2014, a choshuve-looking man politely approached me and asked permission to daven from the amud. He was the new principal of the Clifton cheder, and his name was Yonah G. Lazar.

I pivoted to Jewish geography. “Are you related to Mrs. Malki Lazar, who taught in Brooklyn in the 1980s?”

“That’s my mother!”

In my parental home, Malki Lazar had been a sort of superhero.

My mother taught for over 30 years in New York City public schools. Malki Lazar, a veteran mechaneches, only had a brief stay in Brooklyn yet her time there left a lasting impression on my mother and me. My mother adored Malki Lazar. They became the best of friends. I can confidently say that the three years my mother spent working with Malki Lazar were her happiest and most rewarding.

Working in a mostly non-Jewish environment, Malki was the much-appreciated companion and colleague who, with her smile and upbeat manner, provided my mother with friendship and care. They forged a spiritually beneficial bond, which both cherished. And she would give my mother much-needed chizuk when my father was ill.

Mrs. Lazar visited my father z”l when he was hospitalized. I can still recall how my mother was touched by her visit.

During Rabbi Yonah Lazar’s tenure in Passaic, we renewed the relationship our mothers planted and cultivated our own friendship, and I wanted to wish him mazel tov in person.

I realized I could make it to Spring Valley from Ho-Ho-Kus in under 20 minutes. I headed in a northwesterly direction and was off.

I arrived at 4:30.

There was not a soul in sight.

I was two hours early.

As I was about to leave, I spotted the kallah’s sister. She found her father, and he happily proclaimed that I was the first guest to arrive! After wishing him mazel tov and apologizing for having to head back to Passaic, Rav Yonah walked me out to my car.

“I bet you’re wondering why we’re making the chasunah in Spring Valley if both families live in Lakewood,” he said.

Honestly, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.

But he explained that since all the Lakewood halls were booked until the Three Weeks, they had no choice but to choose Ateres Chaya Surah.

“It’s a Satmar hall, and since the minhag in Satmar is not to have weddings at the end of the month, the hall was available for non-chassidim at this time.”

I looked at Rav Yonah and smiled. Then I said, “Maybe that’s your take on the venue. However, for me, the reason the chasunah is in Spring Valley is nothing short of Hashgachah pratis. By Hashem’s orchestrating the chasunah in Spring Valley, I was privileged to pay back a little of my mother’s debt of gratitude to her beloved friend and your mother, Mrs. Malki Lazar.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1027)