Shragi was a refined, chassidish bochur from Zurich who had originally come to me a couple of years earlier for a consultation when he was learning in Israel. He had developed a complicated case of schizophrenia that hadn’t responded fully to standard interventions back home, and on a following trip to Israel he’d come to me again together with his father — a kind, sensitive, proactive rosh kollel named Reb Beryl — for a second-opinion consultation. In spite of having stayed out of hospitals for the previous 12 months, Shragi’s personality was as flat as can be and he had no desire to move beyond the daled amos of his bedroom.

“I think you’d call him a ‘cholent potato,’ ” Reb Beryl explained.

And while I assumed he meant “couch potato,” I got the picture: Here was a bochur lacking all cheishek — something my colleagues and I call “psychotic negativism.”

Upon hearing more of Shragi’s recent medical history and speaking with him personally, I made my recommendation to embark on a treatment with a stronger, different type of antipsychotic medication called Clozapine. We discussed benefits and risks and Reb Beryl asked a number of good questions. Why do we need weekly blood tests? To make sure that he doesn’t experience a serious side effect that occurs in one percent of patients. Does this medication really work any better than the others we’ve already unsuccessfully tried? Not in every case, but for many people it is a life-changing decision to start Clozapine. Have you seen it work before? I have, and while it doesn’t happen every time, the potential for miracles is there.

“We’re maaminim, Dr. Freedman,” Reb Beryl said hopefully.

And with that, Shragi returned home with a plan to give it a shot.

Shragi continued to receive regular care with a psychiatrist at a local hospital in Zurich, and I received periodic updates from Reb Beryl, interspersed with consultative follow-up visits with Shragi whenever the family would be in Jerusalem visiting their rebbe.

The results had been better than I’d imagined. Shragi had literally woken up. And while he was still a bit less engaged in his learning than some of his peers and lacked certain social graces, he turned out to be quite a pleasant fellow and had even returned to learning. In fact, he was doing two full sedorim with a special yungerman whom Reb Beryl had hired to study with him, and had returned to being a presence at the weekly tish in his community.

To be honest, I wasn’t all that surprised to have a lengthy conversation with Reb Beryl about considering looking into shidduchim. And why not? Shragi had been out of the hospital for over 24 months, kept a daily seder, and had brought up the idea himself.

And while in many communities a person with chronic schizophrenia and ongoing limitations would never be considered marriage material, Shragi had been increasingly interactive every time I met him. While he certainly had challenges, he was a pleasant fellow and wanted to get married.

“So what do you think?” asked Reb Beryl.

“I don’t see why not,” I responded. “It’s just a matter of making sure that her family understands Shragi’s limitations, and that they’ll have the necessary support system in place to ensure that independent living will be possible.”

“So happy to hear this, Dr. Freedman,” Reb Beryl humbly noted, “because the Rebbe has already given his brachah and the Rebbetzin made the shidduch herself. All of the particulars of their mutual conditions have been shared, so we all know what we’re facing here. On top of that, I’ve purchased an apartment in our same building in order to make sure that we’ll be able to help them as necessary. Food, housekeeping, help with the children when they come, b’ezras Hashem. We’re dedicated to making it happen for Shragi.”

Whereas some people were certainly convinced that Reb Beryl was crazy for marrying off a child with schizophrenia, I was tremendously inspired. Sure his son and daughter-in-law would require significant financial and emotional support, but who was I to recommend otherwise against the wishes of my patient, his kallah, their families, and their rebbe?

I wasn’t able to make the wedding due to prior commitments, but a few months later, I was introduced to the new kallah, Esti, when Reb Beryl brought the couple to Eretz Yisrael for Succos. She was pleasant and articulate, obviously proud to be Shragi’s wife, and also honest enough to discuss her own limitations in a straightforward manner. Esti had suffered a traumatic brain injury in a car accident as a child. She still had some cognitive limitations, and although now married, was continuing her ongoing care in a top neurology clinic in Zurich, thanks to Reb Beryl.

Shragi appeared stable and told me how happy he was that he could continue learning with his chavrusa in a kollel, like so many other young men. “I’m not a bochur anymore, Dr. Freedman. I’m a yungerman myself now.” Well, he certainly had moved forward from where he’d been a couple of years ago as a “cholent potato.”

That was the last time I’d seen Shragi, and was therefore a bit concerned to suddenly receive a flurry of calls from him one day while I was in the middle of a client. My heart began to race — had Shragi gotten into some kind of trouble? Was he physically okay? Mentally stable? Was there a shalom bayis problem? My mind went wild with possible disaster scenarios until I was able to pick up the phone and return his call.

“Is everything okay over there, Reb Shragi?”

Shragi’s laughter was something that two years ago I never would have heard, due to his condition and lack of emotion. But now it was appropriate, honest, and reassuring, given the circumstances of his call. Esti had just given birth to a baby boy!

“I wanted to ask you who should be sandek!” said an obviously excited Shragi.

It took me a second to get over the initial shock, but I quickly recovered and said, “Shragi, no one deserves the honor more than your father.”

“He said we should offer it to you,” Shragi responded emphatically.

And while it was certainly one of the biggest honors of my life, Reb Beryl was clearly the man for the job and I politely declined. But Shragi pressed on: “Dr. Freedman, even if you’re not sandek, I want you here! I’m sending you a ticket. It’s our miracle together.”

“Okay, Shragi, but only if you promise to serve cholent.” After all I do love cholent potatoes.

Identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of patients, their families, and all other parties.

Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 750. Jacob L. Freedman is a psychiatrist and business consultant based in Israel. When he’s not busy with his patients, Dr. Freedman can be found learning Torah in The Old City or hiking the hills outside of Jerusalem.  Dr. Freedman can be reached most easily through his website www.drjacoblfreedman.com.