As we mark one year since the pandemic changed our lives, we asked you to introduce us to your COVID heroes

"We’re going to have to close the shul,” my father said slowly one evening in late March. Then bang! Lockdown.

Suddenly our family — accustomed to our role as the family of the community rav in Glasgow, Scotland — was thrown into a world filled with new words and wonders, helpers and heroes.

During the first lockdown, my father was still saying Kaddish for his mother a”h. With the shul closed and over 500 members confined to their homes, he realized it would be impossible. However, some of our personal heroes quietly called us. “Hi, Rabbi. If you need me for an outdoor minyan so you can say Kaddish, send me a message.”

The rules at the time didn’t allow for any gatherings but we heard the resounding message: Our COVID heroes were here for us.

Our community is small but mighty. People volunteered to set up a Zoom account for our shul and show others how to use it. Ideas were thrown out and quickly actualized. Within a week, we had a full schedule of Zoom events: shiurim, bingo, interviews, a pre-Shabbos program, and book clubs, to name a few.

When our shul reopened, only 50 people were allowed to congregate. It hurt to see all those lonely seats sitting empty as Rosh Hashanah approached. And then our heroes, in their quiet way, realized the importance of Yom Tov and giving our members a touch of normalcy. They dedicated time and energy to arrange another minyan safely and provided a beautiful Yom Tov davening to everyone.

Come Simchas Torah, 50 heroes danced in their seats like never before because they wanted to create a truly festive atmosphere.

A mother and wife who was working from home started a daily social-distanced walk with me, giving me a much-needed break and time to connect with someone else.

And then there are the Malachim who work for the chevra kaddisha, who made many difficult decisions to ensure neither halachic standards of care and dignity, nor personal safety, were ever compromised.

At one of these levayahs, my father had one cold hand holding a hesped and another holding a screen allowing family around the globe to participate via Zoom. Afterward, a man my father hardly knew approached with a small package. Inside was a pair of gloves.

“Rabbi,” he said, “this is to wear so your hands aren’t so cold.”

A simple statement; a simple and inexpensive gift. But the thought and the care bundled inside warmed more than just hands.

I could keep writing and writing about my COVID heroes, the Jews of our community. The simple acts of chesed that they do may seem small, but as the world darkened and shuttered, they shone brighter than words can ever express.

—Perele Rubin, Glasgow, Scotland

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 854)