The challenges of power and protektziya can corrupt even the most idealistic of politicians, Yet for decades, senior MK  Rabbi Moshe Gafni has stayed out of the branja. “I know the system inside out, but I’ve made sure not to become part of it,” he says of a Knesset career that has earned him unanimous respect as a maverick for social causes.

Yet nothing matched the bill he pushed through last week

T

he humble apartment on Bnei Brak’s Rechov Rabi Nissim Gaon isn’t usually open for media briefings. Even now, as we speak, MK Rabbi Moshe Gafni squirms, clearly determined to protect his family’s privacy.

The access we’re enjoying to this small dining room is largely unprecedented, a rare chance to speak — really speak — with this paradoxical figure. Moshe Gafni is one of the most powerful lawmakers in Israel; yet by his own admission, he holds no power at all, for he makes no decisions on his own. An unapologetic and fierce advocate for chareidim who’s widely respected across Israeli society for his integrity and fairness. An expert in the legalities and mechanics of the law who’s never lost the fiery zeal of a sidewalk protester. A shrewd, practical operator whose values still burn inside him, a seasoned maverick fueled by a simple passion for what’s right and holy.

Gafni is the most veteran chareidi parliamentarian, now beginning his 28th year in the Knesset. In all that time, he’s rarely been quiet — except when it comes to himself. As vocal as he can be, the inner core of his persona has always remained somewhat elusive.

Of course, there are the images of the politician building his succah, shopping for toys with his eineklach, catching a Minchah, but they are the result of quick-acting paparazzi rather than careful planning by a public relations staff.

Rabbi Gafni has three children, his two sons and son-in-law in kollel. His wife is the principal of a large Bnei Brak high school. He permits himself a moment of pride on her behalf when he mentions that more than half her students stem from Sephardic homes.

Three decades in politics doesn’t mean he’s entered the branja, the cliquey, privileged group of activists, financiers, and power brokers at the very top of society; he’s worked hard to retain his status as an outsider.

When Moshe Gafni says he’s battling on behalf of the downtrodden, it’s personal.

Thirty years ago, he was an avreich in the dusty southern development town of Ofakim, where a demonstration was being held to protest the closure of a factory that had employed many local families. A mainstream publication covered the unrest, featuring a lead photograph of young Gafni standing next to a burning tire. It wasn’t yet a time when pictures went viral, but the image was widely disseminated — the chareidi with the feisty expression and inability to stomach injustice the face of the battle .

O

ne morning in 1989, Rabbi Moshe Gafni, then a rosh kollel in Ofakim, was summoned to the Bnei Brak home of Rav Elazar Menachem Man Shach, where he received unexpected instructions: to register as a candidate for the Knesset. When the newly formed Degel HaTorah party earned its way into the Knesset, the scholar from Ofakim found himself in a new role.

But it remained just that — a role, a responsibility and function, rather than his essence. He never got addicted to the glamour; he still dresses like an avreich, buying his suits at a Bnei Brak discount store. He doesn’t dine in expensive restaurants or vacation in upscale hotels and has been abroad all of one time — a half-day trip to Belgium for a family wedding.

Much of this has to do with his drive for public activism: He has little time for the bonhomie and backslapping of social events and no desire for the relaxed pace of vacation.

Gafni deflects the credit for his intense workload. “I prefer not to discuss my family with the media, but I will say that no one can succeed in the public sphere without a supportive wife. The fact that during the past 27 years, we never changed our lifestyle, maintaining the same standards we had in Ofakim, is a credit to her. Neither my wife nor I have any interest in travel or fancy restaurants, so I’m free to devote myself to the klal.”

Admittedly, even religious politicians sometimes find the challenge of power and protektziya to be too daunting, yet Moshe Gafni appears to have given that temptation a wide berth.

He shrugs at the observation. “What can I tell you? I know the system very well, but I make sure not to become a part of it.”

If there is a way not to fall into the trap, he suggests that it’s likely a genuine relationship with gedolei Torah. “They charged me with a mission and, at the end of the day, I have to give them a din v’cheshbon, an accounting. That’s the only way — and it’s true for every representative of the chareidi public.”

M

oshe Gafni has never really walked away from the burning tire. He’s still known for his ready compassion for the least glamorous elements of society, maintaining until today a staff of assistants charged with addressing personal requests from the disadvantaged and poor.

Perhaps this is the reason he’s considered one of the most respected politicians in the country, always near the top in polls asking citizens to rate the parliamentarians they consider most honest, accomplished, or qualified. Within the Knesset, he is admired by coalition and opposition factions alike. His loyalty to the government does not come at the expense of his obligations on the socioeconomic front, a fact that earns him points with the Labor Party and other opposition factions. In recent years, Knesset newcomers have come to view Gafni as a legendary figure and mentor; one who has mastered, and can impart every parliamentary tactic in the book. He is seen as a consensus builder who has won the respect of members of the coalition and the opposition, including the Arab Knesset members.

Although he is seen as an oppositionist, considered — because of his courage and fiery temperament — a politician who thrives in the opposition, he has proven that this same passion can be channeled into the coalition as well. In the last half year, Gafni has emerged as a stellar member of the coalition; it’s safe to assume that he has discovered strengths that he wasn’t even aware he possesses.

He conducts the meetings of the Knesset Finance Committee with a firm hand, controlling the main financial pipelines of the state and serving as a sentry over the country’s resources on behalf of the prime minister. For those who don’t really understand his core, his loyalty to the government and its leader is a constant surprise.

A few weeks ago, Gafni finished passing the state budget in the Finance Committee. He fought for every clause, and repelled tens of thousands of reservations, revisions, and efforts to scuttle the law. It helped that he’s familiar with all the opposition’s favorite tricks — some of which he can take credit for. Just last year, he sat on the committee in a totally different role, making life miserable for the previous government.

Now he is using that experience to pass the budget that he perceives as an especially social-minded one. Gafni was careful to act pleasantly and respectfully to all members of the committee, especially those on the other side. Budget negotiations went on for weeks, including dozens of sleepless nights. The opposition had initially submitted 32,000 amendments in a bid to filibuster the budget and fell the government.

In the home stretch — a night of marathon voting in which the budget was passed by a hairbreadth 61-59 — a repeat vote was held in the Finance Committee because Agriculture Minister Uri Ariel wasn’t fully alert and mistakenly voted with the opposition, causing a tie. Netanyahu was also caught snoozing at some point during a vote, casting a ballot the wrong way before quickly reversing it. Although everyone knew that a circus could be expected for the next hour during a revote, Gafni stayed focused and forbade any further discussions — which would have sidelined the budget again — making sure it passed and causing the government to breathe a sigh of relief.

Y

et if there was one highlight of his successful career, it was a single moment, just two weeks ago. Gafni allows himself a contemplative pause and he recalls the evening of the vote on the amendment to the yeshivah student draft law.

He was tense, he admits. A sense of fate hung in the air of the chaotic Knesset hall, a feeling that it was now or never. If nothing went awry at the last minute, the amendment to the law that gedolei Yisrael made conditional for the party to join the government — an amendment that removes criminal sanctions against those who do not enlist in the army and which extends the grace period for another few years — would pass. The chareidi MKs took care not to participate in the speeches that preceded the vote so as not to inflame the already tense atmosphere. Instead, they waited hopefully and davened quietly.

The final speech concluded after midnight and the plenum began to fill for the vote on the central law in the coalition agreement between the chareidi parties and the Likud: the law that would allow yeshivah students to learn Torah without being categorized as felons. First came the votes on hundreds of reservations filed by the opposition parties. One by one, they were voted down. The expression on MK Gafni’s face reflected the intense pressure he was under. He paced nervously up and down the plenum, biting his nails, and walked through the rows to make sure that all the members of the coalition were present, ready to vote as was expected of them. During the voting on each clause of the reservations, he made sure to declare “opposed,” and for each clause of the amendment he shouted “in favor.” This was no theatrical performance — he wanted to ensure that no MK would get confused and vote the wrong way. It was clear that he was taking this law personally.

The vote ended late that night and the amendment passed with a majority of votes. A sigh of relief resonated through the homes of gedolei Torah who were being updated about the proceedings in real time; MK Gafni looked like a tired general who had just prevailed in an intense battle. Though he maintained a serious demeanor, eschewing any outward shows of euphoria, he now admits that it was one of his happiest days on the job.

“I knew that following the passage of the draft law, we were facing a potential wave of anti-chareidi incitement,” he reflects now. “That’s why I made sure to set a different agenda and focus the public’s attention on a socioeconomic initiative:

The next morning, I passed a law in the Knesset Finance Committee awarding tax breaks to those living on the periphery [meaning residents of 402 towns will now receive the tax benefit, as opposed to the 182 who did so previously]. It’s a law that no one before me was able to pass, but we passed it unanimously, with no objections. Dozens of mayors lined up to thank me. Whatever had happened the night before, I was back to my routine, working for the benefit of the Israeli public — which is what I and my fellow faction members do on a regular basis.”

But just a day before, the famed champion of every and any disadvantaged citizen had been fully focused on his own constituency. The morning before the big vote on the draft law, Gafni addressed a meeting of the Knesset Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee. There he delivered the speech of his life.

Anger and hurt mingled in each word as he described life under the last government.

“It’s what they tried to do us, the harm to the day care facilities, to the chareidi working woman, to chareidi children in preschools. The laws passed by Yesh Atid are a cruel tragedy. They have no parallel anywhere in the Western world. Nowhere else will you find that a specific group in society is singled out and told, ‘You’re a baby in day care? You’re a child in elementary school? You’re a teenage girl studying in seminary? You will be discriminated against!’ Any subject relating to our lifestyle came under attack.

“Why should a small boy or girl lose out on state benefits just because they happen to be chareidi? Handicapped children, children without limbs were no longer granted an aide if they were also chareidi. You cannot imagine what this fascist party [Yair Lapid’s Yesh Atid] did to us. You simply cannot imagine it. It’s unbelievable. There wasn’t a single area in the life of the chareidi citizen — teacher, child, baby — that did not suffer from their plans.”

It was part rant, part carefully prepared speech.

His words seemed to hit their intended mark. The bill was passed.

What does the change in the draft law accomplish, as far as the chareidi MKs are concerned?

“The new draft law is a miracle. It will mean that tens of thousands of yeshivah students can continue learning Torah without having to fear criminal or economic sanctions. All the problems in the previous law have been rectified, but I prefer not to expound too much about the advantages, because too much talk can be harmful. Too much praise could be grounds to strike it down in the High Court. I will say that everything was done with the close guidance of gedolei Torah, and whoever adheres to them can rely on me that I didn’t deviate an iota from their instructions.”

Would you say the new law is safe from the High Court?

“No. The subject of yeshivah bochurim is a continuing battle that is old as the state. For 20 years, the argument about the status of lomdei Torah has been waged both in the High Court and in the Knesset, and I don’t believe there will be anything like a conclusive victory. It’s an ongoing process of legal rulings followed by Knesset legislation — a cycle that continuously repeats itself. I don’t see ourselves ever saying, ‘There, it’s done.’ At the same time, we want to guarantee that yeshivah bochurim will not be harmed and that the Torah world will continue to grow and thrive.”

Who served as your inspiration and guide all these tumultuous years?

“When it came to public issues, Maran Harav Shach was my guide back when I was still in Ofakim and active for Torani and social causes in the Negev. I would ask him questions all the time, and he would give an answer to every dilemma I encountered. While still a bochur in Yeshivas Grodna I enjoyed consulting with him. It wasn’t just casual encounters — he was my rebbi, both on private matters and public affairs.”

You’ve probably had some unforgettable moment when you were impressed, or even stunned, by the breadth of the knowledge of a Torah gadol.

“Only once?” Gafni wonders aloud. “Every consultation with gedolei Yisrael gives me that feeling. Their thought process is always so remarkably broad, not limited by the immediate consequences. They always have the long-term view. It’s said of Rav Shach that he lost every battle but won every war.

“Look at the days when the Degel HaTorah movement was being established. I was at Rav Shach’s home and said to him, ‘There’s no chance that we’ll pass the election threshold.’ Shas had been established just one term earlier, and Rav Shach had supported it. Agudas Yisrael was very powerful. I thought it was impossible to get enough votes from such a limited pool of religious voters, and I presented him with the numbers to prove it.

“You know what he told me? ‘Go drink some coffee. I don’t think you’ve had any today.’ So I took a cup of coffee, and in the meantime I wondered why this whole thing was necessary. Now, imagine public life in Israel today — general and chareidi — without the presence of Degel HaTorah.”

So the coffee helped?

Gafni smiles. “The gedolei Torah decided and I followed their commands. Rav Shach was right, of course, but it wasn’t easy for him. I remember that he even cried afterward. He called me from Ofakim and said, ‘How could you put the Torah world at risk like that, telling me that it’s impossible?’ ”

So now, almost three decades down the line, how do you view the relationship between the chareidi and secular sectors of Israel?

“Of course, there are barriers. But some of them are barriers that we don’t want removed. The secular public has a certain lifestyle and we don’t want to educate our children that way. These are objective barriers, and they don’t have to be unhealthy or ugly. They don’t have to generate incitement and estrangement.

“At the same time, there are other barriers, erected by people trying to further discord and incitement. I can say in the name of the United Torah Judaism faction and chareidi Jewry, and this is what Rav Elyashiv and Rav Shach, and today Rav Steinman ybl”ch, taught us — that we do everything possible to draw our secular brothers closer.

“We work to establish Torah shiurim for nonreligious Jews, to establish educational institutions for them and to invest a lot of money to maintain peaceful relations with the nonobservant public. This is a trend throughout the country. There are countless towns where, in the past, there was no sign of religion at all, and today there is this great awakening. Though we’re elected by the chareidi public, our political mandate isn’t just about us — we advance reforms and budget allocations for the general public. I believe that’s one reason there isn’t so much of that anti-chareidi rhetoric on the Israeli street anymore.”

The fact that development towns are getting more government benefits is the major factor in improved chareidi-secular relations?

“Well, there are many factors. I think that we’ve changed, too. From an ideological perspective, we’ve changed our relationship with the secular public. We’re very active on their behalf. Minister Yaakov Litzman is doing it in the health ministry — he’s the best Health Minister the State of Israel ever had — and the other members of UTJ are doing it within their own spheres of influence.

“Here’s an example: Last Monday the Knesset ratified the draft law, which naturally caused a bitter controversy. On Tuesday morning I managed to accomplish something no other government had managed to do — ratify the tax breaks for towns on the periphery. This law will benefit the religious and the secular, Israelis and Arabs. So in that sense, yes, we’ve changed. I’ve always advocated for the general public, but now that’s more of an emphasis than in the past.

“Beyond that, the secular public has changed as well. According to recent surveys, more than 70 percent of the general Israeli public believes in HaKadosh Baruch Hu, observes some form of tradition, and has a warm relationship toward our heritage. You see it when it comes to educating the children — the general public largely acknowledges the beauty of a religious education. True, the media likes to focus on less positive phenomena, like discrimination against certain ethnicities — something that does unfortunately exist in the chareidi educational system — but when you speak to people one-on-one, you see that they highly value the way we cultivate good middos, refinement, respect. You see secularists sending their children to Torani institutions, especially in the younger grades. So the change is coming from both sides.”

Is today’s secular Israeli different from his counterpart of 30 years ago?

“When it comes to the relationship with the chareidi public, I believe that today they feel closer. They want to learn, to understand, to get to know the lifestyle of the chareidi public. Today, even when the opposition spoke out against the draft law — and there were some horrific speeches against the chareidi public — everyone made sure to keep inserting the phrase ‘we’re not against the chareidi public’ in every second sentence. They kept saying things like, ‘You should know that I davka love the chareidi public, and I think we have to help them and figure out a way to coexist peacefully with them, but…’ ”

Yair Lapid, who was fanatically antireligious in the last government, has been working hard to court the chareidi public as well. What do you think his motives are?

“It’s not too complicated. The ones who toppled him from his previous pedestal were the chareidim. I can’t reveal all the details now, but we were the ones who upended the previous government, removed him from his position, and reversed his strong electoral showing. But it’s not just that. Any politician knows that you have to gauge the way the political wind is blowing, and right now that wind is shifting toward the benefit of the chareidim. The draft is still a sensitive issue, but anti-chareidi sentiment is no longer accepted blindly with the same fervor. It just isn’t working anymore; it won’t get them the votes it once did.”

A while back you received a generous compliment from journalist Dror Feuer, who wrote in Globes Israel business news that Gafni is his candidate for finance minister, stating that “no less that an understanding of the markets, a finance minister needs a healthy sense of logic, a heart in the right place, and a conscience… There are MKs who are more social than him, but there are none like him. Gafni’s seniority, his sense of humor, his sharp wit, the respect accorded him by everyone in the Knesset, and the courage he has displayed until now, all these make him my candidate.” And that’s not all — we’ve heard rumors that the prime minister recently offered you the post of minister of the economy after Aryeh Deri vacated the position to allow the government to pass the natural gas deal. Is this true?

“Yes, it’s true.”

Why did you turn him down?

“Because I’m not interested in being a minister, period. I want to serve the public in general, the chareidi community in particular — and my personality and talents are best suited for the job of chairman of the Knesset Finance Committee. Beyond that, the Moetzes of Degel HaTorah has still not rendered a final decision as to whether we may serve as ministers [in contrast to the Moetzes of Agudas Yisrael, which allowed MK Yaakov Litzman to accept the post of health minister].”

Your voice is one of the most frequently heard voices in the Knesset. You speak loudly, and respond sharply and decisively to anyone who attacks you. But the American public has a hard time understanding the way the Israeli Knesset holds its discussions — they’re baffled and sometimes disgusted by these acrimonious, ugly squabbles. How would you explain that?

“Look, I was never in the US, but I do have some close friends there. Americans are completely different from Israelis — be they chareidim or chilonim. The lifestyle is different, and the style of the government is different. The Israeli culture is its own breed, for good and for bad. The bad — that includes the screams that you hear from the Knesset, the mudslinging, all that. I think it stems mainly from the fact that Israel has been in a prolonged state of war, fending off continuous waves of terror, for so many years.

“Then consider that we have Arab MKs who often make statements that infuriate some of the Jewish MKs, and screaming is their natural response. Still, the government has created a system where Arab MKs have the right to speak. That’s part of the democratic process. True, their statements aren’t pleasant, especially during terror attacks and wartime — but we have no choice but to allow them to represent the position of their electorate, which comprises 20 percent of the Israeli population.

“At the same time, all this creates unavoidable tension. And when you live far away from the center of the action, and you see people screaming and fighting and you hear all this verbal abuse — I’m not denying that it looks very bad.

“After Yair Lapid’s draconian draft law was passed, we tore kriah as a visible sign of mourning. I don’t know how that was perceived abroad, but here in Israel the chareidi public saw it as an accurate representation of their emotions. It was important for the secular public as well — when we ripped our clothing, they understood that this wasn’t just another law that had been passed, but a mortal blow to the core values of chareidi Jewry.”

For many years already, UTJ [the joint Agudah-Degel slate] has been part of the right-wing coalition. Does that stem from an ideological affinity for rightist ideals?

“We haven’t made any ideological alliance with the right or the left. It’s just a political association. Rav Steinman shlita, as did the gedolim before him, guides us to join the right, since that’s the political home of the more traditional public, but certainly there’s no irrevocable ‘marriage’ between our party and the nationalist camp.”

When it came to the draft law, you availed yourself of the Arab MKs, who acceded to your request and abstained from the vote. Would you term that an alliance of minorities, the weak joining forces to overpower the strong?

“No, I don’t think that’s a correct way to frame it. We help the Arab parties with things that are important to them when it comes to municipal services and other similar issues, and they don’t interfere and don’t oppose us when it comes to critical issues like the status of yeshivah students. It’s not an alliance, but a system of mutual understanding that allows both sides to help each other with critical issues.”

What’s your personal relationship with the Israeli left?

“I often get the question, ‘From a political perspective you’re considered a moderate, so why don’t you align with the left?’ The answer is that we find a stronger sense of tradition among the right. The whole issue of Jewish identity and Jewish values is so much more central and pivotal to the right. Among the left you can find real atheism and heresy. Maybe one day we’ll have to reevaluate. I do want to mention that I enjoy excellent relations with [Labor head] Yitzchak Herzog, and with Bibi Netanyahu as well… and if you’re talking about personal relationships, then you can include Avigdor Lieberman too — although he seems to have no problem inciting the public against me whenever he can.”

With all those relationships, who would you say is your most unlikely ally?

“I don’t think there are any surprises when it comes to my allies. I represent a party that has historically aligned itself with the right. We’ve never been partners with the left, except for one short period during Ehud Barak’s tenure in 1999 when we entered the coalition without receiving any ministry — just to remove the draft issue from the table. It was also an attempt to halt the secular civil revolution that Barak aimed to usher in. That was the only reason for our agreement — it had nothing to do with deals or budgets. But we left the coalition a short while later over public chillul Shabbos, when Israel Military Industries transferred a superheater turbine from Ramat Hasharon to the Ashkelon power station on a Friday night.”

Do you agree with the claim that the chareidi parties have given up the battle for the Jewish character of the state, and are focusing only on defending chareidi rights?

“No, I would say that’s completely untrue. We are constantly fighting for shemiras Shabbos, for giyur k’halachah, for kashrus, and many other issues that don’t really affect the chareidi public — and we’ll continue our struggle to ensure that the State of Israel will not lose its Jewish character. Just recently, we made sure that every food item imported into the country gets the approval of the Chief Rabbinate. It pains me greatly that the wider public in Israel is more permissive, demanding public transportation on Shabbos, and the like.”

You’re constantly protesting discrimination against the chareidi public. But what about the other side? Former education minister Shai Piron said that if you don’t want to adopt the government demands regarding the core curriculum, you risk the government not providing you with full financial allocations. Is this a valid claim?

“You have to understand the difference between the LIBA core curriculum and typical secular studies. The autonomy of the chareidi educational system — which our gedolim battled to preserve — is manifest precisely in the fact that the Education Ministry cannot dictate what our students learn. The chareidi educational system in Israel has three parts: those schools that teach secular studies and receive 100 percent funding, those that are recognized by the government but do not teach the full curriculum and receive 75 percent, and the talmudei Torah, which receive 55 percent. So many chadarim never got the full allocation to begin with, and over the years, countless benefits and allocations have been added to the general educational system while the chareidi tracks were not increased at all.

“Piron arranged it so a secular child in Sderot gets free day camp, while a chareidi child suffering from the same Kassam missiles doesn’t. Even that 55 percent allocation has long ceased being 55 percent — it’s less than 30 percent today. That’s what we’re fighting for. There is an underbelly that is doing its best to eliminate chareidim from Israel, doing whatever they can to turn us into chilonim. That’s why they’re trying to maximize our dependence on the Education Ministry, and then slap more conditions and more difficulties on us.”

What’s so bad about adapting the American model of secular studies?

“Chinuch Atzmai schools teach math, science, composition, and some teach English. That’s not what we’re fighting against. We’re fighting to maintain the purity of our institutions. Secular society here in Israel is extremely permissive, much worse than in the past. We want our public to be able to work and make an honest, respectable living after they finish their years of learning, without being affected by all the negativity out there. But we’re engaged in a tough cultural battle against forces who want to secularize us.

“In America the frum Jews have a clear barrier separating themselves from the non-Jewish elements outside. But here we live together, chareidim and chilonim, in our little country, and we’re all Jewish brothers. Because the chilonim are very liberal and all this affects us directly, we have to keep ourselves separate. I’m aware that anyone who lives outside of Israel has a hard time understanding how crucial this is. But it’s important for me to say that we are open-minded people who have a good handle on the situation, and we act in accordance with the directives of the gedolim, in order to safeguard our children and raise them in a pure environment.”

In your close to three decades in the Knesset, which achievement makes you proudest?

“It’s hard for me to pinpoint one achievement. I’m constantly fighting. The days I fail I feel sad, and the days I succeed, I’m happy. Lately I’ve been happier more than often than not. I’m happy that the olam haTorah is blossoming under my watch. I’m proud to play a part in establishing Torani schools in the periphery, in areas that previously harbored not a speck of Yiddishkeit. I’m proud that we managed to restore the budgetary allocations to the chareidi public.

“If I were to survey my 27 years in the Knesset, I’d say that there’s no comparison between both the yeshivah world and the Torani educational system back when I started to what we’re seeing today — in quantity, quality, and reach. It’s a tremendous revolution, and knowing I played whatever part I was given, I can’t help but be proud.”

How does it feel to battle for chareidi causes and then walk in the street and encounter negative feedback or name-calling. Don’t you get frustrated? After all, no matter how tough you may seem, you’re a human being with feelings…

Moshe Gafni rubs his eyes, then smiles. “Whatever I feel, I keep inside,” he says. “I’ve been doing this for 27 years, and I just do what I need to do.”

Rabbi Gafni bids me a warm good night, but he’s already looking down; his cell phone screen indicates 47 unanswered calls. He smiles, and by the time the door closes behind me, he’s already working, doing what he needs to do. —

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Issue 587)