Together they sang, the patients, their families, and the angel-like volunteers of chesed organizations

E

very year, Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia hosts a Chanukah party. Patients and their families gather, to reenact more than to celebrate, the story of hope, perseverance, and miracles that can happen even amid so much darkness.

This year’s event had an especially poignant tone, with the soulful sounds of a violin in the background. The violinist’s name was Mrs. Sara Rosner, and she wasn’t there on hire. The atrium at CHOP was all-too familiar to her; up until four weeks earlier, she’d been there every single day. And when her beloved son Yossi z”l finally succumbed to the terminal brain tumor that wracked his young body for close to a year, Mr. and Mrs. Rosner bid a tearful farewell to the dedicated team of doctors and nurses. They thought it would be their last time seeing each other. But it wasn’t.

Shortly thereafter, the bereaved parents reached out to Rabbi Sruli Fried of Chai Lifeline with an unusual request. They’d been through so much, had been on the receiving end for so long, and now they wanted to know what they could do to give back. Touched by the parents’ request, Rabbi Fried asked that Mrs. Rosner come back to play at this year’s Chanukah party.

And so, on the second night of Chanukah, as the electric lights on a giant mock menorah were turned on, the singing was accompanied by the stirring heartstrings of a violin. “Maoz Tzur yeshuasi” — the elegant notes rose, then fell, then rose again, ultimately coming to an end in a silence saturated with the meaning of the moment.

“Maoz Tzur yeshuasi — Stronghold of my salvation — lecha naeh l’shabeiach — for You it is delightful to offer praise — tikon Beis Tefillasi — restore my House of Tefillah— v’sham todah nezabeiach — and there I will offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving.”

Together they sang, the patients, their families, and the angel-like volunteers of chesed organizations. Hope harmonized with prayer, fear blended with courage, and through it all, a violin played, its music forged with the sort of gratitude that will reign in a world where all questions are answered.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 942)