“Whenever we needed a minyan, we knew we could knock on his door”

Living Higher

F

amed singer Motty Ilowitz holds a longtime passion for visiting Jewish cemeteries. In these silent fields, he finds inspiration, connection, and an oasis of unbridled truth.

This past Tishah B’Av afternoon, a time when many people have the minhag to visit a cemetery, Motty pulled into a large, empty beis hakevaros in South Fallsburg. Scanning his surroundings, he was startled when he noted a large hole. “My first thought was that this was vandalism, that someone had dug up a grave as a form of desecration,” he said. “Then I realized that this was a freshly dug grave, for a meis who would be buried that day.”

Suddenly, a car pulled up. The driver, a frum Yid, engaged Motty in conversation and it was soon evident that this man was in the wrong place. The kever he sought was not located in this cemetery.

And then a van pulled up and eight chassidim emerged. Their destination? Nowhere really. They just decided to stop because they saw two cars already there.

And so now, ten frum Jews, none of whom knew each other, stood together in a most random location.

Suddenly, another car pulled up. “Hey!” a man called out, “there’s going to be a levayah here soon. Can you stay to make a minyan?”

Sure enough, the funeral procession arrived shortly afterward. There were scores of attendees, all very secular, but for a Chabad rabbi and a few other frum members of the Chabad kehillah. The newly assembled minyan got to work, helping to place the coffin in the grave and cover it with earth, before Kaddish was recited.

All the while, a question burned inside Motty. The meis had clearly been largely unaffiliated — as was his extended family. The minyan that was formulated just minutes before his funeral was clearly Divinely orchestrated. What did this man do to merit such an ideal kevuras Yisrael through openly miraculous means?

He turned to the Chabad attendees. “Who was this man?” he asked. “Can you tell me about him?”

He wasn’t frum,” they said. “He wasn’t a regular member of our shul. He knew little about Yiddishkeit. But whenever we needed a minyan, we knew we could knock on his door. At all costs, he would make sure to join so that we didn’t lose out on a minyan.”

Now it was clear to Motty. The deceased had dedicated himself to helping his neighbors have a minyan, and in return, Hashem made sure that in his hour of need, he would have one, too.

Winner’s Autograph

A group of bochurim were spending several weeks in Plano, Texas as part of a SEED program. Last week, they took a group of local boys to a watch a game with the Frisco RoughRiders, a minor league baseball team based out of Frisco, Texas, located some 20 minutes away from Plano. Following the game, the boys received brand new baseballs and clambered to get the autographs of the team players. But one boy, Alexander Eaton, chose a different course of action. He turned to the bochurim with whom he had been studying Torah with for the past several weeks.

“Can you autograph the baseball?” he asked. Demonstrating his Talmudic skills, he went on to explain. “It’s a kal vachomer! If we want the autographs of baseball players, for sure we should want the autographs of talmidei chachamim!”

The SEED bochurim smiled and reached for a pen.

Then they scrawled signatures that, more than anything else, attested to the purity and clarity of a young boy from Plano.

Visit of Greatness

Last week, Rav Elya Brudny shlita visited Camp Simcha, Chai Lifeline’s summer camp for campers battling with serious illness.

After touring the camp’s state-of-the-art medical and recreational facilities, Rav Brudny addressed the campers with moving words of chizuk and heartfelt brachos. “It’s a tremendous zechus to be here in such a makom kadosh,” he said, emphasizing the eternal value of every neshamah and the koach of true simchah even amid life’s challenges.

As a renowned rosh yeshivah and member of the Moetzes Gedolei HaTorah, Rav Brudny is a very busy man. But he took the time to visit the campers of Chai Lifeline — all of whom are gedolim in their own right.

It was a visit defined by true greatness.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1073)