After three minutes, Rabbi Silverstein looked up from his phone and resumed our conversation.

“An assistant? Sure, Reb Mordechai. I’ll find you an assistant for tomorrow.” Satisfied that he understood my request, Rabbi Silverstein waved congenially and disappeared into his office for his next meeting.

After Maariv that evening, Rabbi Silverstein caught up with me as I was heading out of the shul. “Reb Mordechai, I found you an assistant for tomorrow,” he announced triumphantly. It wasn’t always so easy to find community members to volunteer for eiruv duty during regular business hours, and Rabbi Silverstein was happy that he had come through for me. “Here’s Alex’s address, I told him you’ll swing by around 8:00 am to pick him up.”

“Thank you, Rabbi,” I said sincerely. “I really appreciate your help with this.”

I was ashamed that I’d doubted his ability to multitask. Being a community rav involves the thankless task of juggling competing priorities with finesse, and Rabbi Silverstein fulfills the requirements with skill and grace.

At 7:57 a.m. the following morning, I pulled up at Alex’s house, my truck freshly restocked with U-Guard, deer wire, and a variety of screws and bolts. I was determined to run on time so we wouldn’t have to contend with Main Street’s notorious rush-hour traffic.

“Nice to meet you,” I greeted Alex as he situated himself in the passenger seat. “And thanks for volunteering to help today. We’re heading to Main Street and Oakwood to start. Yaakov Wein will be meeting us so I can show him the new way we’re routing the lines.”

Yaakov Wein, the head of the city’s eiruv committee, was stopping by briefly to view the changes. He would be responsible to show the weekly eiruv checkers the new path of the eiruv, but only had a few minutes to spare on this busy Wednesday morning.

Alex and I jumped out of the truck just as Yaakov climbed out of his car. Perfect timing.

“Yaakov,” I said, shaking his hand. “Thanks for coming. Here’s my traffic assistant, Alex. He’ll be stopping traffic on Main Street for me today.”

Yaakov continued shaking my hand for far too long, looking at me strangely. I wondered if some Cheerios had gotten stuck in my beard. Or maybe I had rubbed dirt across my face while loading my wire cutters into the truck?

Yaakov jerked his head toward the back of the truck, indicating that I follow him to obtain a bit of privacy. “Rabbi,” Yaakov whispered when we were a safe distance away from Alex, “I don’t know how to tell you this… but Alex is legally blind in both eyes. You want him directing traffic for you?!”

Now it was my turn to stare strangely at Yaakov. This was worse than traces of breakfast on my face. “Legally blind?” I repeated incredulously. “As in, he can’t see at all?”

“Well,” Yaakov quickly rejoined. “He can see some things. Like big shapes within maybe 50 feet. He got in and out of your truck without assistance, didn’t he? But do you really want him doing…”

“Traffic control?” we finished his question together. And the answer was obvious: No, I did not.

A quick phone call to Rabbi Silverstein clarified the misunderstanding. Rabbi Silverstein had advertised the need for someone to “hold a traffic sign” for the betterment of the eiruv. Alex had volunteered, eager to help and confident that holding a sign was within his visual capabilities. Although Rabbi Silverstein now understood the dilemma, no other community members were available to volunteer at this time.

Yaakov was scheduled to work from home that day, with a remote meeting scheduled for midday. Yet he also understood the urgency of the situation. This was my last week in town, and there was no getting the job done without a (seeing) assistant to reroute cars around the truck.

“Give me a minute,” Yaakov said reluctantly. “I may be able to shuffle my schedule and stick around to help.” Sure enough, several minutes later, it was confirmed that Yaakov would pinch-hit for me.

“Alex,” I said, getting my first good look at his unfocused eyes, “You’ll stand inside the cones, next to the truck, and hold this ‘Stop’ sign. Right here. Yes, perfect.”

This placement, though not so helpful, minimized Alex’s exposure to vehicles he may or may not have seen coming.

“Yaakov, you stand here, in the middle lane, with another ‘Stop’ sign. Excellent.”

And just like that, our operation was up and running. Alex was thrilled to help the cause, and Yaakov dealt with the situation like a real mensch.

As for me, I needed to think over this scenario carefully. Though memorable, I was not eager to encounter this type of situation again. Not all assistance is created equal, and I would have to brush up on my communication skills in order to convey to community rabbanim the implicit qualifications of “someone who can help with the eiruv.”

Hopefully, I could work to prevent such “unforeseen” circumstances in the future.

Names and location have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1101)