The first time I saw him he was about 3 years old, a typically active child. I noticed the differences in him as the years have gone by. He always had a wide grin for the next person that crossed his path. Sometimes he would stand on the curb outside of his apartment building and greet the passersby with a friendly "shalom!" He is the next to the last in a very large family of the neighbhorhood Rabbi who leads the Ashkenazi synagogue, their apartment facing our back balcony directly across the parking lot. We often were quiet observers of their Jewish holiday celebrations that included their extended family, synagogue members and visitors. Many evenings were spent studying Torah around their dining room table, the ancient Jewish prayers filling the air, often late into the night.
One day
, something changed. There was much activity at the home of the Rabbi's family. I quickly learned that the Rabbi's married older daughter had died of cancer, leaving behind a grieving husband and children. For a week, the family sat shiva with hundreds of comforters filing in and out of the small Jerusalem apartment. I remember observing the younger children - including the Rabbi's younger son - and the confusion on their faces, sad, with a grief they could not comprehend.
Through the years, we have watched the children grow, celebrate their bar and bat Mitzvah's, get married, have their own children - the cycles of life.
The Rabbi's son too participates in the cycle of Jewish life, but I've noticed with a difference: He celebrates life with exuberance. I remember when he celebrated his Bar Mitzvah year several birthdays ago, and proudly wore his black coat, black pants, white shirt and black hat - just like his Father. Now he walked to synagogue with his Father for prayers, a new prayer shawl hanging over his shoulders.
Just this morning I heard his loud and boistrous singing unto the God of Israel. Sometimes he goes to his balcony, faces East to where the Temple Mount once stood, and sings his prayers - with all his heart, mind, soul and strength - his face uplifted, eyes closed, davening with great joy. I can hear every word he cries unto his God.
I love that. Clearly, he is lost in the love of his God and is unaffected by whether or not he sounds too loud and might "disturb" his neighbhors. I know he does not even consider that his voice carries beyond the edges of his worn prayer book. He recites the ancient prayers of King David, and reminds his heart of God's promises according to His Word, a great inspiration to me personally.
One day
, something changed. There was much activity at the home of the Rabbi's family. I quickly learned that the Rabbi's married older daughter had died of cancer, leaving behind a grieving husband and children. For a week, the family sat shiva with hundreds of comforters filing in and out of the small Jerusalem apartment. I remember observing the younger children - including the Rabbi's younger son - and the confusion on their faces, sad, with a grief they could not comprehend.Through the years, we have watched the children grow, celebrate their bar and bat Mitzvah's, get married, have their own children - the cycles of life.
The Rabbi's son too participates in the cycle of Jewish life, but I've noticed with a difference: He celebrates life with exuberance. I remember when he celebrated his Bar Mitzvah year several birthdays ago, and proudly wore his black coat, black pants, white shirt and black hat - just like his Father. Now he walked to synagogue with his Father for prayers, a new prayer shawl hanging over his shoulders.
Just this morning I heard his loud and boistrous singing unto the God of Israel. Sometimes he goes to his balcony, faces East to where the Temple Mount once stood, and sings his prayers - with all his heart, mind, soul and strength - his face uplifted, eyes closed, davening with great joy. I can hear every word he cries unto his God.
I love that. Clearly, he is lost in the love of his God and is unaffected by whether or not he sounds too loud and might "disturb" his neighbhors. I know he does not even consider that his voice carries beyond the edges of his worn prayer book. He recites the ancient prayers of King David, and reminds his heart of God's promises according to His Word, a great inspiration to me personally.
You see, the Rabbi's son is considered by the medical experts as "mentally slow." I know God is so pleased with his pure heart and sincere love for Him.
Please God . . . help me love You today as much as the Rabbi's son. Amen.
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