The life of a rabbi in Yehupitz

A seraphic dilemma

Readers of this blog know that I have been an avid follower of Robert Avrech’s Seraphic Secret blog almost since its inception. I knew his son Ariel z’l at Ner Israel, not by name but by face. Whenever I saw him in the dining room or outside, I would do a double-take at this powerfully eidel bochur. The only other person I did this to was another “avrech” (Kollel fellow) in the Kollel whose modesty and unassumingness unwillingly shone through. It was only when I got engaged that I found out that this unassuming avrech was in fact one of Baltimore’s foremost poskim! I saw the same quality in this Mechina bochur, but saw no need to inquire further. My mother-in-law would not be proud. She is a firm believer in indroducing yourself to anyone you find notable.

I was visiting Ner Israel a couple of summers ago when I saw the sign up in the hallway of the Beis Medrash announcing Ariel’s petira. When I saw Ariel’s photo on the website I started to cry as both pieces of the puzzle came together.

Seraphic Secret has become the blog I follow most often. I check it more than once a day for updates. I think the mechanics of empathy are that a person imagines himself in the scenario of the suffering person and thus feels the pain of the suffering person. I don’t know how he manages. If something like that were to…I can't type it... I envision going catatonic with pain. I have imagined that if Robert were to ever be in the same city as me, I would find him and just hug him for a very long time. (I recently purchased the Avrech’s “Book of Ariel” and read through it. The lighter entries that discuss the Avrechs’ courtship are, as Karen Avrech put it, a delightful diversion from the chronic pain they endure.)

The “dilemma” is a strange one. I was in Baltimore recently and in the course of the days I spent there separately saw two men who have recently lost a child. I was not especially close to either man when I lived in Baltimore, but I know them and I am sure that each knows my name as well. Each provides a service that I have used more than once as a consumer, so they know me. I saw each one in a shul or store once when I was in Baltimore.

I wanted to go over and say something, embrace them, cry. But they weren’t crying. I thought I would look silly. I was paralyzed with fear and the pain I subsumed as my own. I didn’t know what to do. So I did nothing. And the moment passed. Did they think I was avoiding them? Did they think I was staring at them and wonder, “Why is he staring at me?”? What was I supposed to do? Should I have gone over? I think that I should have gone over and say, “I’ve been thinking of you.” But would that have come across sounding stupid?

Robert, I’m sorry. Ploni, I’m sorry. And Almoni, I’m sorry too.