Weather It Is (A Note About Moshe Silverman)

 Good Afternoon:

The global forecast shows that we've entered a period where little will change until the calendar turns into September.  It's given me time to ponder. To reflect.

Unfortunately, to reflect on what you do when your friend and study partner falls down, suffers a mortal injury, and departs unexpectedly from this world.  It makes you wonder if life is just completely random? Or, if we are just like leaves thrown about by the wind?

The story starts many years ago when Moshe (Silverman) of "Philly Pizza" asked me if I would be interested in learning with him in the mornings, for about half-hour a day. Moshe worked many years at the Philly Pizza, serving both local residents and those (including tour groups) visiting Efrat and the greater Gush Etzion area.  He served all who came and with great equanimity. We started learning together about eleven years ago, and had our last study session this last Monday.  You've all heard of Adin Steinsaltz (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adin_Steinsaltz), who passed away not long ago.  I am here to tell you about Moshe.  Moshe's footprint may have been smaller than Rabbi Steinsaltz's, but it was just as deep.

Our learning session enabled me to integrate my religious life with my working life.  Both of us worked hard (if he not harder), but together we made time for learning the Gomorra (Oral Tradition of the Torah).  While we never learned very much at anyone time, we learned together, consistently over these eleven years.

Unfortunately, Moshe developed ALS some time ago, and was forced to retire this last January from work.  Yet, instead of focusing on what would be, he focused on what he could do with the unexpected "windfall" of time.  He spent more time with his family, and our study times (interrupted by his disease and the Coronavirus) were longer and more fulfilling.  

But, who was he, outside of these rather dry facts?  

Moshe was person who embodied Torah values, while working and practicing a religiously observant life. He even completed the recent difficult fast of this past 9th of Av. He was firm in his beliefs, but not judgemental.   He had only good things to say about his family, and spoke proudly of his children.  Moshe was a person of infinite patience and optimism.  He led our learning, but never pushed ahead until we both were comfortable with our understanding of the text before us.  He never criticized, but only rejoiced in our greater understanding. He never tired of going back, and never faltered going forward.  

Moshe died on Shabbat of Parshat Re' Eh.  In this parsha, God tells the Jewish people "Behold, I set before you today, a blessing and a curse..."  Rabbi Judah Mischel (in Torah Tidbits, issue 1383, August 15th, 2020) explains that God is telling us to seize the day, to make today a blessing -- that to leave over or procrastinate can only delay the good, if not bring on the "bad."  Likewise, Moshe was a person who never dwelled on the negative, but asked only what he could be today as the person he was that day.  Imagine if you had to make a 100 pizzas a day?  You can only make them one at a time, and similarly you can only live your day one day at a time.Without this attitude, he could never have endured let alone be contented with his forced retirement.  In fact, his family doesn't look back at the last six months as a time of difficulty, but one where the days were spent, for the first time, with wife, children, and grand children.

When we met last Monday, he'd already fallen a few times, but I don't think that anyone imagined that he would fall and end his life. Instead, I imagined or at least hoped that we could continue our learning (we came close to finishing "Baba Kama"), and of course hoped for a small miracle that his disease would progress ever so slowly.  But, what is slow when -- he told me -- his physical condition continued to appreciably deteriorate?

Yet, when we last departed, I took special note that it wasn't like our usual partings: when he said "I'll call you or we'll meet soon." I too forgot to mention it, and as I crossed the parking lot to my home I pondered just what it might have meant. Thinking back, it makes you wonder if not everything is random. Besides not saying "see you soon," he died on the Shabbat whose Torah Portion exemplified his life, and he died before having to endure the suffering that so many with ALS (and others with unfortunate illnesses) have to endure.  

I'm often too busy to ponder and ask myself what am I doing and why.  I just do what seems to come up, often with my eye on tomorrow. 

Moshe was the opposite.  His eye was on today, and for that reason his last days were full days, days that I'll remember, and so will his family.

I still want to believe that he'll soon come to my door to continue our learning, but I know I will have to finish our last chapter for both of us.

May we only have good news,

Barry Lynn