Obituaries I Would Like To Read
Dec 19th, 2010 | By admin | Category: 2006-7, Archivesby Rabbi Yisrael Rutman
I like to read obituaries. And no, there is nothing ghoulish about it. I don’t rub my hands with glee over the dead, nothing like that. I find enjoyment and inspiration in reading about the lifetime accomplishments of a wide variety of individuals. Newspapers generally only grant space to those of note, people who have made significant contributions in their fields, the arts and sciences, business and politics. Not only the good, but also the bad are honored with obituaries, as along as they had an impact on the world. Thus, Hitler, Stalin and Mao are also memorialized in Times Roman for their notable contributions to the art of tyranny and mass murder. You can a lot of history from their obituaries.
Sometimes, however, the contributions to society of the dearly departed are of dubious significance, to say the least. Take the case of Jack MacPherson, who rated a prominent obituary in The Los Angeles Times last week. MacPherson was a mailman and bartender who become a local legend for the “huge beer orgies” and other noble endeavors that endeared him to the Southern California beach culture. “He definitely killed a few beers in his time,” John Macpherson said of his father. “He lived the old-school, ’50s surfer life — the kegger parties that never really ended.”
The egregiousness of this sort of thing brings to mind once again the obituaries I would like to read, but never do. I am referring to obituaries of the great rabbinical figures of our time. With rare exceptions—like Rabbi Moshe Feinstein and Rabbi Menachem Shach—the passing of these great men are not deemed worthy of recording by the esteemed newspapers of record.
Unbeknownst to the readers of The Los Angeles Times (and perhaps its editors), one of the leading halachic authorities of the last century, Rabbi Eliezer Yehudah Waldenberg, also passed away about a week ago. Rabbi Waldenberg’s impact was far-reaching. For decades he served as a judge in the religious courts of Jerusalem and as advisor to the staff and patients of Sha’arei Tsedek hospital. And he was renowned throughout the Torah world for his multi-volume Tsitz Eliezer, a collection of his responsa whose every page evinced his encyclopedic knowledge and brilliant analytic power.
Rabbi Waldenberg had not only a great mind, but a great heart, as well. One story out of many, related by Rabbi Benny Fischer, of the free medical assistance organization, Magen L’Choleh, will suffice to illustrate: Once he escorted a young couple to a meeting with Rabbi Waldenberg to discuss a certain halachic problem. In the course of their conversation, the latter became aware that the woman had been stricken with a serious illness shortly after their marriage, and they had no children. At the meeting’s close, he asked for the woman’s name and that of her mother so that he could pray for her, and he requested that they inform him of any good news. Five years later, Rabbi Fischer brought Rabbi Waldenberg to officiate at the brit milah (circumcision) of the couple’s firstborn child. Wishing the parents “Mazal Tov,” he added, “I have prayed and worried a great deal about you.”
His wisdom and compassion illuminated the lives of thousands of his fellow Jews. It was no surprise, then, that his petirah (death) was front-page news in the religious media. No doubt, the editors of the LA Times would argue that, with all due respect to the memory of the rabbi, their readers, though many of them are Jewish, are just not interested. They live in a different world. They never heard of the Tsitz Eliezer; but for them Jack MacPherson was a local legend.
True enough. At the beginning of the Torah portion, Vayeitzeh, it says that Jacob left Be’er Sheva and went to Padan Aram, where he hoped to find a wife. Rashi comments that mention of Jacob’s point of departure seems superfluous, we know where he left from. Rashi explains that the Torah’s intention here is to indicate that when a tsaddik (righteous person) departs, it makes an impression, for all the glory of the city departs with him. Some ask, however, why it is that earlier in the narratives of Genesis, the Torah does not make similar mention of the places of departure of his grandfather, Abraham. One answer is, that Jacob left his righteous parents Isaac and Rivka behind, and they felt the absence of his holiness. Abraham, on the other hand, as the founder of Judaism, was surrounded by wicked idolaters; when he departed a place, there was nobody around yet to appreciate the difference.
The same is true in any generation. Whether the tsaddik departs a city or he departs the world altogether, not everyone is aware of the loss. It doesn’t make the same impression on everyone.
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