“RABBI’S MUSINGS (&
AMUSINGS)”
Erev Shabbos Kodesh
Parshas Yisro
20 Shevat 5777/ February 17,
2017
Jim Gaboardi is
an 89-year-old, former post man, from Danbury, Connecticut, currently living in
a local nursing home. While his granddaughter was visiting him recently, the
mail was given out to the residents. Gaboardi sighed and told his granddaughter
that it had been a long time since he received any mail.
That afternoon,
his granddaughter sent out a message, asking people to send her grandfather
cards: “Let’s deliver mail to a man who delivered it to us for so many years.”
Her message was
forwarded, and then forwarded again. Within days, letters began streaming in
from former neighbors, old friends and acquaintances, and people who had been
on his mail route. Now, a few months later, 250 letters/cards adorn his room.
Gaboardi’s
granddaughter says that despite her grandfather’s failing health, the spark of
life has returned to his eyes.
Thanks to a
winter storm that walloped our area last week, we began Pesach cleaning (!!!)
in our basement. While rummaging through the clutter in the basement closet
(looking for chometz, of course) I found a box full of letters and cards. There
were cards and notes from my kallah and birthday cards from my family.
Beyond that, I
found a stack of letters I had received when I was a camper at Camp Dora
Golding in 1991. Of course, there were letters from my parents, my best friend,
and even from my sister. I also found a letter from my Bubby (who should live
and be well until 120), and from my Savta a’h. The content of the letters
brought me back to a different time and stage of my life. In her letter, my
Savta noted that my parents had come to visit her with “the baby”. The baby is
my sister Shoshana, who is now married with two of her own children b’h.
The greatness
and uniqueness of a letter is not just the content, but also the handwriting of
the writer. In an age of email and electronic communication, the beauty of a
handwritten letter may be a rarity, but it still cannot be replicated.
I treasure a few
letters that I have from a few Gedolei Yisroel, including Rav Chaim Stein zt’l,
Rav Avrohom Pam zt’l and ybl”c Rav Aharon Schechter. The Igros Moshe I have
with a personal inscription from Rav Moshe Feinstein zt’l - a gift from my
Zaydei zt’l- is invaluable to me.
The letter that
I received from Rav Pam, was in response to an inquiry that I had sent to a few
Gedolim. At the time, I debated if I should even send one to Rav Pam, because
he was weak. I was surprised and delighted when I received his handwritten
response.
In one of his
books, Rabbi Paysach Krohn relates that Rav Pam once wrote a short letter to a
fellow who davened in his shul who was hospitalized. Because he was a kohain,
Rav Pam did not visit him, but sent him the letter instead. The patient
treasured the letter, and showed it to everyone who came to visit him. One of
the eulogizers at the patient’s funeral noted that the man was so distinguished
that he received a letter from Rav Pam.
When Rav Pam was
informed about how much the patient valued the letter, he remarked that the
incident shook him. If a hastily written letter could have such an impact, how
many other times do we have an opportunity to make such an impact with our
words that we don’t take advantage of.
After hearing
that story, I wondered if that story was part of what prompted Rav Pam to send
me a detailed response in his own handwriting, despite his busy schedule and
despite his being so feeble, fifteen months before his petirah.
Perhaps in
today’s world it’s even truer, that there is hardly anything more personal, and
hardly any greater expression of closeness, than a handwritten letter. The
nonverbalized message to the recipient of the letter is that he is worth the
time and effort.
If you want to
express feelings of appreciation, or sentiments of love and devotion to
another, especially someone who may not know that you feel that way towards
them, write them a letter. Put a stamp on it and send it out with the snail
mail. The excitement of receiving mail is far greater than email.
One of the
halachos of Megillas Esther is that although it is called a sefer (scroll), it
is also called an iggeres (letter) (See Megillah 19a). When it’s being
read, the Megillah is supposed to be folded like an elongated letter.
Part of the idea
is that we recognize that the Purim miracle, and the holiday of Purim is an
expression of Hashem’s personalized love for us. The Megillah is a letter to
each of us, as it were, reminding us of our personal and collective greatness,
and how beloved we are in G-d’s eyes, as it were.
And that is
truly reason for celebration.
Shabbat Shalom
& Good Shabbos,
R’ Dani and Chani Staum