Parshas Vaera – Ovi Mori

By: Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

Beis Shevat. Yahrtzeit of my dear father, HaRav Meshulem ben HaRav Osher Anshil HaLevi, zt”l.

It is now twenty-eight years since my father’s petira. My husband remarked to me that twenty-eight, kof-twenty, ches-eight, is the gematria of koach- strength.

After twenty-eight years, my father still remains a source of strength to me. He will forever be ovi mori, my father, my teacher, my inspiration. His gentle ways, his words, his actions, have taught me so much.

The Holocaust left my father a war orphan. He arrived to this country alone, without the support of family. A new land, a strange language. I often wonder, how did he manage? Not only manage, but accomplish.

Years ago, I was packing camp trunks for my children. Extra pairs of socks, additional pajamas, multiple tee shirts, another zip-up – because you never know. Suddenly, I thought of Abba. Who packed him up for a journey across the world… did he even have anything to pack.

I never saw a look of sadness, a sign of bitterness. I only remember Abba’s smile. A man who was always happy, always in a good mood. While my father was a devoted shul rabbi and a busy community leader, he always made us children his priority. We didn’t go on exotic vacations, or take major trips, yet we never felt deprived. Wherever we went, we felt Abba’s love.

From the park playground to the neighborhood fire station, from the zoo to the local lake to feed the ducks, we always felt a father’s devotion.

When we were sick, Abba would make us his specialty “pitter broit”, toasted bread and butter, served together with a cup of hot tea and honey. Little acts of a father’s love that mean so much.

No one had patience like Abba. Like many a high school girl, I would come home from school, call my friends, have dinner, read a little, take a nosh, and only hit the books later at night. By then, I was good and tired. But it was never too late for Abba to sit with me and explain a difficult Ohr HaChaim or Kli Yakar.

The years flew by. It was my wedding night. Time to march down to the chuppa. I became very nervous. It was Abba who calmed me. I still remember his words. “Chaya Sora, you are not alone. All the heilige zeides and bubbas are with you. They are marching alongside you. Their brachos are accompanying you. IY”H, it will all be good.”

The zeides and bubbas are with you. It will all be good. Years later, the words are still with me. It was only much later on that I realized how Abba survived his dark days. He kept the memory of the zeides and bubbas with him. He knew that no matter what, he was not alone, but was accompanied by their brachos. A message lovingly conveyed to me.

As we read Sefer Shemos, the story of our ancestors in Mitzrayim, we wonder from where did they get their strength. I think of Abba’s words and I envision a generation that remembered the message of their zeide Yaakov. The brachos that he gave to the shevatim. They too, realized that they were not alone, but that their Avos and Imahos, their bubbas and zeides, were with them.

When I became a mommy, I loved “going home” to my parents for Shabbos. As soon as we pulled up to the house, Abba would come to greet us, affectionately calling out “Check-in time at the hotel”. He would help us bring in the suitcases and packages, and then tell me to take a rest. How Abba loved the babies. He would carry the little ones on his broad shoulders. With each new grandchild, Abba would say, “another shoulder baby”. It didn’t take long for the baby to fall asleep, nestled upon Abba’s shoulder.

Leil Shabbos, my father would stay up learning while rocking the carriage, soothing the little ones with his soft, melodic voice. Abba would say that HaShem keeps the babies up at night so the fathers and zeides would stay up learning.

My son – my parents’ first grandchild – was just a toddler when he coined the name “Abba-Zeide”, and so my father was called by all of his grandchildren. He was more than a zeide, he was Abba-Zeide.

My father was a man who was a true sameach b’chelko, happy with his lot. It was all good. What a bracha. To live with simcha, with gratitude, with appreciation for all of life’s blessings, big and small.

In this week’s parsha, we read of the first three plagues, dom-blood, tzfardaya-frogs, kinim-lice. Interestingly, the Torah tells us that HaShem’s instructions to Moshe were that these plagues be brought on through Aaron. Why Aaron and not Moshe? Rashi explains that it was a matter of hakoras hatov, gratitude. It would not have been proper for Moshe to strike the waters of Mitzrayim that protected him when his mother placed him upon it.

Similarly, it was Aaron who was designated to strike the earth, bringing upon Egypt the plague of lice. Here too, it would have been inappropriate for Moshe to hit the ground. For it was the earth that concealed the Egyptian whom Moshe had killed, while protecting a fellow Jew.

Gratitude to water and earth, inanimate objects. Do water and earth feel, do they have emotions? Do they know the difference if they are struck or not? Herein lies an important life lesson. It is not for the sake of the water or earth. It is for our sake. To imbue our very being with an attitude of gratitude. If we learn to appreciate water and earth, if gratitude becomes ingrained in our spirit, we will exude gratitude to the people in our lives. We will have gratitude to HaShem. We will be better people for it.

Life is a learning experience. Hakoras hatov, appreciating goodness, is one of its lessons.

My father taught us a lesson of gratitude. He was appreciative of everyone in his life. Thanking all for favors done, big and small. Abba went out of his way to thank the school bus driver, and went to our schools to personally thank the rebbeim and teachers. He would thank the cashiers, the bank tellers, the gas stations attendants. And it wasn’t just a simple thank you. It was a thank you, along with words about a job well gone, given full with exuberance and a matching big smile.

Yehi Zichro Boruch. May his memory be a blessing.

Shabbat Shalom!

Chaya Sora

Chaya Sora can reached at csgertzulin@gmail.com

This article was written L’zecher Nishmas /In Memory Of HaRav Meshulem ben HaRav Osher Anshil HaLevi, zt”l and Rebbetzin Esther bas HaRav Avraham HaLevi, zt”l