The Devout Wounded Soldier
It’s Friday afternoon, four and a half hours before Shabbos. My cooking is pretty much done, so I feel comfortable putting off the cleaning and sitting down to write. Once again, there was a call to the members of my congregation for one of us to give a devar Torah. It seems we’ll be alternating weeks with our new rabbi. Nobody was stepping up, though, so when the shul president made his second appeal on Thursday afternoon, he threw in a parsha-themed joke. “Who can resist this face?” he asked.
Apparently, our baal koreh couldn’t resist, because he took on the challenge. I couldn’t either, so I volunteered, too, even though I gave the last congregant devar Torah only two Shabbosim ago. Not knowing that I wouldn’t need to speak, I began planning while I was cooking this morning. The truth is, what I had in mind were stories, not a proper devar Torah, and nothing in it is original, but since I thought of it, I might as well write it, rather than let it go to waste.
The first story came from Rabbi Efrem Goldberg’s parsha class this week, and he in turn heard it from Rabbi Asher Weiss. It’s about a wounded soldier. Rabbi Goldberg’s voice was cracking as he told the story.
Rabbi Weiss went to the hospital to visit a young soldier who lost both legs and an arm. The soldier had four questions in practical Jewish Law, but for the sake of simplicity, I’ll share only two of them. The first is about tefillin, which is a ritual item that men wear during morning prayers on weekdays and non-holidays. Here is what they look like:
As you see, there’s a box that fastens to the top of the head and a strap that wraps around the arm - specifically, the non-dominant arm. Evidently, the young soldier lost that arm, so he wanted to know if it was correct to put the tefillin on his remaining arm.
As I said, Rabbi Goldberg’s voice was cracking as he told this story, but it reminded me of another story, told to me by my husband in the name of the Satmar Rov. It’s ironic for me to be juxtaposing these two stories because the Satmar Rov was staunchly anti-Zionist, but you’ll see the connection.
The Rov was in the Holy Land for a short time after the Second World War, but ultimately, he settled in America. Before he left, one of his followers was deeply disappointed. It’s customary for Hasidim to receive blessings from their Rebbe, and he didn’t want to lose that benefit. He lamented to the Rebbe that he’d have nobody to go for blessings to anymore. The Rebbe told the man that if he ever saw a number tattooed on another man’s arm while he was rolling up his sleeve to put on tefillin, he could ask for a blessing from him. Anyone who could survive the hell of the Holocaust and still keep the Torah Law of putting on tefillin afterward was a spiritual giant on par with a Hasidic Rebbe.
So here we are, less than a century later, and a new generation of tzaddikim is emerging from a new set of tragic circumstances. Obviously, this devout young man is one of them. May Hashem please end the war soon so that there are no more deaths and injuries.
And this brings me to the young man’s other question. There’s a blessing called “Shehecheyanu” that Jews recite on special occasions, like on holidays or when wearing a significant item of clothing for the first time. I said it on my wedding gown. This young man asked if he should say it when he received his prostheses. Rabbi Goldberg didn’t tell us what the answer was, but I think all of us should be thanking G-d that the young man is alive, and that such technology is available to give him a better quality of life. He gave nearly everything for the safety of the Holy Land and the people within it. And so, if you want to support him, and hundreds (or is it thousands?) of others like him, please give to this charity.
May Hashem bless this young man to dance at his wedding with his prostheses and He bless klal Yisroel with a Shabbos of lasting peace.