The Short Vort
Good Morning!
Today is Thursday the 26
th
of Elul 5779 and September 26, 2019
The Lone Mitzvah To Protect The Lonely
Tisha Ba’v, a day when learning Torah is prohibited, I speak in Shul about a tragic event in Jewish history.
This year I spoke about the Crown Heights riot/pogrom of 1991.
After spending weeks of preparing, I decided that I should go to Crown Heights to experience and feel the neighborhood for myself.
It’s one thing to read about an event in books and periodicals, it’s totally another thing to see and experience the physical place with your own physical self.
I decided to travel on Friday the eighth of Av- the day before the actual “Tisha B’av” which this year was on Shabbos.
My wife reminded me to leave Crown Heights early to avoid gridlock at the Lincoln Tunnel on Friday afternoon.
Suffice to say I did not heed my wife’s advice and spent longer than planned there.
I walked the streets and perceived the milieu of the neighborhood.
I spoke to everyone and anyone I could.
I went to the spot where Gavin Cato the little Guyanese boy was tragically killed in a car accident which set in motion the riot which morphed into a pogrom.
All of the residents, Jewish, West Indian and African American were extremely friendly and helpful as they patiently explained to me their memories of those horrific days of 28 years ago.
I quickly came to the realization (as the Lubavitch community and many in the black community have claimed for almost three decades) that the overwhelming majority of the residents of Crown Heights want to live in peace and harmony with each other.
My personal impression of the neighborhood on this bright sunny Friday was one of calmness, cleanliness, and cooperation as black and white residents walked the streets together in tranquility.
Finally, I arrived at my final and most emotional destination of the day, the corner of President St. and Brooklyn Ave.
It was here that Yankel Rosenbaum’s life was cut short.
It was here he was surrounded by up to twenty youths and despite his pleas that, “It's not fair, twenty against one”, he was beaten and stabbed and left alone on the street-corner struggling to cling to life.
I was deeply moved as I stood silently at the corner.
As the beautiful summer sun shined on the now clean and immaculate street corner, it was hard to imagine that at this same corner, at the darkest part of the night in the summer of 1991, a precious, innocent life was cut short.
As I turned onto Brooklyn Ave. I saw many little Chassidic boys walking home after day camp.
I paused to take in the heartwarming sight of the smiling boys.
Some of them were riding a scooter, some of them skipping and all of them happy.
The sight of the boys returning from day camp reminded me that I still had to get back to New Jersey for Shabbos.
Suddenly a little scooter swerved and one boy fell onto the pavement.
I quickly knelt and asked if he was alright.
He stood up and began to rub his knee.
“Are you alright?”
The boy began to cry.
It did not look serious to me, however, I wanted to be safe than sorry and I asked, “Do you want me to call Hatzolah?”
He shook his head indicating “no”.
“Would you like me to call your parents?”
He nodded yes.
I removed my cell phone and asked him for his parent’s number.
The nine-year-old thankfully knew his phone number.
I called, his father answered and immediately asked, “Who is this?”
I calmly explained to the worried father what occurred and handed the phone to his son.
After the boy asked his father to pick him up, I assured the father that I would remain with his son until he arrived.
The father thanked me and said he will be right over.
After the phone call, it was clear the boy just needed some TLC.
He was back to being a normal nine-year boy as he told me what he was learning in day camp and began to relate the fun he has in camp.
As time passed, it dawned on me that Shabbos was fast approaching.
I checked my watch.
It was getting late and there was no sign of the boy’s father.
“How far away do you live from here?” I asked the boy.
The boy shrugged, “Not far.”
The minutes ticked away as I remembered that a five-minute walk could be a twenty-minute drive in Brooklyn.
I could feel the sweat on the back of my neck as I wondered, “Did I really have to get involved and call his father? Was it really necessary for me to play hero-man? The child seems fine and every minute I remain here means that many more hundreds of cars are trying to squeeze into the northern (westbound) tube of the Lincoln Tunnel.”
If you are not a New Yorker and are not familiar with the tunnel, let me just leave you with one fact.
On an average day, almost 125,000 cars go through the tunnel.
I think Friday afternoon in the summer gets a huge chunk of that six-figure number.
As I worried about the time and wondered, “What am I doing here?”- the epiphany became clear.
I realized my mistake.
I realized how flawed my thinking was.
I thought the reason I was going to Crown Heights was to see the neighborhood for me to get information to help myself.
However, in truth, I now began to realize that perhaps the real reason Hashem had me come to Crown Heights today and precisely at this hour was to do this Mitzvah of making sure a nine-year-old boy was not left alone.
I recalled the words of the Rambam, “…
throughout the entire year, a person should view themselves as being in the middle… by doing one mitzvah you tip the scales for yourself and for the entire world for Zechus and for Yeshua!”
Here was my one Mitzvah for which I had to be here to fulfill.
Here was perhaps my ticket to success on Rosh Hashanah.
Suddenly, time no longer mattered.
If I have to spend Shabbos in Crown Heights, so be it.
I will not leave this boy alone.
Perhaps it was my recalling of the feeling of loneliness felt by Yankel Rosenbaum at this exact place 28 years ago that made me steadfast in my resolve that I would not leave this Jewish boy alone.
After what seemed to me to be an hour, (which in reality was ten minutes) the boy's father arrived and thanked me.
I looked at him and said, “It is I who must thank you. Perhaps because of your son we just saved the entire world!”
The father looked at me with a quizzical expression, wished me a Good Shabbos and sped off.
I lingered for a moment at this sanctified corner, where 28 years ago a lone Jew met his end for being a Jew, and at which today Hashem gave me the Zechus of insuring that another Jewish boy should not be left alone.
“If Not Now Then When?”- Hillel
Ron Yitzchok Eisenman
Rabbi, Congregation Ahavas Israel
Passaic, NJ
