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The Short Vort
Good Morning!
Today is Monday the 8th of Iyar 5783-
Day 23 of the Omer and May 9, 2022
You Never Know
Walking home from Shul with my guests, I noticed Larry lagging behind.
I allowed everyone to go ahead and positioned myself next to Larry.
"Everything alright?"
"Rabbi, Can you do me a favor?"
"I hope so; what's that?"
"When you introduce me to everyone before the Seder, can you say, "This is Larry, my relative from Atlanta who's with me for Pesach?" (We're not related)
Larry had moved to Passaic from Baltimore four years ago after his divorce.
He was a quiet mind-your-own-business type of guy and did his best to earn a living, learn Torah, and daven in Shul.
Larry wanted to remarry; however, he did not wear this information on his sleeve.
There was no time for me to ask Larry why he wanted to be known as my cousin; however, whatever his reasoning, I agreed.
I made the introductions. "This is Larry, my relative from Atlanta."
My wife, who knows Larry, looked at me as if to say, "Did you start the Arba Kosos already?"
However, after forty years of marriage, she has learned to expect the unexpected.
When one guest asked, "Oh, you're from Atlanta? "Do you know?" I immediately said, "Tonight is Seder night, and the children are hungry…and so are the adults, no time for Jewish geography. Let's begin. "Kadesh, Ur'Chatz…"
The Seder got underway, and even at Shulchan Aruch, as people put down their Haggadahs and loosened their mouths, I monitored the conversation.
Whenever someone attempted to play Jewish ancestory.com, I interjected, "Tonight we say, "Avadim Hayeenu L'Pharoah," we all come from the same old neighborhood: Mitzraim.
I did everything possible to protect everyone's privacy and not permit probing questions about anyone's past, present or potential future to become part of the conversation.
I made it my personal Avoda to make sure that all my guests, not only Larry, felt comfortable.
My goal at the Seder was to make sure that "Sara the Single" felt just "at home" as "Sarala, the mother of four children."
My primary concern at the Seder was that everyone ate enough Matza, and everyone felt a part of my family.
After Larry alerted me of his need for anonymity, I asked Sam, "Should I not mention anything about you being divorced?"
Sam answered with conviction, "Rabbi, how can you ask me that? I hope you will throw in that I am divorced. How else can I expect to remarry?"
As I scanned the table, I realized before me sat a group of people with their own personal peckels.
Yet, each peckel has its own unique challenge, and no two were identical.
Larry wants his divorce status hidden.
Sam wants his revealed.
Sara, the single, is very self-conscious; Chani, not so.
Recognizing the peckel is relatively easy; remembering that one size never fits all is the challenge.
When the Seder ended, and Larry was leaving, he said,
"Thank you, Rabbi; you have no idea how liberating this Seder was for me. Of course, I want to remarry. However, to finally sit at a table and not be bombarded with rapid-fire questions: "Would you relocate to Eretz Yisroel? Would you consider a woman older than you? Are you a Kohen?" is truly redeeming.
I know Rabbi that everyone means well; however, the hail of queries is often so relentless I opt to eat alone.
Tonight was the first meal in four years where I truly felt Cheirus, freedom.
I finally felt free to be me and enjoy the Seder and not feel I was at a job interview."
I smiled, "I am so happy for you."
I felt good knowing that Larry had taken the night off from the Shidduch scene and was able to relax and feel free.
I would still keep my eyes open for Larry. However, I knew this Pesach; he felt the need for privacy.
Larry opened the door to exit and thanked me again.
I felt good that I really had a good understanding of Larry and his peckel.
I knew that tonight Shidduchim were the furthest thing from Larry's mind.
I silently patted myself on the back for having such a profound understanding of Larry and his peckel.
I was jolted from my egocentricity as Larry turned and said, "By the way, do you think Rivka, the one who was sitting across from me, might be shayach for me? She was looking at me all through Magid, and we made eye contact during Shulchan Aruch. What do say, Rabbi, a possible Shidduch? Maybe you could make some phone calls? You know I want to remarry."
As I quickly wiped the look of bewilderment from my face and the realization of the limited Freudian talents I possessed sank in, I said to Larry, "Sure thing, Larry. I'll get working on it right after Yom Tov."
"Rabbi, why only after Yom Tov? Remember, "If not now, then when?"
“If Not Now, Then When?”- Hillel
Ron Yitzchok Eisenman
Rabbi
Congregation Ahavas Israel
Passaic, NJ
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