As I was walking along, I noticed a group of curious
bystanders huddling around the guy who pastes up public
notices on sidewalk billboards. Like most curious Jews, I
stopped to wait and see the contents of the large notice
which was rolled up under one arm while the other was
vigorously brushing paste on the wet vertical surface. He
spread the sheet open and slapped it onto the billboard,
smoothing it over once or twice with his brush and continued
on his way.
It was a notice of mourning with a black border. The name of
the deceased stood out starkly in big letters centered upon
the notice: Efraim Himmel. Not knowing anyone by that name,
it meant nothing to me. Mumbling a casual "Boruch dayan
ho'emes," I was about to go on my way, when I overheard
a man next to me sighing, "Oy, oy, oy! What a pity! They
don't make people like that any more. A loss for anyone who
didn't have the privilege of knowing him."
He spoke aloud and seemed to be addressing no one or
everyone in particular, that is, those standing in his
radius. The person on his left reacted immediately, "You
knew him? What was so special about him?"
Before answering, he turned around to face all the
bystanders, including myself, and addressed us in a loud
voice, "I'm telling you that this was a man in a thousand. I
had the privilege of being a close neighbor of his for a
certain period and I will never forget him or the things he
said. I want to tell you a few short things about him, for
his merit.
"He once came to my house to borrow something that he just
ran short of. I told him that my wife was in the middle of
sifting flour and that when she finished, we would send it
over. `Tell her not to hurry,' he remarked. `She is involved
in the holy task of supervising the purity of your souls.'
When he noticed the puzzled look on my face, he added, `The
Torah commands us to beware of eating insects and states:
You shall not defile your souls. We sift flour to prevent
the contamination of the soul through eating bugs that can
be found in flour. So really, your wife is occupied now in
the guarding of the purity of the souls of the family. This
is holy work of the highest degree and demands great caution
and concentration. It is a task that elevates its doer to a
very high level of purity.'
"Ever since then, things have changed by us. We now use
those words that describe the essence of our actions, and
this lends a completely different character to each act.
Checking rice, for example, is a tiring and tedious task.
But if you call this chore by its correct name, `guarding
the purity of the soul,' it takes on a different look and
our relationship to it is completely different, more exalted
and holier.
"One day I heard him explaining to his young son that one
must wash one's face thoroughly in the morning since our
face represents the divine image. We are given the very
important responsibility of washing this divine image and
keeping it clean and respectable looking. In olden times,
the king would appoint a man whose sole job was to make sure
that the statue bearing the king's likeness, which stood in
the central city plaza, be kept clean and protected. His was
considered an important, prestigious job, with a
commensurate salary and status.
"This is the job that every Jew, every man, woman, and
child, is expected to do each morning when he arises. They
are appointed to keep the divine image clean and respectable
looking at all times.
"His children, from an early age, washed their faces each
morning with an accompanying sense of holiness, exaltation
and mission. And I am certain that this had repercussions on
their conduct throughout the day.
"Efraim, himself, of blessed memory, was once hospitalized
for a surgical procedure. Early the following morning, he
limped along the hospital corridor towards the dining room
with his tallis bag tucked under his arm. The nurse
on duty was alarmed to see him up and asked where he thought
he was going! `I'm going to report to headquarters,' he
replied most naturally, without hesitating. And that's the
way he thought, that's the way he was. This exalted,
celestial way of looking at things was not the product of
extensive effort, an exercise in presentation. This is how
he truly saw things, naturally.
"When he would hand out a candy to a child, or a fruit, he
would hold onto it for a moment and say, `Let us first thank
Hashem Who gave us this treat. Come, repeat after me:
Boruch atoh . . .'
"On the few occasions that I happened to meet him going to
the beach, he would explain simply that he was going to
provide medical treatment to the holy security entrusted to
his care: his body. Thus, in all simplicity, unaffectedly,
naturally and sincerely. He uttered the words in full
seriousness, without even a smile. Just like the owner of a
car who says that he must go and wash his car or have the
oil changed in the motor.
"We are all familiar with the despondent look of a father
rushing off to the doctor before eight in the morning with a
sick child. Sighing, he tells a passing neighbor about this
hard luck: instead of going off to his regular routine, he's
got to go to the clinic, take a number, await his turn and
waste his precious time, on top of which his child kept him
up half the night because of a high fever. He grumbles over
his fate, his lost time, the waste of energy and so on. A
punishment from heaven.
"The late Efraim found himself in this situation every once
in a while, as is normal. But the experience was totally
different for him. You saw before you a Jew occupied in the
act of gemilus chessed, of helping someone in
distress, of complying with the Torah commandment of `Love
your neighbor as yourself.' If this was the mission assigned
to him on this morning, he geared himself to carry it out
willingly, eagerly, almost with joy. He didn't complain
about his condition or express any rancor about his bad
luck, but went about doing what had to be done in those
circumstances in the best possible manner.
"You might think that Efraim saw himself as exalted above
others, with a bit of pride or superiority. Far from it! His
heart was exalted in its desire to serve Hashem, but his
relationship towards others was the epitome of humility.
Someone once asked him why he was called Efraim and he
replied that it conjured up the word eifer, ashes, in
its double form, that is, offor vo'eifer, dust and
ashes. Indeed, a name like that and a commentary like that
was a safeguard against haughtiness, and his attitude - - an
endless source of happiness and fulfillment.
"He saw Hashem's lovingkindness in everything. He used to
say: What is man, after all? Dust and ashes. In His infinite
kindness, Hashem gives us the wonderful gift of living a
heavenly life here on earth, in the very midst of the
material-matter of this world. With a body of flesh and
blood. Hashem gives us commandments that are uplifting and
ennobling and sanctifying. They enable us to live a
spiritual life here on earth. These commandments veritably
stand on line; they wait in turn for us at every step we
take and every corner we turn. All we need to do is remove
the dust of materialism that covers our eyes and then we can
see these commandments in their full glory of holiness, set
before us, waiting to be taken, begging us to avail
ourselves of the opportunities they offer. What good
fortune! How wonderful is our lot!
"We are like that person who found himself in a valley of
diamonds but who allowed himself to be deceived that it was
a valley of broken glass impeding his way, and no more.
Would that the dust be removed from our eyes so that we
could see the marvelous sparkle, the scintillating light
emitted by these precious gems upon which we tread,
oblivious of their worth. It all depends on us and on how we
look at them, he used to say.
"What shall I tell you," the man concluded his impromptu
eulogy. "In praise of a skillful dancer, one can say that he
succeeds in lifting off the ground. But he invariably falls
back. Efraim, however, was a man who made the essence of all
his actions come alive and have a higher meaning, always,
throughout his life. He hovered somewhat above the ground --
at all times."
