Born to Save a Life

Yoav, a young IDF (Israeli Defense Force) soldier was stationed in the city of Chevron. Suddenly, he was shot by an Arab sniper and left for dead. As it was four o'clock in the morning, and no imminent attack was expected; no one was awake to hear the shot and rush to his aid. It appeared as though Yoav was doomed to bleed to death before anybody would ever find him. His short life would come to a tragic silent end. One other soldier however, did happen to hear something. Though not totally sure, he suspected it might be a rifle shot so he went to investigate. He spotted Yoav, who was lying on the ground, bleeding to death. He immediately began to stabilize Yoav's wound and arrange for emergency transport to a medical facility. It took time for help to get to the scene, so he needed to apply manual pressure and any other trick he could think of to keep Yoav alive in the interim - he was literally holding Yoav's life in his hands. Eventually, Yoav arrived at a proper medical facility where he was treated by surgeons. Yoav's parents were notified and rushed to the hospital. The doctors told them that had it not been for the immediate and appropriate actions of the other soldier, their son Yoav would definitely not have survived. It was indeed a miracle that the other soldier heard what no one else heard, and managed to locate Yoav as quickly as he did. They went to thank him, but he had already left the hospital. After Yoav was home recuperating, and everyone was settled, they called the army to find out the name of the other soldier so they could thank him personally. Unfortunately, the other soldier's name had not been recorded in the incident report, so they now had no way of ever contacting him. Yoav's parents owned a makolet (grocery store) in Kiryat Malachi, so they put up a poster in their store, describing the miracle that occurred and asking if anyone knew the identity of Yoav's savior. They figured that Israel is a small country and someone might know someone who knows something. Months passed with no response. Finally after a year, a woman entered the store and saw the sign. She was positive that her son Doron had mentioned such an account. She took out her cellphone and called Doron on the spot. Sure enough, he remembered the incident quite well - it was he who had saved Yoav's life. Soon, all the families gathered together for a joyful tearful 'reunion.' Doron's mother pulled Yoav's mother aside and told her, "There is a specific reason I came to your store today. You don't remember me, but twenty years ago, I was standing in your store feeling lost and forlorn. You and your wonderful husband noticed how sad I looked and asked me what was the matter. I explained that I was pregnant and was overwhelmed. There were so many unbearable difficulties; financially, socially and emotionally. I decided that the only way out was to have an abortion." "You both stopped everything, and calmly and lovingly sat with me. You listened to me. Then you offered so much encouragement and support. Because of you, everything began to look different and I chose to keep my baby. I no longer live around here, but I happened to be passing through and I figured it would be nice to visit your store again to thank you once again for all that you did. The name of that precious baby was Doron." "My beloved Doron, who would not have been born were it not for you, grew up to save your son Yoav's life." (©2015. Printed with permission from Rabbi Baruch Lederman, author of Shulweek www.kehillastorah.org.)

Paper Airplane

A  young man from Long Island once approached a Rabbi to ask that a memorial prayer, called kaddish be recited for his recently departed father. Kaddish is recited every day for a year after a person's death, usually by a family member. The young man made it clear that he would not be saying the kaddish himself but would pay for the Rabbi to arrange for someone else to say the kaddish on his deceased father's behalf.

Some time passed and the young man suddenly began showing up in the synagogue and reciting kaddish himself. The Rabbi asked the young fellow what had changed and he told him the following:

When I was growing up, my father never showed any warmth or affection. He was always cold and uninvolved. One incident that always epitomized this for me was when I was in 5th grade. We had a paper airplane contest in school. I worked real hard to make a great airplane. When it was finished I wrote DAD on it with a bold blue marker. The plane won 1st Prize. When I came home I was so excited, I ran over to my dad, gave him the plane and told him I won. He showed no reaction. He didn't say a thing, he just took the plane and shoved it away somewhere. Not one kind word or even a smile. That incident told me that my father didn't care a bit about me. I knew he didn't love me.

When he passed away, I realized my kaddish obligation, but I just could not say kaddish for such a man. I came to you to arrange for the kaddish to be said by someone else. This way my obligation would be dispensed but I wouldn't have to physically say it.

Yesterday I went downtown to his office to clean out his desk. His secretary let me into the room and I got to work. When I went through his top drawer I found the paper airplane that I made in fifth grade. I picked it up and held it. I stared at it. When I eyed the word DAD written in blue, a lump formed in my throat. At that moment, his secretary walked into the room and said to me, "Your father used to stare intently at that plane with the exact same misty eyed look you have now. I always wondered what was so special about that plane." I wanted to answer her but I couldn't speak.

I realized that my dad cared about me all along. He just wasn't a man of many words. He didn't show his emotions and I didn't know how to see them but now I understand that they were always there. He did love me. Today I came to say kaddish for that wonderful man - my staunchest admirer, my hero, my dad. (©2014. Printed with permission from Rabbi Baruch Lederman, author of Shulweek www.kehillastorah.org.)