HEARTFELT TALK
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HEARTFELT TALK
Harav Y. Reuven Rubin Shlita
Life has its stories, and as the calendar keeps turning its pages, I have found that my stories come to give me strength throughout my pathway in life. Several weeks ago, I found myself enmeshed in just such a life-enhancing event, and as is often my way, I want to share it with you.
Boruch Hashem, I have been blessed to come to an age where bits and pieces of my anatomy start to show wear and tear. I was advised to find a heart consultant because I showed certain signs of cardiac concerns. Now I’m an old hand at this, having the zchus to host a heart stent for over fifteen years. Still, finding a cardiologist who understands the different facets of a rabbi’s lifestyle isn’t always easy. After asking around, I was given the name of someone who has a high standing in the medical world.
I called the good doctor’s office the very next day and after explaining my situation, was given an appointment for the following week. Half an hour later, the secretary was back on the phone, “Oh, oh,” I feared that they were about to tell me that my appointment would not work and place me conveniently on the merry-go-round that is called the NHS appointments list. To my surprise, the message opened up a whole new experience. The secretary announced that she had just got off the phone with the consultant, “He is visiting his parents in Israel and when he heard who the appointment was for, he told her that there is no way he will take any money from Rabbi Rubin.” Now I was really flummoxed. Was this some sort of payback for an unknown mishap on my part? The secretary continued, “The doctor insists that he won’t take any fees from you because (by now I was totally befuddled) you presided over his wedding twenty-five years ago!” What? Now I was totally lost. Twenty-five years ago, I was living in South Manchester next to the university. I must have married over a hundred young couples in the twenty-five years I spent in South Manchester. Who was this lovely fellow who felt such an attachment that after a quarter of a century, he won’t take my money? Notice I am not divulging his name; this is because he has asked me not to. The secretary went further, the doctor is in Israel but will see you when he gets back next week at “Your house.” I couldn’t believe my ears. Here is a world-class cardiologist telling his secretary that he insists on seeing me in my home.
Now, please allow me a moment to share something that brings so much light to this episode.
I had the honour to be close to the Bobover Rebbe, Rav Naftali Ztl. Before he became the Rebbe upon the Petira of his holy father, the Rebbe Rav Shlomo Ztl, Rav Naftali carried the whole of the financial burden on his shoulders. Besides this, he was the most gifted Yid one could hope to meet. His warmth was so real, his love for Klall Yisroel so overwhelming that to see his smile brought strength and hope to any broken heart. Towards the end of his time on this earth, he was wont to say that on Lag Be’omer, which is the yahrzeit of Rebbe Shimon bar Yechoy, the holy Reb Shimon was by him. At the time, it seemed to be some sort of otherworldly holy utterance by this wondrous soul; however, like so much more, there was nothing ever trivial from this caring soul. After his petira, it soon became known that on Lag BeOmer, people could go to daven by his zion and find answers to their pleas. Today, thousands of Yiddisha Neshomahs stream to that small plot of land in New Jersey and find yeshuous. I personally sent a note via the rebbe’s daughter. This year was no different, and with a quiet prayer on my lips, I sent in my name.
Well, except this year was different, and shortly after, I sent the kvital; my saga with my heart started. Soon, I found the good doctor in my home; I knew who he was within a blink, and we were soon ensconced, sharing fond remembrances of those long-ago days. Suffice it to say, he took me into his care, and I soon was gifted with full medical examinations in two hospitals, all of which have given me a new ability to carry on my work in my shtieble.
Oh yes, one more thing… the day the doctor came to my home, well, it was on Lag BeOmer… Rav Naftali Ztl heard my cry.