15 Jul SAYING GOODBYE

How does a great man say his final goodbye?
What are his wishes, his concerns, his
worries.
In Parshas Pinchas, HaShem tells Moshe
that his days in this world are coming to an
end. “V’neh’eh’safta el amecha, And you
will be gathered to your people.” (Bamidbar
27:13) This alludes to Moshe’s neshama
being reunited with his ancestors. For years,
Moshe dreamt of leading his people into the
Promised Land. Going back in time, Moshe
pleaded to Pharoah to free Bnei Yisroel from
the shackles of slavery. Moshe crossed the
sea with the nation and led them through the
desert for forty long years. And now, it was
time to enter Eretz Yisroel, a dream come
true.
But Moshe would only be able to see the
land from afar. “Come up to Har HaAvarim
and see the land that I have given Bnei
Yisroel.” (Bamidbar 27:12) Moshe’s vision
was quickly vanishing. But Moshe, being
Moshe, his immediate thoughts were not
about himself, but about the future leadership
of the people he loved so much. Moshe

didn’t wallow in self-pity, nor did he allow
this letdown to overtake his emotions. He
had one – and only one – concern, that of
Am Yisroel.
Moshe turns to HaShem with his last request.
“May HaShem…. appoint a man over the
people who will go out before them and
come in before them… and let the nation of
HaShem not be as sheep without a shepherd.”
(Bamidbar 27:17). Poignant words spoken
from the heart. A sign of true greatness.
Moshe was known as anav mikol adam, the
humblest of all men. Only someone who
lives with true humility can learn and live
acceptance and put others first. I think of
each of my parents, who during their last
days didn’t dwell on their own agony, but
thought only about how they could lessen
the pain of others. My father, HaRav
Meshulem HaLevi zt”l, was in Sloan
Kettering. Each day came with terrible
suffering. Day after day, his condition
weakened. But my father was first and
foremost a rov, a man who lived his life for
his people. And even as a patient, he never
abandoned his mission – bringing his fellow
Jews closer to HaShem.
Abba learned of Frank, a Jewish young man

on his floor. Frank was in a bad
place – physically, spiritually,
emotionally. Abba wanted to share
words of hope and comfort and
asked one of the nurses to assist him
in getting to Frank’s room. And
though all wired up and connected
to an IV pole, my father made it
down the corridor to Frank’s room.
“I’m Rabbi Jungreis, what’s your
name?”
“Frank.”
“And what’s your Hebrew name?”
“Oh, I’m no longer Jewish, I joined Hare
Krishna, I have no need for a Jewish name.”
“You are always part of our nation”, my
father said. “What Hebrew name did your
parents give you?”
“Oh, some silly sounding name, Feivel.”
“Feivel, that’s a beautiful name. I will pray
for you.”
My father wished him a refuah sheleimoh
and over the ensuing days made several
additional visits down the hall to Feivel.
Abba got weaker but his spirit remained
strong. Indefatigable. He wouldn’t give in
to illness, nor would he give up on Feivel.
One day, my son Yosef Dov was visiting,
and he helped Abba on one of his walks to
see Feivel. They found Feivel crying. Yosef
Dov waited outside while my father spoke
to Feivel. He shared his recollection with
me.
“What’s the matter, my dear friend?” Feivel
related that the doctors told him there was
nothing left to be done. His body wasn’t
responding to treatment. They suggested
hospice, where at least his elevated levels
of pain could be managed. “And now”,
Feivel said, “I am so afraid. What will I say
when I meet G-d above?” Together, my
father and Feivel cried.
My father began saying Shema. “Say the
words with me, Feivel, and when you meet
your Creator, you will tell Him ‘My name
is Feivel, and I said Shema. I came home’.”
To think of not your own pain, but of
someone else’s.
When my mother a”h was in Maimonides,
word got around that the Rebbetzin was a
patient there. Her room was like a magnet.
Even nurses and other medical staff who
weren’t assigned to her floor came to her
room, just wanting to do something for the
Rebbetzin. One nurse, an older single,
came day after day. On one such visit, she
approached my mother and with great
respect asked if the Rebbetzin could give
her a bracha. “Please, Rebbetzin… for a
shidduch.”

My mother was in so much pain, but it didn’t
matter. A girl is asking for a bracha. A
member of Klal Yisroel was hurting and
needed to hear kind, comforting words. My
mother pulled herself together, placed her
hands over the nurse’s head, and gave her a
most beautiful, heartfelt bracha.
Shortly after, the neshama of my beloved
mother, Rebbetzin Esther bas HaRav
Avrohom HaLevi, ascended to the Heavens.
But like my father, she never forgot her love
for her people… to the very last moment.
Not long after, I received a phone call. It was
the nurse. She became a kallah. Unbeknownst
to her, it was the day of my mother’s
shloshim.
HaShem said to Moshe, “Kach lecha, Take
for yourself, Yehoshua bin Nun, ish asher
ruach bo, a man of spirit.” (Bamidbar 27:18).
Kach, take. Rashi explains that HaShem was
telling Moshe to “take” with kind words. To
encourage Yehoshua, and to tell him how
fortunate he was to have merited to lead
Bnei Yisroel. “A man of spirit”, a person
(Yehoshua) in whom there is the spirit of
HaShem, enabling him to deal with the
diverse individuals and varied personalities
that comprised Bnei Yisroel.
Over the years, Moshe endured so much.
Battles from external enemies and heartache
from his own people. A leader must be
understanding yet strong-minded. Tolerant
yet determined. Accepting yet resolute.
Attributes that Yehoshua could claim.
Pirkei Avos (1:4) teaches in the name of
Rabbi Yosi ben Yoezer, “Make your home a
meeting place for sages, sit in the dust of
their feet, and drink of their words thirstily.”
That was Yehoshua. He stood by Moshe’s
side, learning from all his actions.
Incorporating traits that made him worthy of
continuing the legacy. And us, what can we
do? We, too, can look at our leaders and
scholars, learn from their ways, making their
teachings intrinsically part of our lives. We
can learn from Moshe. Even during times of
personal challenge and difficulty, even when
our own dreams and aspirations may not be
materializing the way we wish, to take the

high road and think of others.