One Good Deed!
It all happened innocently enough.
I received a phone call. "Could I help out by officiating at a Shiva?"
Linda's mother had recently passed away here in St. Louis. The person speaking to me was a friend of hers. Linda would be taking her mother back to her home town of Cleveland for the funeral and getting back to town by week's end. She planned on completing her shiva in St. Louis. A rabbi who lived close by could conduct services Monday evening but he wasn't available Sunday.
I happened to know Linda from previous associations. We had lost touch over the years. During that time she had bravely faced some serious challenges: the tragic loss of a spouse through illness; shortly after that, her father had been killed in a freak accident; she, herself, had been diagnosed with cancer and was in the course of treatment.
Through it all, she had faced each challenge with courage and quiet determination. Her friends had been with her all the way.
"Of course," I said. "I'll be glad to help out. Let me know the best way to keep in touch to take care of the details."
As soon as Linda got back to town we held services at her home. As I walked in the front door, I couldn't help notice that the mezuza was pointing the wrong way! Superstition or not, I remembered the explanation of the word Shaddai that is characteristically displayed on the case: Shomer D'latot Yisrael - Guardian of the Doors (i.e. homes) of Israel!
The next morning, I stopped by to see how Linda was doing. In the course of our conversation, I mentioned my observation. If she had no objection, I would be happy to reset the mezuza's direction. I apologized if I sounded foolish, "But," I said, "you never know, and anyway, it certainly can't hurt."
Linda smiled. "Of course," she said. "I'd be happy for you to reposition it."
We found the necessary tools and I proceeded to lift the mezuza off the doorpost. It was made of pieces of Jerusalem stone and had clearly been on the doorpost for a good number of years. We took it inside. At the kitchen table, I suggested we take a look at the parchment to check its condition. As we coaxed it out of the tube, it was clear that the dirt and dust of the ages had also made their home there. The scroll, itself, appeared to be a printed copy on parchment looking paper.
"I would be glad if you let me replace the scroll," I said. "I would be honored!"
I checked a number of sources to see if I could find a mezuza scroll of fine quality. Over the years, I've noticed the great discrepancy in this regard. There are a number of rules involved in writing mezuzot . While I claim no expertise, I've learned about some of the basics.
For example, the mezuza must be hand written on parchment (not paper); the letters have to be easily identifiable and no part of any letter can touch another. There are other customs on how the letters are arranged on the sheet of parchment. While the latter add to the beauty and value of the scroll they aren't required to validate it. Still, it is amazing how relatively often letters are ill-formed beyond recognition or wind up touching one another.
Consequence: I try to check the Hebrew on mezuza scrolls before using them.
At the Jewish bookstore, I inquired about the quality of their mezuzot . I was told that they were all "certified" kosher. "They come already-rolled and wrapped in plastic wrap."
"Nevertheless," I replied, "If you don't mind, I'd like to check for myself."
"Please, be our guest."
It so happened that the first mezuza I looked at had a problem. Perhaps it was an unidentifiable letter, perhaps one letter was touching another - I don't remember. I do remember the owner calling the supplier. I examined a few more and there were some in fine condition. I went ahead and bought one.
I returned to Linda's house and prepared to reattach the mezuza . I placed the scroll into its new home and started to nail the mezuza to the door in the correct alignment. As I positioned the nail to make the first hammer tap, the mezuza slipped out of my grasp, fell onto the doorstep and broke into three pieces!
At that point, if I could have fit into a mezuza case I just might have crawled in!
Of course, Linda couldn't have been more gracious.
We tried to glue the pieces back together. Whatever glue we used clearly wasn't doing the job. A further frustration: the glue that was holding the remaining pieces had become so dry more pieces fell apart in the process.
I offered to replace the case.
"Only if you let
me pay for it."
"Please..."
"I
insist."
Reluctantly, I acquiesced.
As I drove back to the synagogue I reflected on God's greatness and life's complexities. What lessons there are to be learned about human fallibility. Another case of a mensch tracht und Gott lacht - Man proposes and God disposes!
The rabbi who conducted Shiva services the next evening had the opportunity to hang the mezuza!
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