This is a story written by my dad Z"L . It was part of a collection of stories he wrote (and placed for sale on Lulu...just saying).
Jack was watching out the window and getting more and more frustrated as the minutes went by. They were eight minutes late already. “A watched pot never boils.” It wasn’t very original but it was the best the rabbi had to offer. “Actually it does. I tried it once to see. It wasn’t very interesting but the water did boil. If that expression were really true all we’d have to do to forestall anything would be to keep our eyes on it. Think of it. We could prevent war.” The rabbi knew him well enough to believe that he had actually watched a pot. Jack was very serious and very concrete in his thinking. He was not all that imaginative and he had no sense of humor at all, but he was reliable. “Watching grass grow and paint dry is even more uninteresting. In fact it’s boring. I gave up on them.” The rabbi didn’t doubt it at all. He was amused by Jack’s earnestness, but he didn’t laugh. That would have embarrassed the poor fellow. Jack’s view covered the parking lot and part of the path to the front door, though he couldn’t see the door itself from the coat room where they stood. “I have a great idea for getting people here on time – at least for Shabbos. Have the kiddush at the beginning – before we start davening. Some people come only in time for the food, and it may get them to come earlier. Food first, service second. Even if that doesn’t work it will mean that we start a little later and maybe there’ll be more people here then.” Jack’s idea was proposed quite seriously, but still the rabbi viewed it as a joke. “Original, but it won’t work. The people who come just for the food won’t get up early, even for the food, so they won’t come at all, and the people who are serious about davening won’t eat before they do so. I’m afraid we’ll need a different gimmick.” The front door slammed. “That’s funny. I didn’t see anyone coming and I have a good view of the way in.” As they left the coat room they saw the back of whoever it was who was entering the beis midrash where they davened during the week.
When Harry Baron arrived at shul for shacharit, there were nine men already present. He looked fit and just as everyone remembered. And as usual he was late.
After walking over to his accustomed seat he started putting on his tallis and tefillin. That, certainly, was unexceptionable behavior, but there was a problem, and a strange and frightened expression was visible on the faces of some of the men. Jack Harris edged over to the rabbi and in hushed tones asked: “Can we count him.” “Why not? He’s Jewish, isn’t he?” It was clear to the rabbi that even though he, himself, didn’t, Jack recognized the newcomer but appeared to have some doubts. “Well, yes, but ...” “Then what’s the problem?” “That’s Harry Baron.” “Lovely name. But what’s that got to do with it?” “He’s dead.” The rabbi was flustered and, for a moment, he did not – could not – speak. The rabbi was relatively new, having started there only a couple of months earlier and didn’t know Harry, nor Harry’s story. “I don’t understand. Now’s not the time for humor. People have to get to work. He started already. Let’s just continue without the hi-jinks.” The rabbi acted confident but he was very unsure of himself. The one thing he did know was that Harry was incapable of joking. “So we can count him?” “Of course we can.” “Even though he’s dead?” “What are you talking about. You’d better explain yourself. He looks very much alive to me, and he’s the tenth. We have a minyan.” Jack was blunt. “He died about a year ago. And it wasn’t as if his body was missing or couldn’t be identified with certainty. He had lung cancer and died in the hospital. He was buried the next day following tahara and the whole shmear. I remember the levayah. It was really very moving. As I recall it was the last one performed by Rabbi Becker before he died. The beis din apportioned the inheritance and issued instructions for the paying of the ketubah. Trust me. He’s dead.” “So your Harry Baron is dead and this must be someone who looks like him. You haven’t seen him in a year and I’m sure you’re just confused. I’ll speak to him and straighten this all out. Then we can begin.” The rabbi walked up to the front where Harry had gone to lead the davening. “Hi. I’m Rabbi Meister. Are you visiting? Or do you live here?” “Well, yes and no. I’m local. I haven’t been to minyan in a while.” “I’m confused by your answer. What do you mean ‘yes and no?’ What’s your name?” “Harry Baron.” The rabbi was silent for a moment. Nothing otherwise seemed out of the ordinary.
“That’s what Jack Harris said. But he also said you died, though you look very much alive to me. What’s the story?” “Jack’s right. I’m dead.” The rabbi’s face turned red and he was clearly very upset. “I’m losing my patience with this joke. What’s going on?” “I had lung cancer and died about a year ago. Actually it was just under a year ago – my yahrzeit is tonight – the same day as my father’s. So I wanted to be sure I got here in time or, better still, a day early. Tonight and tomorrow I’ll say kaddish with the minyan.” Harry’s clothes smelled of tobacco and everything was a little crumpled. The rabbi was more confused than before and walked off to a corner to think. He had seven years of experience and thought he could manage any question that came up but it was clear to him that he couldn’t deal with the problem he now faced. Harry started davening, very passionately. His voice was like that of an angel. Despite the fact that Harry had started, Jack Harris kept up the bombardment of Rabbi Meister. “Can we associate with someone who’s dead? I remember from somewhere that calling up the dead is avodah zara? What about one who just walks in on us? And what about Larry Katz? He’s a kohein. Does he have to leave and go to the mikvah? Even if we count Harry, we’ll be back at nine if that’s the case. And it’s getting close to the time for the Sh’ma. Tell us what to do.” The rabbi was bewildered. He was overwhelmed. And he couldn’t answer the questions. He told Jack that all he knew was that there were references to a “dead” husband who reappeared following his “widow’s” remarriage. But that didn’t appear to be the situation here. There was only one solution. The rabbi picked up his tallis and tefillin. “I’ll be back for minchah, and I’ll have some answers then. But I can’t be sure that we have a minyan now and I know I can’t figure it all out before it’s time to say Sh’ma, so the best assumption is that there is no minyan and this will make sure that’s the case.” And with that he left. That meant there were only nine present. So though the immediate solution wasn’t what Jack had in mind, the problem disappeared. Initially he was angry, but after a moment’s reflection, he decided that the rabbi had done the right thing. Although one isn’t permitted to leave a minyan if his absence will mean that there aren’t ten present, in this case, since there was no one saying kaddish and it was a sofek if there was a minyan, Rabbi Meister decided that by making sure there weren’t ten he had obviated the problems without penalizing any individual. Larry Katz still had a question, but for the moment he was on his own to solve it, so he left too. If the rabbi wasn’t sure, he certainly wasn’t going to stay around.
Rabbi Meister davened Shacharit at home. His davening was distracted and certainly lacked proper kavanah, but it was better than nothing. He couldn’t get over the feeling that what he had just experienced was impossible and there had to be a rational explanation, but he didn’t have time to explore that possibility – he had to deal with appearances, and to do so before minchah. There was a noontime luncheon of the shul Sisterhood, and he was scheduled to speak, but he’d have to cancel. He knew that at the very least he’d cause a disappointment and possibly wind up with some enemies among the women, but he had no choice. He had to have an answer by 5:30 in the afternoon, and it was already 8:15. It was too early to start calling people – not the Sisterhood president nor any of the experts who might advise him regarding his problem – so he pulled down several of his s’forim and began leafing through them. He didn’t expect to find any precedent – at least not one that dealt with exactly what he had seen – the Rabbis were imaginative and inventive, but they weren’t crazy. Some of the scenarios they proposed to explain obscure or apparently contradictory statements of their predecessors strained credibility, but Rabbi Meister was sure no one had hypothesized a situation like this morning’s. The best that he hoped for was a situation which was somewhere close enough for inferences to be made that might cover this state of affairs. He didn’t really expect to find any, but still he hoped. The closest situation he could find was just what he had expected. It was the case he had mentioned to Jack: the one that dealt with a second marriage of a woman whose husband was believed dead. In that instance, though, the man had never died despite the erroneous judgment of the beis din that he had. According to what Jack had told him, however, this was not such a situation because he was dead. And Baron confirmed this. The rabbi was hard-put to continue. He didn’t know where to go from there. He did know that he had to get his kids to school before nine and this was a non-negotiable responsibility. His wife worked downtown and left for work as soon as she saw his car in the driveway. She didn’t even wait for him to get out. He was early but she had told him that there was an early meeting at her agency and she wanted to attend if possible. Seeing him arrive at that hour she assumed he had rushed to help her out, so she left. That left him with the kids. Fortunately they could eat breakfast on their own while he davened, but, he had to drive them to school. It was just as well. He didn’t know where to go in solving this impossibility and the drive gave him time to think. The telephone rang but the caller would have to leave a message. He couldn’t be late in delivering the kids or he’d never hear the end of it. He’d pick up the message in about a half hour, as soon as he was done. Nothing couldn’t wait that long.
Rabbi Meister pulled into an open space right in front of the school. It was the first positive thing that had happened all day. After letting off his kids he pulled out his cell phone and called Esther Berman. The earlier he told her he wouldn’t be able to attend the luncheon the better.
“Esther? This is Rabbi Meister. How are you.” “I’m fine. Thanks. And you? I tried reaching you at home but wasn’t successful.” That must have been the call when he was leaving. He was glad he didn't get it before he left. Well, it seems to have managed to wait. Esther sounded all right, notwithstanding the fifteen minute delay. “What did you call about?” “We had two speakers scheduled today – you and Dr. Seligson. He was going to talk about problems associated with aging and about death. He has a medical emergency, though, and he called to cancel. We certainly understand his problem and I was wondering if you could lengthen your talk a little. Possibly you could deal with aging from a religious standpoint. Or maybe you could talk about medical ethics.” Disaster. It was clear why she had called him already. She was faced with a bad situation and needed him to save her. It would be impossible for him to beg off now. “Actually, the reason I called you was to tell you that I’d have to leave immediately after finishing my talk today. A problem came up this morning at minyan and I have to clear it up before afternoon services, and I’m not sure I’ll have time to add any more to the talk I’ve prepared.” In fact, the rabbi hadn’t really prepared much but had intended to talk off-the-cuff on the place women played in biblical history. It wasn’t original but it would work. He knew the material and was certain he could interest his audience. But he didn’t know whether he would have an opportunity to lengthen the talk. However the pressure to “rescue” the Sisterhood leadership was worth the effort. Their support in the future would be valuable. So Rabbi Meister “acceded” to Esther’s plea. “Look. I know you have a problem so let me try to help. I’ll be discussing women in the Bible and perhaps I can add to what I was going to say about Sarah. I can discuss aging in relation to her having a child at the age of ninety. There’s a lot to be said about the problems she faced having a child at that age, and that’s the best link I can come up with on the spur of the moment.” The rabbi knew there was a lot to be said since he had discussed the issue in a Rosh Hashanah sermon he had given at his last synagogue a few years earlier. All he had to do was print a new copy on his computer in the office. That meant he couldn’t use the material at Rodfei Emet for another few years but it would turn the situation from one that was likely to make him some enemies into one that might win him some friends. It didn’t solve his main difficulty, but this would take care of the situation with the Sisterhood problem. In view of what had happened with the morning minyan, he really didn’t want to talk about death – even from a standpoint unrelated to the current situation. This was an issue that had to be dealt with separately. Esther was relieved and she talked and talked after that. Rabbi Meister was tempted to silence her as politely as possible so he could get to his real problem, but he just listened as the minutes went by.
Eventually Mrs. Berman concluded. “We’re having an ice cream cake after the lecture and I’m sorry you won’t be able to have some and schmooze with us afterward. But thank you so much for helping us out. Now that the Sisterhood was out of the way, Rabbi Meister called Rabbi Herschel Spingold. He always called Rabbi Spingold when he had a difficult problem, and this certainly qualified. However much he thought he knew about halakhah, he had no idea how to deal with the situation. He dialed the number and waited. The rabbi, himself, answered the call. Rabbi Meister gave a detailed explanation of the problem and asked what he should do. “Of course it’s a serious question. And I need an answer by 5:30. I have to have it by minchah.” “No this isn’t a joke. I know what it sounds like but one of my minyan members assures me he attended the man’s funeral, and the man in question himself says he’s been dead for a year. He wants to say kaddish at ma’ariv for himself and his father. I have no idea how to deal with the situation, but I have to have some way of approaching it this afternoon. I couldn’t find a reference to anything similar and I don’t know where to look for clues. And I don’t have the time to try to find any answers on my own.” “All right. I’ll be there. I have to attend a Sisterhood luncheon, but I’ll come over as soon as I can free myself.” “No. Don’t worry. My expectations are low.” Rabbi Meister pressed the “End” button on his cell phone and looked at his watch. It was already 11:15. He’d be meeting with Rabbi Spingold later that day – as close to 2:00 PM as he could make it. In the meantime he went home to locate his presentation for the Sisterhood. He ran into his office and out with barely enough time to print a hard copy. He didn’t even have time to grab a snack from the office refrigerator, but in view of his experience he wasn’t very hungry.
Rabbi Meister arrived at 2:30 and rang the buzzer to be let into the apartment house. There had been more questions after his talk than he had anticipated. The idea of an elderly woman conceiving fascinated the Sisterhood members, many of whom had read in the newspapers of post-menopausal women who, with the help of modern science, had managed to be made pregnant. After he was buzzed in he took the elevator to the third floor where the Rabbi’s apartment was. Rabbi Spingold answered the door and let him in. He had been reading until then, hoping to find something that would shed light on Rabbi Meister’s problem, but he still couldn’t believe it. “I hope you haven’t been wasting my time with a practical joke.” Rabbi Meister was very serious. “I wish that were the case, but the situation is real and I’m out of my depth. I kept praying while it was happening that Jack Harris would burst out laughing – even though I knew deep down that it wasn’t in his nature to play a joke like that. I probably would have been angry but I know I would have been relieved. Unfortunately he didn’t laugh and now I have a problem that may be bizarre but has more implications than I can deal with.” Rabbi Spingold waited a moment and then responded. “I was hoping that you would tell me that you had learned that there had been a misunderstanding and you no longer needed answers to the questions you raised, but apparently that’s not the case. If I had more time I’d want to speak to or correspond with several rabbeim around the world to get their opinions on the case since there is no precedent that I can discover that is similar to it. Because you’re in a rush and the issues you’ve raised are limited, I’ll try to give you some guidance, but a lot more research and inquiry are really necessary. And there are questions you didn’t raise about debts, inheritance, marriage, oaths, and many other things regarding both the family and the man himself – whether dead or alive – which need clarification, but you didn’t raise them and I won’t give any opinion on them. “In any case, I want you to tell me the situation all over again. Don’t leave out any details, no matter how insignificant they seem.” Rabbi Meister described everything that happened. He began by saying that he wasn’t at the shul when Harry Baron died and that his only information was from Jack Harris and Baron himself. Not only that, but Rabbi Becker was dead and couldn’t help. He didn’t know who was on the beis din and suspected that it would take far too long to find out. So he could only tell Rabbi Spingold what he had observed and heard. There was a short pause while Rabbi Spingold thought. “Let’s start with some basic ground rules. First of all, we accept what the beis din, assuming it was properly constituted, decided as having been correct. At the time, at least. Also, we don’t listen to Mr. Baron. If he is alive, he’s lying and liars aren't acceptable as witnesses and if he's dead he certainly isn't a valid witness. In addition, an individual isn’t permitted to testify against himself except in monetary cases anyway.” Although that took care of one of the issues, it didn’t really solve the problem. But now he had only Jack’s word about Baron’s status. And there were still the questions of whether he was alive or dead, was it permissible to count him in the minyan, could he lead the davening as a chiyuv and say kaddish, did Larry Katz have to leave – in fact did they all have to leave? “The issue of ignoring the testimony from Harry Baron is good news but it still leaves several questions.” Rabbi Spingold continued. “Don’t be impatient. There are a lot of issues to be decided. That’s only one of them.” “I’m sorry. If I seem impatient it’s only because I’m totally bewildered and I’m having difficulty believing the situation I’m in.” “So am I. But you’ve come to me for answers and I’ll try to deal with each of the issues. It will take a little time, though. Let’s continue with the assumption that he’s dead. If that’s the case it’s obvious that he can’t be counted in the minyan and he certainly can’t lead the davening. If we eventually decide he’s alive he would have preference to lead since that honor belongs to a chiyuv.” “I can punt on that one. Morris Kolensky has a yahrzeit tonight and I’ll ask him to daven.” “Good. That will make things easier if I finally decide Mr. Baron is alive. ... I can’t even believe I’m saying these things.” That still didn’t deal with whether he should or could say kaddish for himself or his father but it avoided having him lead the davening. Who knows if he could be a valid shaliach tzibur. And it would be difficult to tell him that he couldn’t lead the davening if there was no other chiyuv present. “Next is the issue of the kohein in your minyan. While in theory a kohein can’t be in the same building as a dead body or a part of one, Eliyahu and Yehezkel, both of them kohanim, brought the dead to life. So they were in the presence of the dead. In the case of Yehezkel it was outdoors so perhaps this can be discounted, but Eliyahu was inside. So there appear to be some exceptions. I agree that your kohein isn’t bringing anyone to life, but if he makes the minyan he’s helping to bring the Shechina there. I'd let the kohein stay. “And the two of them, as well as Elisha and some others, associated with the dead in order to revive them, so association with the dead isn’t necessarily avodah zara. Besides, you didn’t summon up the dead. You may have been looking for a tenth, but I don’t think you were looking for anyone who had died.” There was a lot of additional discussion of these points, the halakhos and the midrashim surrounding them and previous decisions in cases that, with a little imagination, could be viewed as related. It was interesting how Rabbi Spingold discussed what were really the peripheral issues without dealing with the main problem – whether Harry was alive or dead. That, after all, was the real question. And whether he could be counted in the minyan. They could dance around all of the other issues once they decided about him, but the rabbi seemed to be in no rush to cover that issue. It was already 4:45 and that area hadn’t been begun. “I don’t know if Mr. Baron can say kaddish, either for himself or for his father, but since you had someone else saying it, ask him to keep the other two in mind. Then you can ignore whatever this fellow does. It will be covered. Thanks for telling me that there would be another chiyuv present. It certainly solves that problem – at least for the time being. “The hardest problem though is whether he is alive or dead and his status in counting the minyan. For all the others there was a way to work around them or some source which dealt with a situation similar enough to draw a parallel. Unfortunately the situation you’ve described has no parallel that I could find and I don’t have time to make inquiries before minchah. Tell me the full story again.”
It was getting late but Rabbi Meister had no choice except to comply. He recounted everything he could remember about the morning – from the waiting and watching until the time when he hurriedly left the shul. He related the history as told to him by Jack Harris. He described Harry, his appearance and his actions, as fully as he could, all the time checking his wristwatch – both to inform himself of the hour and to politely indicate to Rabbi Spingold that he was in a hurry. “All right. I’ve heard enough. I can make a preliminary determination which I hope is correct. Harry Baron was dead. But now he is alive. I cannot question the decision of a properly constituted beis din, especially since their conclusion corresponded to solid medical evidence and witnesses. But his reappearance raises new issues. We know that Hashem can revive the dead – we praise Him for that every day – so we can’t discount the possibility. But we really need more than a possibility. “According to what you tell me, he started leading the davening, chanting b’rachos, the Sh’ma and sections of the Torah and Talmud. That made me think of a verse from Psalms – 115 I think – that’s part of the Hallel. Lo hameitim yehallelu ka – “The dead cannot praise you.” If he was leading the davening he was praising Hashem and he must be alive.” It was good talmudic logic and gave Rabbi Meister enough leeway to count Harry. Rabbi Spingold had expressed his judgments with a demeanor exuding confidence, but his final remarks called it all into question: “I’m comfortable with what I’ve told you, but in the next few days I’ll get the opinions of some experts who may be familiar with precedents if there are any. In the meantime I’d suggest that you get an extra man or two so you have ten even without Mr. Baron.” So there was no real opinion at all. There was a tentative suggestion and some ways to deal with the situation that would obviate any real difficulties. It was a solution without an answer. But it would have to do. It was already ten minutes after five and Rabbi Meister ran down the stairs, not waiting for an elevator. On the way down he pulled out his cell phone and started dialing. It took four calls, but he managed to get a couple of extras who lived near the shul for the afternoon and evening minyanim. They weren’t thrilled but they couldn’t say no to the rabbi. The rabbi arrived at Rodfei Emet just before 5:30. The men he called had beaten him there and there was a minyan present even though Harry hadn’t arrived. “Let’s start immediately. The more we do before he arrives the happier I’ll be.” Larry Katz davened and he moved rapidly. By the time he finished, at 5:39, Harry still wasn’t there. The rabbi asked Morris Kolensky to step forward and lead. There wouldn’t even have to be a debate over who took precedence. That might come in the morning, but if they started on time they might get away with it, assuming Baron would be late again. The rabbi was usually infuriated that people didn’t get to minyan on time, but for once he was grateful.
Morris davened at a much more leisurely pace, especially when he said kaddish, but even though he took fifteen minutes for ma’ariv, Harry didn’t get there. At first the rabbi became worried about Harry. What might have happened to him? Did he have an accident? But it didn’t take long for him to come to his senses. “I don’t know if he’s really alive. And if he is, it’s because Hashem performed a miracle. With Harry’s protektsia he doesn’t need my concern.”
“Esther Berman called to thank you for your presentation.” The rabbi’s wife was home from work. She had picked up the children and made supper which was on the table. “She was very excited and couldn’t thank you enough. The ladies appeared to have enjoyed your talk a lot. What did you talk about?” “Old Jewish women. Of course they enjoyed it.” “Oh. By the way, there was also a call on the machine from a little before nine this morning. It must have come after you left with the kids. It was from someone named Harry Baron. He wanted to tell you that he’d daven elsewhere tonight and tomorrow. He wasn’t sure there’d be a minyan after you left. He didn’t leave a number. What happened this morning?” “You don’t want to know.”
The rabbi gave some thought to contacting Rabbi Spingold and calling him off, but he decided against it. He really wanted to know what the experts thought in case there was a next time. You never know.
