The good Rabbi entered my life, at a time when I was stunned, numbed by the death of my father. His presence and guidance at the time was immeasurable.
It’s difficult to remember such a painful time of my life, but out of tribute to Rabbi Aminoff, it’s important to express some thoughts in order to bring out some of the positive attributes of this great man.
How true and full of wisdom is our Torah that, by law, one cannot do any of the mitzvot-commandments when one is an ONEN – someone who just lost a loved one. An ONEN cannot perform the Torah’s commandment from the time of the loved one’s death until the deceased is buried. The reason, and I can truly attest to this, is that the mourners are in such a confused state they would have difficulty adding two plus two. That is exactly what occurred to my mother and me when we arrived at the airport in Israel for burial of my father. We were like two lost puppies; we couldn’t even locate my father’s remains from cargo!
There are some people who enter one’s life briefly; for G-d sends them to help. An Orthodox Rabbi with a beard approached us and asked “Can I help you?” and proceeded to guide us to the right cargo. He helped us find our relatives, then he disappeared into the sunset. It is funny that such stories happens to many people; that a mysterious messenger comes to help out and then vanishes. How great are our brethren! Give Jews as a whole all the credit they deserve.
When I buried my father I felt relieved. The duty, the responsibility, the dignity of providing the last honor was a huge load off my back. However, even after the burial, I was still rattled with disbelief and anguish beyond comprehension. Enter Rabbi Yitzchak Aminoff, who we called to help us conduct the shiva ceremony. During those moments that I was looking for guidance and comfort, Rabbi Aminoff did just that in a tremendous way.
The first thing he said, which was comforting, was “I remember your father well. Your father in the mid 1960’s spotted me once on 47th street (the heart of the diamond district where my father worked). I came with a senior Rabbi whom he knew, to collect money for our Yeshiva. He insisted that we come to his house that evening for Palov (a famous Bukharian dish). He then proceeded to call his wife (my mother) to place the order. I’ll never forget it” he said.
Rabbi Aminov led the ceremonies throughout the week of shiva, he brought 10 students to the gravesite traveling from Tel Aviv to Yerushalayim so I could say the required Kaddish and he even helped me with the wording on my father’s tombstone.
Ever since then, approximately fourteen years ago, we kept in touch speaking once a week via telephone. He was one of the cartels of Rabbi that provided me insights, first with my lectures, then with the Cup of Coffee material.
What fascinated me about Rabbi Aminoff, which made me gravitate towards him weekly, and I look forward to speak to him was that we shared something very special in common. All of us, we all have our personalities and we are all a bunch of characters. I have been criticized that I am nostalgic and there many who are close to yours truly that have complained “you’re living in the past” and “get with the times”. I argued, trying to defend myself, that looking back gives me energy. It gives me an identity, one that I am very proud of. It connects the past with the present. The past gives the present an identity.
Rabbi Yitzchak Aminoff was the same. He was nostalgic and we would speak at great length about the past. He knew my parents, grandparents and that wonderful golden period of yesteryear. He echoed my sentiments and was living proof that the nostalgic method worked. Just look at his accomplishments! Whether it be family (he saw great-grandchildren), whether it was the Yeshiva he headed, whether it was the kindness he radiated, he led a productive life. We, the nostalgic people that we are, practice what is one of the most fundamental aspects of Judaism, appreciation. Not just to appreciate what one has today but also what one had then, the people, the moments and the period of the past. When given the opportunity, we would often talk about our historic past and give each other that high, the high of the privilege to be part of those years.
Rabbi Aminoff himself lost his father at a young age and told me there was not a day that goes by where he feels the tzar- anguish of not having him there, sharing his joy. We would speak about the people who passed on with tremendous respect. It is as if we categorized life as us, the living and them, the deceased. I guess that is part of what makes it so difficult to comprehend that now he’s on the other side.
Do you ever wonder why we never get used people passing away? Even people who perished that we are not so familiar with we are startled. The answer lies with the famous concept that we are built in G-d’s image. For this reason we put on tefilin and keep Shabbat and do kindness, because He did it. G-d will never die. Since we are built in G-d’s image, it’s instilled in our psyche that we to will never die. Perhaps now we can realize how devastating Adam and Eve’s sin was. They brought death to the world, an unpleasant surprise to all of mankind every time it strikes.
When my father past away, it opened the door for me between the world of the living and the world of the no longer. Rabbi Aminoff opened the door even wider. I only hope that his tzar- anguish is no longer, for he has re-united with his father and for that matter, mine as well.
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