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Rabbi Avi Davidowitz
A Reuniting Promise
Over thirty years ago, as Rav Shlomo Carlebach sat on a return flight from San Francisco to Israel after participating in a wedding, he decided to head to the back of the plane and see if he could get something to drink. He softly pushed the curtain apart which closed off the galley from the rest of the plane, and noticed something surprisingly odd. A stewardess was standing with what appeared to be a siddur in her hands, mumbling words under her breath.
Rav Carlebach had never seen such a sight before, and decided to wait a few minutes until she finished and turned back around. “If I may ask,” Rabbi Carlebach said, “were you just praying?” “Yes, I was,” the stewardess replied. “I am a religious Jew,” she continued, “and in fact converted just a few years ago.” Rabbi Carlebach was moved and delightfully surprised to see such a woman. “What can I do for you Rabbi?” she asked. “If I could please have something to drink…” And with that, she handed Rabbi Carlebach something, and he returned to his seat.
Two hours later, as the stewardess headed down the aisles, checking in on passengers to ensure their comfortability, she stopped next to Rabbi Carlebach’s seat. “Can I ask you something?” she said to him. “Sure, what can I do for you?” “Well,” she began, “recently I converted and have had some of my friends try to help me find a shidduch. I went out with one boy, and it had been going well, until I was told by the shadchan that he wished to stop. I was shocked. I was told that it was the boy’s father who did not want us to continue seeing each other. I proceeded to call the boy and ask for an explanation. He profusely apologized, but reiterated that it was his father who was preventing the shidduch from moving forward.
“Rabbi Carlebach,” the stewardess continued, “could you do me a favor? Considering my background, I do not have many connections who can help me in this regard. Would you be able to call the father of the boy and tell him your impressions of me and see if that would help change his mind?” Rav Carlebach was unsure if he would be so effective, though he empathized with the woman’s difficult predicament. Rav Carlebach went on to take down the father’s information and exchanged numbers with the woman, ensuring her that he would remain in touch.
A few days later, Rav Carlebach phoned the father. “A few days ago,” Rabbi Carlebach described, “I met a very nice girl on my flight…” Rav Carlebach did not get too far in describing the girl’s dedication to Yiddishkeit, politeness and respectful character until the father interjected. “Rabbi, it sounds like someone my son already went out with… but I’m sorry, I cannot let him continue.” The father then hung up. Rabbi Carlebach was in no position to push any further.
Calling back the girl, Rabbi Carlebach explained how he had attempted to persuade the father, but it was to no avail. Rabbi Carlebach felt lost, but there not much more he could do, which the girl understood and accepted.
It was but a few months later that Rabbi Carlebach received a phone call. “Hello…” the girl said, with a tone of timidity, “Rabbi Carlebach? You may remember me. This is the stewardess who you met on a flight a few months ago…” “Yes, I remember,” Rabbi Carlebach reminisced. It appeared as if she had some good news to share, the likes of an engagement or wedding, though the girl quickly clarified the intent of her calling. “Rabbi, I am calling you because things changed.” “What do you mean?” Rabbi Carlebach wondered. “Well, a few weeks ago my mother called me. This was the first time we had spoken in four years, ever since I converted. For years, both my father and mother had been furious at me for converting and cut all ties with me. Yet, now my mother called me from the hospital, relaying to me that she is seriously sick. I was silent and sad to hear of her current condition. She mentioned that she would like to see me one last time before she leaves this world.
“I quickly packed my bags and headed to the South of Israel, where she was located. As soon as I arrived and looked over at my mother, she stared back at me and said, ‘Please accept upon yourself to bury me in a Jewish cemetery.’ I was startled. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘Why would you like to be buried in a Jewish cemetery if you are not Jewish? And besides, wouldn’t Dad be the one you would want to ask?’ My mother paused, clearly giving off the impression that something was beneath the surface.
“I never told you,” my mother slowly said, “but your father and I are in fact Jewish. We survived the Holocaust.” The girl’s heart dropped. “Afterwards, however,” continued the mother, “we wished to disassociate ourselves from all traces of Judaism, as we had seen and suffered persecution, and we didn’t wish to be a part of a nation that would be subject to such oppression. We didn’t want you to suffer, but wanted instead that you live a good life. We therefore brought you up as a Christian and led you along the path of a good life. Of course, you would never have suspected this, but that is the truth. Dad may not admit to being Jewish though and would likely not agree to bury me in accordance with the Jewish practice, which is why I asked you.”
The girl was taken aback by the news. “But Mom, if I was always Jewish, then why were you so upset with me when I converted?” “Your father and I wanted to save you from a difficult life, and we could not come to terms with the future that becoming Jewish might bring for you.” The girl looked back at her mother, staring deeply into her eyes. “Of course I will do as you wish. I will see to it that you are buried in a Jewish cemetery.”
“As it stands right now,” the girl continued telling Rabbi Carlebach, “my mother is alive and improving slightly. But I am calling you because I was wondering if you would be able to call that father of the boy again and explain to him that I am actually not a convert, which I know was holding back the shidduch beforehand.” Rav Carlebach agreed to give it one more try.
As soon as the father heard Rav Carlebach’s voice again, he presumed that he was just bringing up the same old news. “Wait, wait,” Rav Carlebach interjected, “there is a new story.” Before the father could hang up, Rav Carlebach continued. “The girl was always Jewish, and she converted because she was unaware of that.” But the father found that hard to believe. “Rabbi, you really believe that story…?”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Rav Carlebach. “I will bring her and her father to your home where you can meet. If you come to like her, that will be great; if not, I will leave you alone.” The father hemmed and hawed, greatly hesitating at the idea, though Rav Carlebach eventually succeeded in convincing him.
The next day, there was Rav Carlebach along with the girl and her father. The boy’s father opened the door, ushering the girl inside with slight hesitancy. The father then began looking over Rav Carlebach’s shoulder, interested in seeing who the girl’s father was.
And then they made eye contact. “David, is that you? “Saul?” The girl’s father and the boy’s father fell in full embrace of each other. They had been best friends during the Holocaust, after which they were separated and lost all contact from each other. One of them turned out becoming more strongly identified in his Yiddishkeit, while the other gave it all up. But here they were reuniting. They both could not believe it.
Taking a seat together, they both drank a l’chaim, reveling in the moment of unexpected reunion. “Saul,” David finally said, “I think it is time that we keep the promise that we made.” Saul looked at David. “I forgot what it was; I don’t remember.” “You don’t remember? When we were kids, we told each other that we would live near one another and promised that our children would marry into each other’s families…” Saul now remembered… and of course, their promises came true…
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