Text of Eulogy delivered by Lenny at the completion of the Shloshim [30 day period of mourning] at the Berman Synagogue, 20 February, 1997 [14 Adar 1, 5757].

I have modified the text somewhat to accomodate a non-Hebrew speaking audience. Translations of words appear after first instance of their appearance in brackets. All brackets are mine; parentheses are Rachel’s.

Dear Friends,

Thank you all for joining us tonight to honor the memory of Rachel z"l [zichrona levrocha-may her memory be a blessing], our wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend. Rachel’s warmth, openness, frankness, humor, and concern for others made her loved by so many. She so loved and appreciated the simple things in life: a morning swim, a short walk, sitting in a cafe writing her morning pages, dinner with the family, shnuggling with the kids. Rachel was an exemplar of the statement of HZ"L [Hachameinu zichronam levracha-our Rabbis, of blessed memory]: Eizehu Ashir? Hasame’ach Bechelko. "Who is rich? He who is content with what he has." From the point of view of HZ"L, Rachel was the richest person I ever knew.

During the first days after Rachel’s death, I thought a lot about the famous statement of Yehuda Waksman that G-d did hear the prayers on behalf of his son Nachshon, but G-d does not always give the answer that we want to hear. I thought that it was so with Rachel. So many hundreds of people all over the world had her in their prayers. Hundreds of thousands of prayers were said for this remarkable woman during her year and a half of illness. It appeared as if G-d’s answer in our case was also "No".

But I reconsidered this over the last two weeks and I now see that this is too simplistic. In my own tefilla [prayer], during shmona esreh [shmona esreh-eighteen; this is the common name for a prayer which originally had 18 benedictions], I would insert in Refa’ainu [one of the benedictions in which we pray for healing] my version of the following prayer which I’m sure you all know:

Yehi ratzon milfanecha hashem elokai ve’elokai avotai, shetishlach mihairah refuah shleima min hashamayim, refu’at hanefesh urefu’at hagoof le’ishti ahuvati Rachel Chana bat Yehudit betoch she’ar cholei yisrael. [May it be thy will Lord, my G-d, and G-d of my fathers, thay you may quickly send complete healing from heaven, healing of the soul and healing of the body, to my wife, my love Rachel Chana, daugher of Judith among the sick of Israel].

In this prayer complete healing is defined more carefully. It comprises healing of both the soul and of the body.

It is now so clear to me that G-d’s answer to our prayers was both "Yes" and "No". True, Rachel was not granted the "refu’at hagoof" [healing of the body] for which we begged. But G-d did grant her something else, a complete "refu’at hanefesh" [healing of the soul]. In our world view, the neshama [soul] is immortal while the body is only a temporary vessel. Spiritually, "refu’at hanefesh" [healing of the soul] is the more important of the two. Rachel, in the days before her death, was the healthiest "nefesh" [soul]. She had complete faith in her recovery. Despite her desparate clinical picture, she was concious of all of that was good in our lives. She had developed a close personal relationship with G-d.

Rachel’s spiritual odessey began in August, 1995 the day after our first CT showing a brain full of tumors. That evening, Rachel called her mother in Baltimore to tell her the grim news. At the moment when Rachel was speaking to her mother, her brother David received a message that he was needed in Baltimore. Not a human message. David had some time before embarked on his own spiritual journey and had his own channels to G-d. So David hopped on a Greyhound bus. He arrived unannounced in Baltimore and called to be picked up from the bus station. When he was met by his parents, they told him our news, and he then understood why he had been called to Baltimore. He was to deliver a passuk [scriptural passage]. It was the small print after Aleinu [Prayer which closes the Jewish prayer service morning, afternoon, and evening]. The lines which we never used to say, and which have since become so important to us. The passuk was:

Al tira mipachad pitom, umisho’at resha’im ki tavo [Do not be gripped by fear]. Utzu eitza vetufar, dabru davar velo yakum ki imanu el [Disregard medical opinions and prognoses - you have a much stronger ally than doctors, you have G-d on your side]. Ve’ad zikna ani hu, ve’ad seiva ani esbol, ani asiti va’ani esah va’ani esbol va’amalet [I will be with you throughout your ordeal until your cure].

[The translation in the previous paragraph was very free. The literal translation and sources follow: "Be not afraid of sudden terror, Neither of the destruction of the wicked, when it cometh (Proverbs Ch. 3, v. 25). Take counsel together, and it shall be brought to nought; Speak the word, and it shall not stand; For G-d is with us (Isiah Ch. 8, v. 10). Even to old age I am the same, and even to hoar hairs will I carry you; I have made, and I will bear; Yea, I will carry, and will deliver (Isiah Ch. 46, v. 4)."]

David spoke with Rachel later and explained the meaning of the passuk. This was a promise from G-d that all will be well. It will take time. It will involve hardship and suffering, but the end is clear. All will be well. In retrospect, perhaps, we must re-interpret the promise implicit in the passuk. Still, I believe that the hope which we received from this promise is what kept Rachel alive for a year and a half. Medically, she should not have lived so long and so well. Medically, her prognosis was grim from the day of diagnosis.

Rachel’s spiritual transformation was not instantaneous. There were periods of conflict. Rachel’s initial response was anger, anger at G-d for giving her cancer and at those who urged her to turn to G-d. She resisted. "Why should I turn to G-d for help when He is the one who did this to me?", she once asked our son Bennyover a year ago. Benny’s answer to her was a watershed in her spiritual development. He said "Mommy, there is no one else to turn to." Rachel’s eyes were opened at that moment and she saw that this was true. It was clear to her that anger and despair were destructive emotions which would lead nowhere. Only by turning to G-d for help did she have a chance. David became Rachel’s spiritual guru and with his help, Rachel made her way, step by step, down the spiritual path. The tools that she used were tefilla, learning, and introspection.

The first tool was tefilla. Last winter, she wrote in her journal "When I got up I decided to do some tefilla. I felt self concious, even in front of Lenny, and asked him not to make a bid deal about it. I decided that rather than do the regular tefilla, I would start reading the siddur, reading the prayers carefully to become familiar with what’s in there. I sat at Noam’s desk with the sun on my back. As I started to read I saw that many of the prayers are very relevant to me. It felt good to be doing this."

A later entry says: "I spend some time each morning looking at the siddur. The wake-up prayer thanking G-d for returning my soul to me has taken on a new meaning. Up until now, like most of the people in the world, I’ve taken it for granted - I woke up thinking about all the things I had to do that day, not thinking how lucky I was to wake up alive. Do we 'deserve' to take life for granted, or should we always think of it as a gift that G-d restores to us daily? It’s a very different perspective on things. The line I like from "Adon Olam" [Master of the Universe-part of the morning liturgy] has the same idea - that we place our spirit in G-d’s hands, both when we sleep and during waking hours." [Rachel was referring to the last verse of the Adon Olam prayer: B’yado afkid ruchi, B’et ishan Ve’a’ira; V’im ruchi gevi’ati, adonai li v’lo ira--To His hand I entrust my spirit, when I sleep and when I wake. And with my spirit, my body also. G-d is with me; I shall not be afraid.]

Still later, Rachel writes: "I have been enjoying the tefilla in the morning, and try to remember to wash my hands [ritual washing before eating bread] and say birkat hamazon [grace after meals]. I’m not sure where all this is coming from. I don’t think that it’s that 'if I do mitzvot [commandments] G-d will save me.’ It’s more the idea of having G-d as more an active part of my life - doing things that will bring Him into the picture."

A few days later she writes: "In my quest for spirituality, I’ve been looking at the siddur every morning, and really enjoying it. I sit on Noam’s chair, the sunniest place in the apartment, and sing a selection of the prayers out loud. I planned to read through the whole siddur, but I find that I’m gradually picking out the prayers I want to say each day."

Several days later we were in Jerusalem for the brit [circumcision] of our new nephew Ya’ir. Rachel wanted to visit the Kotel [Western Wall, aka Wailing Wall; all that remains of the Temple] afterward. She writes: "I prepared a note and tried to stuff it in really deep -- the ground next to the wall is full of notes that have fallen out. They had siddurim [pl. of siddur, prayer books] there and I said a few prayers. I found that the fact that I’m more familiar with the siddur and with the tefillot [pl. of tefilla, prayers] made it much nicer. It gave me a vehicle for talking to G-d in words that are both meaningful and familiar."

Last March, we went to the Kotel for Hadas’ Mesibat Siddur [Siddur Ceremony], when the first grade children get their first siddur. Rachel writes: "The ceremony was especially meaningful for me because the whole issue of prayer has suddenly become an important part of my life. Until the last two months, the only praying I did was to sing the songs at shul [synagogue]. I did get into the tefilla on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, but it was certainly not part of my everyday life. For the past few weeks I have been opening the siddur every morning, and I find that the prayers really are a vehicle by which I can talk to G-d and express my feelings. The kids got their first siddur at the ceremony - hopefully they will come to use it and to understand and develop their own personal approach to prayer."

Her second tool toward spirituality was learning. Her two chavrutot [study partners] were Audrey and Shelly. I’ll save details of this aspect for another time. Here I will simply point out that she discovered a new world. Sitting over texts, reading them with a critical eye, the enjoyment of seeing a passuk in a new light.

The last tool which Rachel used was introspection. This allowed her to cement her relationship with G-d. The journal from which I read to you earlier was from last winter. Rachel took a several month break from journal writing, and began a new journal less than three months before she died. This journal is much more detailed. Rachel began this new journal as part of an exercise in a book which she received from a very dear friend. I am so thankful for it’s existence.

It is evident that during the months prior to beginning this new journal, Rachel had been working very keenly on developing her relationship with G-d. On the first page of the journal, she writes: "On the way up to Jerusalem with Chumi, we had a really deep talk about believing 100% that I’ll be cured. Like Lenny, Dave, and Cheryl she agrees that there’s nothing to be lost by believing 100% and nothing to be gained by doubting. I have been leaving a small amount of doubt to prepare myself, just in case. I’m going to work on reaching that 100% - on throwing myself into it - the leap of faith."

She later defined what she meant by the leap of faith:

"The leap of faith is to believe, even when all evidence is to the contrary, that G-d is with me and that He alone can and will heal me. I am standing at the abyss, ready to jump. G-d, catch me when I fall, or, better yet, help me to fly."

A week later Rachel writes: "I do feel that I’ve changed a lot - my interests and discussions are much more spiritual - talking Torah [bible, scripture] and life issues (with tv and other stuff mixed in). I’m a lot more serious, and I think a lot deeper in my appreciation of life and of the world. G-d has become a very integral part of my life and a figure that dominates and co-exists with my daily routine."

Three days later: "I’ve been listening to my new Dveikus [Jewish spiritual music] tape, and there’s one song that makes me cry every time. It’s a lullaby and describes the angels who protect the sleeping children during the night - Micha’el to the right, Gavri’el to the left, Uri’el in front, and Rafa’el from behind. I cry wondering whether they’re hovering over my bed. I guess that every morning when I wake up it’s a sign that they’re doing their job."

Some weeks were more difficult and posed challenges to her faith. She discussed this in her entry of November 15: "As I’ve been feeling confused I realize that I forgot about G-d being my partner. I’ve been so focused on treatment - what should I do? Who should I believe in? that I forgot that "ein od milvado" [there is none beside Him]- my greatest ally. It’s not that I forgot, but I’ve just been letting myself agonize and not pausing enough to look to G-d for help, and to get back that deep sense of spirituality and belief that I have a promise and that whatever decisions we make will be the right ones."

On December 23, Rachel went in for a routine CT of her brain. As she left me to go into the CT room, she turned to me and said, crying with emotion, "I feel that I am not going in alone. I feel that G-d is with me." This was the first time she ever said that before a medical procedure. She went into the CT room and lay down on the table. As soon as they injected the contrast material, she went into shock. She stopped breathing, had no pulse or blood pressure. A medical team rushed in and revived her. She was literally brought back from the dead. Rachel had always believed that her test would be to be brought by the course of her cancer to the very edge of the abyss. At this point, G-d would save her. We saw this CT experience as a sign that her view of things was, indeed, true. She wrote the following day: "As I thought about what had happened, I realized that it was the picture I’d always imagined - I come to the edge of the abyss, I jump/fall/am pushed in and G-d is there waiting to catch me. I’ve never gone into any medical procedure so sure and so aware that G-d is with me. And He was. It was the doctors who technically revived me, but it was G-d who made it happen."

Six days before Rachel died, we spent another of many, many days at Hadassah. This day she had an abdominal ultrasound in the morning and a bone scan in the afternoon. I was with her during the ultrasound and saw that the situation was bad. But I did not say anything. I decided to wait for the report which would be ready shortly. Rachel wrote while waiting for the report: "I just came out and we’re waiting for the report - I know there’s stuff there. When the technician finished, she called in the doctor and he spent a lot of time poking around. As I was lying there, I felt like I got a message from G-d that whatever it is, I can handle it on my own." And she did handle it. The report spoke of tumors in the pancreas and liver. She wept for a few minutes, then regrouped and wrote the following: "Just got back the report. Not good. Tumors in the liver and in the pancreas. It’s what I expected - the cancer is spreading...The only option is aggressive chemo. I think I’ve gotten off too easy on my earlier chemos and that I’m meant to experience it with all the side effects. Another example of how I have to go all the way to the edge."

To the end, Rachel never lost her faith that G-d would cure her. She was completely serene, even in her last days when she knew that the cancer had spread extensively. During her last week, she wrote the following letter:

"Dear G-d, You have chosen me. Not only are we the Chosen People, but you have singled me out to test my faith and to help me find my true mission on this earth.

G-d, I pray to you, and I beg you, to walk with me and to help me find my way. I am lost without you. I see you everywhere - in every beautiful flower, in every sunrise. I see you in my husband, in my children, and in the powerful love that sustains us.

I see the gifts and blessings I’ve received. I never realized before how blessed I really am.

Just as you were with me when my life hung by a thread, I know you will always be there. I’m reaching for you Hand, G-d, please open your fist and let me in.

Ein Od Milvado! [In Hebrew; There is none beside Him]"

Rachel was able, always, to treasure the good. Aizehu asheer? Hasameach bechelko [Who is rich?, He who is content with what he has]. Rachel recognized the good and appreciated it. After her CT experience, she insisted on saying Birchat Hagomel [blessing after being saved from a disaster]. She came with me to Chatam [local synagogue] for Arvit [evening service] two nights after the event. After tefilla, her small voice from behind the mechitza [partition separating men from women] called out "hagomel lachayavim tovot, she’gemalani kol tov" [Thanks to he who does good to the undeserving, who has rendered every kindness to me]. That a woman with widespread cancer could thank G-d for all the kindness which he has granted her is truly amazing. Rachel would say, after reading about people dying in auto accidents "I feel really lucky. These poor people have their lives snuffed out in a second. At least I have a fighting chance! I have a chance to reassess my life and make changes."

Rachel lived life to the fullest. We used to end every day with a nightcap. She preferred Irish Creme and I liked single malt scotch. We would sit on the sofa, clink our glasses, say our toast "Long Life!", kiss, and drink. Each night’s toast was both a celebration of thanks for the day which just ended and a welcome to the next day, with whatever it would bring.

Rachel recorded her feelings in a poem she wrote toward the end of November. She always expressed herself so beautifully. She wrote:

Recording the moments of my life
As they trip by each day.
Holding onto them all
the deep philosophical questions
and the lupin seeds I forgot to water
the aggressive spread of my cancer
and Hadas’ first new tooth.
There’s no yesterday and no tomorrow
Only here, now, this precious moment.
The delicate flowers on my table
The beautiful cakes set out on the counter
The smell of coffee and the voices in the background
That’s the stage for this moment of my life.
And I’m in the play. Here. Now. Fully.

Our family gives thanks to Hashem [G-d, literally The Name], the source of all hope, of all healing, and now of all comfort, for all of the good which we received in the last year and a half.