The Last Class

Retired Rabbi Reuben Levine showed up at Torah Class by complete surprise. I rushed up to him and his family, expressing delight that he was finally back in class. His son tried to stop me with panicked gestures. As our eyes met, with a somber expression, he whispered words to me that chilled me to the core. My mind screamed, in defiance, that no way were his words true! All the air seemed sucked out of me. Rabbi Reuben Levine’s cancer had spread and he was dying. Reuben had little time left. He was here to say goodbye!

I showed them to his customary seat, next to me. With the help of his son, and his wife, he made himself comfortable, while the class stared, in silence. He opened his Torah and I helped him find the current page that would be studied today. He smiled, weakly to me, in thanks.

Reuben did not look at all well. His tan skin was looser than usual. I missed his smile and the want of wicked jokes whispered to me in class. He seemed to struggle to follow the discussion, with the current Rabbi and about 40 attendees. He tried to articulate a question. The Rabbi listened, patiently, repeated the question, and gave him his answer.

Shortly, thereafter, the class ended. A few people had given him sympathetic smiles, wished him well, and walked towards the exit. The rest left, as if they never knew him. His brilliant comments in class, his warmth, as a human being, and his compassion for all in need, all seemed forgotten.

As I turned away from him, I, too, walked several steps toward the door, before turning around. I paused to see him one last time and, without any reflection, rushed back to him, hugging and kissing him. He smiled, with tears in his eyes and waved goodbye. He and I both knew that this was the consummation of our years of friendship on this Earth.

^© Norman F. Estrin, March 10, 2017, The Last Class