Rosalie M. Osian on raising others up with you

Oyfn Pripetchik (By the Fireside) – A Prayer of Transmission

The sacred day of Shabbat was over when I heard the message on my answering machine from one of my colleagues. A Jewish funeral home had called to say that my services had been requested by the daughter of a patient. No other details were given except to call the funeral home.

Two days earlier we admitted a woman in her nineties who was accompanied by her daughter. The patient was lethargic and somewhat incoherent during admission. The next day, while I visited with the patient, she kept repeating the word ‘button.’ After some moments, I understood she meant her call bell, which I noticed was disconnected from its power source. I assured her that it would be taken care of. I asked her name, to which she turned her hand so that I could read her bracelet. Through body language we engaged for a few more minutes. Her responses were limited. I then asked if she would like to receive a blessing to which she nodded to say, “Yes.” I began the Mi’sheberach and when I completed it I asked if she understood what I was doing. She shook her head again, to affirm her comprehension. Tears formed in her eyes and we held hands for some time. She closed her eyes while we were in this tender embrace.

I met her daughter in the afternoon of the same day and she told me about her mother’s life and their relationship. The daughter received from her mother a teaching to live her life with integrity. Her mother’s motto was, “Raise others up with you. Do your best. Be your best.” Another passion her mother gave her was the love of music. Her mother was a classically trained violinist. This gift was passed on to the daughter as well. She talked of her grief and loss and began to prepare herself for the outcome of her mother dying.

Just two days later, on Shabbat, the patient passed away. Her daughter requested that I officiate at the funeral. She felt we connected. I too sensed that we were destined to have more time together in her mother’s journey.

The funeral was planned at the graveside and the daughter wanted to play two melodies on the violin. I decided that the melodies would be played at the end of the service and become the last ‘utterances’ that would be heard at the grave. The burial was attended by a few surviving relatives and close friends. Pre-deceasing this woman, and buried next to where she would now be buried, was her husband who died of illness, and a son who died in a car accident.

I looked into the daughter’s eyes as I spoke of her mother’s life which was filled with much loss, with compassion for others and with a desire to live life to its fullest. Towards the closing of the funeral, I quoted Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel who wrote, “There are three ways to mourn. The first is to cry. The second is to grow silent. The third is to transform sorrow into song.” [1]

“Today,” I said, “This family mourns in all these ways and has selected as the last utterances of the day, two pieces of music. The first is ‘Oyfn Pripetchik’, which speaks about a Rebbe who sits by the fireside and teaches young children the Hebrew alphabet. He instructs his charges to clasp the letters to their hearts because it is Torah and says that he will reward them with a prize if they learn well. The second melody, ‘Yedid Nefesh’ has origins in Jewish mysticism and sings of the rejoicing and love of creation.

The daughter took out her violin and began to play the soft, soulful music of “Oyfn Pripetchik.” I stared at the field in front of me, past the mound of dirt, the leaning shovels, and scanned the horizon. I saw the tombstones and the names inscribed in Hebrew as if to lend additional truth to this song. As the music played, I couldn’t recall when I learned this melody and the Yiddish words to it. I knew that my mother taught me and I supposed that her mother had taught her. Is it possible that once one learned this song about teaching, one was obligated to teach it to others?

In my pastoral care of the elderly I have been asked to sing ‘Oyfn Pripetchik’ by patients and families. For some folks it is as close on their lips as the ‘Sh’ma Yisroel.’ Often, it stimulates lively discussions of early memories. For folks who cannot speak, it is a pressing into the palm of my hand accompanied by a soft whisper, “Thank you.” How can one melody affirm faith, be a life review, and recall mourning and joy? My patients tell me this is so.

I was stirred to a powerful feeling. A heightened sensitivity and an awareness that I shall not forgot. I was deeply rooted in ‘Oyfn Pripetchik,’ to its melody and teaching. I too am an inheritor, grateful for the Hebrew letters that help me form sacred prayers, song and presence with the Divine and with my patients. And on this day, to properly escort this soul to her resting place.

I recalled her teachings. ”Raise others up with you.” Though she no longer lives, she continues to do so.

[1] The Rabbinical Assembly's The Rabbi's Manual, page E- 31- Mourning, "From a lecture by Abraham Joshua Heschel"

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