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20 Sivan 5764 - June 9, 2004 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
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Home and Family


On Duty
a true story by M. Weinman

Part II

Synopsis: The writer has become involved in setting up shifts of visitors for Sara Katz (wife of a Kohen), hospitalized after surgery. Things go wrong and things go right...

With each passing day, Sara was slowly on the mend. In speaking to her on Thursday, she sounded pretty good and in high spirits. Hopefully, it will be onwards and upwards from here, I thought.

No one was prepared for what happened on Friday morning.

I was in the middle of making my weekly challa dough when the phone rang. It was Rabbi Katz. He sounded strained. "Mrs. Hirsh? I'm very sorry to bother you but I just spoke to the hospital. It seems they are rushing my wife into emergency surgery for the third time. I'm not even sure what it is. I didn't catch what the doctor said."

I barely found my tongue. "Everything will be okay. Someone will be there with her within fifteen minutes." I hung up and fell apart. All the stress and pressure of the past week just hit me like a ton of bricks. It was too unbelievable to be true. I called Chaya, my tower of strength. Through my choked sobs, I gave her the news.

"Hang on the line," said Chaya. "I'm calling Sara." I was so glad someone could stay practical at a time like this. Soon I heard Sara's weak, frightened voice on the conference call. "Chaya, I'm going into surgery... again!!!"

Chaya's calm and reassuring voice came over loud and clear. "I know. Everything will turn out fine, b'ezras Hashem. You won't be left alone for one minute. Someone will be there soon. We're all davening for you, Sara. You'll be fine." I so much wanted to add something but couldn't talk through my tears. Our 9:00 a.m. lady arrived at Sara's side as we hung up.

Chaya called Shiffy to arrange group Tehillim at eleven. Meanwhile, I tried to calm myself down by finishing my dough. I do not recall any of the ingredients I put in. The dough came out stiff and dry, though it was liberally sprinkled with my tears. I kneaded it with a vengeance. On the spot, I decided to take challa with a bracha and transfer the merit to Sara.

Pacing the kitchen, I felt so helpless. I decided to call Sara's sister on her cell phone. She was just entering the hospital. I alerted her that someone had already been with Sara for the past half hour and that we would send people all day so that she, Rochel, wouldn't be left alone outside the operating room. There was a pause, then we both broke down.

"What's going to be?" Rochel cried. Our tears mingled. I tried Chaya's words. "It will be fine. Don't worry. You're not alone. We're all davening over here. Please keep me posted." Hanging up, I went to join my daughter in saying Tehillim but I didn't get too far. The phone didn't stop ringing all day Friday, right up to candle lighting. Apart from the regular Shabbos preparations, the day was busy with arranging Tehillim, women to sit with Sara's sister, answering questions with non-answers and finally giving over the good news late that afternoon that the surgery had been successful.

The next week was one long blur as Sara went from Intensive Care back to the regular ward. We had shifts around the clock, even at night. There were so many offers that some had to be turned down. Each lady who went was given explicit instructions what to do and what not to do, and was told who was before and after her on shift. Each one called me to update me on Sara's condition and to relate any pertinent information which the next visitors would need to know. The hospital staff was duly impressed, as they were slowly convinced they were treating some VIP or visiting dignitary.

Later on, Sara herself kept thanking me profusely for what I did. "I really didn't do anything," I exclaimed. "It was all your friends out here who really showed their true colors. I was absolutely inundated with offers, believe me. All I had to do was organize everything."

In the course of our conversation, Sara proceeded to tell me some incident that happened in the hospital with one of the women who were on shift. Interestingly, in all the phone exchanges, people referred to the shifts as toranut, or on-duty. Sara, in talking, used the alternate Hebrew word mishmeret. Suddenly, it hit me. The remaining puzzle pieces fell into place.

Thirteen years before, a group of ladies in our neighborhood formed a concerted effort at eradicating loshon hora. The idea: each lady would take upon herself two hours of the 24-hour-day which she would make an extra effort to keep loshon hora-free. All these round-the-clock merits would go towards someone needing a salvation: a couple married ten years without children, an older bochur seeking a shidduch, a young wife diagnosed with a potentially fatal disease.

Every two weeks, the names would change, thus producing much needed merit for the suffering and needy among our people. The project took shape and gradually expanded. From those original eighteen members, it now numbers over two hundred in our area alone. The idea has spread worldwide and is commonly known as the Mishmeres Shemiras Haloshon, or in the local vernacular, simply as the Mishmeres.

About ten years ago, Dena, who was in charge of giving out the names of those needing a salvation to the Mishmeres members every two weeks, moved away. Sara was chosen to fill the gap and she has done the job with dedication and perseverence. Since then, for over ten years, Sara's name has become synonymous with the local mishmeres. Not only does she arrange the new names every two weeks but she also runs the collating of all the little note- reminders that are subsequently handed out to the over two hundred members once a month.

This is no small feat, as it has to run like clockwork, and must be accomplished all times of year: before the Yomim Noraim, Erev Pesach, during the summer vacation. Through all kinds of weather and under all circumstances, the Mishmeres has continued operating under the devoted and capable hands of Sara Katz.

And now, in His infinte mercy, Hashem has seen fit to repay Sara in her time of need, measure for measure. For two weeks, the standard time slot for each mishmeres, He provided caring, devoted women who would give Sara the physical and emotional support she needed throughout her harrowing experience. The women came on mishmeres, each one for an average turn of two hours, which corresponds to the amount of time each mishmeres member takes upon herself each day to guard her tongue -- to sit by Sara's bedside in the hospital. This could only have been accomplished by a Master Planner, One Who, in His great wisdom and endless mercy, prepares the solution before the problem.

We are so small and cannot claim to understand Hashem's ways, but certainly Sara's dedication to the mishmeres throughout the years has been a great merit for her and her family, and something we can all learn from. And surely, the pure prayers that poured out of the hearts of the local mishmeres members on Sara's behalf played a great role in her recovery as well.

The wisest of all men once said: "Life and death are in the power of the tongue." Perhaps it is time we truly internalized this concept.

(Anyone interested in knowing more about starting or joining a Mishmeres can contact Suri at 02-586-1398.)

 

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