Musings Of A Shliach From Montana

Menorah Lighting with Gov. Greg and First Lady Susan Gianforte and my colleague Rabbi Mendel Backman

Menorah Lighting with Sen. Steve Daines and his wife, Cindy

We just wrapped up an epic Chanukah. We hosted events in Big Sky, Livingston, Helena, Butte, and our two annual events in Bozeman, a Chanukah bash with over 160 people and a menorah lighting downtown with over 200 people in attendance. We lit the menorah with Governor Greg and First Lady Susan Gianforte, Senator Tim Sheehy with his wife Carmen and their children, Senator Steve Daines and his wife Cindy, Attorney General Austin Knudsen, Mayor of Helena Wilmot Collins, and many others.

Yet, as is the case each year since 2010, just after Chanukah, I move from the simcha and inspiration of the holiday to the somberness of my beloved mother’s yahrzeit. It has now been fifteen years since the passing of my dear mother, Chana Leah bas Reb Shimon, or Chanchy as everyone called her, on Shabbos Zayin Teves.

It’s interesting to read the Torah portions about Yosef and his brothers, the familial complexities and emotions, Yosef’s longing for his mother, Rochel, his connection to his maternal brother, Binyomin, and the love that exists with our loved ones, even when they’re in the Olam HaEmes, the World of Truth. Bereishis gives us a healthy dose of family love and drama, and it really speaks to my soul.

I miss my mother so much.

My mom was my best friend. She was my confidant. She was my advisor. She was my biggest cheerleader. She loved me with every fiber of her soul and I knew it and felt it. Some of you may know that feeling, to be so loved and adored—and then it’s gone. Yet Hashem had other plans and after twelve years of on and off cancer treatment, on the morning of December 14, the 7 of Teves, 2010, her soul departed Lenox Hill hospital and ascended straight to heaven. I know that she’s my guardian angel, though sometimes I feel it more than others, and I wish I could give her a hug and have a two-way conversation again.

Today, in honor of my Yiddishe Mame, I would like to share with you ten attributes that she exemplified which continue to inspire me and hopefully will inspire you.

My mother had a soft spot for vulnerable children. Kids who had lost a parent or whose parents were going through a tough divorce, those were the kids she cared for, always going the extra mile to put a smile on their faces and make them feel special and loved. TLC when most needed was her modus operandi. When she was teaching at Beth Rivkah, the central Chabad girls’ school in Crown Heights, she would seek out those children and try to lighten their load by being there for them when everyone else was too busy.

My mother respected her parents in the truest sense. In addition to her daily call with her mother at the crack of dawn, she was there for them 24/7. Whether it was my Zayde needing someone to take over his butcher shop on Coney Island when he was traveling to Israel or to our family in South Africa, she was there. When my Bubbe needed anything at any time, she would drop everything to help her. Her parents were sacred, Kodesh Kodoshim, and she role modeled for me how to fulfill kibud av v’em in the best way possible.

My mother always showed hakaras hatov. Whether it was a store owner on Kingston Avenue, a merchant selling products in the Bungalow Colony, or just a cleaning lady in our home, she made sure they knew how much she appreciated their efforts and she expressed how much they meant to her. She knew that it takes a village and was grateful for her village.

My mother didn’t care about the thought police or the “conformists” in our community. She did what she felt was right in her gut, obviously following halacha and Chabad hashkafa, but perhaps with her own twists or taste. She didn’t live for what others thought; she just needed to be okay with it on the inside and she ignored the noise.

My mother loved Judaism and being a devotee of the Rebbe, zt’l. She considered it an honor to be his student, and though she didn’t have the formal title of shlucha, she brought her love for Judaism and Chassidus wherever she went and with whomever she interacted. Until today, I am in touch weekly with her friend Ilene who used to work at Bloomingdale’s in the city, and so many salespeople, doctors, and nurses are connected to their Jewish roots thanks to their friend, Chana, who treated them with dignity and never shied away from sharing Torah and mitzvos with them in a non-judgmental way.

My mother’s friends were her everything. She cared for her children 24/7, but her support came from her closest friend, Fradel, along with Riva, Chaya, Rochel, Tobi, and so on. She cherished their humor, their strength, their wisdom, and their friendship, and she was enormously loyal to them. It was a two-way street, and they took care of each other.

My mother had classmates and acquaintances who were not “typical.” I could say they were “eccentric,” but as children they seemed to us more like people with special needs. They knew they could call Chanchy or come visit on a Shabbos morning or count on her for a birthday call. She knew that they needed extra love and she was not ashamed to spend time with them and always wanted to be their support. I won’t name names, but we all grew up knowing that our mother had some “odd” friends in her circle, and we thought it was awesome.

My mother didn’t like superficiality. It made her crazy. She appreciated authenticity, clarity, and integrity. Any fluff or fakery disgusted her. She would talk about the older Chassidim like Rabbi Yossel Weinberg, Rabbi JJ Hecht, Rabbi Ephraim Wolf, and Rabbi Avraham Paris with such adoration and respect because they were real—no falsehoods—and that spoke to her soul.

My mother had expectations of her kids. She wanted us to dress in a certain way, speak a certain way, behave appropriately, and generally live up to the standards set forth by Chanchy Bruk. She wasn’t OCD, but she wanted her kids to be clean, neat, and classy in our Chassidic garb.

My mother loved life, and the saddest part of how it ended was how much she suffered to the point that she could not enjoy it anymore. To see someone who epitomized joy, laughter, and fun times transition to endless doctor visits, infusions, chemo, and radiation was extremely hard. I will always strive to enjoy life the way my mother did before she got sick.

Those are some tidbits about my mother. She was blessed to have had a husband, my Abba, who cared for her 24/7 and stayed by her bedside from the day she was diagnosed until the day she passed. He didn’t have day or night, work or shul: his entire life was devoted to my mother’s well-being, and if that’s not love and loyalty, I don’t know what is.

So, thanks for hearing me out. And if your mom is still alive, go give her a hug, give her the hug that Yosef wished he could give his mother, Rochel Imeinu. Give her the hug I wish I can give my mother today—and never take your parents for granted. They are worth your every effort. n

Rabbi Chaim Bruk is co-CEO of Chabad Lubavitch of Montana and spiritual leader of The Shul of Bozeman. For comments or to partner in our holy work, e-mail [email protected] or visit JewishMontana.com/Donate.