Showing Up

By Malkie Gordon Hirsch Magence

Moshe just shows up when he does.

He usually gives us a heads-up when he first arrives in the country from his home in Israel, leaving behind his family for weeks at a time to try and help support them. And then he begins the exhausting task of going door to door.

He put a face to all the men and women who’ve come before and after him—those I couldn’t properly communicate with because of a language barrier. But for the first time, during his stay last week, I got a glimpse of what it really takes to do what he does.

We reminisced about it at the dining room table last night, over his specific coffee order (“two-thirds coffee, one-third milk, no sugar”) and banana cake.

We go back years. The first time we met was when my then seven-year-old son opened the front door and came to tell me, “There’s a rabbi here.”

I walked to the door and found a man, visibly defeated after a full day of trying to collect funds without much success.

He looked at me and asked, frustrated, “Why didn’t your husband tell your son not to open the door to me?”

“Because his father died,” I answered, in that very specific blend of dark humor and sarcasm that I find tends to serve me well.

He stopped. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know what that’s like. I’m a widower as well.”

And then he started to talk.

He told me about walking up to houses in affluent neighborhoods—two cars in the driveway, lights on inside—only to hear parents whisper to their children to say, “My parents aren’t available.” The lines are rehearsed, and the lessons are teaching kids to do the exact opposite of what should be done.

By the time he reached my doorstep, he was discouraged and disheartened.

So, I did what felt right—I offered him something to eat and drink and gave him a donation to take back home, where he was playing both roles: mother and father.

Since then, Moshe comes around a few times a year, usually before an event.

He came to collect for his twins’ bar mitzvah, his oldest daughter’s wedding, and more recently, his second daughter’s.

We sit down over whatever food I have in the house, and we catch up.

We talk about everything: his anxiety over blending two families after remarrying, the pressure of starting over.

It had been six years since he lost his wife, and he knew it was the right move—for himself and for his kids.

His visits are part fundraiser, part therapy session. We can sit and talk for hours.

While he’s here, I message the regulars I know I can count on.

Jeremy puts out a PSA to help too.

And I don’t feel any shame in doing it.

I believe that what I’m offering people is a chance to be who they already want to be—charitable, generous, kind, and involved.

When I was the one in need, I struggled with receiving. I’ll never forget what my therapist told me then: “You can’t deny someone the opportunity to be the best version of themselves—even if it means you need to be the vessel for that goodness.”

The cycle of life is constantly changing. When I do something for someone else now, I remember when I was the one on the receiving end—when people gave me and my kids whatever they could to make life a little easier, a little brighter.

So now, when Moshe shows up—or anyone else, for that matter—I think back to that time. And I jump at the chance to give. 

Malkie Gordon Hirsch Magence is a native of the Five Towns community, a mom of five, a writer, and a social media influencer.