On the eve of Rosh Hashana our teacher Rabbi Ovadia Yosef was hospitalized. In the early morning hours I phoned his family to wish for his full recovery and asked them to give him my prayers on behalf of the people. I did not expect, nor could I have guessed, that a quarter of an hour before the holiday my phone would ring and that familiar voice would be on the other end: "Be blessed," said our teacher.
I asked him how he was feeling and he asked me for just one thing: "Pray for me." I told him we were praying for him the entire time, but that we were in essence praying for ourselves, because we were hoping for the moment that the addenda to his enlightening book "Yabia Omer" would be published. I wished him a full recovery on behalf of the entire country, which I told him had been praying for his health throughout those last days and weeks.
On Monday, when I was informed of the rabbi's dire condition, I drove to the hospital to be by his bedside and pray. The spectacle would have melted any heart: Jews from all walks of life were there, despite not being able to do anything medically to help him. But they were there to pray, to scream and to ask for the Creator to let us keep Rabbi Ovadia with us.
I entered his room, stood next to him and recited psalms with his entire family at his side. When the horrible moment arrived, we all cried out in prayer, entreating and hoping for the Creator to give us just a few more hours with him. But the edict had been given and the flat line on the monitor above his head told us that the worst had happened -- the rabbi's death, which tore such a giant and terrible hole in our hearts and in the hearts of the people, that it will be remembered for generations.
I was lucky to be close to him in life, and in his passing. I felt like a son, and this is what almost every Jew who had the privilege of being near Rabbi Ovadia felt. Anyone who was privileged enough to know him, to learn from his teachings and to know the strength of his leadership, knows that the Jewish people have lost a great Torah and spiritual leader that only comes along once in a few generations. But beyond his spiritual and halachic strength he had a kind and merciful heart. I will never forget the images of young parents with a sick child in his home, who had come to receive his blessing. The rabbi warmly caresses the child and converses with the mother and father, and does not stop giving them strength, lifting their spirits and giving them any hope he can.
Years ago I had the privilege of hearing these warm words from him: "You are a rabbi. A rabbi of Israel. Continue on the path of your grandfather, Rabbi Yitzhak Yedidya Frenkel [a former chief rabbi of Tel Aviv], whom I knew well and who strived to help others. Continue like your father -- a rabbi who thinks of everyone." I was touched and asked for his help, and from then on I knew that any time I would try to find a way with Halachah to aid those seeking help, I had an address to turn to. I would send him the details of a case via fax and within a matter of hours the machine would emit an answer; and usually it would include some extra words of encouragement, telling me to stay strong and keep going.
We were rewarded in our generation with decades together with Rabbi Ovadia, and now we say goodbye as he is laid to his eternal rest. We say goodbye to him, but not to his teachings, his wisdom, his rulings, his leadership and his way of life which made an impression on hundreds of thousands of Jews in Israel and across the world.
His teachings will continue to live on with us, his rulings will continue to guide us, and his giant and noble personality will always be remembered.
David Lau is the chief Ashkenazi rabbi of Israel.
טעינו? נתקן! אם מצאתם טעות בכתבה, נשמח שתשתפו אותנו