I’ll always remember a certain newcomer to Hineni from a totally assimilated family whom I invited to our home for a Shabbos. He immediately fell in love with the Rabbi and became a constant Shabbos guest. He would always say, “When I get married I want the Rabbi to marry me.” I tried to find him his soul mate, and after many months and many attempts I found “that girl.” A few weeks later they were engaged.
The wedding date was set – but his dream of having the Rabbi perform the ceremony was not to be. The cancer had attacked with fury. There was no way the Rabbi could attend the wedding. His life hung by a thread but his mind to the very last moment remained sharp and clear. He asked our older son to perform the ceremony on his behalf.
On the day of the wedding we knew the angel of death was already in the room and there was no telling when he would strike. Our entire family down to the youngest grandchild was on constant alert. No one wanted to leave the Rabbi’s bedside. It was terribly difficult for my son to tear himself away to conduct that marriage ceremony.
“What if something happens while I’m at the wedding?” he asked, and then broke down weeping.
As soon as the ceremony was over and my son had imparted the blessings his father had so carefully written out a few days earlier while the muscles of his hands were still capable of moving, he called us at the hospital. Trembling with fear, he asked, “Is Abba still here?”
“Yes,” I told him. “Come quickly. But don’t forget Abba’s instructions: dance with the groom.” With tears running down his face my son took the hands of the bridegroom and danced for a moment before running back to the hospital.
Right after he arrived a strange and unexpected sight appeared in the corridors of Sloan Kettering. The bride and groom, dressed in their wedding attire, walked into the Rabbi’s room. As they stood around his bed he opened his eyes, smiled lovingly, and mouthed, “Mazel tov, my children.”
Our family was all there when the angel of death took my husband’s pure soul, and before he departed he blessed us all with the blessing of HaMalach HaGoel, in which the patriarch Jacob asked that the angel who had protected him and redeemed him from evil do the same for his children.
As he whispered the words, our children and grandchildren softly sang the words back to him.
HaRav Meshulem HaLevi Jungreis, My Rabbi, died the way he lived – giving above and beyond, always bestowing blessings and kindness.
A short while afterward the name “Rabbi Jungreis Way” was amended to the street on which our synagogue was located. I invite you to take a ride to North Woodmere, Long Island, where you will see Congregation Ohr Torah on 410 Hungry Harbor Road/Rabbi Jungreis Way. When you see that street, ask yourself: “How does that really work? How do I walk according to Rabbi Jungreis’s Way?
To be continued
