The Little Kohain
The author discovers a novel minhag (custom) --- one
of compassion
EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE, I wander out of my
neighborhood on Shabbes. Sometimes, those
wanderings take me to a minyan that, while
it's struggling for members, makes up for it in
ruach, or spirit.
Such is the case for this one particular group
of men and women. At this shul, a man that
the members
affectionately call the
"little kohain," or
priest, gets up each
Saturday to bless the
congregation.
Though not practiced
by most of Jewry, such is the minhag, or
custom, of this group.
The man seems to be in the comfort of his
own religion, of his own prayers.
A recent moment, however, took me by
surprise. We were having a special kiddush,
complete with a steamy cholent and Middle
Eastern salads and delicacies. I saw the man
who had blessed the congregation minutes
before put a challah under his coat and walk
out the door.
It wasn't just a piece of bread. It was the
whole golden-brown braided loaf. I didn't
know what to do. The kohain? How could this
be? I wanted to tell someone. I wanted to
approach the kohain and tell him to replace
the loaf. But soon you get caught up in
conversation, the rest of the kiddush-goers
get going with song, and nothing is done.
Then, the next time I visit the shul, the "little
kohain" comes up and blesses us again. I
can't stay focused because I remember what I
had seen before. In the crowded room of the
kiddish later, I can't stop watching him, as if
I'm some sort of detective.
And he does it again!
This time, I went to the shul president. I
wanted action. Thou shalt not steal!
Especially on Shabbes! Is nothing sacred or
holy?
Then I learned why I need to learn more.
The shul president smiled at me. Sure, he
knew about the challahs. Who do you think
has been leaving the extra challahs out there
for the "little kohain?" The man's wife is
home in bed, sick and dying. He spends every
moment with her except when he comes to
shul on Saturday. He takes the challah home,
says the motzi, the blessing over bread, and
feeds a piece to his wife.
He and his wife are helped by the Jewish
agencies. Still, it's not always going to be
enough. No Jewish agency can provide for
him what this small minyan does.
"What's a challah or some extra food for
him?" the shul president asks. "Especially
when you consider what he does for us,
every one of us, with the sacred prayers."
I had found out the story behind the story. I
learned of this man's social worker. I wanted
to help.
SO MANY TIMES we human beings rush to
judgment. The "little kohain" brings up
subjects of charity and how a community
goes out of its way to help. It also addresses
how much we have to know more about a
certain person, and are we being more of a
help by turning the other direction? Is it our
business to be a whistle-blower when we
don't have enough information?
We can never forget that as neighbors in this
living organism we call the Jewish
community, that we have an accountability to
the Creator. If that's too difficult a concept to
grasp, then we at least have an accountability
to each other.
The man I call the "little kohain" said: "May
the L-rd bless you and keep you," when he
recited the Priestly Blessing, as he fed our
spiritual appetites. Later he said the motzi
and passed out small pieces of challah from
the minyan's kiddush table. I quietly put a
couple of pieces in my coat pocket to bring to
my wife, who was home with a cold. The
challah was warm and tasted like cake. It was
better than what I had at home.
The "little kohain," though, caught my eye as
I did it.
We were now brothers.
Jewish World Review Nov. 13, 1998 / 24 Mar-Cheshvan, 5759
By Phil Jacobs
Phil Jacobs is editor of the Baltimore Jewish
Times.