May 22, 2013
They launched the 'Arab Spring' but now yearn for the good old days of a strongman
May 20, 2013
Richard A. Serrano: Is Meir Kahane's assassin now a changed man?
Genetic copies of living people from embryos no longer science fiction
Jewz in the Newz by Nate Bloom :
The Kosher Gourmet by Cathy Pollak:
Jews Inducted into Rock Hall of Fame; Anton Yelchin co-stars in New "Trek" film; Kutcher (but not Kunis) visits Israel; Jewish TV Star Praises Jewish Rap Star
WARNING: This WALNUT CAKE WITH PRALINE FROSTING, perfect for afternoon coffee, is addicting
May 13, 2013
Rabbi Nathan Lopes Cardozo: Why the giving of the document that would permanently change the world could only be done in desolation
David G. Savage:
Church-state, literally? Supreme Court weighing public school graduation in a church
May 10, 2013
Rabbi Berel Wein: Be all that you should be
May 8, 2013
Peter Ford: Why China is welcoming both Israel's Netanyahu and Palestinians' Abbas
Obama administration quietly backs out of appeal over new contraceptive mandate
At Kerry-Putin meeting, US-Russia relations thaw --- a tad
The Kosher Gourmet by Leela Cyd Ross :
Almost too pretty to eat, this colorful salad with Sicilian inspiration will tickle the taste buds and delight your visual sensibility
May 6, 2013
May 3, 2013
Kids, kittens the Same?
With employee perks at struggling Internet pioneer Yahoo! it's hard to tell
Artificial kidney offers hope to patients tethered to a dialysis machine
April 29, 2013
Poland's new Jewish museum celebrates life, doesn't revisit Holocaust
Terrorism in America: Is US missing a chance to learn from failed plots?
Boston Bomber's 'Svengali' Revealed
Tiny satellites + cellphones = cheaper 'eyes in the sky' for NASA
April 26, 2013
Clifford D. May:
Defense in the Age of Jihadist Terrorism
Sharon Palmer, R.D.:
How to feel your best -- with plenty of energy, a healthy weight and optimal mental and physical function -- without driving yourself batty
April 24, 2013
Jewish World Review
April 27, 2004
/ 6 Iyar, 5764
Satmar's Sisters of Mercy
Hospitalized, the author meets the Boo Radleys of New Yawk up-close and very personal
The Satmar chasidim are the Boo Radleys of our town. Like that character in "To Kill A Mockingbird," they scare the neighbors and frighten the horses. They hide but don't seek. They're quaint but not cute. In a narcissistic city, they refuse to flatter. Jewish families visit Williamsburg, Va., but not Williamsburg, Brooklyn. They don't want visitors and don't have gift shops.
Yet once when I was in the hospital, a Satmar woman came every morning with hot soup, freshly cooked chicken, homemade applesauce and marble cake. She was shy and of indeterminate age. She didn't know who I was, just that there was a Jew on the eighth floor.
I didn't need her food but didn't say so because I liked seeing her in the mornings. She was from the Ladies Bikur Cholim D'Satmar, a group of women who cook and deliver food to some 70 patients daily in more than two dozen hospitals from Staten Island to Washington Heights. Almost none of the patients served are Satmar.
About 15 "ladies" leave Williamsburg every morning in a van that takes them and their bags full of meals to the hospitals. More often than not they return to Williamsburg by subway, and a long ride it is from most hospitals. The Ladies Bikur Cholim visits six days a week in rain, heat or sleet. The day after 9-11, they crossed the closed bridges by hitching rides in Jewish ambulances.
"This started with the Satmar rebbetzin [the late Feige Teitelbaum]," said one Satmar lady who wouldn't tell me her name. "She started this after the war, from her own little kitchen. She herself took the soup on the subway. Then she took on a helper, and more helpers.
"It was after the war. Almost everybody [in Williamsburg] was a Holocaust survivor. No one had families. She was like a mother. She heard someone was sick, she made soup. Do you know Satmar?"
I didn't want to say that I knew Satmar all too well from their battles with other Jewish groups. After all, she was coming to me in gentleness, and I wanted to be gentle in return.
I told her my grandparents had a bungalow on the banks of a Catskills lake. The lake was surrounded by tall pines that reflected in the water. On the far side of the lake was a Satmar colony. At dusk we could see the lights in the windows and hear voices muffled across the water. That summer I often though that as different as the Satmars were, we enjoyed the same godly beauty. They must have loved the lake as I did.
"We shared a lake," I said.
"In the summer we go to the country," she said.
That was as personal as the conversations got.. The Satmar women avoided personal questions. "We just try to make the patients feel happy," she said.
In emergency rooms, everything earthly - your keys, shoes, wallet, the computer disk in your shirt pocket - is put into a bag called "Patient's Belongings." In the John Lennon exhibit in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, the final item was Lennon's "Patient's Belongings" bag from Roosevelt Hospital, for in the end, no matter who you are, that's what it comes down to.
To the Satmar ladies, all the feuds and misunderstandings of this world go into that bag, that bag that no patient needs. So why talk of earthly things, of old fights or affiliations?
She said, "a Yiddishe neshoma is a Yiddishe neshoma," a Jewish soul is a Jewish soul. If a patient was happy to get Satmar's kosher home-cooked food, then they could be Reform, gay, Republican, Democrat, Zionist, intermarried. It didn't matter, these ladies would deliver.
After getting out of the hospital, like a Hansel or a Gretel, I followed the crumbs back to 132 Ross St. in Williamsburg, a cellar several steps down from street level where the Ladies Bikur Cholim D'Satmar have their office and kitchen.
Throughout the day, Satmar women from the neighborhood would bring in a big sheet of sponge cake, or a large tub of homemade applesauce made in their private kitchens.
In the Ross Street kitchen, Mrs. W. answered the phones and penciled in the information from individuals who alerted her to a Jewish patient somewhere in a hospital. She had no computer to help her keep track of the many patients. She kept the names of her many volunteers in raggedy cloth-covered loose-leaf.
"We're here from 8 in the morning to 6 at night," she said. "Not me, maybe" - she has 12 children, after all - "but someone is here. Other than Shabbos [Sabbath] and yontif [the holy festivals] there's no such thing as a day off. On a short Friday, do you know what it means to deliver to hospitals and be back to make Shabbos? And these are women with large families."
Mrs. W. explained, matter of factly, "this is what we do. The whole Satmar community is based on chesed [mercy]. We help people and Hashem [G-d] should help us."
I said, "I'm sorry I never brought soup to you, if you or someone in Satmar was sick."
"No one should be sick," said Mrs. W. "G-d forbid. We should always be able to help each another."
None of the Satmar women would allow me to know their names or to take their picture, yet we were strangely intimate, these women and I. After all, we Jews are more sweetly intimate than we suppose. There are people in our community whom we barely know, but we can walk into each other's shivas [houses of mourning] without explanation. If one of us dies, we volunteer to wash each other's bodies. If sick, we bring soup to Jews we never met before.
We may never speak again, these Satmar women and I, but it was as if we shared the same lake, a piece of G-d's beauty, the water rippling flowing from one side to the other.
Every weekday JewishWorldReview.com publishes inspiring articles. Sign up for our daily update. It's free. Just click here.
JWR contributor Jonathan Mark is Associate Editor of the New York Jewish Week. Comment by clicking here.
© 2004, New York Jewish Week