There is a rabbinic saying, “When you dig a pit, there is never enough earth to refill it.” This verse captures the way we feel when we lose a loved one.
We remember them. We can picture them. We hear them. But nothing can replace their aliveness, their presence, their physical being.
These words also capture the way I and many other rabbis feel right now after the death of Rabbi David Ellenson.
Many of you reading may not know who he was. Others of you, I know, were his good friends.
But we all know the feeling of losing a mentor, a teacher, a person who shaped our own life's journey. Their presence can never be replaced.
What distinguishes this type of person? What makes them unique, memorable, transformative? There is no one answer, of course. We are different. What appeals to us and speaks to us is also different.
Yet, I have noticed a few common qualities in such a person And Rabbi Ellenson embodied them.
They have faith in us: Even though we did not see each other frequently, Rabbi Ellenson always said what I needed to hear at that exact moment.
When I first started rabbinical school, Rabbi Ellenson was president of the seminary. He sent me a personal letter referencing my earlier academic work and teachers who had urged me to become a rabbi, telling me how thrilled he was to have me at the school.
At the time, I was leaving home and moving to Jerusalem. His words were exactly what I needed to hear.
Sometimes God speaks to us through other people, and when what they say resonates, we feel a different sort of trust and comfort. We know we are on the right path.
They have a purpose bigger than themselves: Rabbi Ellenson was dedicated to spreading Jewish learning and wisdom. He seemed to have a superhuman energy.
I suspect that energy came from the depth of his commitment. He knew what he was here on earth to do. And he did it with his heart, hands, and soul.
They have an indescribable integrity: I notice people in my congregation who have been faithfully praying, learning, and attending worship for 50 and sometimes 60 years.
Somehow the words and feelings of our prayers have washed over and shaped them. These individuals embody a certain gentleness, a kindness that's hard to describe.
You just feel it. You see it in their smile. You notice it in their hug or handshake.
There is no formula for becoming this type of person. You can't study your way to it. You arrive at it over a lifetime. David Ellenson was such a person.
In writing about one of his heroes, Rabbi Leo Baeck, Rabbi Ellenson said,
I am grateful to Rabbi Baeck for the model of his life and the insights and nobility of his teachings.” They inspire and direct me–however imperfectly I act–as I struggle with the challenges of life."
Those words capture precisely what I and so many other rabbis feel about our own teacher, Rabbi David Ellenson. His memory is an eternal blessing.