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July 17, 2021
Author(s): Rav Hazzan Aliza Berger,
Parshat Devarim
July 17, 2021 – 8 Av 5781
A Different Choice
with Rav Hazzan Aliza Berger
Temple Emanuel, Newton, MA
It was 8 PM in late August of 2000. The subway car screeched into the 14th Street Station in Chelsea; Danny stood near the door with impatience. He was running late for dinner with his partner, Pete. It had been a big year for them. After nearly three years of dating, they had decided to move in together. It seemed like he had finally found his happily ever after. He didn’t want to let Pete down by making him wait.
He rushed off the subway and headed towards the stairs. Just as he began to dash up the stairs, though, dodging fellow travelers, he noticed something strange out of the corner of his eye. It looked like there was a doll swaddled and wrapped up under a bench. That was weird. His legs pumped automatically as he walked up the stairs thinking—what child would deliberately stash their baby doll under a bench like that? He looked back. The doll’s leg moved. He raced down the stairs and towards the bench.
He crouched by the bench and peered at the little baby. He was wrapped up in an old sweatshirt, with big, beautiful, curious eyes. He could tell the baby was only a few hours old—the umbilical cord was still attached. Danny was overcome with the pathos of it all. How could someone just leave a newborn stashed under a bench like that? What if the baby was hurt? What if…?! By then he was screaming, trying to get the attention of the people around him on the subway. “Please,” he shouted, “please call the police! I found a baby! Please help!”
But no one stopped. Everyone just continued in their frantic New York pace. Despite his obvious distress, despite his shouts, people walked by without making eye contact, or reacted to him as if he were delusional, giving him a wide berth. Danny was worried the baby might be injured and didn’t want to move it in case he caused further harm. But he didn’t want to leave it there either. He ran away and back and away and back until he built the determination to run up to the street, to find a pay phone, to call the police. The 911 operator seemed incredulous. Like they didn’t believe him. But he told them his location and then raced down to wait for emergency responders.
But no one came.
Danny remembered Pete. He raced back up and called, blurting out “Pete, I found a baby in the subway and I’m waiting for the police, but I don’t think they believe me. Could you call them and tell them I found a baby and really need help?”
It was painful, sitting there waiting. Painful knowing that someone had left this child, indifferent to their experience, indifferent to their suffering. More than that, though, Danny wondered how long the infant had laid there, on the cold tile flood, with people rushing by oblivious. Why didn’t anyone care? When he shouted that he had found a baby, when he was so obviously distressed, why did no one stop? Why did no one help? Was help even coming?
In Jewish time, we are on the precipice of destruction. Tonight begins Tisha B’Av, the day on which our Temple was destroyed, the day which became a day of destruction and loss throughout time. Our rabbis taught that destruction came about as a consequence of sinat hinam, because of baseless hatred. But I wonder. Was it hatred that spurred destruction?
It feels more likely that the answer was not hatred, but indifference. That our ancestors saw the fabric of their society fraying, that our ancestors witnessed power grabs and unjust actions in the world around them but remained indifferent. They thought they were safe. They focused only on themselves. On the task in front of them. They kept walking.
Pete raced out the door, headed to the subway. When he arrived, EMT’s were just picking up the little baby, preparing to drive him to the hospital. He hugged Danny and said to him, “you know, you’re always going to be connected to that baby.” “What?” said Danny, “why?” Pete looked at him and explained, “someday, that kid is going to want to know who found him, who took the time to stop and help.”
Four months later, the Administration for Children’s Services asked Danny to come to a family court hearing to testify about how he found the baby. The judge requested that he stay for the whole hearing and then surprised him by asking if he would like to adopt the baby.
Without thinking, Danny replied, “yes, but I don’t think it’s that simple.” The judge smiled and said, “it can be.” She later explained that all babies need a connection to someone. And as she listened to Danny testifying that day, she thought that Danny was the closest thing to a connection that baby had. He stopped. He cared. She thought maybe he would be the perfect parent.
As Danny left the courtroom, he called Pete. “Guess what? The judge asked if I wanted to adopt the baby and I said yes.”
When Danny’s story was published in the paper, every story highlighted his bravery and quick-thinking in saving this child. It was so heartwarming that his kindness was rewarded, that because he stopped what he was doing to help someone else, he was given the blessing of a child, the blessing of a family. But the real magic was not just that Danny stopped. The real blessing was that he cared. That even as he was running late for dinner, even as he was worrying about work and life and thinking about himself, he was still awake and alert to the world around him.
On that August night, a Temple faced destruction. A little boy was in dire straits. But one man’s attention, one man’s care, one man’s defiance of indifference made all the difference.
Indifference may be, as Elie Wiesel once taught, a sin and a punishment, but care is a blessing that keeps on giving. Because Danny cared, because he looked around, because he stopped all those years ago, that little baby has grown into a six-foot-tall college student named Kevin who is thoughtful, kind, and full of promise. Because that judge noticed Danny, because she saw in him the ability to become a great parent, because she concerned herself with the well-being of that tiny infant, Danny and Pete were blessed to become parents.
And there is more. Kevin grew up knowing his story. He knew that Danny found him on the subway. He knew that a kind judge believed in his dad made it possible for them to stay together. When New York legalized same-sex marriage in 2011, a 10-year-old Kevin suggested that maybe his parents should get married, and maybe if they asked nicely, his judge would do their wedding. It was a day overflowing with joy and blessing. As Danny shared with the BBC World Service, “this woman, the very reason we’re a family, is once again, the very reason we’re getting married…it’s…like coming full circle.”
Our lives are busy. We have so much to do. But everywhere we go, there are little bundles of blessings hiding under benches, if only we look to see them. If we keep going, oblivious, we’ll never know what we passed by. But if we stop, if we take the time to notice what surrounds us, if we overcome our indifference, then who knows what the universe has in store for us.
As my Rebbe used to say, “God has many blessing in store for you. Keep your heart open to receive them.”