Racheli's Israel hesped (eulogy)

I am humbled and in awe of the task before me, of sharing divrei preida about the tzaddik who was our father. I will attempt to put that aside as I’d like for you to know a bit more about who Daniel ben Kalanomous was and he certainly deserves an attempt to be appropriately ushered into the olam haemet. I ask mechila of him in general and from him, my mother, and my family, for anything that may be not right about these divrei preida.

Our father was born in Chicago, Illinois on April 22, 1947, early Iyyar 5707. As an aside, I’ve often thought that with my father’s personality, I think it’s a shame that he wasn’t born a few years earlier because he would have been so excited about hakamat hamedina that I’m pretty sure he would have flown here and been a chalutz setting up the State of Israel.

He was one of two sons born to Clifford and Frances Rubin. His father was a lawyer in Chicago who came originally from Hungary and his mother was a beautiful, put together woman who was born and raised in Scotland. My father was very close to his father and he admired him very much. My father took great pride in the fact that, in spite of not being affiliated much religiously, his father used his clout as a lawyer to call other lawyers in Chicago to raise money for the Jewish Federation. Unfortunately, his beloved father, whose name my brother carries, passed away when he was 14. Soon after, his mother and he moved to San Diego to be close to other family.

While he was still in Chicago he went to the same elementary school as my mother even though they didn’t meet for many years later. He was a bunch of grades ahead of my mother, especially since he skipped a grade, but one of his favorite jokes, and he had many, was that he was probably one of the eighth graders who once laughed at my mother when she, as a third grader, came to get something from his teacher.

After graduating with a degree in Chemistry from San Diego State University, he went to UCLA Medical School. My father was always curious, always passionate. His passion and enthusiasm expressed itself throughout his life in everything- like appreciating small, pretty flowers on the side of an ugly freeway, and like going on all sorts of local and far reaching trips with our mother to places such as India, South America, South Africa, China and Alaska. As a good friend of mine told me when my parents were in India- “your parents are cooler than you are!”  But of those things about which my father was the most passionate, Torah and Judaism were at the top of the list.

He, unlike the stereotypic nonreligious Jew, loved Hebrew school and yearned for more. That love and yearning for Torah and Judaism is what lead him and my mother to meet. There was a joint shiur in Torah for the non-religious and religious Jewish communities at UCLA given by Rabbi David Derovan and my parents met there. More than 40 years after becoming Orthodox, my father was just as passionate as ever about Torah and Judaism. As one good friend said to him a few months ago, “you make us look bad.” He went to daf yomi and would have a chazara shiur Shabbat mornings with his friends. He couldn’t buy enough nor read enough sefarim; meals and, often even phone conversations, did not go by without him sharing a dvar torah. When Moshe and I came to visit in December and had some free time and offered to go out with him, watch a movie with him, do whatever he felt up to, he was most excited about having a chabura with us. But his G-d and his Torah were happy and joyful so what he wanted to learn, in the midst of his illness, 

was the positive, uplifting nevuot of Yeshayahu.

He loved fulfilling mitzvoth, loved the chagim, and was a mentsch who made a Kiddush Hashem wherever he went. Whether that was to the African American and Hispanic librarians on our weekly pre-shabbos library trips as kids, to the strangers on the street, or to his nurses who administered his chemo in the last few months, my father brought a smile to everyone’s face with his warmth, care, and bad jokes.  I know that these qualities in addition to his brilliance helped him help many, many people on all levels. He and his religious Hispanic patients bonded over their faith and along with the prescription for the cream that would help them, my father would also prescribe saying specific prakim of tehillim or salmos as they called them.

In another example of his ben adam l’chavero par excellence, my father took the pasuk “lifnei iver lo titen michshol” seriously and was careful, as apparently his father had been before him, to move rocks and branches out of the way to ensure that no one would trip.

In his love of living Torah, he was also looking forward, after my nephew, Shalom’s bar mitzvah this fall, of fulfilling my mother and his life-long dream of making Aliya. Although he will not be able to do so as he wished, as it says in the Gemara in Sanhedrin- . יורש כרעא דאבוה Yoresh Kar-ay d’avuha- the inheritors, the children are the legs of the father- Moshe and I are here planting roots in Israel because of our parents- we are extensions of them and are able to be here because of their support.

My father was a very modest man, who was always looking to learn and grow in all areas. I know no one who worked harder, throughout his life, to become a better person. Even in the last few months, he worked on his emuna and continued to inspire us. There are many examples, but Devora told the story how when she was having a harder moment with his illness, she said to him that it was unfair that the doctors caught the disease in such a late stage. He responded to her: “Is it fair that I’ve been married to a wonderful woman for over 40 years? Is it fair that I have wonderful children and grandchildren?”

My father’s passion for Torah and mitzvoth was no less strong than the overwhelming love and devotion he felt and showed to our mother and to us his kids, kids in law, and his grandchildren. My parents celebrated their 42^nd wedding anniversary in August and he recently remarked that they were more in love than ever. Forty two years is great, but I know that both of them wanted at least 60 if not 70 years together. As our father, none of us doubt for a second how much he loved us. He, together with our mother, were Amira, Moshe, Devora and my biggest cheerleaders- whether it was related to a new haircut, a new outfit, or some accomplishment- it was great, we looked great, we were great.

He was so loving a father that, for example, when we, as children, woke up from a bad dream, he would take a tissue, put cologne on it and tuck us snugly back into bed. As we got older, he communicated that same love and care by sending us on the plane with 5 dollars of shaliach mitzvah money, $20 of “fun money” and a plane letter that he wrote on paper that he fashioned into a paper airplane. He gave that love and devotion easily to every new member of the family. For example, when Eric and I got engaged last May and he found out that Eric’s father had been a jazz musician, he took out a CD six hours long that taught him the basics of Jazz and every phone conversation from thereon included some reference to the syncopation about which he had recently become an expert.

I could go on, but especially with Erev Shabbat, we do not want to keep you. I, on behalf of my family, would like to thank you all so very, very much for you all of your support that you gave, all the tefillot that you said and the zechuyot that you built up for our abba- our worldwide community is an amazing thing and it meant so much to my father and means so much to all of us.

My father was a fighter who fought for things he believed in and was putting up a great fight to live as long as possible. I believe that Hashem may have done a chesed with him and used some of our tefillot to spare him the even more pain that he was about to have to go through. I have no doubt that his seat in shamayim is very, very close to Hashem.

Amidst the pain and longing and wishing that Hashem kept him with us for a lot longer, I pray that my siblings, Eric and I can help carry on his rich legacy of love, passion, enthusiasm, and devotion to family and Torah and commitment to always making a Kiddush Hashem.