From the other side of the bench: Acting like a brother

By David Seidemann

Issue of Nov. 21, 2008 / 23 Cheshvan 5769

I wondered how long the line would be if the coffee was actually good. I was standing in line for my morning cup of java when I witnessed two young men reintroducing themselves to each other. They hadn’t seen each other in about five years, since they had been members of a Jewish boys choir. They reminisced and updated each other of their whereabouts and doings since, in the span of time it took me to move closer to the front of the caffeine line. It reminded me of an incident that occurred not too long ago.

An old acquaintance referred a matrimonial client to our firm. My partner and I share all cases that our firm handles. We discuss how each particular case should proceed and we meet periodically to discuss the progress of each case, but in the interim, each one of us works on files by ourselves. It basically works on a rotation basis. I’ll assume the primary responsibility for one case, she’ll do that for the next case, and so it goes.

When the Goldstone (name changed) case was referred to the firm, it was my partner’s turn and she accepted primary responsibility for that file. I consulted with her regularly and whenever Mr. Goldstone came to the office, I made sure to pop my head into my partner’s office and say hello.

Due to scheduling conflicts, I actually appeared in Family Court custody hearings with Mr. Goldstone, all the while not being prepared for what was revealed almost a year into our representation of him.

Almost a year after having regular contact with him, we sat together at his deposition. The other attorney, representing Mr. Goldstone’s wife, asked my client to state his name and address for the record. Goldstone was then asked if he had any nicknames. When he shared his nickname, I almost fell off my chair. I was stunned.

Goldstone, who I knew only by his nickname back then, was an old friend of mine. We used to hang out together some 30 years ago. In the year that our office represented him, I never made the connection. I never matched the face with his name, never matched his face with the nickname.

Oh what a toll some 30 years had taken on him. Not only did I not recognize his face, I didn’t recognize anything about his existence. He was on top of the world when I knew him and now was barely treading water.

I remember thinking what would have been had I stayed in touch with him? Who knows what I could have done for him and him for me? Maybe if I would have known of his troubles I would have been able to lend at least an ear if not an outstretched hand. Why did I cease to treat him like the “brothers” we once were?

And that reminded me of yet another story I heard from a lawyer who drafted a will for a wealthy man with two sons. It seems as if the two sons were estranged from one another and had not spoken in about 20 years. One son called his father once a day; the other called him once a month.

It came as a great surprise therefore when the wealthy man left three quarters of his estate to the son that called once a month and one quarter to the son that called everyday. Attached to the will was a letter that provided an explanation for the seemingly counterintuitive division.

“You see,” the father wrote, “it is true that you called me every day and your older brother called me only once a month. But when you called, while you always asked about my welfare, you never once asked about your brother. Your older brother on the other hand, every time he called, even though it was only once a month, every time he called, he asked me about you.         “Though the two of you were estranged, he never forgot that you were brothers. And that my son, is more important to me than anything else. That is, that you always remember that you are brothers.”

This financial crisis has hit all of us very hard. It is not my place to suggest that wealth be redistributed. It is not my place to suggest that the better off give of their money to those that are having a difficult time making ends meet. But I do feel comfortable making four suggestions:

1. Don’t flaunt what you have. It is torture for those that aren’t as blessed as you and prevents the “flaunter” from feeling the pain of his less fortunate neighbor.

2. Patronize the merchants that your research reveals are in the greatest need of livelihood.

3. Treat the poor with the same respect and warmth with which you treat the wealthy. I have said many times that Moshiach will come when institutions honor the most humble and not necessarily those that write large checks.

4. Assume, despite the outer expressions, that your neighbor is struggling. Ask him questions. Take him out for coffee. Listen to him. Commiserate with him, encourage him.

Be a brother or a sister like you’ve never been a sibling before. Don’t look back after 30 years and wonder what could have been.

Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach of blessed memory was famous for calling everyone, “Holy Brother.” He felt that love and kinship with each of G-d’s creations. We have erected huge walls around us that often separate us from feeling that brotherhood. Reb Shlomo zt”l destroyed those walls and those are walls that are at best left destroyed.