my son, elazar simcha jessel, a”h 1993-2017 (5754...
TRANSCRIPT
Photo: Dor Luvaton
My son, Elazar Simcha Jessel, a”h
1993-2017 (5754-5777)
Motzei Pesach, 5778 (2018)
יקר בעיני ה' המותה לחסידיו
I think it was a year
ago tonight that I
last saw my son,
Simcha. He had
come to join us for
the last day of
Pesach. I remember
him sitting beside
me around the
Rav's table at neilas
ha-chag, singing
zemiros and sharing
divrei Torah. Then,
the evening after
the chag, he
lingered for a
while, and left.
I am writing this to try to give a picture of
Simcha's life. It's a difficult task; anyone who knew him well would have a hard time
capturing the essence of who he was. I cannot imagine there is anyone else like him.
He was intense, dynamic, bigger than life, brilliant, witty, and exuberant, in ways
that were totally Simcha. Everyone is unique, and Simcha was uniquely unique.
Simcha had some major challenges growing up and experienced constant setbacks,
but always got up, and kept trying with renewed enthusiasm. It's not because he was
tough; on the contrary, he was extremely sensitive, and he really did feel the hurt – a
lot. But he was ever hopeful, so he would get back up and apply himself again. As he
grew into a young man, those same difficult childhood experiences helped shape him
into someone who encouraged, assisted, and deeply touched the lives of others.
Both Simcha's mother, Chaya Rivkah, a”h, and I were ba'alei teshuva. I was born in
Toronto, Canada, and my family name at birth was actually Ramm, presumably
descended from ראם , the publishers of the Vilna Talmud. (Later, I took on the name
Jessel). I studied sciences and psychology at several Canadian universities, gradually
becoming religious along the way. Chaya Rivkah was born in Johannesburg,
attended university in Australia, and also began becoming religious. The shidduch
was redt while we were both in Israel taking off time from our university studies to
study Judaism more intently. After we got married, we returned to Toronto.
Simcha was born in 5754 (1993) in Toronto, following the birth of his sister, Shira
Simcha and I, the night after Pesach.
Basya, the year before. He was named after Rav Elazar Simcha Wasserman, zt”l, and
he was affectionately called “Simmy”. The family came on aliyah when he was still
a toddler, settling in Moshav Matisyahu, a small, close-knit community between
Jerusalem and Bnei Brak, adjacent to Kiryat Sefer. Two younger brothers were born
in Matisyahu: Akiva Uziel and Mordechai Hirsh.
It seems that Simcha inherited verbal abilities from both sides of his family. Before
establishing my practice as a psychotherapist, I worked as a researcher and science
writer at the Hebrew University, then later as journalist and marketing writer, while
learning in the mornings in a kollel in Kiryat Sefer. Chaya Rivkah was also a writer,
publishing many stories in Orthodox books and magazines, usually under a
pseudonym.
Simcha also probably benefited from growing up in both a home and community that
appreciated diversity and was tolerant and encouraging to individuals that chose
unique paths. When he was older, Simcha found within himself a storyteller that took
great joy and pride in telling other people's stories and finding within those stories
something enduring and valuable to contribute to the world. Maybe he was taking
after his mother, a”h, who regularly spoke to audiences of girls in Israel and abroad
about her journey from academic feminism to Torah Judaism, and was writing a
book based on interviews with many other women who'd made a similar change. Or
perhaps he picked it up from my involvement in narrative psychotherapy, where I
strive to bring out the stories of the “unsung heroes” I meet in my work, people who
go against culture forces that seek to marginalize them and delegitimize their
struggles.
Simcha's uniqueness and the special challenges it posed are evident from his
experiences in school. In a classroom, a “good boy” is someone who can sit still, pay
attention to the teachers, and obey the rules. But for some children, especially those
who are especially bright, energetic, or dreamy, it can be much harder to concentrate
for long periods of time. How much more so if that child has “ADHD” or similar
conditions, as Simmy did.
The world is now starting to recognize and deal with the issues that Simmy struggled
with. There are books on ADHD, including many in Hebrew, and the staff of
elementary schools, chadorim, and yeshiva ketanas have become accustomed to
handing out Ritalin and other medications. Increasingly, there are schools offering
smaller classes, more frequent breaks, etc. But when Simcha was young, there was a
dearth of knowledge and resources that were needed to understand and help a child
like him.
In the younger grades, Simcha did fairly well. Teachers of small children are
generally more understanding and less particular about having the students'
undivided attention, and Simcha was smart enough to master the material even on
his own. But there is an expectation that as kids grow older they will adapt to a
classroom setting, and then it isn't enough to know the material taught. By about the
age of 9 or 10, the rebbeim expected Simcha to sit still, not fidget, and follow along
with the lessons. At the very least, they expected him to be on the same page of the
text being learned. But he was not on the daf, either because of distraction, or
perhaps because of boredom, for Simcha was particularly gifted – bright and
creative.
Rav Noah Orlowek points out that such children have the most difficulty, because it
is difficult to find an environment that is sufficiently stimulating for them. And one
cannot expect a teacher to individualize his teaching for one bright and unusual kid
in a class of many children. So increasingly, Simcha was being sent out of class, not
because he was disruptive or disrespectful, but because he was out of the box and
didn't adapt to the usual teaching methods commonly used.
To make matters worse, Simcha was a voracious reader in
both Hebrew and English, and teachers weren't particularly
enamored with his habit of reading novels at recess (or
when he was sent out of class), particularly when those
novels were in English, with pictures of boys on the cover
who looked suspiciously non-Jewish.
Significantly, neither
then, nor later in life,
did Simcha dislike or
blame his rabbis and
teachers, whom for the
most part he experienced as warm and caring. A
couple of years ago, Simmy and I passed by the
home of one of his former cheder teachers, and
Simcha remarked that he ought to apologize to
that rebbe some time, because “I gave him a
pretty hard time”.
But the major difficulties Simmy encountered
were not academic, but social. Not only was he
naturally shy, but, when he was younger, his
issues made it hard for him to catch social norms.
In conversation, he might dwell on a single topic that was above his listeners’
comprehension and he would lose them. He was often unable to apprehend another
person's perspective, and his attempts to interact with other children were awkward. I
know he was bullied, perhaps much more often than I was aware of.
All of these took a toll on his self-esteem, which I believe made social interactions
even worse. For one thing, it made him desperate for connection. Kids saw that he
was trying too hard, which is not cool, and they shunned him. Sometimes, if he
Note from his teacher Rabbi Rothman to
Simcha, age 7
would say or do something wrong, he could become contentious and usually found it
difficult to back down. Therefore, throughout his childhood, he never had a single
friend his own age. However, for younger kids, he was like the Pied Piper, attracting
them with his creative ideas, showmanship and mesmerizing antics. Some adults and
some much older boys also appreciated him, since they had more patience and a
greater ability to understand his higher level thinking.
A week after his 10th birthday, his beloved mother, a”h, was niftara, and he lost his
number one companion, supporter and cheerleader. She had been a lioness in her
efforts on his behalf, creatively and unceasingly striving to assist Simmy with his
social deficits, behavioral issues, and self-esteem. The day before she died, he sat
near her bedside, strumming a harp belonging to a family friend who worked at the
hospital. For years afterwards, when he was feeling very upset or overwhelmed, he
would cry out, “Mommy”, over and over, and could not be consoled.
My memories of Simmy back then are not clear, and I don't remember what came
when. I recall that he used to adopt newborn kittens that were abandoned by or lost
from their mother and try to help them survive.
Not surprisingly, he was
drawn to the harp, and I
obtained one for him.
Simcha never really
became proficient with the
instrument, since his
ADHD made it difficult to
sit and practice, but he
would turn to it in times
of stress. Sunita, his harp
instructor, appreciated his
good heart and natural
gifts. Under her tutelage, he came to consider himself a harpist, and the harp, and
people who played the harp, remained a prominent theme throughout his short life.
I, his father, often did not know how, or didn't have the maturity, to deal with
Simmy's specific needs. Furthermore, I was totally unfamiliar with the Israeli
mentality, let alone the cheder school system, and spoke very little Hebrew. The
resources to deal with someone with ADHD and social issues were scarce, and
sometimes costly. The people who gave me guidance often turned out not to be well
acquainted enough to identify and relate to Simcha's unique combination of strengths
and challenges. And, as I discovered, the reliability of advice – even from “experts”
– is in no way related to the confidence with which it's given.
Of course, I also had three other children to raise, each one special and with his or
her own particular needs. I allowed myself to get too busy being busy. With the
Photo
: Y
eh
ud
a S
ch
wart
z
benefit of hindsight, I can say there are many things I would have liked to have done
differently, but my greatest regret is that I didn't spend more focused time alone with
Simcha.
In his early teens, Simcha was mostly alone, doing his own thing. Much of his free
time was spent in a small dusty space he made for himself in the attic, trying to
master the intricacies of some old computers (without Internet) and discarded
electronics. The image I have from his bar mitzvah celebration is of him spending
much of the evening on the side, strumming his harp. I also remember Lag B'Omer,
a very big deal to all the kids. Simmy, an outsider to his peers, built his own
enormous bonfire. He wanted to impress the kids, but then the morning of Lag
B’Omer someone pulled out the center post around which the wood was piled and
the whole thing collapsed. It was all for nothing.
A different Lag B'Omer found him alone except for the company of one of the
mothers on the moshav. She wrote:
“Although I didn't really know Simcha at all, I wanted to share with you a couple of
sweet memories... My best memory was from the last Lag B’Omer I spent on the
Moshav. I stayed up most of the night watching the bonfire together with Simcha. He
tirelessly kept it built up and burning until the sun came up. He was trying to explain
to me about some sort of invention or gadget that he was making. Unfortunately, I
don't recall what it was.”
In cheder, Simcha was spending so much time wandering around outside of class,
that I understood that he was no longer welcome. I began looking for alternative
venues. He spent time in different places. It wasn't easy. The Kiryat Sefer schools
mistakenly thought he wasn't focused enough on Torah (“he needs to be on a farm
with animals”) and places with more diversity rejected him because he was either too
innocent (“our student have been around, and they will ruin him”) or too superior in
intelligence and his grasp of Torah concepts (“we don't have anyone anywhere near
his level”).
Finally, I heard of a new school starting in Beit Shemesh. The other students were
mostly English speakers, and the teachers mostly American, so I hoped it would
prove accepting. It was a long commute each day, and Simcha had to get up very
early. (He began taking a low dose of Ritalin in the morning, which helped). It was
here that he became close to Rav Reuven Eisenberger, and developed a permanent
relationship with the Rav’s family.
That school closed after just one year, and so Simmy moved to a yeshiva ketanah in
Bnei Brak. He only attended part-time, and when he was there, he just sat at his
desk, daydreaming, doodling and watching the clock. He rarely gave anyone any
trouble, keeping a low profile. He didn't bother them and they in turn left him alone.
He was friendless and bored. Eventually, Simcha stopped going there altogether.
When Simmy was 14, I married Lisza Beltz, a woman who would become Simcha's
second “mom”. Their relationship was intense and difficult from day one. Simcha
was still grieving from the loss of his first mother and had high expectations of a
new mother. He was also uncomfortable with change in general, and resented the
different dynamic in the home, and the new rules that went with it.
Yet time proved that this new mom was among his strongest advocates, loyal and de-
termined to help him reach his potential. With her, Simcha was able to express one of
his most endearing qualities, the ability to forgive 100%. After a “bout” he could
move on with a pure heart and a clean slate, relationship renewed.
After a couple of years, Simcha chose to call Lisza “Mom” and when he lived on his
own, it was she whom he phoned when he needed help. Still being shy after he
moved out, he depended on her to arrange Shabbat for him, finding him meals and
places to stay in whatever neighborhood he wanted to be. When he ran out of money
and had no food, she would fill the car with groceries and transport them to him. She
took him shopping to teach him how to stretch his limited food budget. When he left
his first rental (a room with a family) she came and scrubbed his washroom and
packed up a year's worth of his junk.
Despite missing his first mother so much, or perhaps because of it, even when things
were difficult between them he always appreciated having a second “mom” to do the
things a mother should do. The Eisenbergers still recall how proud Simmy was to
show up one Erev Shabbat with a freshly baked cake that his “mom” had made. The
mother of one of his close friends recalls how he was sitting with a group of his
peers and mentioned his “mom”. One of the boys said, you mean your stepmom?
Simcha gave the boy a stern look and repeated, “my mom”.
Date: Mon, 11 Apr 2011 18:04:38 +0300
Subject: [BS/RBS list] Unsolicited Recommendation
Simcha Jessel just spent four hours at my apartment cleaning for Pesach. He did a
phenomenal job, and is the MOST pleasant young man! I am SO pleased with his
work! I hope some of you will give him your business!
- Rina
Lisza was often his partner in crime, facilitating some of his crazier schemes. When
he wanted to impersonate someone for a prank, she scrounged up a costume for him.
When he wanted to get sick leave from the army for a minor leg injury, she took him
to the hospital to try to convince the doctors he needed an MRI. These were among
his tamer ideas; he did other shtick that was much more sophisticated. Often, he
would call her just to show off with his latest grandiose idea.
Lisza's mother, whom Simcha called “Nanny”, also set about forging a relationship
with him, providing him with a listening ear when things were tough. She would
drive across three states to visit him during the summers that he attended camp in the
USA. Significantly, on his first visit to the USA (for our wedding), she bought
Simmy a video camera, which opened the door to his interest in photography and
videography. He leveraged this gift to start numerous creative projects. Simmy soon
started a gemach to film bar mitzvahs and other religious events, and later benefited
from the mentoring of the inimitable Yehuda Boltshauser, a ba'al chesed and
entrepreneur par excellence who hired Simmy for photography jobs, trained him and
got his work published in Jewish media.
Simcha's next stop was a new school in the Galil. Looking back, it breaks my heart
how he bravely left home for this new endeavor, full of hope and determined to put
his best foot forward. It turned into a disaster. Compared to Simmy, many of the
other kids were toughened and worldly. From the beginning, Simcha was teased,
harassed, and bullied by other kids. Classroom settings were still boring and
challenging for him.We had hired an ADHD coach, but the school made it clear that
they didn't have the resources to work with Simmy according to the coach's
recommendations. Simmy did like to spend time in the school's computer room, but
the school was worried that his intelligence, curiosity and persistence posed a threat
to their computer system, and they took away that privilege from him. He soon
found himself consigned to a floor by himself in the dormitory, alone, ignored, and
with no friends except his computer, a neighborhood dog and the birds that he fed on
his windowsill.
Simcha had a stab at English-speaking summer day camps, with mixed results.
Eventually, Lisza found a US camp willing to create a special opportunity for Sim-
cha (as camp videographer) and so she set about raising money for him to attend. In
many ways, Simcha “failed” there, too, again not integrating socially. There were,
however, two interesting outcomes. One was that Simcha was determined to return
there the next year to “clear his name,” and would not consider any other camp the
following summer. The second was that he made the acquaintance of another Israeli
boy there, Yonatan, whose family was to later play a significant role in his life.
By now, Simcha had had enough of school and, in any event, we were running out of
options. There were schools that supposedly specialized in teens with ADD or other
difficulties, but it was clear to Simcha (and me) that these places were not suited to
someone of his cultural background or more gentle temperament. There were various
alternative schools opening up that looked promising, but Simcha was adamant that
he wasn't going anywhere.
Things reached a head when my wife and I had to go on a trip to America, and
Simcha was angry and refusing to consider any learning framework or any place we
suggested he stay. The other children all had places to stay, and Simcha couldn't
remain at home alone. Again, Lisza had found him his next opportunity, an
innovative new school called ACE, but he refused to go for the interview, no longer
trusting us after his last school experience. Right before we left for the US, he
defiantly showed up at the home of his camp acquaintance, Yonatan, and requested
refuge!
Yonatan's mother has a heart of gold and understood how difficult things were for
Simcha. She welcomed him and succeeded where his parents failed in convincing
him to go for an interview with ACE. Yonatan gradually became Simmy's first real
friend. He came to appreciate all the good qualities in Simcha that often went
unnoticed by others. He in turn acquired the most devoted, loyal friend and
accomplice one could ask for.
Simcha was accepted at ACE, a dynamic high school for spirited kids. Here, thanks
to the focus on confidence-building, leadership skills and bonding with others,
Simmy finally became an accepted part of a chevra. These boys would remain a
close knit, caring group that stood by each other into adulthood. For his part, Simcha
knew what it felt like to be excluded, so he was accepting of and fiercely loyal to
them all. The staff of ACE became his lifelong rebbeim and mentors.
Ari Deutcher, one of Simcha's teachers at ACE, vividly recalls Simcha's time there:
He came with a lot of self-awareness, aware of the challenges he had to work on,
and dedicated to growth. He sometimes argued, but ultimately accepted the feedback
of his friends and teachers because he knew they were trying to help. He trusted his
rebbeim to guide him.
He was very opinionated and had an uncompromising sense of justice -- for better or
worse. He tended to think in black and white, but gradually learned how to navigate
the gray, which was hard.
If he got stuck on something he thought was right or wrong, it was never for himself,
but rather for something greater than him. It was because he felt there was a better
way, or because he was trying to help the other person.
He loved to get out, loved nature, and loved competition, largely because he wanted
to challenge himself. And because he loved the Land of Israel, was proud to be there
and proud to be Jewish.
He loved to learn, especially in matters of halacha or hashkafa that lent themselves
to discussion or argument. He was very makpid (particular) on halacha, no matter
what, and we didn't have to make concessions with him like we had to with other
kids. He would never give in to himself and strove to continue growing.
He was always looking for ways to make the school better. In any situation in which
he could use his own talents and abilities to help, he would be there to help, to make
suggestions. We often had to remind him to be a student. It was often hard to
m'chanech him, because he was so often right. And you had to know your stuff,
because he was very persuasive, and because he was good at catching you.
Rabbi Ariel Fishman led ACE’s wilderness activities. He recalls that Simcha was
never reckless. When they were challenged by rock-climbing, rappelling, or cliff-
jumping, Simcha would study the dynamics of the activity and participate safely and
responsibly.
Simcha was a religious backbone amongst the boys at ACE, many of whom were
wavering at times. He never faltered, and regularly led the services and read from the
Torah. He had an exceptional voice and enjoyed using it for tefillah.
Not surprisingly, when Simmy's friends started preparing for army service, he, too,
decided to go to the army. His rebbeim agreed that it could be good for him, and so
we did what we could to facilitate it.
In the IDF, Simmy encountered numerous
obstacles to keeping Shabbos, mostly due to
the ignorance of other soldiers and officers,
who sometimes assumed that any army-
related task was automatically permitted.
Interestingly, the fact that Simcha was able
to withstand these challenges, and not give
in to the pressure to compromise, may in
fact owe something to his social skills
challenges. After all that he had been
through in life, Simcha had a certain
cockiness and disdain for the arbitrary
exercise of authority.
I think this is a recurring theme in Simcha's
life as he matured: his obstacles became his
strengths. Jewish Press writer Rhona Lewis,
in an obituary for Simcha, called it, “turning
minuses into pluses”.
For example, I think Simmy tended to perseverate, meaning he’d get locked into a
feeling or idea and not be able to change focus. I recall an intimate conversation
Simmy and I had the day following his bar mitzvah, where he shared with me about
some intrusive thoughts that were constantly churning in the back of his mind. They
were mostly to do with number combinations, and he said it took up a great deal of
mental energy. It reminded me of various other seemingly uncontrollable, repetitive
responses he exhibited as a child. Even as a toddler, he would sometimes just cry and
cry. Whether that was because of perseveration, sensory issues, or something else,
nothing we could do could stop it.
But these same challenges, getting locked in to or extremely focused on an idea, and
black-and-white thinking, can be major assets when used appropriately. The flip side
of perseveration can include argumentativeness, stubbornness in single-minded
dedication to a goal, persuasiveness, sticking to principal, unwavering loyalty and
unswerving dedication.
Coupled with his creativity and his tendency to dream big, Simcha took on many
projects. True, one of the potential hazards of ADHD is a penchant to be easily
distracted and impulsive. This meant that many of Simmy's projects were never
completed. Yonatan told us that they used to dream up a hundred projects a day. Yet
they never felt sad when the ideas didn’t amount to much — they were too excited
dreaming up the next idea.
One project that did take off was his photography
blog Humans of Jerusalem, which he launched during
his second year in the army. Still surprisingly shy
around others, the camera gave him a safe way to
connect to people. Having a camera in hand helped
him to initiate conversation, to overcome this shyness
and other social barriers. Perhaps people intuitively
recognized his good heart, because people from all
walks of like opened up to him, sharing something of
themselves. For his part, Simcha loved people, and he
felt a special connection to the eclectic people of
Jerusalem.
“Because we are all human, we each have our own
unique story”, he wrote. “That story is what makes us who we are, and is what
defines us throughout our lives”.
“Humans of Jerusalem focuses on the people and stories of residents, tourists and
visitors to Jerusalem and the surrounding areas. It documents a city and its stories,
one human at a time.
“The story-telling process”, he explained, “involves traveling the city, attending
“Simcha started Humans of Jerusalem, and to call it a passion project would not fully capture what the page and its work meant to him. He was a talented photographer and wordsmith who found a way to capture unique moments and pair it with a poetic and clever caption that would come together as a brilliant masterpiece....”
"You want a great story, you say? How
about the one that brought you here with your camera tonight?
"...You think it's just a coincidence? Then tell me, what are the odds that two fellow
harp-players would meet in the street,
eh? Let me tell you something, son. I've got a
couple of years on you—I've been
playing for over 30 years now, and of all
the crazy coincidences I've encountered
in that time, none were crazier than the ones I've seen right here in Jerusalem.
You don't need to explore the world—You
just have to wait and the world will come
to Jerusalem!”
festivals, family reunions, events, gatherings and conducting impromptu on-street
interviews with a continual parade of interesting Humans who might just be willing
to share their story.”
“These are not just stories”, Simcha insisted. “They are
glimpses into people's lives, and they speak of pain, joy,
struggles and triumph. They encourage and inspire
readers around the world to be magnanimous, optimistic
and to never give up.”
“These are the Humans of Jerusalem.”
Simcha would make even the most banal his focus: a
beggar sitting on a pickle can, middle-aged Scandinavian tourists, Sudanese workers,
young men on the fringes of the religious community, a pomegranate juice vendor.
He appreciated people so he was able to get them to appreciate themselves. He was
able to see the glimmers of good in people and put them in a positive light.
He liked to listen to people and bring out their stories — to him, ordinary people
were extraordinary. His prose was superb, but it was his photographs that really
captured the essence of the story.
Simcha launched Humans of Jerusalem on Facebook in Feb 2015, soon after his 21st
birthday. By the time of his petira, the photo group had over 15 million “likes” on
Facebook.
Photography and social media became an avenue for connection, of humanizing
people and bringing them together. It was also a valuable public relations tool for
Israel: Humans of Jerusalem showed a human side of Israel, its soldiers, and its
populace at a time when our enemies were seeking to demonize us as cynical, brutal
oppressors. One picture, taken during the last major IDF operation in Gaza, showed
“His labor of love, Humans of Jerusalem, captured Jerusalem's diverse residents in their rawest and most beautiful form– exactly as Simcha saw them”.
a young, religious IDF soldier cradling his newborn baby. It received more than a
million shares and was reprinted in newspapers and media outlets world-wide.
Simcha was so proud that he was able to be involved in combatting the superficial,
one-dimensional narrative of Israel.
With his generous nature, Simcha reached out to other young photographers,
mentoring them and donating countless hours teaching them skills and helping them
start their own projects. He was heavily involved with Chayal el Chayal, an
organization for lone soldiers, helping in many ways including preparing and
organizing 1000 packages they delivered on Purim to soldiers on bases throughout
Israel. Again, I had heard from Simcha a little about his involvement in these
projects, but did not realize the extent. I also had not been aware just how generous
he had been in donating money to worthy causes.
Previously, Simmy had some great ideas, but they were way too ambitious. They
were beyond the capabilities of a kid, even a kid as creative as Simcha. He once
started a parsha page complete with interviews, a question and answer column,
photos and jokes. It didn’t succeed because it was too much to maintain. But now,
some of his grandiose projects, which others thought were impossible, actually took
off. People were touched by him, and with their collaboration, he accomplished
much.
It took me some time to get used to this change. I knew he was involved in various
projects, but my years of experience with him had made me skeptical. I thought
much of it was his usual bravado. I was supportive of his ideas, but was secretly
fearful that his high hopes were once again going to be
dashed.
It wasn't until after he was niftar that I learned how
successful those projects were. Beginning at the funeral, I
started to hear how much he had influenced people. And
throughout the shiva I heard from individuals who felt
tremendously indebted him. It seems to me that Simcha's
childhood challenges had left him with a strong desire to
connect to people, and a sensitive heart that made him
incredibly giving.
Adept with social media, Simcha used the platform to
build relationships in many different areas. He put together a group of social media
experts and they coalesced into a group of people who can make things happen. The
group included major Jewish organizations, activists in Jewish communities, and
newspapers and other media professionals. By pooling their efforts, they reached
hundreds of thousands of people.
“When he first suggested it, I thought, 'it sounds like a good idea that's not possible',
“You gave me opportunities no one has ever given me, you have given me more than a friend ever gave me, you have given me more than words can say. Thank you for everything.”
said Laura Ben-David, “But Simcha made it, he drove it, and the rest of us
followed.”
During the summer of 2016, when fires raged
throughout Israel, he used his talents (including his
warm and even quirky writing skills) to bring
together a world-wide coalition of Jewish
organizations to work together. Simcha’s
organization wasn’t simply “a social media
collective, sharing and raising funds online.” With
“boots on the ground”, volunteers reached out to
the victims, the municipality, the emergency forces
and contractors to ascertain exactly where to use
the funds. Always sensitive to others, Simcha
realized that single mothers had been overlooked
by other relief organizations. “They have very specific needs and we need to exercise
sensitivity when addressing them,” he wrote. In two weeks, he raised $30,000.
Again, I found this out only on the day of his funeral, from the representatives of a
non-profit with whom he had collaborated in distributing the money.
Among other projects, he also created a
coalition of street photographers; an
annual parade of motorcyclists to cross
Israel on Independence Day; and a
blowout super bowl party for homesick
American lone soldiers. He also worked
successfully to shut down several anti-
Israel pages.
One young man came to the shiva and
spoke for an hour of how Simcha had
mentored him, another said that Simcha
had saved his life. Someone texted his
phone shortly after the accident, when
word of his petira was just starting to get
out. “I know you're not gonna get this
message but thank you for everything.
For being a friend who was always
there.” Then, months later, a follow-up
message arrived from the same person. “I
realize how little that message does
justice to who you are. I miss you”.
I didn't know Simcha very well, but we met up for coffee once and were in touch from time to time – generally when he had an idea for an exciting new initiative and wanted to run it by me. The last time we spoke was just under three months ago. He called my cell while I was on a train from northern England to London, feeling extremely ill. He was planning a Super Bowl party for lone soldiers and wanted help identifying vendors who might contribute some equipment for free. After he excitedly shared his idea with me, seemingly without stopping to breathe, I croaked out a few ideas and sent him some contact info.
That was Simcha in a nutshell: constantly in motion, always seeking out the next opportunity to create change, and absolutely confident in his ability to do so.
Some weeks after the petira, a stranger with an Israeli accent called from New York,
trying to reach him. Simcha had recently submitted one of his photographs to a
competition, and now that photo was among the winners selected by a panel of
judges and voted on by millions of people. The photograph is now part of an
international exhibition commemorating the reunification of Jerusalem.
Simcha was deeply committed to a Torah life. But his unique characteristics,
particularly those associated with ADHD, meant that properly keeping the positive
mitzvot was an extra challenge for him. For example, he did not wear tzitzith because
he had sensory issues and they itched him. Anything time-bound was likely to be
especially difficult. Therefore, when he wasn't living at home, he relied on my wife
and me or on his siblings to ensure he had his Four Species and Chanukah lights. He
sometimes didn't put on tefillin because he would stay at his workplace all night and
not have them with him in the morning, until he eventually started keeping them at
work. But he never resented or rebelled against religious observance.
Sometimes, he would call me from some place to inquire of a halacha. For example,
he and his friends went camping on the Kinneret over Pesach. I only knew he was
there because he called me and asked if he could eat fresh fish that someone was
frying in a pan that had been used previously for kitnios (legumes). When he would
accompany his friends to Eilat for Shabbat, some of whom had lapsed in their
observance, he would stubbornly keep Shabbat and would not be swayed. On one
occasion, he refused to join his friends in taking a taxi late Friday afternoon, opting
to walk for hours to their destination rather than travel too close to Shabbat
When Simmy's friends stopped keeping mitzvot, he didn't abandon them. He would
go with them on trips and the minute Shabbat came in, he kept it 100%. They might
be breaking Shabbat, but it never affected him. And he stood by them wherever they
were holding. Later, during the shiva, I heard how he had influenced many of them
in retaining, or returning to, religious observance.
True, when things that he had invested a lot of effort into didn't work out, he asked
“Why is Hashem doing this?” But, as he told his sister, he knew clearly that Hashem
loved him. Despite all the setbacks that he had in life, he never doubted that
relationship.
At 12 years old, Simcha was asked what he wanted to be when he grows up. He
answered, “A talmid chacham and a scientist”. Indeed, the yeshiva world was
something he held very much in esteem and he always respected rebbeim and
talmidei chachamim. And, of course, he kept up his connection with his rebbeim and
mentors from his youth.
Sometimes, living in close proximity to a
rabbi can make them too familiar,
particularly when they make decisions
that aren't in your favor. Yet, in his whole
life, no one in our family ever recalls
hearing a disparaging word about the
Rabbi who heads our community. On the
contrary, he always spoke of the Rabbi
with admiration. Akiva, his brother, says
that the honor with which he himself
relates to his rebbeim is due in large
measure to having witnessed Simcha's
extraordinary esteem for rabbonim.
Two years ago, when Akiva asked to set
aside a time each day to study halacha together over the phone, Simcha embraced
the idea enthusiastically. Akiva would call and would hear Simmy in the background
explaining, “Sorry, guys, I have to learn with my younger brother right now”. If
Simcha really couldn't interrupt what he was doing, he would say to Akiva
emphatically, “Please call me later, 'Kivi. But do call. I really want to learn with
you.”
At this time last year, when I was in shul with Simmy for evening prayers, I asked
him if he wanted me to motzei him for the blessing on counting the omer. He was
indignant. How could I assume, mistakenly, that he had missed a day in the
counting? So I said something like, “So you know it's the 8th day of the omer?” At
which point he laughed, because I had unwittingly just counted the omer
prematurely, and he had to motzei me in the bracha.
Simmy was great with children, and they flocked to him, which made him the star at
the Shabbat table of the many people who were privileged to have him as an
irregular guest. They loved his exuberance -- his simchat chaim (joie de vivre).
With his youngest brother Mordy, eight years his junior, Simmy modeled the kind of
behavior that had never been shown to him. He never rejected Mordy or excluded
him, and good-naturedly allowed the little guy to tail him around. Wherever
possible, he included Mordy in whatever activities he was up to, even if they weren’t
quite appropriate to Mordy’s age.
At the same time, Simmy was very protective of Mordy. He would caution Mordy
against hanging out on the street, or drinking, and he would warn him of the dangers
and addictive nature of smartphones. I think his insights on the subject were more
nuanced and profound than the typical warnings kids hear from their rebbeim. After
all, Simcha was an expert on the digital world; he knew from experience.
His sister, Shira Basya, was always very close to him, being just one year older. As
with Mordy, Simmy took his duties as a brother very seriously, giving Shira advice
and encouragement and always standing by her. He was proud of Shira for marrying
young and raising a family, assuring her she was doing the greatest thing in the
world. (He was also proud of his friend Ari Soussan for the same reason).
Shira gave birth to a little girl a month after his petira. She wanted very much to
connect the child's name to her beloved Simmy, but no name seemed to fit. For a
week she agonized over it, scouring the Prophets and Psalms. Finally, her husband
said they would just have to settle on something. Then, she had an inspiration –
Nechama Batzion. “This is her name!” she cried, and recalled verses about nechama
(consolation), Zion, and the rebuilding of Jerusalem.
A week later, Mordy called Shira excitedly from yeshiva. He had been playing
around with gematrias (apparently, he, too, gets bored in school), and had discovered
that “Nechama Batzion” and “Elazar Simcha” have exactly the same numerical
value!
Simcha often dressed casually and sometimes
very stylishly. This was not because of a
rebellion against his Chareidi background, as
it may have been for other young people who
I was privileged as a neighbor and friend of the family to watch Simcha grow up. I recall a bewildered young nine-year-old boy standing alone and saying kaddish for his mother. I observed his inner-struggles dealing with a defined lifestyle as he moved into adolescence. His immaculate smile, though, with a stunning twinkle in his eye inevitably always won the day. Interests ranged from vociferous reading to discovery of the technological marvels of the age. He reached out to people, always probing. Schooling was an issue with which he grappled. Then a whopping new direction ensued when he embarked on a full-stint of army training. Subsequently, he found expression in a myriad of now well-known causes by utilizing his genius for innovation and a control of the social media. My young friend also had style. I always stopped even short of breath feasting my eyes with admiration whenever he made an appearance on the moshav. He possessed a lanky stride with film star good looks. The clothes he wore were the epitome of chic' and classic fashion. The last time I saw him was when he inexplicably ensconced himself next to our rabbi at the epicenter, as we gathered together as a community to usher out the festival of Pesach. As the light faded and darkness beckoned, Simcha reveled in the moment, and, face gleaming, he soaked in the "kedusha" of that timely grasp of earthly transition. Simcha was so much a work in progress daily achieving new vistas in his quest in this world. Now, he is facing new challenges, while for us his light will never fade. - Joseph Neppe
discard the yeshivishe garb. Indeed, Simcha had no difficulty donning a suit and hat
when the occasion warranted it, such as at his brother's bar mitzvah. Rather, it was a
manifestation of wanting so much to belong, by being seen as “chilled”, cool, or
savvy. (It had started already at camp in America, when he had decided that he
looked too nerdy and asked acquaintances to educate him on the basics of teen
fashion). Those who knew him saw through the facade, and of course loved him
anyways.
In his last year, Simcha found his niche in an on-line investment company. He was
successful there because the company, recognizing his potential, was willing to
create a new position tailored specifically to him. He was allowed to come in after-
hours, when the company was closed, blast music to stay awake, and work through
the night. To ensure he wouldn't miss putting on tefillin the next day, he kept them at
his desk.
“He was quite a character. We have 160 employees, and everyone knew him”, his
manager told us. “He talked to everyone, knew everyone's story.”
When Simcha was assigned a time-sensitive project, an email would be circulated
throughout the company warning employees not to speak to him over the next few
hours, so that he wouldn't be distracted.
During the shiva, his employer visited and told me that Simcha was so gifted that he
would likely have been making millions per year before long. The employer
assumed this would impress me and bring me some comfort, because earning
millions before you're 30 is the secular Israeli ideal. In reality, it highlighted the
difference in our worldviews.
What, in fact, were Simcha's plans? He said that he wanted to pay off some debts,
and then attend yeshiva. As he explained, the kind of girl he wanted to marry would
only marry someone who had spent more years in yeshiva.
Although Simcha died in a motorcycle accident, he was neither tough nor reckless.
He had no interest in doing drugs; he never smoked. The motorcycle was utilitarian,
to provide transportation during odd hours and be able to do more chesed. He spent
18,000 shekels on a special safety suit designed to protect him from falls. True to
form, Simmy had to have the best motorcycle. Not trusting in his own inherent good
qualities, he had to be the coolest member of the club.
But it was also part of a grand project that he had initiated the year before, to bring
together motorcyclists from across the country to ride together in an annual parade.
This year, that parade will presumably take place on his first yahrtzeit (4 Iyar),
another interesting twist in his surprisingly successful efforts at bringing diverse
people together.
At his funeral, Simcha once again brought everyone together. There were Roshei
Yeshiva, rebbeim from all over, men in frock coats and payos, people in uniform,
every kind of dati Jew you could imagine, and many, many who were secular. At one
point, about twenty bikers arrived. It was a surprisingly large turnout, particularly
since the funeral details were only announced a couple of hours before. Ostracized
and excluded so much when growing up, for being different, Simcha had become a
vehicle for bringing different kinds of people together for a loftier purpose. Simcha was niftar on Motzei Shabbat, a few hours after Shabbat. That Shabbat day, at the kiddush at Chayal el Chayal, Simcha shared a Torah thought to a diverse audience of young people, many of whom were struggling with Shabbat observance:
I finally got to meet you today. Well, a meeting of sorts. I came to join with hundreds of others to escort you on your last ride… We’ve been friends for so long yet never spoke face to face. Of course, I knew your photography long before we’d ever spoken. The way you could coax out of the most ordinary people in Jerusalem what was actually quite extraordinary, and then translate it to the public via beautiful photos and moving text. Humans of Jerusalem is your legacy. But Simcha, that’s not all you did; you were a force of nature. If you had an idea, you would do whatever it took to see it through. You were driven. Sometimes to a fault. But no one could fault you for your genuine desire to help people, to do the right thing, and to channel all of the energies at your disposal. People respected your motivation as it was always coming from such a good place. Simcha, you brought people together. We connected when you reached out to me. You realized that the power of social media would be exponentially greater if efforts were pooled. You went and united Jewish social media powerhouses with the idea that each of us have reach. By channeling our strengths together, you believed our reach would be tremendous. You were right. You put this idea into action many times, most notably in a campaign to help those affected by the fires last year. You didn’t hesitate, and through your drive and the strength of the team you assembled we were able to make things happen. You made things happen. Simcha, you straddled many worlds, you felt comfortable with everyone. With everything we hear lately about the Haredi and secular divide, it was nonexistent at your funeral. There was every kind of kippah, and none. Haredim standing side by side with soldiers. There were men and women. Younger and older. In the middle of the funeral about 20 motorcycles rumbled in. The riders parked and made their way over to the crowd, helmets in hand, deep grief etched on their faces. So many when asked what their connection was to you, they said, “I was Simcha’s friend.” Just as I was. - Laura Ben-David
A potential convert who does one of the
forbidden labors is considered to have
broken the full Shabbat. But a Jew can
never break a full Shabbat. Even if he
breaks Shabbat for one moment, but then
keeps the rest of Shabbat, those moments
that he is keeping Shabbat he is fulfilling
the mitzvah of observing Shabbat. Every
single minute has potential, and each
second that a Jew keeps Shabbat is a
mitzvah. Whatever he keeps is considered
a mitzvah.
Simcha was conveying his credo: no
matter how much a Jew falls, he can always rise again. (See the Hebrew introduction
to this sefer for an elaboration of this guiding principle).
Simmy went through so much difficulty in life; he got knocked down so many, many
times. All the projects we saw – he had hundreds more that he started and failed at,
so much that he wanted to do that he didn’t accomplish. Yet Simmy never gave up,
even though things were hard for him. He never stopped. He never stopped going
after his dreams. And he never stopped dreaming.
Most of those dreams were about how he could either help people or connect to
people. He wanted to do things for people and that was his biggest joy in life. He had
a huge heart. And he was always forgiving. People were often not kind to him. But
he forgave. He forgave everything and everyone.
Why were we privileged to have Simcha in our lives for 23 years, no more and no
less? While cleaning for Pesach I came across a letter written to me by a relative
when I was 23. She was concerned that I had begun associating too closely with
Orthodox people and was spending all of Shabbat with them. Maybe I merited to
have a son who sacrificed for Shabbat to metaken those 23 years that I didn't know
about or keep Shabbat. But such thoughts are just fanciful speculation. We cannot
know or fathom the infinite wisdom of the Compassionate One who runs the world.
Whatever the reason, this was his time. “Simcha wasn’t good at completing a
mission when he first started working for us, but we were helping him, and he was
starting to complete missions,” his boss said candidly. Mission completed, he was
taken from us.
⸎⸎⸎
I saw him barely a few hours ago. I was with him at Chayal el Chayal, enjoying the food, company and camaraderie.... And then, in a split second, he was taken from us. Last Shabbat at the kiddush in Shul, Simcha shared a thought with us all. Every single minute has potential, and each second that a Jew keeps Shabbat is a mitzvah.... Simcha, you were proud of your Jewish identity. And proud to call Israel your home. Every single moment.
This letter was originally written to accompany a sefer kodesh that was compiled by
his younger brother, Akiva Uziel, as a memoriam to Simmy and out of a desire to
bring merit to his neshama. It is my fervent prayer that it will elevate his neshama
ever higher.
Special thanks to Meira Hazen for her assistance
If you’re interested in supporting any of the projects or causes that Simcha was involved in,
or in assisting the Jessel family, please contact me at [email protected]
I saw my path ahead,
disappearing into a darkening forest
between walls of trees,
and in the bleeding earth -
my feet took root.
And for a fleeting moment, I could hear
the leaves whispering their song,
and I wanted to fly up and hear
that achingly beautiful melody
The rain came, washing down my face,
pooling up inside my very being,
mingling with fresh tears. And the wind -
cold and desperate, froze me deep within,
weighing me down.
And for a fleeting moment, I could touch
the edge of that grey, numbing pain;
and I wanted to fly up high,
to catch a glimpse of the light…
to see the light…
They say the sky, blue above us,
is filled with shimmering lights,
perhaps I shall too, some day, see for myself
perhaps some day…
I fell silently to the ground
I shut my eyes, and sealed my heart
and I felt a load being lifted,
as my pain, my loneliness, slowly disappeared.
And for a fleeting moment, I could escape,
like a feather on a bird's wing
soaring higher, higher,
and I caught a glimpse of that light,
that beautiful, shimmering light
– Elazar Simcha Jessel
“The following are quotations I saw after Simcha's petira. I am mostly sharing
what was written in English. There was much written in Hebrew.”
“Simcha you have been an amazing friend and an inspirational writer and
photographer. 2 years ago I was struggling financially and Simcha searched the
whole day and late at night phoned me up with excitement and offered me a job.”
“Simcha always cared for others and looked for the good in everything.”
“I only wished people really got to know Simcha. He was a superstar, a gem and had
a heart of gold.”
“Thank you for your friendship Simcha, I will forever cherish all that you have
taught me.”
“Over the past day there has been so many words written about you,
It's amazing to see how many people you've touched.
And no wonder. Walking with you on the street was impossible, all the time you'd be
talking to friends or introducing yourself to new people.
‘Be spontaneous, Brother’, you kept telling me.
And the crazy adventures that we got into every such time.
Every time I looked at pictures you took, I'd be jealous. How do you do it so per-
fectly? And the captions you wrote with amazing and incredible accuracy, the stories
you told through the camera.
Whenever I'd leave you, usually after an all-night photography trip, I'd be filled with
inspiration, a tremendous desire to film, edit, create, initiate.
You had the mind of true creator, a talented entrepreneur, full of plans, projects,
things to do. It was impossible not to be infected by your passion.
There's so much to write about you, but this is all very hard for me.
I've learned a lot from you, and I'm sure that I will yet learn from your memory.
And it's going to to take me plenty of time to process.
Why are the good ones going so easily? Running between our fingers.”
“It is with deep sadness that I learn this. A good friend of mine from the army passed
last night. He had been in a motorcycle accident last night that took his life. He was
wildly peculiar, someone who really stuck out when you met him. If you became
friends with him, all of a sudden you knew you had someone who was there to stick
with you.”
“You always thought outside the box and had ideas that were larger than life. You'll
be missed greatly.”
“I will always remember you, Elazar Simcha for giving me the hope that no matter
how hard it gets you've gotta' keep going in life.”
“It's with great sadness that one of the most incredible individuals that I was
fortunate to meet while on a Yachad Israel trip two years ago is no longer in this
world. (Yachad is a non-profit organization which enhances the lives of individuals
with disabilities). Elazar Simcha, I'll miss your incredible photography and your
acceptance of all people regardless of who they were.”
“To have known Simcha is to know he was a man of great passion and strength. He
was creative and brilliant and so multi-talented. I am truly devasted and will miss
him so dearly. Goodbye to one of my favorite Humans, goodbye dear friend.”
“I tear silently; no words can express the pain. Simcha Jessel, I shall miss and
cherish every moment, every memory that we shared together. From our military
days to our inspiring lunch meetings. You have always been a friend with a righteous
heart and a pure soul. May your soul Rest In Peace. You will always be remembered
and loved.”
“Simcha ran right out of the gate the minute he started his page. He was passionate
about it and felt a responsibility to the city to do things right, at the highest
standard.”
“His thinking was quite wise; he thought how much more powerful we would all be
if we joined forces and worked on community projects together.”
“His eyes really found the beauty in all of Hashem's creations; his talent brought all
of us who knew him professionally and beyond, real simcha.”
I lived with Simcha in the same room at Chayal el Chayal for quite some time and
became very good friends with him. Sometimes we argued and sometimes we fought
about things as brothers do sometimes. He was someone who really motivated me
and gave me a lot of life lessons that I carry with me always, and that I cannot even
begin to describe. He was a friend that was always there, in person or in spirit or in
motivation. There were a few people that had problems with Simcha but it should be
clear to anyone that it is only because sometimes people don't understand the truly
great people in this world and sometimes because they are jealous. There is nowhere
in Jerusalem that I can walk without remembering him. And no life decision I can
make without hearing his voice and advice in my head. A truly great soul was lost to
the world
“Simcha was one of the guys, a packed head on his shoulders, steadfast with his
opinions. A guy with dreams and visions, a guy who cared. A guy who got things
done and was definitely headed to achieve bigger and better. The void, the
emptiness, it's tangible. It's real. You leave your brilliant works as a legacy, but
someone of your age should still be building a legacy, not leaving one. We don't
understand everything here in this world. However, you do, you moved on. Keep an
eye out for us, friend. You'll be missed.” - Chayal el Chayal
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“Because we are all human, we each have our own unique story. That story is
what makes us who we are, and is what
defines us throughout our lives”. “Humans of Jerusalem focuses on the
people and stories of residents, tourists
and visitors to Jerusalem and the surrounding areas. It documents a city
and its stories, one human at a time.
“The story-telling process involves traveling the city, attending festivals,
family reunions, events, gatherings and
conducting impromptu on-street interviews with a continual parade of
interesting Humans who might just be
willing to share their story. “These are not just stories. They are
glimpses into people's lives, and they
speak of pain, joy, struggles and triumph. They encourage and inspire readers
around the world to be magnanimous,
optimistic and to never give up. “These are the Humans of Jerusalem.”
Photo Credit: Nadav Shalev
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"This photo made headlines around the
world. Not because it was polarizing or controversial. On the contrary—this
photo was shared by over 100 million
people around the world because of its universal message, one that truly
transcends spoken word: A father's fierce
love for his child, plain and simple. "
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When General Eisenhower reached the
camps, he told his troops: “Take pictures,
collect all the evidence you can. The world needs to know. Because there will come a
day when people will try to deny what we
are seeing here with our own eyes. They will make the claim that none of this ever
happened. And that would be
unforgivable”.
It happened sooner than he thought.
A new brand of antisemitism has risen,
barely disguised as anti-Zionism, but the one thing that the two have in common that
betrays the former's roots in antisemitism is Holocaust Denial.
Time marches on, and soon, all that
remains of a life are the memories, kept alive in the mind of those left behind. But
what happens when the last keepers of
those precious memories are no longer with us? Did it all ever really happen, once
there are no longer any left to remember?
Trees fall in the forest, but it takes a living animal’s ear to translate the disturbances
in the air into sound. In the absence of an
observer, those trees fall silently. We may very well be the last generation to
have heard these memories recounted,
firsthand. We are now the ones entrusted with this sacred task:
To remember. And I will never forget.
"Is that your passion?"
"No it's a violin".
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The Fog Beyond The Road I put together an event in
which hundreds of
motorcycles adorned with Israeli flags rode across the
country to celebrate
Independence Day. I headed out from Jerusalem at 5 in the
morning to get to the starting
point in Dimona before everyone else. On the way, I
had to stop and pull out my
camera.
