“Oh, I don’t know, I imagine you have dreams, like every rosh yeshivah, and maybe this can help you realize them?”
Reuven had not been invited to Rabbi Klarberg’s wedding. Not that he’d expected to be, but still, it wouldn’t have been unexpected had the call or text came, something informal and friendly.
The wedding was on a Wednesday night, and Reuven didn’t reach out until a full week later.
On Thursday morning, he sent a text.
Was wondering if tonight would be a good time to meet some of the chevreh here? Maybe a bit of a Q and A, or a shmuess on the parshah or something?
The text went unanswered. By Thursday night, Reuven stopped compulsively checking his phone and decided to give the rav some slack. He was a newlywed, even if he had a gray beard and had written seforim.
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