The Lesson at the End of the Megillah   

It was close to forty years ago, while I was learning in the Chicago kollel. My chavrusa at the time hailed from Cincinnati. Given that Chicago is a four-and-a-half-hour drive away, my friend’s parents would come to visit from time to time, and we got to know each other and develop a warm relationship.

Sadly, after a few years, my friend’s mother became seriously ill and eventually passed away on Taanis Esther. The levayah was to take place in the Queen City on Purim. It was pretty obvious that none of the yungeleit in our kollel would be able to attend, but as I was a chavrusa of the aveil and an acquaintance of the niftar, my heartstrings were pulling at me to make the trip.

Driving was not an option, as I had to hear Megillah leining before I left, which was simply impossible if I wanted to get there before the levayah was over. To fly would have required hearing the Megillah after alos hashachar but before neitz hachamah, rushing to catch a plane, zipping on over to the chapel for the levayah, and heading right back home to barely make it in time for seudas Purim. But what do you not do for a chavrusa, who will be all alone in his grief?

I had all but decided it was the right thing to do, with my wife’s blessings, until I inquired into the plane fare. It was the astronomical sum of $550 (we are talking 1980s here), something that a kollel salary hardly covered. After deliberating back and forth, we decided it was not the right thing to do, as Hashem hadn’t gifted us the Power Ball winning ticket that month, and Go Fund Me wasn’t a thing yet. I would have to stay home after all.