Woman on a Mission

The image of petite, besheiteled Mrs. Miriam Lubling is very much etched in the Jewish community’s memory. As president of the Rivkah Laufer Bikur Cholim and pioneering medical advocate, Mrs. Lubling thought nothing of marching into operating rooms and doctor’s offices to advocate for patients, and she built a trailblazing organization that is the template for today’s sophisticated bikur cholim infrastructure. Here, we share excerpts and the writer’s behind-the-scenes insights from the newly released biography, Angel of Mercy, published by ArtScroll/Mesorah Publications.

When I shared a first draft of the book with a reader, the feedback wasn’t exactly what I hoped for. “This made me feel so inadequate,” she said. “Mrs. Lubling was so great. She accomplished so much, helped so many cholim, saved so many lives. I felt very small in comparison.”

I’m guessing the reason why that beta reader felt inadequate after reading about Mrs. Lubling’s astounding bikur cholim and chesed activities is not just because of their sheer scope. It’s because along with Mrs. Lubling’s sweetness, she possessed a fair dose of gumption (some might call it chutzpah).

If a fellow Jew needed help getting an appointment, scheduling a surgery, or paying a doctor, she had no problem asking, nudging, even badgering doctors, secretaries, administrators, politicians, askanim, and major philanthropists. Other people might be shy or afraid, but she always had the guts to ask and simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. “So they’ll think I’m a nudge,” she waved away any concerns. “Maybe I am! But my cousin (all Jews were her cousins) needs an appointment. They’re not going to shoot me, they’re not going to kill me, the worst they can do is say no.”

That can be pretty intimidating. But it makes for great stories. Here’s an example.