Imagine the strength of character and idealism that it takes for a young girl, raised by loving parents on Philadelphia’s Main Line, to come to Israel on a national service program for teens and decide to stay, because this is where she has decided to live her life.
She changes her lifestyle to Orthodox, falls in love with another idealist, an Israeli one, and raises their family in the Binyamin town of Beit El, starting off in a caravan along with 15 families in the back of an army camp, managing for months without running water.
Always smiling. Always with a laugh in her voice. And never looking back.
That was our dear friend Chana Rosenbaum, whose love for Israel knew no bounds, and whose gentle humor and sunny optimism made her a source of comfort to others, even when the tumor that invaded her brain and eventually took her life so soon, caused her intense pain.
Chana went from teaching English as a teenage national service volunteer in the public school at Shafir in central Israel, to enrollment as a library science and English literature student at Bar Ilan University.
Moshe Rosenbaum’s sister was her student and the two young people met, married in 1973 , and moved to Yesha soon after, when the call to come and build the land was sounded by the Begin government in the seventies. Moshe eventually became the dedicated head of the Beit El Local Council.
Chana was born in 1949 to a family that also had a tradition of helping people in need. Her grandfather was a respected doctor, her mother has been an active member of Hadassah all her life, headed the Philadelphia branch of the organization and is a member of the international board in New York.
Chana hosted many busloads of visiting Hadassah Women in Beit El, charming them with her talks about the Jewish return to Judea and Samaria and the beauty of life in Israel. Chana’s mother spent the last two weeks of her daughter’s life at her bedside in Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem.
She had boundless love for the land of Israel. She also felt very much an Israeli and wanted very much to be considered one, working consciously on her accent when speaking Hebrew. She was overjoyed when a girl who did national service in Beit El turned out to have gone to school with her daughter. “That means I already have planted roots here”, she said to her close friend Anat Greenwald, “my daughter has high school friends who know her, just the way all of you have.”
Chana called her mother every single day, at an appointed time, and knowing that her parents expected it, she would drop everything to make sure the call took place. She quietly arranged for extra comforts for them, gently seeing to the needs she realized should be taken care of. She was known, despite the distance, by the staff in the assisted living to which her father eventually moved. Her dearest friend of many years, Chaya Schwartz and also an immigrant from the US, shared the problem of distance from aging parents and was full of admiration for the dedication of this daughter who managed to respect and honor her parents from across the ocean.
She cared so much for others. There are so many stories, but we have chosen this one. An elderly acquaintance wanted to go to an out of town wedding, told Chana that she wanted to arrive early but the bus was leaving too late for that. Chana simply said that she had the same need and ordered a cab at her own expense.
She remembered so many people’s birthdays, including that of Rav Zalman Melamed’s and the Rabbanit’s, would call, send a letter with a meaningful message, flowers or a small gift, giving the recipients the wonderful feeling that they were special to her. They were. She knew who needed that extra lift to the day.
Anyone with a problem received a visit, a call, a proof of caring, a cup of coffee, patience and understanding.
Rachel Remer Danino, whose father, Rabbi Remer of Beit El, died when she was eight years old, wrote a moving eulogy in the Parshat Shoftim Beit El community newsletter at the end of the shiva mourning period:
“Chana, you came to us and gave us love and attention, and we felt it was because you loved each of us, not just because we had lost our father. When the year of mourning was over, you came with something new for each of us, a necklace, an item of clothing, just to be sure we started anew now that we were allowed to.
"Every birthday, you remembered us with some gesture of love. We naturally thought of ourselves as your special friends. When you became ill, we discovered that there were many, many others who thought so as well, and that all of us had received the affectionate and thoughtful attention we needed when it helped the most.
"We all wanted so much to help you and are grateful you shared your feelings openly with us when you were ill.
"Chana, we see the light you left as we walk the streets of your beloved Beit El. We will try to continue to walk in its glow.”
Chana Rosenbaum was buried last week in Beit El. May her memory be blessed.
(Rabbanit Shulamit Melamed is head of Arutz Sheva. Rachel Sylvetsky is managing editor of Arutz Sheva'e English site)
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