We read in this week’s Haftarah: “Be comforted, be comforted my people, says your God…tell Jerusalem to take heart, call out to her, for her service is complete, her guilt requited…a voice calls out in the wilderness: ‘make a path for Adonai, a straight road in the plains…every valley shall be lifted up, every mountain and hill made low…and God’s glory shall be revealed and all will see together that the mouth of Adonai has spoken.” Ruchel Bat Bryndel u’benyamin, Ruth Frank, was born in Boston in 1938. She was raised in a home without a lot of money but filled with love, just across the street from her grandparents. Ruth went to Simmons College where she earned a bachelor’s degree and a nursing degree, and met a young medical student named Michael studying at Harvard College just a few blocks away. Mike and Ruth were married in 1961 in Milton, MA. They lived in Baltimore, Bethesda, London, and again in Bethesda, Maryland where they attended Beth El Synagogue (of course) until 1990 when Mike was appointed the head of Pediatrics at Duke University. Here in Durham, they joined Beth El Synagogue where Ruth and Mike attended Shabbat morning services regularly. Robert, Abigail and Steven were raised by Ruth who stayed at home while the kids were in elementary school; they grew up with other NIH families, some of whom made the trip down from Bethesda today, and who have remained lifelong friends. Ruth eventually went back to school, taking courses at night, earning a Master’s Degree in gerontology, joking that she wanted to take care of herself when she got older. She worked at the VA in Washington and then here in Durham, taking care of her patients and helping to educate the next generation of staff at the VA. She retired from the VA on May 30, 2012. Ruth traveled all over the world – to China , Israel, to Kuala Lumpur and other exotic destinations, but most precious to her were not the destinations, but keeping the family together. She was the Jewish matriarch of the Frank family. As the kids grew, Ruth packed plums and hard boiled eggs for family trips north on I-95. The family sang songs to pass the time on the road and, at home, she quizzed the kids on “30 days to a more powerful vocabulary.” Ruth was a great cook – she could open up the refrigerator and, where some people saw nothing, she created sumptuous meals; lemon chicken, stuffed cabbage. Her grandchildren loved her matzo ball soup, especially on seder night. As the kids grew up, Ruth made sure the family ate together at 6:30pm each evening – Mike may have shown up at 6 or 6:29pm, and headed back to the lab some nights after dinner, but Ruth made sure the family ate together. The family celebrated Shabbat around Ruth’s table, and though Ruth never had any formal training in Jewish life, she made sure that candles were lit; the family said Kiddush and motzi and sang birkat hamazon – the grace after meals, each Friday. There was no shell fish or ham allowed in the house; when someone brought over a bushel of crabs, Ruth told them – “you’re not eating that in this house” – so they ate outside. Ruth continued to grow in her faith and learning; Judaism was important to her and, a few years ago, she celebrated an adult bat mitzvah at Beth El. With little Jewish background, Ruth was an eishet hayil, a strong Jewish woman, who created a home where, as Steven told me last night, “we all knew that we were loved.” When I asked the family last night, “What were Ruth’s hobbies?” Mike showed me the wonderful collection of tiles she amassed over the years. I heard how she loved to go to garage sales and find wondrous things for 50 cents. But her real hobby was her grandchildren, Aiden, Benjamin and Allison. Kids, I don’t need to tell you how much your bubbe loved you – because I know you know. From every game of checkers, and every book she read, and every time she called just to check in and say hi, your bubbe was saying again and again: I love you. And even though she died, there is a part of her that is inside you now, and that will never go away, even though we’re going to miss her a lot. Ruth embodied the Jewish value of tzniyut – of modesty – sometimes even to a fault. Ruth was acknowledged as one of the top 100 nursers in North Carolina but never told even her own children about it. She was sick for many years and, in the last few months especially, was not always comfortable, but she never complained. She was a tough, practical person; even an entrepreneur. I find it fitting that Ruth has a patent – for a tray that is used in nursing homes to keep residents’ dentures, glasses and hearing aids all together. That tray is pure Ruth – inventive, practical, but it was born out of a keen sense of what people really need, and it’s purpose was to make life easier for people in nursing homes, to add dignity to their lives. That was Ruth. As a nurse, she was a vessel who would contain and heal other people’s pain, but if she didn’t always use the words, “I love you,” or talk about herself, behind the scenes Ruth was a deeply caring person who was gomelet hasadim tovim – she brought many acts of God’s lovingkindness into the world. While Mike was at NIH, Ruth, as a young nurse, would do in-home visits to some of the roughest parts of Washington DC with a whistle around her neck to blow in case there were problems. Many nights, she would pick up expired groceries at the supermarket and make sure they were delivered to a local homeless shelter. She was part of the Chevre Kaddisha – the holy burial society – here at Beth El and helped with tahara, the Jewish ritual practice of preparing a body for burial, as was done for Ruth a few nights ago. One of the women of the chevre kadisha wrote to me, “Ruth was such a warm, loving presence in our group…[O]ften she would just show up for a tahara because she knew we'd need her. She had a quiet strength and treated all women that we cared for with great loving kindness and, she would often find some little thing she knew about the woman and share it with such grace and respect. She was a nurse and very comfortable dealing with people and emotions and in understanding how painful a time this can be for families. Ruth was always so count-on-able, and that is high praise in my book.” Ruth was an integral part of Beth El’s community. She served on the board for a year and James Tulsky, who knew Ruth both from the VA and from Beth El, wrote to me, “In all my years at the VA, and on the Board at Beth El, I can’t remember her saying anything bad about anyone, or raising her voice. She wasn’t timid – she was a confident and strong person – she just wasn’t complicated. She was always easy and a pleasure to be with. She knew what mattered to her, took interest in other people, and never made a fuss about anything.” He also wrote, “I’ll never forget driving up to shul on a Sunday morning and seeing Ruth on her hands and knees weeding the plants on the front lawn.” Rabbi Sager wrote to me about including in his prayers, “Rachel bat Bryndel”: “When I bring Ruth to mind each morning and afternoon, I find myself in the caring, loving, intelligent and wise company of one always determined to step forward purposefully to meet the world.” This week’s Torah portion, Va’etchanan, contains the Sh’ma, Judaism’s quintessential statement of prayer. “Listen Israel, Adonai Our God, Adonai is One,” and continues with a commandment to love God “with all of our heart, all of our soul, and all of our mouth.” But Judaism has never understood that commandment to love as a just a feeling; rather the Sages explained that it means we should act lovingly. We should speak about the Torah as we sit at home and walk upon the way, we should teach Torah to our children, and place Torah as a sign upon our arms, frontlets between our eyes, and on the doorposts of our homes. Don’t just feel; do these things, and by acting with love, we love. Ruth’s life was a life of love, and in Ruth’s presence, none of us felt unloved. When I visited Ruth not long ago, I spoke with her candidly about the vidui, Judaism’s deathbed confessional. I explained that the prayer did not mean all hope was lost – it contains in fact a prayer for healing – but should death be at hand, it was a prayer that one says oneself or the rabbi says for you, to face death with courage and dignity and truth. I told Ruth I knew she had been sick and recovered before, and I didn’t know whether to bring it up or not, but I thought she would know. “Do you want to say it?” I asked her. With courage, and dignity, Ruth nodded her head, and together with Mike, we said the prayer which concludes, “Listen Israel, Adonai Our God, Adonai is One.” Rachel bat Bryndel v’Benyamin, Ruth Frank, died on August 1st, 2012, the 13th of Menachem Av, 5772, between the saddest day of the Jewish calendar, Tisha B’Av, leading up to Shabbat Nachamu, on which the prophet Isaiah consoles us: nachamu, nachamu ami – “be comforted, be comforted my people, says your mGod…” may it be so, and may Ruth’s memory be for a blessing.